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mirkwoodshewolf · 4 years

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Kelly’s 6th Birthday; Queen x reader

*Author’s note*

And here we go guys the last update for now. This chapter contains an equal amount of both fluff and and angst so I hope you all enjoy it and still have those tissues and maybe some ice cream (or other sweet treat on hand cause you’ll need it). Now I’ll stop talking and let you all get to reading these chapters, hope you all enjoyed them and until the next chapter (but you all are gonna hate me for it cause I have a feeling you all may know what I’m gonna write for the next chapter).

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things

@waddles03

@psychosupernatural

@ixchel-9275

@simonedk

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels

@queensdivas

@platawnic

@geek-and-proud

@queendeakyy

@kairosfreddie

@onebigfangirlworld

@naturalswifty89

@bohemiansweede

@5sos-wdw

@labessieisallama

@isabella-bby

@dj-lowkey

@starswin

___________________________________________________________

*November 13th, 1991*

It was a nice cool November morning in the backyard of Roger Taylor’s home. Everywhere decorations were being put up with the help of not only Roger, Brian, Deacy, Jack’s family, and the ladies of Queen, but some of the loyal roadies both from Queen and the Rock Angel.

Walking through the garden wearing a handsewn replica of Belle’s famed yellow dress, little Kelly Kline was walking towards her mom who was talking to some of the party planners.

“Just be sure that Elton and Bernie are sitting next to each other, those two can’t be separated no matter what. And see to it that David is seated here.”

“Of course Mrs. Kline.”

*My POV*

Whew who knew planning a princess themed party was such hard work. But thankfully the planning was coming along. We hadn’t had any hiccups or misplacements. Mum as well as Gen were making Kelly’s dress since they were the most skilled at sewing, and it was nice for dad to lend us his backyard for the party. God he truly likes to spoil his goddaughter.

When I turned around I gasped in awe. There stood my little five year—well almost six year old baby girl in the famed yellow Belle ballgown dress.

Ever since she’s seen Beauty and the Beast, it’s been her favorite movie and she’s begged and begged to have a Princess themed party where she could be Belle. And so here we are.

“Do you like it?” she asked me with a hopeful smile.

“Ohh Kelly, you are an absolute vision. You are gonna be the talk of the party and not just because it’s your birthday.” I said as I kneeled in front of her and took her hands in mine.

She smiled and I held my arms out and she came into them as I hugged her. God I can’t believe my baby girl’s growing up so fast already. I mean it seems like only yesterday she was just born and now here we are almost six years later.

“How’s it coming?” I heard Jack say. We separated from each other and when he saw his daughter he gasped and said. “And just who is this lovely princess before me?” she giggled and said.

“It’s me daddy.” Jack got down and leaned in real close to her making her giggle some more.

“Why yes it is. Oh my darling baby girl truly is a princess now. Did mums and auntie Gen do good on the dress?”

“Yes, I love it.”

“Did you thank them?”

“Yes daddy I did.” He smiled and hugged our baby girl close to him before placing a peck on top of her head.

“Oi Jack mind giving us a hand with this!?” Jensen exclaimed as he and Jared were trying to hold up one of the platform towers to help make the setting more authentic.

“Duty calls, I’ll be back later.” He kissed Kelly one last time before racing off to help his cousins. I stood up and took my daughter’s hand as I told her to follow me.

“Ohh I just can’t believe how big you’re getting.”

“Mummy! Please don’t tell anymore baby stories. I’m not a baby anymore.” She whined.

“Ohh forgive me, but no matter how old you get, you will always be my little baby waby girl!” I cooed as I held her close and she tried to squirm but I warned her not to mess up the dress and ruin mum and Gen’s hard work. “Oh that reminds me. I have a gift for you.”

“Really? What is it?”

“Well your uncle Freddie had it specially made. It took a few strings, even though I told him not to do it. But you can never tell that man to not do something. And it’s a symbol that makes every princess a princess.”

*3rd Person POV*

In one of the bedrooms where (y/n) kept Kelly’s specially made diamond princess tiara. Gen and Jared’s 5 year old daughter Odette managed to find the tiara in it’s special box. She too who loved all the Disney Princess movies wanted to know what it was like to wear one that was real and authentic, and not just a plastic crown.

She placed it on top of her head and looked at the full length mirror and couldn’t help but smile at herself. Feeling almost proud and regal at this point.

“Odette?” she heard her aunt’s voice.

*My POV*

I went into Roger’s study where I had put the tiara knowing that the kids wouldn’t be able to find it in there. But it would seem curious little Odette managed to find herself in there and was wearing Kelly’s tiara. I called out to her and that’s when she jumped back and took the crown off as she began stuttering.

“A-auntie (y/n) I—I’m sorry I…I just wanted to…..”

“How dare you!” Kelly sneered as she walked up to her younger cousin. “That’s mine! It’s not for you.”

“Sorry Kelly I just wanted…..” Kelly took back the tiara and said in a snotty tone.

“Poor kids don’t get to wear real tiaras.”

“Enough!” I said in a firm tone.

“Auntie (y/n) I’m sorry…..”

“No. I was talking to Kelly.” I interrupted her. Kelly turned towards me and owled back.

“Me?”

“I thought your father and I raised you better than that Kelly.” I spoke with my mother tone as I looked down at her disappointedly. “It doesn’t matter where we come from in life, everyone deserves to be treated with love and respect.”

“But Odette took my—”

“She apologized. And it isn’t yours yet.” I stopped her before she could even make an argument with me.

“Auntie (y/n) it was really my fault.”

“I respect your honesty Odette. But your cousin must learn. Kelly,” I knelt down in front of her and continued, “We are all the same.”

“But you’re a rockstar mummy. That makes you rich.”

“Well yes, to a degree. But that doesn’t make me better than anyone else. This party for instance, can you tell me what it’s for?”

“Yes. It’s to honor me on my birthday.” She answered with pride as she raised her chin up like a real princess.

“No. It’s for you to honor your family. And to show everyone that by being a kind, and caring young girl, you will continue to grow up to be just that.” I took the tiara from her hands and held it before her as the two of us stared into each other’s eyes. “When you are crowned with this, on your birthday. It will show everyone that like a real Princess should, you will treat everyone with love and with kindness. Just like Belle did for the Beast. Now do you understand?” she smiled and nodded.

“I do mummy.” I smiled at her and I gestured towards Odette to tell her to say that she was sorry. Kelly turned and said. “I’m sorry Dette, I was selfish. I didn’t mean to get mad at you.”

“It’s okay. I’m sorry I took your tiara without asking permission first. Daddy and mommy says I should never take something without asking first.” The two girls hugged each other and it warmed my heart to see them forgive each other.

“Alright Odette, go run along and play with your brothers and the rest of your cousins.” She raced off leaving Kelly and I alone in the study. We walked up to the full length mirror together and I handed her the tiara once more and as she held it she said.

“It’s so pretty.”

“Your uncle Freddie spares no expense for you.”

“Can we go see him?” she asked.

Now that’s where I was hesitant. See the last time I had seen Freddie, he was looking very, very ill. And there’s not to say I was paranoid against the AIDS virus, I would never want to isolate Kelly from her favorite uncle, it’s just—I don’t want to have her be upset at seeing him like this.

“Ahh so here’s where the two Kline Queens snuck off to.” We turned around and there stood Roger. I playfully scowled at him and that’s when Kelly raced up to her godfather and said as she even did a little twirl.

“Papa Roger, don’t I look beautiful?” Roger was in awe as he said.

“Ohhh lovie, you are so beautiful mademoiselle.” He took her hand and kissed the back of it, just like he was greeting real royalty. “I can’t believe I have the highest honor of being in the presence of Princess Belle herself.”

“You’re silly papa Roger.”

“Oh lovie, I’m crazy for you!” he picked her up and playfully spun her around in his arms, the two of them laughing. I shook my head at his playful antics and that’s when he said as he stopped spinning her around. “So what were we lovely lion queens talking about before I came in here?”

“I was hoping to see uncle Freddie.” At hearing his name, Roger grew solemn.

“Uhh Kelly, why don’t we try for a visit tomorrow?”

“Aww why?”

“Well because we’re still trying to build your party love. And I need to stay here and help out with the planning. And your father still needs to finish setting up the towers and the other decorations we need—”

“I’ll take you to see him.” Said Roger interrupting me. I looked at him in shock while Kelly looked overly ecstatic.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I’ve been meaning to see him myself. Why don’t we go together.”

“Can I go mummy please?” she turned toward me giving me the puppy dog eyes that she inherited from her father.

“Well—”

“Papa Roger can take me, please I haven’t seen him in a very, very, very, very, very, very, very long time.” I looked to Roger and he looked at me in assurance that it would be okay.

“Alright, but change out of your dress and into your normal clothes okay.”

“But I wanna show him!”

“Hey, either you take off the dress or there’s no visiting uncle Freddie.” she groaned but she knew I was right. Roger set her down and she headed back to the room to find either Gen or mum to take the dress off and get her normal clothes back on. “You sure visiting him is a good idea?”

“Well we can’t just keep her away from him. Plus he’s been asking for her lately. Especially now since her birthday’s next week.”

“Will you tell her why he’s so sickly? I mean compared to when she last saw him at the beginning of the year, he’s gotten worse. He can barely leave the bed.”

“I know. I’ll—try to ease her into why he’s so different.” He said.

“Just—break it to her slowly. And if she cries…..just be there for her.”

“I promise love.” He said as he wrapped his arm around my neck and he kissed my forehead.

I helped her into the backseat of Roger’s car and I said to her.

“Now you listen to everything your godfather tells you. And…go easy with your uncle Freddie once you see him okay?” she nodded. I kissed her cheek and told her. “Have a good visit.”

“No worries mama lioness I’ll take care of her.” He started the engine and the car revved.

“Bye mummy!” I closed the door and he pulled out of the driveway and headed down the road to head to Freddie’s place at Garden Lodge. I waved bye to them and that’s when Jack came up behind me and said.

“She going to see him?”

“Yeah. I just—I just wish I could be there with her, she…..she doesn’t deserve to see her once mighty uncle in his lowest state. I’m so scared she’s gonna be so upset. He—he hardly has any time left. I fear he’s gonna die any day Jack.” I wept softly while he held me close to him allowing me to cry for the first time in months.

*3rd Person POV*

It took about 10-15minutes but soon enough they finally reached Garden Lodge. But as it has been for months ever since the leaked rumors of Freddie’s illness with the growing rise of the AIDS outbreak, the press were out pacing around like hungry wolves waiting to storm in and photograph Freddie.

“Papa Roger, the bad photo guys are here.” Roger growled and muttered.

“Those fucking wankers.”

“Mummy calls them desperate hyenas.”

“More like pestering vultures, but your mum is right.”

“Why do they do this?”

