#promo. ❛ those that went over the garden wall. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lafiametta · 3 years

Note

‘Braid’ for the helnik prompts?

Modern AU, mostly based off of this SAB promo video where Danielle admits she doesn't know how to ride a bike. Hope you enjoy!

After the seventh time, Matthias told himself he wasn’t allowed to check his watch again.

She’ll get here when she gets here, he repeated like a mantra. Besides, he knew she wasn’t standing him up, at least based on the text he had gotten a few minutes earlier.

sorry running late c u soon nina xo

Fifteen minutes later and he was contemplating sending a reply—definitely something casual, maybe a touch concerned, if only to see if she was alright—when he saw her coming down the sidewalk, a warm smile of recognition on her lips.

Matthias had met Nina Zenik three days ago at his neighborhood coffeeshop. He had gone in to grab his regular before heading to work, but somehow hadn’t managed to notice the person beside him at the pick-up counter, or foreseen that she would turn and run straight into him, spilling his coffee all over his Italian loafers and the floor. She was immediately apologetic, offering to get him a new drink to make up for it. Under normal circumstances, Matthias would have declined and simply written the whole thing off as an irritating blip in his morning routine, but then she looked at him, emerald-bright eyes under dark lashes, and he found himself nodding in agreement, his shoes—and his morning routine—forgotten entirely. He had ended up joining her at a table while they sipped their drinks—his dark roast, her caramel vanilla latte—and eventually exchanged numbers, along with plans for an afternoon date this coming Saturday.

(When Matthias finally made it to work, he tried to sneak in quietly, hoping no one would notice that he was almost two hours late.)

Nina looked just as beautiful as he remembered: freckled skin, full lips, curves in all the right places. Matthias wasn’t necessarily one to notice women’s outfits, but she was dressed perfectly for the summer afternoon in jean shorts and a striped t-shirt, leather sandals on her feet and a pair of sunglasses perched atop her head. As she came closer, he could see she had even braided her hair—one of those complicated French things that seemed impossible to create with only two hands—although a few wisps had come loose, forming a soft dark corona around her head.

“Hey, there,” she said. Her smile grew wide and warm, and his heart stumbled for a second, like it had tripped on some invisible curb. “So, what adventure do you have planned for us?”

“How do you feel about picnics?”

“Number one fan. I’m also partial to brunch and happy hours and any other combination of sunshine and food. You know,” she added, arching an eyebrow, “just for future reference.”

“Noted.”

Matthias began to steer them down the sidewalk, just to the corner where a rack of identical bikes sat waiting. The city had installed them a year or so ago as part of a ride-sharing program, and while he would often see people on them, zipping down bike lanes and park paths, he had never had an occasion to try one out before—until today.

“So I thought we could bike down to the city gardens and maybe do a little loop around the reservoir. After that, we can go find a good picnic spot.” He turned a little so she could see the backpack he had strapped to his shoulders. “I brought sandwiches and fruit and cold drinks. And a blanket, of course.”

Nina’s expression had gone blank, a dark little cloud beginning to form across her features.

“That all sounds great, really—except there’s just one small problem.”

“What?” he asked.

“I can’t ride a bike.”

Matthias paused, thoroughly perplexed. “Wait, you can’t? Or you won’t?”

“No, I just—” She shrugged, her mouth tightening in resignation. “I never learned how.”

“You never learned how to ride a bike? Not even as a kid?” he asked in apparent disbelief. Her green eyes flashed with irritation, prompting him to quickly backtrack. “Sorry, sorry.”

Matthias could feel his heart sinking; he had been fairly proud of everything he had planned for their outing, and now he could feel it all slipping away due to some ridiculous twist of fate he couldn’t have possibly been expected to foresee. Didn’t everyone know how to ride a bike? He had been seven when his dad taught him, brought him out to the sidewalk in front of their house and held the seat upright as Matthias did his best to pedal and stay balanced at the same time. Suddenly, the idea struck him, making him feel even dumber for not having come up with it sooner.

“Hey, look—” he said to her, “why don’t I just teach you right now?”

Her brows narrowed doubtfully. “You want to teach me how to ride a bike?”

“It’s not that hard. Little kids do it all the time,” he added, offering her a teasing grin. He could feel her being won over, the hesitation in her gaze slowly disappearing. “C’mon...”

“Okay,” Nina said, eyeing him carefully, even as the corners of her mouth began to curl upwards. “But there better be some spectacular sandwiches stowed away in that backpack.”

It took them a few minutes to get two bikes off of the rack—there was some business with QR codes and an app—and then Matthias walked them over to a little alleyway that seemed fairly safe to practice in. There weren’t any cars and the only possible thing she could possibly run into was a metal dumpster about fifty yards away. He leaned his bike up against the wall of the adjacent building and then went to help her with her own.

Before they could get started, though, he zipped open his backpack and handed her one of the two items tucked right on top.

“A helmet?” she scoffed. “Really?”

“It’s required, you know. By law.” He tried to ignore how ridiculous he sounded—like a safety-obsessed killjoy, no doubt—and proceeded to give her his most serious-looking expression. “Also, head injuries can create a lot of blood.”

Nina rolled her eyes at him, even as her voice turned playful. “I bet you say that to all the girls...”

