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shookspearewrites · 3 years

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Shookspeare Fatherhood: Arthur

Good evening, ducklings! Here's the Arthur installment of #shookspearefatherhood, I hope that y'all enjoy it ^^

- JJ x

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Reared Among Heather, Arthur Conan Doyle

Whilst MC had been completing her daily tasks throughout the mansion on that clear June afternoon, she'd noticed how oddly quiet it seemed. She could hear Isaac and Dazai bickering and the gentle twinkling of Mozart's piano, even Lumiere's sleepy mewing but, two special voices seemed to be absent - Arthur, her loving husband and Mary, their spritely six year old daughter.

The lady searched high and low for the navy eyed pair of mischiefs, in every nook and cranny until she wandered out into the garden to find them. Arthur's handsome face was plastered with simply the most lighthearted smile that MC had ever seen and quite frankly, he'd never looked happier. As for Mary, her sweet giggle floated through the air, surely melting the hearts of all those that could hear that delightful sound. The pair were rolling around in the emerald grass, chuckling to no end as their oceanic eyes gleamed as if they were precious gemstones in the summer sun.

"Daddy!" Mary squealed out gleefully as her father scooped her up into his arms and tickled her sides playfully, making them both laugh even harder than before. The child wriggled free of Arthur's grasp and stood up, letting her little legs carry her running further into the gardens, giggling all the way, "You can't catch me!"

"You know," MC smiled sweetly as she wandered over to the author and took him into her embrace when he had stood up, "You've never looked happier, Arthur."

"H-hen," His crystalline eyes widened a little in surprise before his trademark smirk settled back onto his face, "I've never felt happier." Arthur let one of his warm hands gently caress his wife's cheek as their gazes met, "I have you and our precious flower. What man could ask for more?"

MC giggled bashfully as Arthur pecked a sweet kiss to her blushing cheek, "You're so charming, Arthur. What did I do to deserve such a wonderful husband?"

Before the question could be answered, the couple's darling daughter came rushing towards them with her little hands full of heather flowers. "Mummy, Daddy, look what I found - Purple flowers!" Mary exclaimed with a grin that could outshine the sun, "I picked them for you." The youngest member of the family thrust her hands forward to her parents, holding out the heather to them both proudly.

"Ah, would you look at those pretty little things," Arthur smiled as he knelt down beside his daughter and ruffled her hair softly, "Do you know what these flowers are called, Mary?"

The child shook her head and her long navy blue hair swished around her as she did, "No. What are they called, Daddy?"

"They're called heather," he replied before taking one of the blooms gently from Mary's hand and handing it to his wife, "They were the flowers that your mother carried in her bouquet when we got married, you know?" MC nodded softly in confirmation as she graciously took the flower from Arthur, blushing ever so slightly.

"You got married and had a wedding together?" Mary asked quizzically, her deep blue eyebrows furrowing in annoyance, "Why wasn't I invited?" She crossed her arms in frustration and looked down at the ground as if she were very cross. MC and Arthur both chuckled at their daughter's adorable reaction before Arthur effortlessly picked her up and put her on his shoulders. The little girl held onto her father tightly, still awaiting an answer to her question.

"You hadn't been born yet, sweetheart," MC answered, standing on her tiptoes to reach up and boop her daughter's nose carefully, "We got married a lot of years before you came along."

" 's not fair - I wanna go to Mummy and Daddy's wedding." Mary complained whilst still sat upon her father's shoulders. Rather suddenly, the spritely six year old perked up as if struck by some amazing idea and poked Arthur's cheek before she whispered to him - Well, she tried to whisper but, MC could still hear her every word. "Daddy ... if you ask Mummy to marry you again, can you have another wedding? And then can I come?"

Arthur chuckled softly and nodded happily, putting his daughter down safely on the ground, "Alright then, Mary. But only if you help me to ask Mummy again, yeah? Can you do that?"

"Mhm!" The small girl nodded triumphantly and saluted to her father before taking her mother's hands and plonking them down into Arthur's own pair, "Mummy, please marry Daddy again!"

MC smiled brightly at her daughter and then at her husband, her eyes twinkling with delight, "Nothing would make me happier."

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curiousconch · 3 years

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Rose-colored Glass

Chapter 11 of Ricochet (An Open Heart AU)

Catch up here: Series Masterlist

Chapter Synopsis: As winter began its rein in Boston, Heather finds a way to cope with her trauma, discovering the truth while remembering her past.