“For their own greediness unfortunately. Here I need you to be quiet for a moment while I make a quick call, okay?” she nodded and Roger pulled out his installed car-phone and dialed Fred’s number.

It rang a couple times before an answer was heard.

“Jim, it’s Roger. Yes I’m here with Kelly and we’ve come to see Freddie, but the press are crowding the gate…..Yes, okay. Alright we’ll wait out here. Thanks Jim, see you in a minute.” He hung up the phone and he turned to Kelly. “Care to watch a little game?”

“What kind of game?”

“It’s called ‘fool the mindless baboons.’ Any second now, a car’s gonna pull out from uncle Freddie’s place. We’re gonna make those baboons chase after the car thinking your uncle Freddie’s in the car. So while they chase after the car a few times around the next few blocks, we can go in and see Freddie, sound fun?” she nodded happily.

Then just as Jim told Roger, Freddie’s driver Terry came driving out of the gate and that’s when the press took notice of the car and took off running after it with their cameras out and all shouting over each other. Kelly laughed as she said.

“Stupid baboons.”

“You said it love, now c’mon let’s head inside before the gate closes.” Roger unbuckled himself out of his seat and quickly raced over to help Kelly out from the car.

He picked her up and held her in his arms, and as he quickly raced over towards the gate he noticed another car parked just nearby.

“Well it seems Brian and Anita are here as well.”

“Really?” Kelly’s tone grew excited.

“Yeah see that’s Miss Anita’s car right there.” Roger said as he pointed out the car. She nodded and that’s when Roger took her inside and the gate closed behind them. He walked right up to the front door and knocked twice before adjusting Kelly in his arms to move her from hanging off his hips to his waist.

The door opened to reveal Jim standing there.

“Hi Uncle Jim.” Kelly waved.

“Hello lass, hello Roger, good to see you both. Thanks for waiting.”

“It’s no problem. Anything to get those vultures off Fred’s property for a while.” Jim allowed the two of them inside the home.

Normally Freddie would either be in the music room playing the piano or in the living room with most of his children, but it was all quiet.

“I’m told it’ll be someone’s birthday next week.” Jim said trying to make conversation. Kelly nodded shyly and said.

“Yeah, I’m gonna be six years old.”

“Wow that old already? How time flies.”

“Tell me about it. Seems like she was just born yesterday and now I’ve got a growing lion cub on my hands.” Roger said as he playfully bounced her up in his arms. Kelly softly giggled and leaned her head against her godfather’s shoulder and Roger placed a kiss on top of her head.

“Can I get you both something to drink?”

“Just a warm cuppa for me, once we’re done here gotta help continue to build this young one’s princess party.”

“Alright, and for you Kelly dear?”

“Can I please have some milk?”

“Sure thing, one cuppa and one milk coming up. Please make yourselves comfortable.” Jim said as he gestured towards the living room. Roger placed Kelly down on the couch and that’s when one of Freddie’s cats and Kelly’s personal favorite Romeo came up and rubbed against her ankle.

She got down and greeted him and began to stroke him as he let out a loud purr and leaned into her hand.

“Here we are, one cuppa and one milk.” Jim said as he brought in the two cups.

“Thanks Jim.”

“Thank you uncle Jim.” Rog took a sip of his cuppa and he said.

“So I noticed Anita’s car out front, they still here?”

“Yeah, they arrived just five minutes ago before you both showed up. They’re upstairs with Freddie and the doctor.” As the two men continued to talk about grown up stuff, Kelly being the clever girl that she was, slowly snuck away from the couch and as quietly as she could, headed up the staircase to find Freddie.

When she reached the top of the stairs, she wondered along trying to remember which room was his. That was until she heard the sound of her uncle Brian’s voice. She quietly raced towards it and peeked in.

There she could see her uncle Freddie in his grand master bed. But she was shocked to see that compared to the last time she saw him, he looked even worse. He was so thin and frail, it looked like he was a skeleton in her eyes.

“I see that the garden’s been tended to Fred. Brian spoke from the window.”

“I agree Brian, are those newly planted magnolias?” Anita spoke up.

“Guys….you don’t have to pretend to make conversation with me. I’m just…glad you’re here.” Brian smiled solemnly at his dear friend. It was then Anita turned towards the door and could see a small figure quickly try to hide away.

“It would seem you have an unexpected guest Freddie.” Both Queens looked toward the door and shyly peeking out was Kelly.

“Kelly.” Said Brian. He walked over to her and knelt down in front of her and said, “What are you doing here?”

“Papa Roger brought me here. I—wanted to see uncle Freddie.”

“So that old fart finally came to see me. He downstairs?” Freddie said from his bed. She nodded and that’s when Freddie extended his arm out and said. “Come here my sweet nightingale.” She turned to her uncle Brian and even through the sad hazel eyes, he managed a soft smile as he nodded telling her to go on.

She walked over to the bed and took his hand in hers. Freddie smiled warmly as best he could as he said.

“You just get bigger and bigger every time I see you darling. And I hear you’ll be what? 8 next week?”

“No I’ll be six.” She softly giggled.

“Ahh yes, the big number six. God it’s hard to believe you’re getting older.”

“Yeah.” She said hesitantly. Even through his exhaustion he knew something was going on in her head. So much like her mother in every way.

“What is it my sweet darling?”

“I wanna cancel my party.” She said.

“What?”

“I don’t wanna have a party without you. I can wait uncle Freddie. And then we can turn it into a celebration once your better.” Freddie held onto her hand as tight as he could, but to Kelly it was like holding a baggy in between her hands.

“No my darling, we can’t cancel your birthday. It’ll be alright.” He took a soft deep breath in and said to her, “I’ll—try to be right as rain by then. I wanna see my little nightingale walking in that beautiful tiara I had specially made for her.” His index finger stroked her cheek faintly.

Kelly held her uncle’s hands tighter and pressed a kiss to the back of his hand. She looked up at him, tears in her eyes but a strong face adored her features.

“I don’t care about my birthday, all I care about is you.” Kelly whispered as she placed her other hand over her uncle’s heart. Freddie couldn’t handle the level of kindness that was in this little girl. Here his niece was willing to cancel her birthday even after months of it being planned and everything coming together, and she was willing to just throw it away and wait for him to get better.

Even though he knew he wasn’t.

Suddenly he began coughing rather harshly. He turned away from her as he coughed into his left hand which held a tissue. The coughing grew louder and more harsher, it was like he was gonna cough a lung out.

“Brian!” he groaned out as best he could. He refused to let his nightingale see him like this and risk scaring her.

“Kelly love,” Brian immediately came up to Kelly who just stared at her uncle Freddie fearfully. Brian placed his hands on her shoulders trying to redirect her attention to him as he said, “Let’s leave Fred to rest, it’s alright.” He quickly picked her up and as Freddie’s doctor came over to help him, Brian and Anita left with Kelly to watch in shock at seeing her uncle so sick.

When Fred was finally done coughing, the tissue was practically coated with blood and a small bit of it even ran down his throat as well as a tear.

Kelly kept her eyes at the doors of Freddie’s bedroom and that’s when she buried herself into her uncle’s shoulder, burying her face into his mass of curls and let out a sniffle. Brian stopped and softly told Anita to head on downstairs.

She nodded and rubbed Kelly’s back comfortingly for a bit before heading on downstairs. Brian found a bench to sit on and he said as he gently pulled Kelly away from him so he could have a good look at her.

“What is it Kelly-cub?”

“Is—is uncle Freddie going to die?” she suddenly asked. At hearing her say those words, Brian had no idea what to say to her. I mean…..how does one tell a child that someone they love is dying of a terrible disease that can’t be cured like the stomach flu or the common cold.

She began to softly cry as she buried herself back into her uncle’s shoulder. Brian stroked the back of her hair trying to calm her down as he gently soothed her as best he could.

“We—we don’t know love.”

“I don’t wanna lose him!” she whimpered out.

“Neither do we.” Brian whispered back to her. Brian continued to embrace his niece for as long as he could till she just sat there motionlessly. He then decided she needed to be with her godfather at this point.

Brian stood up and walked down the stairs and when Roger saw the sight of his goddaughter he sighed brokenly. He walked up and Brian transferred her over to him and Roger held Kelly close to him and patted her back soothingly.

“I should take her back. I can come back later to see him. God (y/n) is gonna kill me.”

“She probably knew this would happen Rog. Maybe we should talk to Fred and (y/n).”

“After her birthday Brian. She doesn’t deserve to be sad just days before her birthday party. I know Jack and I can’t allow that to happen.” Roger kissed the back of her head and stroked through her mother’s inherited (h/c) hair.

After a few minutes of talking with Brian, Rog buckled Kelly up into the backseat and drove back to his place for her to rest after such an emotional day.

One week later; family and friends were invited to Roger’s place for the greatest birthday in history.

*My POV*

I was currently dressed in a white Cinderella style dress and I knew Jack would be dressed as my Prince Charming. I was adjusting my dress and putting the final touches of my makeup when I heard a knock at my door. Standing there were Roger and Brian.

“Well look at you Mrs. Kline, a true Queen.” Said Brian with a soft smile.

“Now, now boys this is supposed to be Kelly’s night. I’m merely just trying to look my best.”

“And no doubt, your majesty.” Roger did a mock bow doing a dramatic hand gesture as he bowed. I rolled my eyes at them and I said to them.

“But I’ll admit you two clean up rather nicely. Quite dapper yourselves. Like true Princes, Anita and Dominque are lucky ladies.”

“Well so far most of the guests are starting to arrive. Thankfully no press have come yet.” Said Roger.

“Good. I refuse to have a bunch of kids photographed just because celebrities are here. Especially when it comes to my kids.”

“Don’t I know it.” Muttered Brian. There was an uncomfortable silence between us and that’s when I decided to acknowledge the elephant in the room.

“Alright, I know why you guys really came up here. You’re here to talk about talking to Kelly in regard to Freddie’s health.” They looked at me. Before they could speak, I held my hand up and walked towards one of the chairs in mine and Jack’s guest room that Roger kindly lent us for the week till the party was over. “You guys know I’ve been keeping this secret ever since I found out at the beginning of the year. Not even Jack knows about it, not my mum, not Misha, not even Jared and Jensen. Kelly’s been asking questions but I refused to tell her the truth because I promised Freddie.”

“We would never have asked you to carry such a responsibility.” Roger said as he came up to me. I sighed heavily and stopped a tear from coming down my face.

“I know that every child has to go through death at least one point in their life. Whether through a pet, or unfortunately like in my case with both my parents. But—never did I think I’d have to prepare Kelly or my boys for this. How do I tell her?” Roger placed his hand on my shoulder giving it a gentle squeeze.

“It’s the hardest thing every parent goes through. Believe me, it wasn’t easy to tell my kids about my father passing, they loved their grandfather and he loved them. But—if Kelly finds out a different way, it may damage her to an extent, especially if some news press makes it out to be Freddie’s fault. She at least deserves to hear it from the one person whose loved Freddie almost all her life.” Brian said to me as he stood by my side.