Before she could strap on the helmet, though, she had to slip her sunglasses off her head. She folded them up and tucked them into the front of her t-shirt collar, the weight tugging a little on the scoop neck, while Matthias did his best not to stare at the shadowy hint of cleavage now visible at the bottom of her neckline.

He helped her adjust the seat down and then test out the brakes, until she was finally ready to get started. She swung a leg over and found a seat, her hands tightly gripping the handles.

“Start by putting one of your feet on the pedals,” he told her, watching as she followed his instructions. “Okay, now take your other foot—the one on the ground—and push off. Just coast for a few seconds.”

Nina nodded, then turned forward with a sharp look of determination. She was bigger than a child, so it wouldn’t do any good to hold the seat for her; instead he stood alongside, his arms braced to catch the handlebars and the seat if it came to that. With one foot, she pushed herself forward, wobbling just a bit before she came to a stop.

The grin on her face was nothing short of triumphant.

“That was great!” he said, wanting to do anything he could to keep her smiling like that. “Want to try again?”

This time, she didn’t hesitate, pushing off a bit harder against the ground. She must have started pedaling a little too, because she started going faster, and suddenly she looked over at him, eyes widening with alarm. The handlebars turned with her gaze and all at once she was swerving, the bike seemingly ready to topple.

Matthias did the only thing he could do: he caught her in his arms.

It took them a moment or so to recover—a long moment where all he could think about was how warm and soft she felt, the way her ribcage was gently expanding under his hand, the sweet flowery scent of her shampoo—and then he quickly swallowed and took a step back to help her right the bike. He could hear the waver in her breath, no doubt due to her near-fall.

“Good thing I was wearing that helmet, huh?” Nina teased, warmth edging into those bright green eyes.

“Yeah... lucky,” he stammered.

“So—” She glanced down at the bike underneath her. “Third time’s a charm?”

After a steadying breath, she pushed off again, letting her balance keep her upright before she began to pedal her feet. The handlebars trembled, but she did her best to hold them steady as she traveled another few feet.

“Keep looking straight ahead,” he said encouragingly, keeping his hand along her lower back. “It’ll go in the direction you look.”

With a burst of confidence, she picked up speed, fast enough that he let go and just looked on as she moved further into the alleyway. Matthias found himself smiling as he watched her, observing proudly as she turned the bike a little to the left and then to the right, eventually swiveling back to go in the original direction. After a few seconds, she swerved again, this time in a wide loop, pedaling until she had completely turned around and was coming towards him once more.

She laughed as she passed by him, a sound of pure delight. “Matthias!” she squealed, her feet moving faster. “I think you’re going to have to come catch me again!”

Eventually, he thought, she was going to have to stop—but she didn’t, not even when she was coming close to the end of the alleyway.

“Wait, Nina!” he yelled, and suddenly he was scrambling for the bike he had left against the wall, barely managing to get it upright before he took off after her.

And as he sped up, he could see her half-silhouetted in the distance—her body moving in sync with the wheels underneath her—a joyous smile lighting up her face, the tail of her braid fluttering in the warm afternoon air.

[send me a one-word Helnik prompt]

#helnik #nina zenik #matthias helvar #shadow and bone #six of crows #fanfiction #helnik fic #karis-the-fangirl #this one turned out longer than i had originally intended #but i'm sure none of y'all will mind :)

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calm-and-wine · 3 years

Text

(I’ll give you) the best years

part V (masterlist, taglist)

hello, hope everyone is well and taking care of themselves! here is part 5 of best years, in case anyone needs a little escape. there will be one more part (more like an epilogue probably), but i’m not sure when it’ll be posted yet, because i do need to (and want to) write my one shot for the quarantine challenge. it will definitely happen though. anyway, hope you enjoy this one and i’d love to hear your thoughts!

PART V

November 2025

Life without tennis was weird, that was the conclusion Lucy arrived to after two months since her retirement. It wasn’t necessarily bad, just very different. She didn’t regret her decision, not at all, but it’ll take some to get used to that new situation. She spent a bit over a week in LA while the band was doing promo, then went away for a week, just her and Niall, back in Maui, celebrating their wedding anniversary and whatever the future had in store for them. That was good, quite normal, but coming back and not going back to training was not normal. Not having to wake up early was not normal. Not having to pay attention to her food or being able to drink alcohol as freely as she wanted was not normal. Well, it was her new normal and she should probably start getting used to it.

It wasn’t like she didn’t have anything else to do. She went to see her parents and stayed with them for a week. She had been making moves on starting the management to help young tennis players, attending meeting after meeting, trying to be as involved as her knowledge allowed her to, all the pieces slowly but steadily falling into place.

Her life hadn’t necessarily slowed down, it just took a different course. And in the middle of it all, her and Niall also started looking at houses. Their friends said it was crazy, them running around, from meetings and Niall’s rehearsals with the band, hurrying to not be late to meet with their estate agent. Lucy was actually more tired than she was while playing. But she wasn’t complaining. Because no matter how chaotic the days were, in the end, it was always her and Niall, under the same roof, in the same bed, together.

Even though they were both busy, they were about to be even busier. Well, Niall mostly. With the band’s first album after reunion being released in just over a week and a world tour starting in January, he definitely won’t be complaining about too much free time on his hands.

They just got home from looking at yet another house (fourth this week), going straight to the kitchen, with Lucy starting to heat up dinner she prepped earlier, while Niall put a kettle on for some tea. Even though they hadn’t spent a ton of time together at home, especially considering how long they had been in a relationship, they had no problem falling into step with each other.