Pairing: Bryce Lahela x MC (Dr. Heather Song)

Words: 1.8k+ | Genre: Crime, Suspense/Thriller, Romance

Rating/Warnings: Mature (16+) / emotional trauma, death

Author's Notes: This week has been hard for me, and writing this chapter was unimaginably difficult because of it. Thankfully, like Heather, I found a way to cope, and people to help me get through with it. So instead of moping around, I finished this, inspired by the hauntingly beautiful classic song La Vie En Rose (I listened to this particular version on repeat). So, this is for you Nina, rest well in heaven.

Thank you so much for taking time to read this series. Please let me know if you want me to include/remove you in the tags list. Also, disclaimer: Majority of the characters are owned by Pixelberry, except the main character Heather Song. I also do not claim ownership over the lyrics of La Vie en Rose embedded in this chapter.

Heather's discharge went smoothly, contrary to the time she spent in recovery. Her friends needed to stay behind to complete their shifts, and although Kyra offered to take her home, she refused. She needed to do something first. Heather did agree to let her bring her things back to the apartment, with one exception.

Her slimmed fingers tightly gripped on the straps of the small bag she was carrying. The sunglasses she brought along tucked on the collar of her salmon sweater, not needing it anymore due to the cluster of clouds that blocked out the sun. Although it was almost noon, the chilly weather provided some semblance of shade as the heels of her boots thumped softly against the soft white snow-covered ground.

Her gray coat was sprinkled small flakes of snow, as she navigated herself easily amongst the unmarked path, that if a spectator observed, they would readily know that she visited this place often.

Heather's steps halted as she neared a willow tree, standing in front of a moss-colored headstone, aged by the almost seven years of Boston rain.

Despite the gloom of her surroundings, Heather's lips curled into a smile, as she kneeled down to gently place the bouquet of pink roses she bought along the way.

"Hi mom," she said, as the tips of her fingers skimmed the name carved in stone. "I'm sorry it took me so long to visit again. Things have been a little rough."

She went still for a moment, relishing the poignant silence in remembrance.

More than her ambition of being trained by America's top diagnostician, this was the reason why she chose Edenbrook. To be near her, to be in her mother's home city, it somehow filled the emptiness of missing her so much. To walk on the same pavements, to spend time in the same parks and places she's been to brought Heather nothing but the strength and determination to make something out of her once miserable life. Whenever she doubted herself, or when she was about to give up, the thought of her mom fighting a sickness no one should endure, gave Heather the much needed relief and energy to get back up again.

And that's the reason she stood there that cold winter morning. She needed her mom to come through her once again.

Heather closed her eyes momentarily, letting the rush of the nauseating trauma of the past few weeks resurface. Her whole being has run out dry, weakening her knees. She just felt so numb inside.

So without inhibitions, she recalled the recent events that turned her life upside down. She told about the threats over her life, and how close she was to her own death. She spoke about Raf and their recent fallout, how heartbreaking it was but relieving at the same time. She brought up Bryce last.

"This man, mom... I can't even begin to explain how I feel about him," Heather said as she rubbed a hand over her temple. "There's something about him that I just couldn't describe. It's been there since I've first met him, and it's still here until now..."

Her head dropped low in between her shoulders, as she remembered with fondness the emotions that Bryce stirred within her the first time they met, leading up to their frustrating confrontation. Heather irked as the thought of her failure came.

"But somehow, I messed it up. I picked someone else, because I was too afraid..." she revealed. She knew what she felt around him, but did her best to bury it. "Although I often wondered of what we could be, or what we could have been, the deep-seated fears of heartbreak, of what you and dad went through... I just couldn't act on it." she admitted.

"Yet when I was faced with the choice between life or death, all I had was his words, no one else's," she paused, recalling how she soldiered on towards her own escape, empowered by the same declaration during their day out in the trampolines.

"But now I'm afraid I'm too late, mom. I may have missed out on something great... Your daughter is a coward," she bit her lip, her eyes glistening. "Am I really too late?"

The question felt like a cliffhanger, never to be answered.

Sighing deeply, she collected her remaining energy to unzip the small bag she brought with her. She wrapped her hands around the neck of the instrument, pulling out a mahogany-stained ukelele. It was the last gift that she received from her mom, the very same she used to play her songs during their rare downtime.

She tucked its body between her arm and chest, as she tightened its strings with the tuners. With one satisfied strum, she began to sing the song that she and her mom always sang during the roughest period of their lives.

Hold me close and hold me fast

The magic spell you cast

This is la vie en rose

When you kiss me heaven sighs,

And though I close my eyes

I see la vie en rose

In a rush, those simple words tingled her sensations in reminiscence from flashes of her adolescence - the late night talks, the bonding over ramen noodles, her alcoholic initiation by soju, those times that they saw a movie together, the smell of pancakes and eggs in the morning.