“And if you need us to be there for you when you tell her, we will.” I nodded and fanned my eyes out and that’s when Roger held out a handkerchief for me. I smiled and dabbed my eyes.

“Alright enough of this. Don’t want to show teary eyes at a six year old’s birthday party.” I stood up and grabbed the box that held Kelly’s tiara. “Ready my kings?”

“Lead the way our beloved White Queen.” I raised my chin up acting the part of a Queen and I left the guest bedroom and headed down the stairs and headed for the backyard.

All around there were people dressed in full costume of either Kings or Queens or Princes’ or princesses. Kids were running about chasing each other or talking at the kid’s table. There was a bouncy-castle with a dragon plushie inside. A stage was set up for not only Kelly’s ‘coronation’ but Brian and I had prepared a little something special.

To the left of the stage, there were mountains of presents and on the other side was the snack table where the cake, and all the other treats were at.

There were fun party games for the kids to play, and even some of us grownups got involved with the games like musical chairs, the bean-bag toss, and the three legged race. When the clock struck six o’ clock I grabbed my champagne glass and took my knife and lightly clanged them together as I said.

“Excuse me, can I please have everyone’s attention?” Everyone quietened down and Jack handed me a mic. “Thanks love, okay first of all I would like to thank everyone who came out here today to celebrate a very special someone. I know some of you have traveled across the ocean to get here but we greatly appreciate you taking the time to fly out here.” I spoke of my family and some of Kelly’s school friends in America.

“Now we’d like to ask that the birthday girl come up on stage. Kelly sweetie.” Jack said as he now took the mic while I walked up on stage. Kelly raced up and took her daddy’s hand and he helped her up the stairs so that she could sit on the red velvet, faux gold chair that Roger had lying around in the attic to use as Kelly’s throne for tonight.

He sat her down on the chair and I took the tiara out of the box and walked behind her and presented the tiara to everyone.

“Sweetheart, your mother and I would like to finally present you, your crown. For it was on this hour just six years ago you graced us with your lovely presence.” I placed the crown on my daughter’s head and that’s when Jensen and Jared came up carrying the cake while Misha lit the candles. Once the candles were lite we all began to sing to her.

Happy birthday to you,

Happy birthday dear Kelly.

Happy birthday to you!

I swore at this moment, I thought Kelly’s smile was just gonna pop right off her face with how wide it was. At the end of our song, Misha kissed his granddaughter and said.

“Make a wish sweetie before you blow them out.” She shut her eyes before blowing as hard as she could, extinguishing the candles. We all applauded her and she hugged her grandfather first before turning to me and wrapped her arms around me and gave me a kiss. I kissed her temple and rubbed her back happily.

We all then had cake and ice cream, and all the while mum was in charge of taking the pictures and she sure did get in a lot, especially of her precious granddaughter. Brian was also our main photographer and while Kelly was opening her presents, I pulled both Brian and Elton aside so that we could prepare the next special surprise for Kelly.

After getting a whole bunch of presents from new Barbie dolls, to drum kits, mini-guitars and dozens of other games and toys, Kelly thanked everyone for her gifts and that’s when Elton sat down behind the keyboard while Brian and I came up on stage.

“If we could have your attention for another quick moment.” Brian spoke into his microphone. “Kelly love, this is a special gift that your father had us prepare for you. We hope you like it.” Elton soon began playing the opening chords for “Beauty and the Beast” and soon coming out from the left side of the stage, Jack had changed from his white Prince charming attire to the famed blue outfit the beast wore.

Play video

As I softly began to vocalize, Jack walked up to our daughter and knelt down to her height as I began to sing the first part of the song. He presented our daughter with a rose and she smiled and took it from her daddy before standing up and curtsying at him.

When Brian came in with the next part of the song, Jack extended his hand out and she gladly accepted it and the two of them walked out before the stage as Brian and I began to sing the duet part of the song.

For you see as many times as she’s seen the movie, she always made Jack dance with her the exact same steps that they do in the movie. It’s honestly quite adorable to see as the film running, the two of them get the spins and turns right on cue.

So for months; Jack has wanted to finally do the dance the right way. And since Kelly wanted a Princess themed party, this was the perfect time for him to get tailored in the exact beast outfit and he had me practice with him the exact steps while Kelly was in school so that he could get it right.

But I knew I couldn’t sing this song on my own so that’s why I chose Brian to be my singing partner because when he needed, his voice can do such raw passion in an angelic belt, but he could control the level in which he did it.

We were also lucky to have Elton join in on the party because Bri isn’t as big of a fan of the keyboard as he is with the piano. So Elton gladly stepped in and got the sheet music for the song (since under secrecy he’s apparently involved with an upcoming Disney film).

As Brian and I kept singing the song, Kelly and Jack continued to do the waltz right down to the last step. It was like seeing a live action of the film right before us. I could see the kids were in awe and the grownups couldn’t help but fawn at how adorable it was.

I could see Roger leaned up against Dominque’s shoulder and she leaned her head against his as the two of them softly swayed while keeping their eyes on the adorable dancers up front. Even John had a slight smile as he and Veronica were cuddled close together.

It was like even through all this shit that’s been going on with Freddie, he still managed to find some light as he watched his beloved niece dance with her father.

By the end of the song, Jack picked our baby girl up and held her in his arms leaning his forehead against hers. A common sign of affection he’s done with her ever since she was born. Her eyes closed as she touched her nose to him.

Everyone soon applauded and I couldn’t help but wipe away a tear from my face. I hugged Brian and I said.

“We’d also like to thank Mr. Elton John on the keyboard.” Elton stood up and bowed to the crowd. When Jack put Kelly down, she walked up the stairs to us and hugged both Brian and I to the best of her ability. I picked her up and held her in my arms and she said.

“You both sang beautifully.”

“Thank you love, happy birthday.” Brian said as he pecked her nose.

“Don’t I also deserve a thanks?” Elton asked as he walked up to us. She turned to him and she reached out for him. Elton took her hand and kissed both her cheeks.

“Thank you uncle Elton.”

“Anytime darling, you danced divinely. Just like your mum does.” I playfully scrunched my face at him and adjusted Kelly in my arms.

As it got darker and it was starting to get to be the younger kids’ bedtimes, we ended the part right at 9 o’clock. I handed out all the party favors and thanked everyone for coming and they thanked us for inviting them.

I just got done hugging and kissing Elton and Bernie goodbye and thanked them for coming, when David was the next to come up.

“Thank you so much for coming David.”

“It was my pleasure love, and I hope the mini you had a great birthday.” Kelly who looked like she was about to pass out on Jack’s shoulder yawned and nuzzled closer to her dad’s shoulder. “I’ll take that as a yes.” I handed him his party favor and we kissed each other’s cheek goodbye.

“I’ll get her bathed and ready for bed.” Jack told me as he walked back inside the house. Soon my mum and Gen came and helped out with the rest of the party favors for the guests while the boys took care of taking down the decorations and clearing out the backyard of the Taylor household.

Half an hour later, everything was all cleaned up and thrown away. I yawned tiredly when Dominque said.

“Never thought a six year old’s party could be tiring work huh?”

“I’m just thankful we didn’t have any press stalking about, or any insanely sugar crazed kids. And luckily we were enforced with more adults than most parties I’ve taken the kids to.”

“I’ve got most of the important parts of the party recorded. I can edit it out then ship it to Freddie in about 3 days.” Said Misha.

“Perfect, thanks dad.” He nodded and gave me a kiss and a hug.

“Give my regards to the birthday girl.”

“Will do, you and mum have a safe flight back home tomorrow.”

“We’ll call you guys when we land.” I nodded and that’s when he and mum left the Taylor household back to their hotel to get some rest before flying back to the states.

“Well I better get out of this dress, god this corset has been killing me all night.”

“But you definitely work it girl.” Dominque said. I playfully stuck my tongue at her as I carefully walked back up the steps. As I came to the bedroom, I heard the sounds of Kelly’s laughter. I leaned against the door and peeked in and that’s when I saw both Jack and Roger tickling her.

“Four…..five…..” Jack counted down.

“Five and a half.” Roger continued for him. Oh dear looks like both of my boys have decided to gang up on my poor baby girl with the annual birthday tickles.

I don’t know whether to be relieved that I no longer need to deal with those from Roger anymore or be ashamed that my daughter must now carry the intense burden of Roger’s evil tickles.

“Five and three quarters…..and…..”

“Six.” They finally stopped leaving Kelly in a pile of giggles.

“Are you two jerks torturing my poor little cub again?” I asked revealing myself. The two guilty men turned towards me and Kelly whined out.

“Mummy they kept tickling me.” I awed at her and came over and picked her up and held her close.

“I understand your pain. They are cruel, heartless tickle demons aren’t they?”

“Oh come off it darling, you know you loved it when you got your dose of birthday tickles.” Roger said.

“You were a sadistic torturer Roger Taylor. Like a true lion on the hunt. And you Jack Kline, are like a sneaky wolf trying to claim a lost lamb for lunch.”

“Maybe, but I didn’t hear you complain.” Jack teased. I shook my head at the two of them and that’s when I said to Kelly.

“Alright birthday girl, time for you to go to bed.” The boys got off her bed and I tucked her in. “Did you have a good birthday?”

“The best, it was a lot of fun. Thank you mummy.”

“Well you should really thank your godfather for allowing us to use his house for the party.” Roger knelt down beside her and she said through a yawn.

“Thank you—papa Roger.”

“Only the best for you my little lovie.” He said as he stroked her hair and gently brushed some strands aside. He kissed her forehead and gave her an Eskimo kiss before standing back up. Jack then knelt down on her other side and she said.

“Thanks for dancing with my daddy.”

“Hey you know I’d do anything for you. You’re my best girl Kelly.” He gave her a kiss and the three of us left her bedside and stood by the door.

“Goodnight love.” I whispered.

“G’night mummy, daddy, papa Roger.” She said back.

“Sweet dreams birthday girl.” Said Roger with a gentle smile.

“See you in the morning sweet pea.” Jack said as he turned off the light and we left as he closed the door behind him. We both bid roger a goodnight and we went over to our bedroom.

After getting a shower and changing into my night clothes, I got into the bed beside Jack and we kissed each other.

“Another successful birthday.” He said with a warm smile.

“I’d say we did pretty good.” I shrugged. We then lay down together and as I pressed my head against Jack’s chest I began to worry about tomorrow because it would be in the morning that Brian, Roger and I would talk to Kelly about Freddie’s health.

I wasn’t going to enjoy it, but I knew it had to be done. Cause like Brian said, I’d rather her hear about it from me, rather than an article in the paper or magazine completely blowing it up based off of radical minds.