“So, what did you think?” he asked, stepping behind her and putting a hand on the small of her back while reaching up beside her head to pull out two mugs from the cupboard. Because they drove separate cars, coming from different locations, they hadn’t even had a chance to talk properly.

“Um… It was alright, I liked the exterior, it’s very well-kept. Big garden, which is nice,” Lucy said, turning slightly to follow Niall’s moves.

“What about the inside?” he asked.

She shrugged. “I don’t know. It’d need some renovation.”

He sighed, passing her a steaming cup, knowing she liked her tea almost scolding hot. She took it with a smile, also noticing he chose her favourite mug. “How come there are no good houses in London?”

“I know, right? I did not expect it to be that hard to find a nice home.” Because Niall was close enough, she took half a step and rested her forehead on his shoulder, him instantly putting an arm around her to rub her back.

“Could you see us in any that we’ve seen?” he asked after planting a sweet kiss on her hairline.

“I like the one we saw yesterday,” she said, raising her head, but staying pressed to his body. “It needs a lot of work, but it has good structure. It was finished terribly, we would have to change the floors probably, maybe take down a wall or two…”

“That’s probably doable though, right?”

“Did you like it?” she asked. It obviously needed to be a mutual decision, even if they may not stay in that house forever.

“Yeah, I did,” he assured. “It has everything we wanted, just needs some work, but at least we wouldn’t have to rebuild it. And I liked the location a lot.”

“Me too.” She wrapped her arms around his waist, her mouth going into the kiss. “Should we arrange for a contractor to take a look? See if it’d all be possible to do?”

“Mmm, yeah,” he agreed, planting another kiss on her lips. “I know it’s not perfect, but I’d say we try, I think we’ll feel different once we’re done with it.”

“I was never a big fan of perfect anyway,” she shrugged.

“In everything except your husband, obviously,” Niall pointed out.

Lucy laughed. “Oh, that especially, I settled.”

He looked at her offended, pinching her waist, which earned a yelp from her, instantly squirming in his hold. But he held her tightly, finding her lips for yet another kiss, both their faces lighting up with grins. They truly did not need a perfect house, because they already found the perfect home in each other.

The album was out. One Direction was officially back and everyone was loving it. The guys were special guests at the morning radio show, then did a few more interviews before arriving at the venue for their special show. It was their first proper show, only performing the singles on tv or radio before. But tonight was a ‘one night only’, when they would play the new album in its entirety, as well as their biggest hits, obviously.

Lucy, Maya and Ines met up at the venue, waiting for their guys to arrive. Eleanor was coming later with Freddie, everyone’s families and friends were going to be there as well. It was a big day and the buzz was evident in the air. When the band finally arrived, everyone could tell they were scared about the upcoming show. But there were also huge smiles on their faces and excitement coursing through their veins. They just hadn’t done it all in a while.

They all sat down to have dinner together, talking about their day, the amazing reaction the album got and everything in between. It was truly heartwarming to see them back together and happy like that.

Soon after, the guys had to go to soundcheck, the girls standing up, ready to join them, all except Lucy.

“Are you not coming?” Maya asked, looking at her surprised.

“Nope, this one is banned,” Niall replied before Lucy could utter a word, throwing an arm around her and squeezing her shoulder with a wicked smile on his face.

“Why?” Harry asked, looking at the couple with intrigue.

“Well, I’ve actually never seen your show, so he wants me to watch it properly,” she explained.

“No spoilers,” Niall smiled, proud of himself.

“You’ve seriously never been to our show?” Liam asked incredulously, to which Lucy shook her head. “Have you been living under a rock?” he snickered, genuinely surprised. Judging from the amount of people who used to come to their shows, they kind of thought most people have seen them perform at some point.

“Nope, just travelling the world, being one of the top tennis players, you know, the usual,” she replied with a laugh.

“Well, it might be for the better that you haven’t seen us in our golden years,” started Louis, “at least you’ll be less disappointed tonight.”

“Oh come off it, you’re gonna be amazing,” Ines chastened him, hitting his arm playfully.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Okay, lads, we need to go,” said Harry, trying to rush the boys, knowing their team was waiting.

“I’m actually gonna stay too,” Ines said, when he reached for her hand.

“Me too,” joined Maya. “It’ll be fun watching the show with a fresh mind.”

“Well okay then, we’ll be extra sexy during soundcheck, so you’ll be missing a lot,” Harry said playfully, which earned him a few laughs.

Each couple shared a kiss and hugs, with Louis making whiny noises behind them, because Eleanor wasn’t there yet, before the guys finally left.

Lucy loved hanging out with the girls. They were all very different, but still got along well, having this amazing thing connecting them. It was the same with the boys, all four of them with very different personalities, but forming a bond as strong as true brotherhood. It was the type of relationship you wouldn’t understand if you weren’t a part of.

She had fun hanging backstage, she always enjoyed those moments, everyone buzzing with excitement, talking, relaxing before going out there, and sharing it with the band, the atmosphere was even better. It was like a family.

After sending Niall off with one last kiss and an unneeded ‘good luck’, Lucy went out into the crowd. All the women decided to watch the show from the stands, only choosing side stage for the last few songs, so they could hug their men right after.