In the few short years they were given, Heather treasured each memory more than anything in her life. Even the tragedy of watching her mom deteriorate because of her sickness, of those last months spent in a cramped hospital ward, she wouldn't trade it even for a pot of gold. Though in pain, her mother would whisper promises that she'll always be there for her, no matter what. Until her last breath, she held her daughter's hand. Those were priceless, shared souvenirs of a life well-lived. Of a life Heather hoped she could lead.

When you press me to your heart

I'm in a world apart, a world where roses bloom

And when you speak, angels sing from above

Everyday words seem to turn into love songs

Give your heart and soul to me

And life will always be

La vie en rose

Within those short verses contained the life lesson her mom taught her over and over again - to see life through rose colored glasses. Singing it reminded her that even if she was long gone, the memory of her will be embedded within, whispering that no matter what, there's a reason to continue living.

Smiling through her tears, her head tilted up to the heavens, praying that the divine could carry her thanks to her mom. For once again, in the most difficult time of her life, she did follow through.

As a sense of peace weaved itself through her, she opened her eyes and felt the clouds dissipate. With it were the frayed edges of the shadows of fear, regret and anger. And although she knew that it will still haunt her, she was content that healing has at least begun.

After a few more moments of silence, she placed the ukelele back into the bag and glanced endearingly upon the headstone. She skimmed her fingers over her mother's name, vowing to come back soon.

She swiveled herself to the opposite direction and began the path back to the cemetery gates, when her hazel orbs fell upon a pair of familiar leather shoes and gray slacks, making her stop in her tracks.

When she titled her head to see the face she expected to see, a pair of amber eyes met hers that made her breath hitch. They were filled with warmth and affection that heated the cold air and melted her inside.

"You're not too late," Bryce finally said, breaking into the quiet. His mouth formed a lopsided smile, his hands shoved into the pockets of his black coat which edges reached to his knees.

"Seems like it," Heather replied, snapping out of the daze that suddenly came over her, lips curving. "Wait, you heard everything?"

Bryce couldn't stifle a chuckle as he nodded, the adrenaline that rushed through him earlier as he tried to track her down slowly draining from him. A new and overwhelming feeling took its place as he planted the soles of his shoes on the soft snow, bridging the gap between them.

Once he was near enough, he gently wrapped an arm around Heather's waist, pulling her close. The knuckles of his other hand brushed her jawline until his thumb grazed her chin. His gaze lingered down on hers, completely magnetized by the depths of the windows of her soul, begging for her consent.

Heather's palms settled onto the nape of his neck, her lips parting to grant him permission.

In a heartbeat, Bryce tenderly pressed his lips upon hers, releasing the long-running yearning they buried so well. Unspoken words no longer need to be said aloud, clarity dawning in them both as their mouths crashed. Soft moans escaped from them as they deepened their passionate kiss, unrestrained in expressing their newfound freedom.

When at last they stopped to catch their breaths, Bryce leaned his forehead on hers, understanding that his unrequited love was never unanswered, only delayed. That after a year of pining, here she was, standing in front of him, a realization of a dream that for so many times he willed to come true. After all the nights of hoping and hurting, he couldn't help but be overwhelmed by the sight of her in his arms. A thought poked into his mind as he started to recall where they were.

"Well this is awkward..." the young lawyer muttered, with a sudden shift in his voice.

"Hm?" Heather's eyes snapped open, dumbfounded.

"I know I always wanted to kiss you," he grinned as he paused, before continuing, "but never in a million years did I think that the first time I did is in front of your mom."

At first her brows furrowed, but seeing Bryce's mischievous expression, Heather couldn't keep herself from laughing.

Inspired by the music of her genuine laughter, Bryce joined in. The sound of their giggles echoing through the poignant space around them.

Heather can't remember the last time when she laughed this hard. There were so many things that hung over her head that she almost forgot how to do it. But with Bryce, it came so easily. A sense of joy began to bloom in her, and when she saw the same glint in his eyes, she knew he felt exactly the same.

With their fingers intertwined and arms around each other's, they walked the path that only earlier they trudged separately. And now with their hearts finally out in the open, their tracks carved into the thin sheet of snow, unveiling the lush greens of the grass hidden beneath, eager to leaving what's behind, together.

Tags: @eleanorbloom @ramsey-lahela @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

#open heart #bryce lahela #open heart 2 #choices fanfiction #open heart fanfiction #bryce lahela x mc #fics of the week #choices fic writers creations #bryce x mc

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