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pintofteaforthesoul · 5 years

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Lost in the Woods, Jurdan AU

Tagging: @serefinmeleskis

They’d been lost for hours, wading through the undergrowth of the forest trying to find their way back to the envoy. “Why do I ever listen to you?” Jude grumbled mostly under her breath, grimacing as she tore her dress out from the bramble it got stuck in.

“Oh!” Cardan remarked, barely a step behind her, hot breath on her neck. “You’re saying this is my fault?”

Jude rounded on him, poking a finger to his chest and glaring up at his stupidly handsome face. “Yes, this is all your fault. If you hadn’t insisted on taking a scenic route through the forest then we wouldn’t have gotten lost.”

Cardan shrugs, moving past her and taking the lead. “If I recall, you quite enjoyed that scenic route.” He waggles his eyebrows at her, a smirk on his face.

Jude flushes against her will. The waterfall had been beautiful and the memory of Cardan’s kisses as they bathed naked in the spring made her blood warm. “Regardless!” She pushes on, shoving the memory aside to keep at the task at hand. They were losing sunlight precariously fast and she would lose her sense long before Cardan did. They needed to get back before that happened or they would be stuck until morning.

“Wait.” Cardan suddenly stops, causing Jude to slam face first into his back.

She curses, clutching her nose. “What?”

Jude watches Cardan’s face, an interesting expression as his eyes narrow at something in the distance. She follows his eyes, but there’s only blackness amongst the trees. Cardan grins. “I see something, come on.” Before she can protest, Cardan tugs her hand in his own and drags them off in that direction.

After a few moments, the structure comes into view. It’s quaint, made of rough-worn logs. “A cabin… in the middle of the woods?” Jude says suspiciously, eyeing the column of smoke curling up from the chimney. Her hand automatically goes to the hilt of her sword.

Cardan rolls his eyes at her. “I would call it more of a cottage.”

Jude surveys the building with its wide, open porch and general isolation. “This isn’t safe.”

“Please,” Cardan says, starting toward it, “You’re the one who said we need to find shelter.” He lounges against the railing, arms outspread. “I found shelter!”

Jude huffs but follows. “When did I say that?”

Cardan simply grins at her, opening the door to the cabin with a bow. “Ladies first.”

Inside the cabin is small- only one room. A fireplace takes up the majority of the right wall with a small couch and a worn rug in front of it. To the left is a mediocre kitchen and there’s a bed tucked in the back behind a half wall. Jude takes it all in, plus the burning embers in the fireplace. It’s suspicious- too suspicious. “What if someone lives here?” She asks Cardan, who has already made himself at home on the couch.

He grins at her. “They’re gone for the night. It’s just us.”

Jude gapes at him. His audacity! Her hands fist at her sides. “Did you plan this?” She towers over the couch, glaring down at him. “Did I just spend half a day traipsing through the woods for no reason?”

“No…” Cardan murmurs, a wicked gleam in his eye as his fingers curl around Jude’s belt and pulls her closer. “You did it to spend the night with me.” He unbuckles her belt, letting it thump to the floor, before fixing his eyes on her dress.

“You’re despicable.” Jude says, but there’s little merit to her anger. It had fizzled out. Cardan was quite the romantic when he wanted to be.

“I can show you how despicable I can be.” Cardan purrs, deft fingers untying the knots at the back of Jude’s dress. When the fabric fell, all Cardan could do was stare. His wife was simply beautiful, almost painfully so. He pressed his lips on her stomach, just above her belly button, as his hand roved over her hip. It was meant to be chaste, but the sense of Jude’s warm skin drove him to hunger.

Cardan pulled her to sit on top of him, making her gasp before seizing her mouth with his own. It seared down to his soul like wildfire. Jude twisted her fingers into Cardan’s hair, barely able to contain her moan as Cardan palmed her breasts still contained within her bra.

His fingertips skimmed her ribs as they rounded the back of the clasp, but Cardan tore his mouth away a moment later, unable to undo it with just one hand. “Why do you insist on wearing that wretched thing?” He complains. Jude simply laughs, sitting up and undoing it herself. She lets the fabric fall slowly, relishing in Cardan’s heated gaze as he beholds her.

Jude’s fingers itch to touch him, gripping his silk shirt with a ferocity that makes Cardan grin. He rids himself of the offending garment and Jude’s hands roam his chest, burning every place they touch until he can barely stand it. “No more.” He groans, shifting into a sitting position with Jude on his lap, a shocked look on her face. Before she can say anything, Cardan stands, taking Jude with him. It takes four steps to get the bed, where he lays his beautiful wife out on the handsewn quilt. Suddenly urgent, Cardan slips his fingers into Jude’s underwear and draws them down her long legs before exploring the parts that only he knows.

Jude mewls as his fingers sink into her, palming her most sensitive area until she’s squirming with need beneath him. “Please,” Jude breathes, and the word hits Cardan like a battering ram. His wife, begging?

Unable to take it anymore, Carden shakes off his tight pants, pulling Jude to the edge of the bed as he does. He takes a long look at Jude, poring over her face for any sign of hesitation. Jude surprises him by sitting up and grabbing his face between her hands and kissing him with a fervor that Cardan has never felt in his wife before. He wastes no time, sinking into her with a sudden movement that makes her cry out.

Cardan pauses, not wanting to hurt the woman he loves. But Jude wraps her legs around him and draws him closer, relishing in the fullness of their joined bodies. “Cardan.” His name on her lips is almost his undoing as he begins moving once more. Cardan wasn’t new to the pleasures a body can hold, but Jude was more than anything he’d experienced before. She met his hips with her own, driving her nails into his skin, as Carden started a faster pace. Jude’s eyes were screwed tightly shut, rocked by the pleasure she was feeling as her husband moved within her.

They moved further on the bed, Cardan spreading Jude’s legs further apart as he leaned over her. The new movement had Jude gasping as his hot mouth came into contact with her breast. Her legs tightened as something within her began to build. One of Cardan’s hands kept at her waist, but the other trailed down her stomach to the apex of her thighs. Jude practically bit off her tongue on a scream, her back arching off the bed.

Cardan grinned wickedly, sweat gleaming on his back as he pressed light, hungry kisses to Jude’s neck. “Something to say, wife?” She was close, he could feel it, but Jude was fighting it. He trailed kisses up her neck to capture her earlobe in his mouth. “Let go for me, Jude.” As if his words were her undoing, Jude climaxed around him, hands grasping at Cardan’s back. “Oh, Jude!” He moaned, finding his own release, pressing his hips into hers.

They stay like that, catching their breath until Cardan kisses along Jude’s jaw. His eyes shine with mischief. “Am I still despicable, My Queen?” He asks, breathless, against her mouth. Jude ignores his question, pulling him down and expressing all of her love into a single kiss that leaves them both rocked to their core.

#jurdan #jude x cardan #tfota #twk #tcp #jude durate #cardan greenbriar

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spaceskam · 5 years

Text

i’d rather chip my pride than lose my mind

Summary: liv goes to comfort noah after hardly hearing from him

Liv stood in front of Noah’s door with admittedly unclear intentions. She’d been uneasy for days, guilt just growing in her stomach the more she thought about how she just walked away. She just assumed he was being an asshole, but really she was the asshole. Now she wanted to fix it, she just didn’t know how. So she showed up at his door with a bag of groceries.

Liv knocked on his door.

It took awhile, but eventually, Noah answered. Liv’s guilt only grew when she saw how bad he looked. His eyes were tired and red while his skin looked pale and his cheeks hollow. A part of her urged to reach out and touch him, but she kept her hands to herself.

“Hi,” she greeted. He just stared blankly. It made her uncomfortable that he wasn’t trying to give her his stupid little smile. He just looked drained. “Look, I know you said you don’t really have a problem, but I feel like it was a problem and I’m tired of feeling guilty.” Again, Noah said nothing. “Move, I’m making you dinner.”

Noah stepped aside. He followed her as she found her way to the kitchen. She didn’t comment on the fact dishes were piled in the sink or the fact that there was a general smell of musty teenage boy wafting around the semi-messy house. She figured she’d clean up what she could and make sure she had no guilt left.

“You don’t have to feel guilty,” Noah mentioned as he sat at the table and watched as she emptied out the ingredients and took off her coat.

“Yeah, well, you not showing up to school and hardly responding to me doesn’t help that, does it?” Liv shot back. She didn’t mean to sound mean, but she also didn’t want anything to be misconstrued. This didn’t mean she liked him. She couldn’t feel that way about him.

“You weren’t my first priority,” Noah said simply. Liv pursed her lips but nodded. She wasn’t about to argue when she knew it was true.

Liv decided to stop making conversation, letting him sit and watch her as she made him pancakes. He didn’t question her choice of dinner. Sometimes, she’d look up and he’d have his eyes closed for a while before having to drag them open. She went to ask him if he was sleeping enough five times but never seemed to be able to get it out.

Eventually, Liv placed a plate in front of him. She took a seat beside him. Noah ate slowly and decided he was done whenever he’d only managed to eat half of what she’d given him. They remained in silence as she went to do his dishes. He only broke it once she was finished.

“Why’d you come?” Noah asked. Liv dried her hands, avoiding eye contact.

“I told you.”

“But that wasn’t it.”

Liv met his eyes and they watched each other for what seemed like a century. There was a battle in her mind, desperately arguing over what was okay and what wasn’t. Engel would hate her being with him regardless of her intentions, right? So that meant she wasn’t allowed to care about him. But he was growing on her and whenever he stopped showing up at her door, she noticed. She hated that she noticed. She hated even more that she looked for him in school, that she wanted him to text her or call her. Why couldn’t she just hate him? It’d be so easy.

“Fine, I wanted to make sure you were okay, fuck off.” Liv spat. Even though his fatigue, Noah managed a smile. She felt herself soften. “Are you?”

Discomfort spiked her veins as his eyes became cloudy and he faintly whispered, “I will be.”

“I-I can leave if I’m bothering you.” Liv offered softly.

“Stay,” Noah said immediately but bowed his head to hide his desperation. Liv felt her heart ache in her chest. “If you want to. You’re not bothering me.”

“Noah, are you sleeping? Eating enough? Are you handling yourself?” Liv asked before she could stop herself. Something about him looking so broken took away her reservations. She just wanted him to be alright. Then she could go back to hating him.

“I’m not sleeping,” Noah admitted, shaking his head. Liv bit down on her lip, watching him. “It’s so quiet. I never realized how…” Noah closed his eyes again.

“Do you wanna… watch a movie?” Liv offered. It seemed like a sufficient excuse to stay around and not have to force conversation. He didn’t seem to up for conversation anyway. The weight of thanks in his eyes was almost too much to bear.

“Okay.”

Noah led her down the hall to his bedroom. Aside from the absolute mess, it was exactly what she had imagined. Not like she imagined being in his bedroom. The walls were covered in paintings and drawings in all different types of styles. Lyrics and quotes were plastered among them in countless different languages. His desk had piles of art supplies strewn about it and in the corner stood an easel with a canvas had a hole in the middle of it. His bed had a million pillows of different shapes and sizes, paired with two mismatched quilts. One of them looked handsewn.