Watching Niall on stage has always been an incredible experience, making Lucy not only smile, but her heart fill with warmth, love and admiration. But seeing Niall on stage with his three brothers was another level. It was so easy to see just how much love those four guys had for each other, for what they were doing together. And the crowd… She had been to many of Niall’s shows, but she’s never seen or heard a crowd like that. That loud, that passionate. It was breathtaking. And knowing not only how hard the guys worked for it, but especially how much it all meant to them, made it even more awestracking. If she felt like that standing on the sidelines, she couldn’t even imagine how it must feel for the four men on stage.

Lucy knew Niall loved watching her play. And she felt like she truly understood why. How proud he always felt. Because seeing him up there on stage, she felt exactly the same way. There was nothing better than watching the person you loved doing the thing they loved.

April 2026

Niall was finally home. Sure, it’s only been 11 days since Lucy left the band’s tour and flew back home to take care of some businesses, meet with the few players her management was considering signing and oversee the renovation of their house. She spent over two months by Niall’s side, travelling through America and watching him perform night after night. And even after that time, she hadn’t gotten bored with seeing him on stage. She probably never would, just like he’d never get tired of performing.

Having just over two weeks together at home came at the perfect time. Not only because there were a few things that needed to be done in London, but mostly considering the conversation she had to have with her husband. A conversation that required a certain level of privacy, which was quite hard to find while almost constantly being surrounded by people on tour.

She occupied her time waiting with cooking dinner, his favourite of course, but her mind and stomach were turning, both with uncertainty of the upcoming conversation and excitement of seeing Niall again. But the sound of their gate opening brought her back to earth, making her instantly turn off the stove and leave the kitchen to properly welcome her husband.

She got outside just as Niall was grabbing his suitcase, so she ran up to him and threw her arms around his body, which was as familiar to her as her own, if not more. He saw her coming, having managed to close the boot of the car and open his arms just in time to catch her. At that moment she was so carefree, running wild just because she missed him, not caring about what the driver might think or how it might look, just happy to have her love home.

“Hi,” he said joyfully, moving his hand from her waist to cup her cheek and leaning down for a kiss.

“Welcome home,” she said before going in for a second kiss. They were both aware that they were stood in their driveway and not exactly alone, so they refrained from making out like teenagers.

“Thanks, John, see you soon!” Niall said over his shoulder to his driver, grabbing his suitcase in one hand, the other wrapping around Lucy and leading them into the house.

As soon as they were inside and the door was closed, his mouth was back on her.

“Niall,” she laughed, when after a minute he moved to her neck, “I made dinner.”

“Not hungry,” he said hurriedly, like he wanted to spend as little time without the contact of her skin as possible.

“But,” Lucy started, which made Niall pull away slightly, putting his hand on the back of her neck making their eyes meet. It was like that look made her grounded again, all the worries, stress, all the different scenarios she made up in her head, none of that mattered. He always had this amazing gift of making everything else disappear. Like it was just them two, at that very moment, their feelings the only thing that mattered. “I guess the dinner can wait,” she agreed, marking her words with a playful tag at his hair.

“Missed you, love,” he said with a wicked smile, before raising her up, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist to hold tight, and carrying her upstairs to show her just how much he really missed her.

They were enjoying the peace and quiet after dinner, cuddled on the couch, an old rerun of the show they’ve seen already humming in the background while they chatted a bit, sharing the things that happened the last couple of days, even though they already knew the majority through their phone calls. The company of their spouse always brought a level of comfort, no matter where they were, but when they were together at home, there truly was nothing better.

Lucy turned her head slightly to check if Niall hadn’t drifted off to sleep during the lull in their talks and when he looked back at her with the softest smile, the one reserved only for her, she said what’s been on her mind for the past three days.

“I might be pregnant.”

Her statement made Niall sit up, turning his body to face her properly, his hands grabbing hers to make sure her attention is all focused on him.

“How sure are you?” he asked softly, his voice level, oozing nothing but calmness.

“Um… Not really, I’m late, but I haven’t taken any tests.”

He let go of one of her hands to rake a hand through his hair. “Shit, okay, should we go get some now?”

She bit her lip nervously. “There are three waiting in the bathroom upstairs.”

He looked at her carefully, trying to decipher how she felt about it all, but he could only see the slightly shake to her hands and a soft smile gracing her lips, which was a bit contradictory, but in a way he felt like he understood her mood perfectly, a balance between very nervous and excited.

“Shall we go now, then?” he asked carefully.

“Yeah,” she said getting up, Niall halting her for a second before she could walk away, their lips meeting in a very reassuring kiss, before leading her upstairs with a hand on the small of her back.

Lucy had three different tests she bought the day before tucked away in a medicine cabinet, waiting for Niall to get home, because it didn’t feel right to check on her own. She went into the bathroom, her husband walking circles around their bedroom, leaving the door slightly ajar. She picked all three tests up, read the instructions carefully before peeing on the sticks, laying them all on the sink and rejoining Niall in the room to not wait alone.

“Hey, you’re alright, yeah?” he asked, coming right up to her and grabbing her shoulders, massaging them slightly.

“Yes,” she said, stepping closer to hug him, needing the safety of his arms. “I didn’t expect it, but whatever happens, it’s okay. I mean we want kids anyway and maybe it isn’t the best time and we didn’t really plan it, but we’re ready, right?”