“What movie?” Noah asked as he collapsed in his bed. His pillows and blankets engulfed him, his tired eyes on her as he grabbed the remote and Netflix lt up his screen. Liv kicked off her shoes and slowly made her way towards his bed. She thought about making some form of protest, but he looked too drained to argue with her and it was her idea to do this in the first place. She was putting in the effort to be there for him, that didn’t make her a bad person. She had to tell herself that over and over as she sat beside him.

“Anything.” Liv murmured, settling into his bed. His eyes drifted to her before he put on Mean Girls 2. Her eyebrows pulled together and a confused laugh bubbled out of her. “I’m sorry, what the fuck?”

Noah somehow gave a smile but melted even further into his bed. Liv watched him for a moment before she settled into his bed beside him. They weren’t touching, but his presence was oddly comforting. Part of her hoped she made him feel the same.

Sometime during the movie, Liv heard sniffling. She tried her best to keep her eyes forward, but it was hard to ignore when he shifted and sniffled a little more. She let her eyes glide over to him as carefully as humanly possible. Noah’s eyes were shut and he was taking shaky breaths. The only thing cluing her into his tears was the light of the movie glistening off his cheeks.

“Noah?” she whispered. He didn’t respond, just trying to sink further into his bed. She scooted closer. “Noah?” she repeated a little softer this time. Liv reached a hesitant hand out in the dark, resting against his arm.

That one little touch was all it took and he was sobbing.

There weren’t many thoughts that went through Liv’s mind when she instinctively pulled his limp body into her arms. She didn’t mind the fact her shirt would probably be stained with his tears, she didn’t mind that she had been insisting she hated him only a few hours prior, she was merely focused on making him stop hurting. So Liv held him close and ran her fingers through his hair.

Liv held him until he fell asleep and even then didn’t bother to stop. She could hate him another day. Tonight, he needed someone.

She didn’t mind that it happened to be her.

#skam n #skam nl fic #skamnl #skamnl fic #skam netherlands #skam dutch #liv reijners #liv reijners fic #noah boom #noah boom fic #noliv #noliv fic #im sure they have other ship names that i dont know #we'll just go with that #also look at that i put a title for once #1k word #my fic

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adore-holland · 6 years

Text

Apparently Not

I was looking at paint colours, and I couldn’t resist. Dedicated to: @bellamyblakebby & @thelittlefanpire for giving me the courage to post this.

Summary: Bellamy Blake loses himself in thoughts of the past

Word count: 2150

Also on ao3

Blue used to be Bellamy’s favorite color. Not the navy that reminded him of oceans at night, troubled waters or eerie lakes. Not the Oxford blue of starry nights, or the blue of handsewn suits. Not the yale blue of businessmen hard at work. Not the kind of blue that reminded him of restless nights or jagged malachite.

But rather the blue that’s icy cold. The kind that freezes you to your bones, but melts your heart. The celeste blue of slow warm rivers. The baby blue of bubbling laughter, sweet-smelling cornflowers, and freshwater swims. Electric blue of bright summer skies. All the blues that, blended together, reminded him of all of his favorite moments. The color that, blended together, was the color of will-power, strength, and integrity. The color of fierceness, bravery and unconditional love.

The color of Clarke’s eyes.

Not anymore though. The memory of the girl too painful.

He closed his eyes, letting a single tear drift down his cheek, down his chin and onto the metal ledge of the window sill. His dark eyes glanced back into the room behind him. It was empty, void of noise and disturbances. But the atmosphere itself was pressing down on him. Keeping him seated as he carried the weight of the world in his chest. Bellamy opened his mouth to draw in a shaky breath, feeling his lungs jumping at the sudden expansion. The taste of cold metal and recycled air settled on his tongue and he felt the need to cough it out.

The memory of meat rushed through his mind. Saltiness and the occasional sweetness. And he remembered enjoying the heat of the fire, glancing around at his people. Most of them laughing, mouths open exposing the meat. Silently watching Clarke, through the smoke that built up around them, as she smiled to herself. Watching her eyes flitter over everyone, making sure they were all okay, before finally taking a bite for herself. He remembered the way he could see her sigh in content. The way she would let her shoulders relax, and slowly throw her head back with closed eyes.

In those moments, fading as they were, she was the image of peace.

Bellamy would give his life to see her in one of those moments again. To watch her lose herself in the magic of the earth. Her hair blowing into her face with the breeze, and the way her fingers grazed the side of her head to pull it behind her ear again. Distinctly, he remembered his fingers twitching. Almost aching to reach out and do it for her. And the way he resisted by curling his hand into a fist and pressing it almost painfully into the log beneath him.

With a huff he let out the breath again, standing up abruptly. The peace around him shattered. His legs shook alarmingly under him as he tried to stand freely. He couldn’t. Turning around and facing the wall again, he leaned his forehead against it. The coolness of the metal pulled him back into reality. His fist collided with the space beside his head, and he sobbed at the hollow sound. For a moment he just stood there. Hand and head connected to the wall. Stuck in his own mind he turned around slowly, and felt his shirt ride up his back as he sank against the wall to the floor.

His legs bent up under him, and he pressed his knees to the sides of his head. Desperately trying to suppress the sudden nausea. The tears came in a steady stream, landing on the cold floor in an almost comforting rhythm. His ragged sobs echoed through the quiet space, and he found himself needing someone to be there. Anyone really. He could never have her there again.

The last time he touched her he had tucked a piece of blonde hair behind her ear. They had talked about oxymorons. Out of everything in the world, their last conversation would be about something so meaningless. Bellamy closed his eyes and let himself remember the somber look on her face. She had known, but he hadn’t wanted to accept it.

Even with the withering look passing through her eyes, she had somehow still managed to look pure. Which was ironic. He knew Clarke, had seen what she had done. She was far from pure, but it only made her that much more endearing. His fingertips started tingling, coming alive with the memory of touching her skin. Evening out his breathing he replayed the memory again and again. The feeling of smooth hair sliding over the roughness of his skin. The heat of her against his cold fingers. The electricity from merely touching her.

It felt real. In that moment he was back in Becca’s bunker. The tips of his fingers lingering over her temple, feeling the steady pulse beneath the thin skin. Even the small amount of sweat that had come off of her couldn’t push him away. She was there, within arms reach, breathing, watching him with deep pools of unspoken emotions in her eyes, silent promises that she couldn’t bring herself to say out loud.

Alive.

He could have done one of two things then.

He could’ve taken a step closer. Wrapped his arms around her, and drawn her into him. He could’ve buried his face in her neck. Held her close, memorizing her because they never knew what was to come. She would’ve pressed herself into his shoulder, and the weight would have reminded him that she was real. Not some cruel figment of his own imagination. He could’ve settled his hand around her braid, for some reason wanting to hold onto every piece of her.

Or he could have searched her eyes for uncertainty. For some kind of tell that she was uncomfortable with the silence or the proximity. Perhaps she would’ve taken a step back. But maybe, just maybe, she could’ve taken a step forward. Maybe she would even close her eyes, allowing her breath to fan out over his lips, drawing him closer. Bellamy prided himself in doing whatever felt right; in that moment he would without a doubt have cupped her jaw with his hand. Rubbing the pad of his thumb over her cheekbone. He could almost imagine the feeling of her pressing herself into his hand, eyes fluttering open for a short moment before shutting again. And he could have kissed her. Right there, at the end of the world.

It wouldn’t have felt like the end. He was sure it would have felt like a beginning. Perhaps it would be like opening a book that you fell in love with just from the description. Maybe it would’ve been like tasting your favorite meal for the first time, or feeling the sun on your skin.

Maybe it wouldn’t have been like a beginning or something new at all. Maybe it was the feeling of finally finishing a puzzle. Or the soaring happiness of figuring out the missing link in a mystery.

But he hadn’t. He hadn’t interrupted the silence, and Clarke being Clarke, had told him goodbye instead.

Bellamy almost wanted to laugh at the memory. It came out as a scoff instead. Slowly he lifted his head, and carefully let it rest on the wall. Running a hand through his hair, he let it drift over his face on the way down. The tears had dried. He was left feeling oddly numb. A sensation as strange to him as the thought of earth without Clarke. His chest heaved as he let out a sigh. He could almost hear Clarke’s voice chastising him for sitting around sulking over her.

Almost.

He tried, he really did. But he could only remember snippets of her voice. He could remember her saying: “For my people.” Or: “I never meant to hurt you.” But he couldn’t remember the way her lips formed as she smiled. Or the way she told him: “May we meet again.” He remembered the way that her voice broke, but not the sound of it. The tearing in his heart was still clear as day, but not her tone that caused it. He remembered her short but heavy puff of air that she let out when someone said something funny. But he couldn’t remember the sound of her laugh. Not the sound that sent jitters through his stomach, or made his breath catch in his throat. The one sound on the planet, in the universe, that both calmed and excited him at the same time.

And no matter how long he laid awake at night, trying to remember; he couldn’t remember the sound of her saying his name. If he closed his eyes he could see her lips forming softly around it, saying it with a grace he never thought possible. But he couldn’t hear it.

With a clang, he slammed his head back against the wall. White hot pain shot through the back of his head spreading to his temples. Instead of reaching up and placing a hand there for comfort, he welcomed the pain. Willing it to distract him.

“Bellamy?” Raven’s voice broke the tension around him, and his shoulders slumped allowing him to calm down.

“In here.” Bellamy’s voice was so quiet that he doubted she even heard him, but loud footsteps proved him wrong. He peeled his eyes open, quickly spotting her in the doorway. As she laid her eyes on him, her face fell. Pity. Brown eyes captured his, and his gaze quickly flickered away. She didn’t need to see what was going on in his mind. “Do you wanna talk about it?” She sounded sincere, worried. He hated it.

“I don’t know.” He watched her feet drag across the floor as she crossed the room. She came to a stop beside him, before taking a step to the side and sitting down; thankfully leaving space enough for another person between them.

“I miss her too.” A lump formed in his throat. It had always been strikingly clear that he wasn’t the only one who missed her. Even Murphy had quieted down whenever Clarke came up in conversation. Raven wrapped her arms around her knees, mirroring Bellamy’s position.

The silence swallowed them up. Both of them either watching the floor or the dark, empty room in front of them. Only heavy breathing and the occasional click of metal breaking the silence. It was a loaded silence, in some way it was filled with memories, good and bad. In others, it was full of understanding and support. But not enough. It was never gonna be enough.

Bellamy knew Raven hadn’t necessarily been the fondest of Clarke in the beginning. But even she had grown attached to the crazy blonde. Glancing over at the brunette he saw the shine of tears on her cheeks. He wanted to reach out to her, to comfort her, but he was in no place to do that. He felt the same way. If not worse.

“She was it for me.” His voice was clouded with regret, and he rolled his eyes up. Staring at the ceiling. Counting the bolts. Anything to prevent the tears from falling again. Ravens jacket ruffled as she turned her head towards him. He could feel her studying him. She didn’t say anything, just nodded, digging her chin into her upper arm. Her eyes shut, and even more, tears escaped her. “I should have told her.” He fumbled with a loose thread on his sleeve, careful not to pull it too hard.

“She knew.” Even Raven’s voice was an octave lower, more careful than her useful preppiness. “If she didn’t, she wasn’t as smart as I thought.” Bellamy shook his head slowly, desperately clinging to the hope that she did. “She loved you too.”

He let out a small laugh. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew. But it was almost impossible to believe. Clarke, the one person who sacrificed everything for her people. Clarke, the girl with fire for a soul, and ice in her eyes. Clarke, a mere mortal who could measure up to whatever god you believed in. She couldn’t have been in love with him. He didn’t deserve that.

But maybe no one ever really deserved to be loved. Perhaps two imperfect people could choose to love each other, despite whatever the world felt it owed them.

Raven scooted closer to him, carefully resting her head on his shoulder. Both of them breathing deeply into the darkness. Sharing the knowledge that they would never really get over the loss of Clarke.

“You two were destined for each other.” Her voice was softer than it had ever been before. Almost as if she was scared of breaking something. But even with the quiet surrounding them, and the careful hesitation in her voice, the sound broke his heart.

“Apparently not.”

#bellarke #bellamy blake #clarke griffin #The 100 #bellarke fanfiction #im sorry

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sunriseoverastorea · 4 years

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Ebonhawke is silent and still in the wee hours of the morning. Marea can see the entire city from the deck of her ship, spread out below her like a massive dollhouse, sleeping in the shadow of the mountains where the Crooked Kestrel is docked. A single figure here and there, darting through the sulfur-yellow glow of a streetlamp, likely up to no good. She shapes her right hand into a gun and points it at each of them, softly saying ‘pew, pew’ under her breath. She can barely hear herself over the idling hum of gears and steam and shifting wings, keeping her perpetually afloat, a gentle lullaby of mechanical voices. But she couldn’t fall asleep here, even if she wanted to. Nor on the bomb-splintered roof of her apartment, alongside her pets, or in the tall, whispering tree out in the Iron Marches, that has grown over Rajya’s grave.

She sits down less than gracefully on the edge of the deck, still adjusting to her bad knee. Her legs swing over the side, kicking chipperly through the air, and to her left she lays out her work for the night: a new cape, shoddily handsewn and almost completed, and a large plain sketchbook, accompanied by her box of scribing tools. She briefly runs the coarse wool of the cape through her fingers, feeling nothing, but imagining it to be soft and fluid, fuzzy and scratchy, all at once. Then she takes the hefty book and plops it on her lap, opening to the first page.

“Don’t fuck up, Marea,” she murmurs, hunching deeply, getting her face as close to the page as she can. Her braids slip over her shoulders and hone in on her peripheral vision as she takes a black pen from the box and carefully pricks the end of it on the paper, licking her lips. “You don’t wanna tear pages out of this. It’s a record of your progress. If it’s shitty, it’s shitty forever.”

She begins to sketch along the top margin of the page, a smooth, elegant array of curving vines studded with leaves and blossoms alike, mimicking the flowers of Grothmar Valley. Her trip there seems like a world away, now--everything from before the Dominion came into existence does. In some cases, literally, in her year of barding in foreign taverns where odd variants of humanity with thick, musical accents listened to her tales of Ascalon, a fabled land with fabled cat people and legendary sorrow and beauty. But even since she came back--Raigar gone, then finding him a changed man from the one she left behind. Finding herself changed, a stranger in places she once romped about without a care, an alien in a world where everything is loud and angry, and she was loud and angry, and sometimes she still is, but other times she’s forgotten how she’s supposed to feel, supposed to react.

Everything is different. She can never go back to a time when Tyria was her whole horizon. The closest she can get is her memories with Rajya, when she was child. Days moved slowly, and the world was a story, a tapestry of love and suffering that she could read before bed. It was easier that way.

But even back then, she knew it was a sham. That real life was visceral and painful, and would beat her down at every opportunity. And now is no different--she has new friends, a lover, an airship, and a new place that she calls home, at least by name. And in the midst of all this, the concept that she’s built her heart around, like the vines climbing up the trellis on the page of her sketchbook, is crumbling into shards and splinters.

She leans forward, letting her forehead rest against the cold, rusty metal of the deck’s railing. She grits her teeth, eyes narrowing, metal hand gripping the pen in a fist so tight that the plastic casing cracks nearly in half. And then the pen is flying off the airship, out over soot-darkened rooftops, and shreds of torn sketchbook paper are hurled after it, though they only sail a foot through the air before they begin to drift downward, spinning and lilting on the breeze like feathers. She bangs her head against the railing, again and again, and even in her anger, she doesn’t feel like shouting. She doesn’t want to be loud.

What’s the point? she thinks, Why should I keep trying? Why did I return? Why do I still care?

She takes a long, shuddering breath, wiping hard at her eyes with the back of her hand. It’s a poison. A disease. Tyria is in her blood, and it will always call her back.

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

Over the snow-capped mountains and across the fields and forests of Kryta, Cara returns to Shaemoor. Her tiny room at the top of the farmer’s mill is just as she left it, if covered in a significant layer of dust. Even her favorite cat is snoozing on the bed, though it does nothing more than open one eye in greeting. She’s not staying the night here. It will take a couple hours to meet up with Jack and the others in the swamp, so it’s best that she gather what she needs, and leave. No fanfare, no sentimentality. It shouldn’t be difficult; this is a place where she despised herself, spent years trapped in a pit of despair and self-loathing. There is nothing of worth here, except her gear, which she came for.

She rounds up her weapons first. With her greatsword and rifle already strung across her pack, she adds a large hammer, an axe, a sword, a small shield, and a spiked mace to the array. Some of them go in the pack, others are tied with straps to hang from the sides of it. She flips through her stack of unopened letters, which she suspects has grown in the last year, nosy farmers delivering her backlog of family correspondence straight to her desk. Then she takes them all and shoves them under the mattress, out of sight, out of mind. Like they never existed.

Despite a fine peppering of dust, her armor still gleams, silver surface reflecting halos of gold in the candlelight. She stares down at her hard face, reflected in the chestplate, on the emblem of the Vigil so exquisitely molded into the metal, and she feels ill, as if her stomach is forcing its way up her throat. There’s no time to let petty, irrational weakness distract her--she grits her teeth and, piece by piece, removes her armor from the stand, and goes through the familiar motions of putting it on. Even after five years, the preparations that she has rehearsed since she was a child come naturally, easily, her second skin that she had planned to live the rest of her life in. Fight in battle, die in battle. With strength, honor, and justice.

It’s heavier than she remembers. She untethers her greatsword from her pack, and experimentally swings it through the air, a simple upper-cut slash. Her breath quickens, her stance wavers, she feels stunted and instantly yearns for her arms to move freely. But is it really the smooth range of motion that she craves, or the panting from her chest that she fears?

She’s lost muscle mass. It happens. She sits on the edge of the bed, untying the binding on her chestplate, and carefully lowering it to the floor. She didn’t want that, anyway. Baring that lie on her chest. She’s isn’t Vigil, and she never will be again. There’s nothing to be done about the rest of her armor, most of it in uniform, but at least it doesn’t scream from the highest hilltop in the same way the chestplate does: I’m a traitor! I’m a failure! I am disgraced, and I deserve my isolation.

Isolated no more, she has Jack. And the rest of the gang, though she’d hardly call them close companions. Still, in the moments when she is away from her lover, left to what few meaningful thoughts she has, she remembers what it’s like to be completely alone. There’s a part of her that believes she should’ve stayed that way, as penance. And another that’s learned not to care. She is no longer a soldier, no longer honorable. And she’s never lived her life half-heartedly.

She pulls a storage bin out from under the bed, and unveils a thick norn-style shirt, made from a mix of hides and fur, a gift from Kylan many years ago. It will do in place of her chestplate, unrecognizable to any familiar faces she may encounter at the war front, further enforcing the idea that she is not Cara, not even human. Even in her shame, she isn’t ready to be associated with the charr-killing mongrels she’ll soon be fighting alongside. Especially if the sack-hoods come out.

She stands in the doorway, saddled with armor and weapons on her back. She looks at the cat, who at some point circled the bed and settled down with its tail to Cara, face tucked away out of view.

“Goodbye,” she says in her flat, commanding tone, startling herself a little. The room had been dead silent, her footsteps dampened by the dust. She waits for the cat to reply--and it doesn’t, so she moves on.

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

Dido sits at her desk in her apartment in the Western Commons, busily scrawling away with a pencil. Trisha, take care of Kennedy; Sara, finish the dress for Elizabeth--she scrolls through the mental list of clients in her head, and when the letters are all written and addressed, she puts them on the table by the door, to be dropped in the mail on her way out. No noble lady will be left unattended, futzing and complaints should be minimal. She opens her little pantry, peeking in the back corners of each shelf in search of perishable food, when a tinny, subtle crackling in her ears grabs her attention.

Abruptly, she straightens up, and goes to the window, leaning her head out just enough to appear as if she’s enjoying the cool evening air. She gently taps her finger on the tiny comm, tucked safely in her ear. “Yes?” she answers crisply, voice even and smooth and pleasantly indifferent, an automaton of grace and sinuous charm. She falls silent, listening to the reply, and tilts her head out just a bit farther, trying to abate poor reception.

“I know, I know. Look, it’s not a vacation,” she says, keeping soft and low so that she doesn’t disturb her neighbors. “I--yes, I’m going to be with my sister, I never denied that. But we’re also going to an active war zone, so I’ll be working at the same time… Yes, of course I will keep you updated on everything I see. Every last fallen pine needle--who? Right, I’ll keep an eye out for them.”

The tinny voice in her ear drones on, a cloud passes by overhead, revealing the moon, and she dips back inside her apartment, a little more clarity coming through the device. She half-listens as she boxes up her sewing machine, shoving it under the bed and out of view from snooping eyes, and rolls up and folds her patchwork of fabrics spread across the sewing table.

“I understand,” she says gently, but firmly. “You know I take this seriously. And that I can multitask. Or I wouldn’t have the right to call myself tailor by day, agent by night. Sometimes the reverse. I like being kept on my toes.”

Goodbyes are exchanged, and the comm crackles and closes the connection. For a moment, she considers removing it from her ear; just a little peace and quiet, without her mentor butting in on her thoughts all night and all day, would be a sweet relief. But she leaves it in, just in case. Duty calls.