He smiled at her, reaching up to tuck a stray of hair behind her ear. “I think so, yes.”

They took a minute embracing each other, both holding the other tightly, both having this epiphany that their lives might be changed in a matter of minutes. There were some soft kisses shared, loving words of reassurance whispered, before Lucy’s alarm ringed out, Niall squeezing her one more time before wrapping an arm around her waist, their bodies colliding as he led them into the bathroom to see the results.

“You look,” she said, burying her head into his shoulder, trying to take deep breaths and stay calm. She wasn’t afraid of being pregnant. Sure it would change a lot, a kid would probably turn their lives upside down. But it wasn’t like they never talked about it, they both wanted kids, they wanted kids together. She loved Niall, he was her forever, there was no trace of doubt about that in her mind. But it was still scary.

“Hey, look at me,” Niall said after a minute, his calloused fingers cupping both her cheeks. When she looked into his eyes, she could see them begin to glisten. “They’re all positive.”

Before she could say anything, a huge smile broke into her face, Niall’s face instantly mirroring hers. “We’re gonna be parents,” she whispered, as it was some kind of secret only they knew, like she didn’t want to share it with anyone else, it was only for Lucy and Niall.

“We’re gonna be parents,” he whispered back, resting his forehead against hers, before pulling her impossibly close, his lips finding hers, the kiss soft and urgent at the same time.

When he pulled away after quite a few more kisses, he grabbed her by the waist, lifting her and swung her around the bathroom, the biggest smile on his face, a laugh escaping his lips, she was also pretty sure she caught a tear running down his cheek. She had her doubts, she had to admit that, but she was also incredibly happy. Niall felt like her home for the longest time, but now they’d be a proper family. They were growing, they were making even more plans together, it was all evolving, growing, especially the love. She didn’t think it was possible, but it truly felt like the love they shared only grew and grew and all she could hope for was that it would never stop.

As Lucy slowly came into consciousness, the sun trying to seep into the room through the curtains, as soon as her eyes cracked open, she saw Niall. It was the best feeling to wake up and feel his body connected with hers, even if it was just their feet tangled together. But it was a rare sight to wake up and see her husband already awake. But this morning he was just that, lying on his side, an arm curled under his head, watching her.

“What time is it?” Lucy asked, rubbing her eyes, voice groggy from sleep.

“Don’t know,” Niall replied shrugging, his eyes not leaving her face.

“How long have you been awake?” She turned on her side to face him properly, her hand setting on his bare torso.

“Don’t know.” He reached his hand to push back the hair falling onto her face, before lifting his head to plant a good morning peck on her lips.

She looked at him with furrowed brows, his behaviour a bit unusual. “Do you know anything? Have you not looked at the clock?” It wasn’t like him to wake up before her but it was even more unlike him to not check his phone right after.

“Nope.” His face was lit up by a content smile, his hand travelling from her cheek to her waist to pull her closer.

“Why not?” she asked, eager to get some answers, see what was going on inside his head.

“Why would I?” He threw the question back at her. “It doesn’t matter, we don’t have anywhere to be today. Why would I waste time looking at the time when I have such a beautiful angel to admire beside me?”

Even though the room wasn’t entirely bright, the curtains keeping the sun out for the most part, she could easily see the love in his eyes.

“What got you all soppy this morning?” she laughed, feeling her cheeks warming up at his words.

“You get me soppy all the time, it’s your magic ability.” He moved even closer, wrapping his entire body around her, burying his head in the crook of her neck.

“I missed this,” she admitted, pushing her fingers through his hair. “There’s nothing better than waking up together.”

He hummed, his hands gently roaming over her body before setting underneath her t-shirt (or rather, his), right on her belly. Her heart skipped a beat. Niall planted a kiss on her neck, before pulling away to press their foreheads together, looking not only into her eyes, but straight into her soul. Lucy could feel her eyes starting to glisten, and who knows, maybe it was the hormones, there were definitely many emotions filling her, the strongest of them all being love.

“We’re really gonna have a baby soon,” Niall whispered, cupping her cheek, ready to catch any tear that might escape.

“Yeah,” she managed to say, before he leaped in to kiss her, wanting to show her just how happy he was, how in awe and in love he was, how grateful he was for her.

“You’re okay with that, right? Having a kid now?” he asked after a minute, his voice laced with the slightest hint of insecurity. They talked about it last night, but he wanted to check in again, after some of the emotions died down.

Just looking at him, concerned about her and her feelings, made her heart soar and a smile graced her lips. “Of course I am. It’s unexpected, sure, but I’d say we’re in a pretty good place, maybe it’s not ideal timing, but it’s not terrible either.” She propped her head on her shoulder to get a better look at Niall, making sure he not only heard her, but also knew she meant every word. “I’m happy. We’ve known for a while we wanted children, so we might as well start now, right? We’re having a baby, of course I’m happy. Pretty scared, but happy.”

“I feel like the happiest man, honestly. You always make me the happiest.” He grinned so much this morning, his cheeks would probably start aching before the clock even hit noon.

“Do you think we’ll be alright as parents?” she asked, grabbing his hand to play with his fingers.

“Well, I have no doubt you’re gonna be the best mum. And I’d like to think I’m gonna be an alright dad.”

“You’ve always been amazing with kids.”

“Yeah, but it’s a bit different with your own, right?” He shrugged before moving onto his back and looking at the ceiling, like it could hold some answers. “I think you might have to be the strict parent most of the time. I’m too soft for those kinds of things.”