Tomorrow--in the morning, duty calls. She lies down on her bed, swallowed in her plush comforter. She will have plenty of time to catch up with Cara and Jack when the sun sits high in the sky, warm and bright, and a fascinating, unprecedented adventure awaits them. A charr civil war, Jormag looming on horizon. She’s living through history, and her keen eyes are drinking in every minute of it.

#rp post #marea the silent #cara graves #dido graves #first piece in a century and I like it

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smartgirlsaremean · 7 years

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Wedding Dress

Fandom: OUAT

Pairing: Rumbelle

Rating: T

Summary: When Neal sees the wedding dress his father’s been working on, he knows this is a terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad idea. Meanwhile, Belle is in love and she’s getting married, and she’s not very happy about either circumstance.

AO3

“Whoa.”

Neal Gold stopped dead in his father’s workshop, arrested by the sight of the gown on the dress form. Standing in pride of place in the middle of the room, the form was draped in icy white satin that shimmered with beads and crystals in intricate patterns. On closer inspection, Neal realized they formed trailing vines and roses, winding their way up and down the ruched bodice and flowing skirt.

“Pops, this...this is something else!”

From his drafting board in the corner, Roderick Gold gave a very small smile. “You think so?”

“Don’t you?”

Gold shrugged and bent his head so that his son couldn’t see his eyes.

“It’s…” Neal was a bit lost for words. “I mean, it’s incredible. This woman’s gonna cry when she sees it.”

“That’s usually the goal.”

Neal stepped a little closer still, careful not to touch the shimmery fabric. He didn’t have an extensive dressmaker’s vocabulary, but he’d been around his father’s business long enough that he could make out the fine details that made the dress so exquisite.

The beading was unusually beautiful, of course, but the stitches in the seams were so tiny and perfect as to be almost invisible. The cut of the fabric was so immaculate that the woman would look like the dress had grown on her. Gold was known for his taste and craftsmanship, as well as his ability to make the simplest dress appear as a work of art: a critic had once joked that he could transform burlap into cloth-of-gold, and from that moment he’d been known as Rumplestiltskin. He’d been dressmaker to the stars for years before decamping to sleepy little Storybrooke, Maine, to raise his preteen son and take over his father’s pawn shop.

Neal had hated the stupid shop as a kid, despised the junk and the clutter and the suspicious car stereos that were not at all stolen, no sir, just salvaged. He’d hated the desperate looks on people’s faces as they pawned the few valuable things they owned, hated his grandfather’s malicious smiles as he gave them a fraction of the objects’ real worth and claimed he was doing them a favor. When his father had taken over and slowly but steadily revamped the store into an antiques shop with tailoring services, Neal had been relieved.

The younger Gold drove a hard bargain and only accepted genuine antiques, but at least he never cheated anyone, and he never, never went back on his word.

Unfortunately, his refusal to acknowledge dear old Aunt Nancy’s porcelain doll collection as anything but a terrible monstrosity, or his outright disgust when presented with forgeries, had made him scarcely more popular than his own father. Neal understood their feelings - everyone wanted to believe that their family heirlooms were worth at least as much as their sentimental value, and his old man wasn’t exactly shy about expressing his opinions - but he’d always, even as a teen, been slightly resentful of the suspicious stares and uneasy murmurs directed at the man who had, more or less, always been his hero.

Things were even worse around prom season when, despite the fact that they were paying exorbitant amounts of money for their daughters to wear custom-made gowns that would get trampled and torn and stained, the parents of the town whispered maliciously about what kind of man willingly measured young girls in such an intimate manner. Neal had boycotted prom on principle both years, which had been just fine with his then-girlfriend Emma. Emma hadn’t cared much for dresses anyway, and she and her parents were pretty much the only people in town who didn’t consider his father a monster.

The last wedding gown Gold had designed had been for Emma herself, when Neal married her three years ago. It had been perfect too, simple and chic and pale blue without a single stitch of lace or even one bead. Emma had been in tears when she saw it, and no woman had ever looked so beautiful when she walked down the aisle.

The more Neal examined this dress, though, the more he had a gut feeling that something was wrong. There was too much of his father in this gown; the stitches almost looked handsewn, and the fact that Gold had bolted to his drafting board and hadn’t so much as looked up since Neal came in was suspicious in itself. Pops had never minded working in front of him before.

“Papa?”

Gold looked up cautiously. “Yes?”

“Who’s this for?”

His father’s shoulders tensed and then slumped a little, and Neal had almost guessed the answer before he said it.

“Belle French.”

Neal’s heart dropped to his shoes.

“Belle? Belle’s getting married?”

“Yes.”

“And...she asked you to make the dress?”

“Of course she did,” Gold said hoarsely, twirling a pencil between his thumb and forefinger. “I’m her best friend.”

“Oh, God, Papa.”

“Don’t.”

“But you…”

“Knew this was bound to happen.” Gold pushed back from his table and ran a hand through his hair. “She’s young and beautiful and vibrant. You were the one who hoped for more, Neal, not me.”

This didn’t make sense. None of it made a single lick of sense. Belle was crazy about his father, Neal was sure of it. He hadn’t been home as much in the last year or so, as Emma’s job was starting to pick up and someone needed to stay home with two-year-old Henry while she was away on jobs, but he’d been around enough to pick up on the sweet shy smiles, the come-hither glances, the coy flirting. And she touched him all the time, she was always touching him: smoothing his lapels and straightening his ties and flicking lint off his sleeves and tucking her hand into the crook of his arm when they walked anywhere together. Once or twice she even brushed strands of hair out of his eyes and Neal was pretty sure pride alone kept his father from melting into a puddle.

Belle had been in Storybrooke all of a month before the town was buzzing about the strange friendship that had sprung up between the bookworm and the beast. Neal knew his father had been long gone in a matter of weeks, and he’d been sure, absolutely, positively, felt-it-in-his-bones certain that Belle felt the same way.

But now she was marrying someone else?

What the hell happened?

“Nothing happened,” Gold said a little angrily, and Neal realized he’d asked that last question aloud. “There was nothing to...we were only ever friends. She didn’t love me, Neal. She was never going to love me.”

“Does she know how you feel about her?”

“Do you think she’d have asked me to make this dress for her if she did?”

Of course she wouldn’t. Belle wasn’t cruel. In fact, she was so soft-hearted that if she ever found out how much it hurt his father to make this dress she would probably burn it herself.

“She’s gonna know the second she sees it.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I knew.”

“You’re you.”

“Astute observation.”

“I mean, you have an artist’s eye and you’ve been around my work all your life. You see things the layman can’t.”

“So what else are you doing for her? Baking the cake? Arranging the flowers? Walking her down the aisle?” At his father’s shifty look Neal groaned. “Papa...no.”

“Her father had a heart attack recently and can’t walk very far. He’ll meet her at the altar and give her away. I just have to get her there.”

“That’s crazy, Papa. This is...why are you torturing yourself like this?”

“It is not torture to help give my best friend the wedding of her dreams.”

“Stop saying that. I know the truth, okay? Stop lying to me.”

“I’m not.”

“You are!”

Gold sighed. “Fine. I am. But mostly I’m lying to myself, alright? I have to if I’m gonna get through this in one piece.”

Neither of them heard the bell on the shop door ring.

She was supposed to go in for her final fitting the next day, and she was on tenterhooks. Ever since she’d asked Mr. Gold to sew her wedding gown, she’d been on edge, and she didn’t want to admit that she knew why. He’d agreed readily enough, taken her measurements with professional efficiency and not even a hint of impropriety (though the memory of his being so close still left her breathless), and just yesterday had called her to schedule her final fitting.

The last time she saw the gown, it was a mass of white satin with wide basting stitches in the seams and no adornment. Draped over her figure she got a better idea of how it would look, but her brain still couldn’t supply her with a picture of the finished product. She wasn’t sure she wanted to picture it.

Belle had always longed for love and marriage and a family and for the last year or so she thought she’d found the man who would make those things possible. Roderick Gold was everything she’d ever dreamed of in a man, intelligent and handsome and witty and God, so irresponsibly sexy, and she’d never wanted anyone so much in her life, and after almost a year she was certain he felt the same way about her. And then…

Well, not much had happened. Ever. Belle didn’t consider herself the subtlest person, and she thought she’d made her feelings extremely clear. When Greg Gaston asked her out about four months ago and Belle had asked Gold for his advice, Gold had shrugged and said that anything was worth a try.

His complete indifference had broken Belle’s heart.

And now she was marrying Greg because, quite frankly, she couldn’t think of a reason not to. Not one that mattered or would ever come to anything. Being hopelessly in love with a man who would never want her wasn’t a reason.

At least, she hadn’t thought so.

“What is wrong with you tonight?” Ruby huffed, setting their drink glasses down with a huff. “It’s girls’ night. We’re supposed to be having fun and you’re sitting there moping like the world’s about to end.”

Belle blinked and deliberately dragged her mind back to the Rabbit Hole and the booth she and Ariel and Ruby shared.

“Did someone ruin a library book?” Ariel asked sympathetically.

“No.”

“Greg being a knucklehead?” Ruby swirled the ice in her drink.

“No.”

“Then…”

“I have my final fitting tomorrow.”

The girls stared at her in total bafflement. “That’s...that’s supposed to be a good thing, sweetie,” Ruby said gently. “Shouldn’t you be happy about that?”

“Are you worried you won’t like the dress?” Ariel reached out and put a hand comfortingly on Belle’s. “You shouldn’t be. Mr. Gold designed my senior prom dress and it was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

“You looked like a real-life mermaid,” Ruby grinned. “I remember that thing.”

“That’s not it. I’m sure it’ll be gorgeous.”

“Okay, that’s still not the tone of voice we expect from brides-to-be,” Ruby sighed. “Try again.” She widened her eyes and clasped her hands to her chest. “I’m sure it’ll be gorgeous!” she exclaimed in the sappiest, breathiest, Disney-princessiest voice Belle had ever heard. Ariel laughed and Belle smiled.

“So if it’s not that, what is it?” Ariel asked.

Belle shrugged, but she could feel tears welling up in her eyes, and to her horror when she tried to speak a little sob broke out. Ruby was out of her seat in a second and sliding onto the bench next to Belle; she took Belle in her arms and stroked her hair. Across the table, Ariel looked horrified.

“What...what’s wrong? Did...did he do something? Say something?”

“No,” Belle hiccuped. “He didn’t do anything. Say anything. That’s what’s wrong.”

“What are you talking about? He asked you to marry him!”

“Not Greg,” Ruby sighed, stroking Belle’s hair. “She’s not talking about Greg.”

Ariel’s mouth dropped open, and understanding washed over her face.

“Oh, hon,” Ruby said quietly. “When did you tell him?”

“Huh?” Belle gulped. “I didn’t.”

“Wait...what? You didn’t?”

“No, of course not!”

“Not...not even before Greg?”

“No!”