Lucy chuckled, leaning up and over him. “We’ll figure it out,” she assured. “I need to call my doctor and actually get an appointment first.”

“You’re still coming with us to Europe, right?” He asked, looking up at her hopefully.

“Yeah, it should be okay, right? We’ll ask the doctor, but I think so. We need to get the house done though. Especially now.”

“Don’t worry about it, we’ll make it. Everything will be alright and if not, we’ll figure it out.”

She went in for another kiss, before settling down onto his chest. “I love you.”

“And I love you.” He moved his hand around to her belly and looked down. “And you little bean.”

July 2026

“You can see my belly, can’t you?” Lucy asked, turning every which way in front of the mirror.

Niall glanced at her from his place on the bed, looking away from the emails he’s been responding to and taking in his wife. She had a pretty summer dress on, the mixture of elegant and cute, looking as beautiful as ever. But he felt like he was on thin ice, because yes, he could easily make out a small baby bump beneath the material, but he was more than familiar with her body and was pretty sure this was not the response Lucy wanted to hear.

“Well… Yeah, but that’s just because I know it’s there,” he said, gesticulating to her stomach.

She huffed irritatedly, clearly not happy with his answer. “I don’t have anything to wear, then.”

Niall sighed (but not loudly enough for her to hear), closing his laptop and going to stand behind his wife, grabbing her hand to pull her close. “You look beautiful, love. And if someone can spot your bump, so what?” He knew Lucy wasn’t feeling great lately. Her belly started growing and as much as he thought that made her even more sexy, she didn’t feel perfectly comfortable with it yet, so used to the way her body had been pretty much the same for years. The fact that she had been feeling like shit, growing tired way too soon and morning sickness lasting almost all day, did not help.

“It’ll probably make tens of articles pop up speculating,” she reasoned, wrapping her arms around his neck.

He shrugged, clearly unbothered. “I say, let them. Fuck it, you know? It’s ours, yeah, but we can’t keep it on the downlow forever, so we should just do whatever we want to. And not care. You are pregnant, so why hide it?”

She bit her lip, taking a moment to think through his words. “Are you sure I look alright?” she asked again. “There will be a lot of people. And pictures.”

“You look stunning, Lulu,” he assured, marking his words with a kiss. “Like always, but even more. You’re glowing and I’m loving it.”

“I do not feel glowing,” she huffed.

He looked at her with concern. The doctor said it was all normal, some women feeling better, some worse, so technically there was no cause for concern, but he still worried, especially knowing that she was happy with the pregnancy, but couldn’t actually enjoy it, because it was not being easy on her. Having her on tour with him was good and bad at the same time, he was glad he could keep an eye on her, but it was hard seeing her struggle, especially all the travelling taking its toll on her. She assured him she was fine, time and time again, being an absolute champ about it all, which of course she was. But he was a husband, it was his job to worry.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay today? How’s the sickness?” he asked, holding her steady by the waist and taking a step back to look at her properly, almost like he was trying to assess her state, even though there were no clear symptoms.

“Not awful, but not the best either,” Lucy admitted, having trouble to even remember when was the last time she actually felt good. She took his hands and wrapped them tight around her waist, stepping closer to him once again. “You’ll be by my side, so I’ll be alright.”

He sighed, knowing there was no point in discussing it further. He did plan to make her ginger tea in a travel mug, so she could drink it on their way, hopefully calming some of her nausea, because that was pretty much all he could do to help her. “Are you excited?” he asked, changing the subject. They were going to watch the women's final at Wimbledon, with Lucy not only being invited, but also asked to take part in the trophy ceremony. It was a great honour, he understood that, of course he did, but just a little part of him wished she would take it easy. Stay home if she didn’t feel great. Especially because he knew she was stressed out about it. Not only about how she looked, despite all the questions she just asked, that was probably the least of her concern. She didn’t like being in public like that. Maybe she wouldn’t be the centre of attention, but she’d still be under the spotlight. She worried about making a mistake, having thousands of eyes on her, all the comments that might come after. She knew how to play on a tennis court, not hand trophies.

“Yeah. Really excited,” Lucy said, a smile taking over her face. “A little stressed, especially since I could technically feel the urge to throw up at any minute.” Niall was about to say something, probably along the lines of her canceling, so she pressed her palm against his mouth to shut him up. “But it should be fine. I’m really hoping Naomi will win, she deserves it so much.”

She didn’t just say it because she had beaten Naomi last year, but as a friend and a fellow player. They already made plans to meet up for lunch on Monday for a little catch up.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you, they asked us to come in on Wednesday to see the house, they need some decisions regarding the living room, I think.” Lucy said, after Niall finally went into their wardrobe to change. She was just about to hurry him, not wanting to be late and knowing the traffic will probably be awful.

“Do you have any other plans on Wednesday?” he asked, coming back into the room, dress pants on and starting to button a light blue shirt.

“There might be a meeting regarding the sporting centre, I’m not sure yet. But if I’m busy you’ll handle it, right?” Lucy asked, not even trying to hide the fact that she was ogling her husband’s naked chest. Damn, she loved his body. And his heart and soul, but his body… It made her crazy, especially now when her hormones were all over the place.

“Yeah, of course,” he said right away, knowing Lucy was actually the one making sure everything was on track with their house, so he could take some of that load now that he was home for three weeks.

“And I might not be coming out for that last leg of your tour.” She said, finally turning around and going to put finishing touches on her makeup.

“Wait, what? Why?” Niall asked, stopping his movements to look at her.

“Just…. The house is gonna be a shit show next month, with most of the general work being finished, the furniture and equipment starting to arrive, the other crew coming in… We can’t ask Mia and Nat to keep an eye on it all the time.” She didn’t turn around, didn’t even raise her eyes to look at him through the mirror, because she didn’t want to see his expression. Seeing the disappointment on his face might just make her cry. And she spent way too much time trying to make her eyes look decent with makeup to destroy it now. “Plus there’s been talk of some more meetings, getting the ball really rolling for the centre… And it might be good for me to slow down for a bit. Especially all the travelling. I haven’t decided yet, maybe I’ll come down for Australia.”

“Oh okay. I mean…” he sighed, his hand going up to his hair and stopping at the very last second when he remembered it was already styled. “Yeah, it might be good for you to chill for a minute. But I’ll hate not seeing you for weeks again. And I don’t like the prospect of leaving you alone with it all.”

Lucy finished applying her lipstick before finally turning around, his eyes already trained on her, a weak smile on his face. Niall didn’t mean to make her feel bad or guilty, that was never the case, but he also wanted to be honest. And she knew he was coming from a good place, always.

“I’m a big girl, I’ll be fine,” she said, coming up to him and cupping his cheeks, making a move to plant a kiss on his lips, but pulling away a second before their lips met, not wanting to put lipstick on him, which made him whine and her let out a little laugh. “It’s just a few weeks. And then you’ll be home. And I’ll be here. And we’ll be moving while also preparing for the baby, so that will probably be a shitshow, but hey, at least we’re in this together.”

He smiled, kissing her cheek. Then the other. And then her neck, making her giggle. “‘Course we are. Always.”

October 2026

Putting finishing touches and getting ready to move houses while being seven months pregnant was not ideal. Thankfully they were both home now, after Lucy flew to Australia for the last shows of One Direction’s first tour back, they came back two weeks ago, after spending a few days longer, just relaxing, on the other side of the world.

All of this made Lucy stressed, her pregnancy made her uncomfortable most of the time and the impending arrival of the baby made her feel unprepared, no matter how many books and blog posts she had read. Because of that, it was no surprise to Niall that she wanted a quiet birthday. Lucy was never a fan of huge parties, especially the ones thrown in her honour. He proposed going away to their getaway house in Ireland, but she had insisted there were too many things to be done and overseen here, so he didn’t push, not wanting to make her even more stressed or upset. He did however make sure she hadn’t done anything unnecessary that day. Bringing her waffles and tea to bed in the morning, staying wrapped up in each other until midday, spending the next few hours cocooned on the couch, talking and watching tv, catching up on the lost time while they were apart.

However, when it was nearing the evening, he did ask her to get ready, saying he had something special planned.

“If you threw me a party, I’ll kill you,” she said while walking down the stairs, ready to go out. She knew it wasn’t dinner, because they had eaten not too long ago, Niall cooking her favourite of his while she admired him at work from the kitchen counter. He just chuckled, refusing to give her any hints.

But he did throw her a surprise party. Well, maybe not necessarily a party, more like a gathering. He got all of 1D with their better halves, their friends, her parents, Mia and Natalia, his own parents, even few of the people she’s been working closely with at the tennis management. The place wasn’t too crowded, filled with people she knew and appreciated. The music wasn’t too loud, you could easily have a conversation without screaming at each other. There was a bar, but not a proper dancefloor, just a little free space in case anyone wanted to bust a move, which eventually they did.

It was special, a perfect night to finish off the perfect day, the gesture making her cry more than once (which was fine, because at least she could blame it on the hormones). She trusted Niall completely and moments like those just proved how he truly knew her, giving her the perfect balance of what she wanted and what he knew she’d enjoy.

But now it was nearing 5am and she was lying awake, over half an hour since she woke up. She was uncomfortable. Huffing and throwing away the comforter because she was too hot, then growing cold mere minutes later. Not even her pregnancy pillow brought her any comfort tonight. She was just about to try getting up, when Niall stirred besides her, his eyes cracking open and his hand going to rub at her back as soon as he noticed she wasn’t asleep.

“Everything alright?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah, I couldn’t settle comfortably and now I’m wide awake,” she explained.

Niall hummed, looking at her in the darkness, her eyes tired, brows furrowed. He could see she was stressed or anxious, like she had been most of the time lately. It made him worried. He tried his best to take as much burden off her as he could, especially now he was home.

“I’ll go make some tea and then give you a message, hmm, how’s that sound?” he asked, bumping her nose cutely.

“I’ll go with you,” she said, throwing the comforter off her body already.

“No, you relax, you’ve been on your feet half the night, you should rest.”

“I need to stretch, I’m too uncomfortable now,” she reasoned, which made him give up easily, ready to help her up right away.

They went downstairs holding hands, because that’s just how they usually walked, him not really letting her do anything beside walking around the kitchen to stretch her limbs, before going back to bed, Niall refusing to even let her carry a cup.

“I know you’re tired because of the house and the pregnancy hasn’t exactly been easy on you, but there’s something else also troubling you, I can tell,” he said, as soon as they were settled into bed, Lucy propped against the headboard, while he sat cross legged in the middle, facing her.