Ruby pulled away and stared at her incredulously. “Seriously? All this time...all those dinners and movie nights and strolls in the moonlight and you never mentioned to the guy that you wanna make mad, passionate love to him and have his babies?”

“Well, I...I thought I made it obvious. When he didn’t respond I thought…”

“Belle, I love you, but wow, you really messed up there.”

“Me? How?”

Ariel shook her head. “I keep forgetting you didn’t grow up here,” she said. “Mr. Gold is...well, he’s never shown an interest in anyone in town.”

“I know that, he told me himself he’s never dated anyone…”

“No, I mean he’s never shown any kind of interest. In anyone he’s not related to. For any reason.”

Ruby nodded. “Even the Nolans - y’know, his in-laws? - he only seemed to care about them after Neal married Emma.”

“So when he started hanging around you all the time...well, it threw us all for a loop. And when you seemed to like him back…”

“I didn’t know you never asked him out. I thought you were dating him!”

“If I were dating him, why would I start dating Greg?” Belle rubbed her eyes.

“Because…” Ariel’s voice trailed off and she looked worried, “because he’s Greg. He’s kind of gorgeous and charming, y’know? I guess we figured you’d...moved on.”

“You mean ‘traded up,’” Belle snapped. “You thought I broke up with Roderick and chose Greg?”

“More or less,” Ariel said apologetically.

“And from the way Mr. Gold moped around for a month, so did he.”

Belle slumped back into the booth, her mind whirling. If the girls were right, she’d gone about everything the wrong way.

“I can’t marry Greg,” she said finally.

Both women gave huge sighs of relief.

“I’m so glad you said that,” Ruby confessed. “‘Cause I wanted to, but I know how much you hate being told what to do.”

“I haven’t been fair to him, have I?” Belle said sadly. “All this time I knew I was still in love with Roderick. I just pretended I wasn’t so I didn’t have to deal with it.”

“Well, it’s not like it’s all on you,” Ariel pointed out. “Mr. Gold could’ve said something, after all.”

“Yeah.” Belle sat and stared at her barely touched drink for a moment more, then nodded decisively. “It’s still early. I’m gonna go have a talk with Greg and then...I guess I’ll go see Roderick and figure this out once and for all.”

The conversation with Greg was blessedly short. He was a nice guy, but he wasn’t exactly the deepest or most romantic of souls. He took back the ring with very good grace, told her to make sure Gold treated her well, and sent her on her way. Probably this time next month he’d even have a new girlfriend; Greg was just that kind of guy. In retrospect, that was probably why she’d agreed to be with him: he made no demands on her heart.

Gold’s antiques shop was empty, but the sign wasn’t turned and she could see the light from his workshop around the edges of the curtained archway. He was still there, possibly even working on her wedding dress, and at that thought her heart lurched. If her friends were right, and he felt as strongly for her as she did for him, every stitch would be torment. Every conversation about invitations and flowers and groomsmen and cake must have been agony.

Oh, God, he’d agreed to walk her down the aisle.

Steeling herself, Belle pushed open the door and was surprised when he didn’t emerge from the back room. Voices were coming from the workshop, and Belle could discern Neal’s as well as Gold’s. Frowning, she turned to leave again - she didn’t want to interrupt the very little time Gold got with his son - but her name floated out from behind the curtain.

“If you love Belle, why are you watching her marry someone else? Hell, forget watching. Why are you helping?”

“Because I love her. I want her to be happy. If this is what makes her happy, I’ll perform the damn wedding service myself.”

Belle raised shaking hands to her mouth.

“But what if you can make her happier?”

“Neal…”

“I’m just saying, you never gave it a chance. Did you ever even ask her out?”

“We have dinner regularly, you know that.”

“No, I mean a real date. Where you wear one of your expensive suits and she wears a dress and you go out for a fancy dinner and then neck in the car a little bit before you drop her off at her place. And then she asks you in for coffee and...”

“For Christ’s sake, stop.” Gold’s voice was strained.

Belle inched closer to the curtain, her heart racing.

“Did you?”

“No.”

“Because?”

“Because she didn’t want to.”

“She told you that?”

“She didn’t have to.”

“God, you’re arrogant,” Neal huffed. “What, did you read her mind? How could you possibly know that?”

Twisting her hands nervously in front of her, Belle stepped from behind the curtain and took a deep breath.

“I’d like to know the answer to that myself.”

Neal spun around and Gold nearly jumped out of his skin.

“Uh...hey, Belle.” Neal smiled frantically. Gold looked as if he might bolt or vomit. Maybe both. “I, uh, I...I was just...leaving.”

Belle nodded, her eyes still fixed on his father. Neal dashed through the curtain, and seconds later the bell on the door gave a very loud clang and then went silent.

The air between them was thick with unspoken words and long-buried feelings. Gold hung his head and tried to his best to will the floor underneath him to swallow him whole, but the polished hardwood remained stubbornly intact. The click of Belle’s heels told him she was walking toward him, and he was steeling himself for a very loud scolding or a very hard slap when she gasped and he couldn’t stop himself from looking up.

She’d caught sight of her dress and was staring at it, her eyes huge and bright with unshed tears. Inching closer, she grasped a fold of the satin and caressed it, then dropped it to trace the beading with her finger.

“Roderick, this...this is…”

When words failed her she turned her luminous gaze on him and he was powerless to look away. He shrugged, hoping she would just leave him to his humiliation if she wasn’t going to yell at him. But she stayed where she was, studying him, and he began to feel hot and twitchy.

After what felt like an eternity she dropped her eyes from his face. She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders, then marched toward him, her expression determined. Gold clenched his hands into fists, steeling himself for her ire, but she stopped only when the toes of her shoes touched his. She looked up and caught his gaze - they were almost eye-to-eye her heels were so tall - and her entire being softened, her eyes glowing and her skin turning a delicate pink.

He still could not speak.

Slowly, as if giving him time to turn tail and run, she lifted her face to his, closer, so close he could feel her breath tickling his chin, and then her lips were on his and he wasn’t sure whether he was awake or not anymore. The kiss was brief, gentle and sweet, and when she pulled away her eyes were fluttering over his face as if searching for something.

“What’s happening?” he croaked, his voice returning at last.

“I’m not marrying Greg,” she whispered, and moved in for another kiss, but he leaned away.

“What? Why?”

Her hands were on his shoulders, he realized, and she was squeezing as if trying to ground him, to remind him that she was real. “Because I don’t love him. I never did.”

“Then why did you…”

“You didn’t want me. I mean, I...I thought you didn’t want me. But I was wrong.” Her brow creased and she looked nervous again in the face of his stunned silence. “W-wasn’t I?” He blinked, trying to clear his head and make sense of her words, which were contradictory to everything he’d ever known about their relationship. “If I’ve crossed a line, please just tell me. But I realized tonight that trying on my dress was the last thing I wanted to do, because it was just one more thing that made the wedding real.”

“You’ve had a change of heart, then.”

“No,” Belle sighed, “that’s just it. It’s always been you, Roderick. I’ve always loved you. Greg was just...the guy who asked. And I was sure you never would, so I thought...why not? Then you were so happy for me, and so helpful, and I thought, see I’m right, he doesn’t want me. And then you agreed to make the dress and…”

“You…” That couldn’t be his voice. He cleared his throat and tried again. “You love me?”

Belle nodded. “I’m sorry I didn’t say something sooner. And if you don’t want this, I’ll completely understand, but I…” Her little speech ended in a squeak as he leaned in and caught her lips with his own. Not want this? Not want her? He couldn’t imagine a reality in which that would be possible. He pulled away after a few blissful seconds and took in her flushed cheeks and wide eyes.

“I love you, too,” he said hoarsely.

Throwing her arms around his neck, Belle lunged at him, nearly knocking him off balance. By instinct he wrapped his own arms around her waist in an attempt to keep them upright, but that had the effect of pulling her flush against him, which did nothing for his equilibrium. He maneuvered them so that his back was to his drafting table, and now there was a whole world of possibilities for hands and lips because he didn’t need to worry about toppling to the floor and crushing her.

Gold pulled away just long enough to slant his lips over hers more securely, thrilling when she moaned and her fingers tightened in his hair. His doubts and fears were dissipating like shadows exposed to light. How could he not believe that she wanted him when she was pressing her chest to his, scratching her nails over his scalp, and pulling at his lower lip with her mouth? He pushed his hands under the wool of her coat and dug his fingers into her lower back, pulling her closer still. She gasped, and he dove in again, his tongue dancing with hers and finally gaining dominance, flicking up against the roof of her mouth.

Her hands left his hair and she shrugged out of the coat, which fell to the floor with a dull thump. Slipping her hands under his arms and around to his back, she dragged her lips away from his and pressed a kiss to his jaw, his neck, the hollow of his throat, and then back up again on the other side. He’d never been so glad in his life that he tended to shed his suit jacket and tie when he was working. Her fingers were working at the buttons of his shirt and he was toying with the zipper of her dress when something near their feet began to buzz. He tried to ignore it, but the sound was just low enough to register and whoever was calling was really quite persistent.

“Your phone, sweetheart,” he rasped. She huffed and bent to retrieve it, and Gold drew in great gulps of air, his head whirling from lack of oxygen. Or proximity to Belle. Probably the latter, actually.

“What, Ruby?” she nearly snapped. “Oh, for God’s sake, I’m fine...yes, that kind of fine...yes...yes...no! Look, I’ll call you tomorrow, okay? What do you mean what time? Whenever I get around to it!” She blushed. “Goodbye, Ruby.” She turned the phone off for good measure and looked up at Gold sheepishly. “Sorry. She, uh...she was worried.”

“Or nosy.”

Belle giggled. “That too.”

Gold reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, pulled back out of habit, then followed through with a little thrill when he remembered that she wanted him. He let his hand brush against her cheek for good measure, his heart pounding when she sighed and leaned into his touch.

“So...what now?” Belle asked, sounding just a touch insecure now that things had calmed a bit.

“Well, I need to close the shop,” he pointed out. “Unless Neal had the foresight to do so when he left, which I doubt, and anyway he doesn’t have a key. After that...well it’s a bit late for a proper first date, but…”

Belle smiled meaningfully, and his heart skipped a beat. “I’ve already eaten, and we’ve had our bit of necking. How about a cup of coffee at my place?”

“I...uh...coffee? Or coffee?”

Leaning up, she gave him a quick peck on the lips. “Close the shop and find out.” She headed for the front of the shop, but paused by the dress form. “I really do love this dress,” she said, brushing one hand against the silky skirt. “I...I hope I’ll get a chance to wear it some day.”

He smiled and pulled her into a kiss. “So do I.”

#i literally could not think of a better title #working title was sad wedding dress rumbelle #where did this even come from #I NEED TO WORK ON THE RELUCTANT GUARDIAN DAMMIT #rumbelle #rumbelle fic

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