When he woke up, she didn’t expect him to stay up with her. They went to sleep just a few hours before. Sure, he only had two beers last night, saying he was gonna keep her company in the sober club, even though she insisted she was fine with him having some drinks. So he wasn’t even buzzed anymore, but it was 5 am, he must have been tired. And yet, he was ready to stay up with her, have tea and an actual conversation, just because she couldn’t sleep. That was love, gestures like those only made her appreciate him more and more.

“It’s just a lot, I don’t know,” she shrugged, not really sure how to even explain her feelings. “I’m anxious about the baby, I wish we were done with the house already and… I just… I don’t know what to do with the training centre.”

“Well, the house is almost ready and I’m back now, I can handle most of it. Especially the packing, you’ll just sit and give me orders and I’ll get it all done, don’t you worry ‘bout a thing. It’s not good for you nor our little bub,” he marked his words with a gentle hand rubbing her swollen stomach. “And what’s up with the centre? You’ve been having quite a few meetings about it lately, yeah?”

“Yes and if I was going to pull out, I’d need to do it now.”

He sat up a bit straighter, looking at her confused. “Wait, why the hell would you pull out? I thought you were excited about it.”

“I was, yeah, but…” Lucy huffed, playing with a loose thread in the comforter. “Just how will it work? I was hoping to get it done at the end of this year or the start of the new at the latest, but with a kid.. I don't know, I can't do it all.”

“Hey, it’s alright,” he scooted closer, noticing she was starting to get upset and placing a calming hand on her knee. “You’re not alone in it, love. I’m here,” he assured with a small smile. “And I know I’ve been busy, touring and all, but I’m home now. I’m here for you, we’re in this together, yeah? You’re never alone with anything.”

“Maybe i should just postpone it. Wait a year or something.” She shrugged again, looking down, her eyes unfocused.

He licked his lips, thinking of the best response. “You can if you want to. But if not, we can make it work now.”

Lucy finally raised her head, meeting Niall’s eyes, the look he was giving her nothing but gentle. “I’m just scared that if i put it off now, it’ll never happen,” she admitted. “Because then it’ll probably be another kid, I really doubt we’re gonna be done with one, and just… it’ll fade away.”

“No, I won't let it, love,” he was quick to assure her, grabbing her hands in his and squeezing. “I know you want it. And if you want it now, we’ll make it happen. Or if you want to wait half a year, or less or more, you’ll do it then. But I’ll make sure it’ll happen for you.”

Lucy’s lip started wobbling and tears began streaming down her cheeks. Niall reached to wipe them right away, letting go of one of her hands, but still holding the other.

When she calmed down, he asked, “Tell me how do you see it anyway? I know you want to be involved in it, not just set it up, but do you want to just generally oversee it or train someone or… I don’t know.”

“Umm… I think oversee mostly,” she said. “Pop in to see how everything’s going. Talk to people, trainers, players… everyone. Conduct training from time to time, but not really regularly. Taking on a player would be too much for me.”

“Well, couldn’t you do it now?” he asked, giving her a look of confidence. He was always the one who brought her courage when her own ran out. “Like, even soon after our little bug is born, you’d be gone for a couple of hours tops, not everyday,” he explained. “I think it’d be alright. Might even be good for you.”

“What about the band? Aren’t you planning another album? Another tour?” She asked, not exactly sold on the idea. It was something she’s been turning over in her head, trying to come up with a perfect plan, but she wasn’t sure it existed.

He shook his head. “There’s gonna be a little version of us both super soon and you expect me to leave for months upon months? No chance.” She chuckles, hitting his arm lightly to make him be serious. “There are plans, yes, we for sure want to continue, but not right away. I mean, we’ll probably pop into the studio from time to time, but no schedule, we just want to relax right now. Put our families first. We’re having a baby. It’s technically a secret, but El’s pregnant as well. Harry is getting engaged…”

Lucy squeaked in excitement at all those news. “What? El’s having a baby? That’s amazing. And Harry! Finally! Did he get a ring?”

Niall grinned, finally seeing his wife happy and excited making him feel a bit lighter. “Yeah, showed us like a month ago, fingers crossed he’ll actually man up and pop the question.”

She giggled. “That’s crazy. Maya has told me that she and Liam had talked about trying for a little one as well. Ahh can you imagine our kids being so close in age?”

His face matched her grin. “They’d be best friends.”

“Definitely.”

“But, to get back on topic, I’ll be staying put for the foreseeable future. Ready to take care of you and our bug and everything. So do your thing, don’t be scared, please. You know we’ll work it out.” He moved to his knees to get close enough to plant a gentle kiss on her lips.

“Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me, love. I’m your husband, no thank yous needed.”

“Yeah, but I still want to thank you,” she marked her words with another kiss. “For being the best husband and the best teammate ever.”

“You don’t have a lot of experience with teammates though, right?” Niall pointed out with a chuckle. “With tennis being an individual sport and all…”

“Yeah yeah, alright, here’s my trying to be nice and you ruining it. Just like always.”

He laughed, wrapping his arms around her body and bringing her flush to him. “I love our little team of three.”

Lucy went in for yet another kiss, having to agree with him.

taglist: @stylishmuser @verorax @georgiahoranxx @exoticniall @awomanindeniall @soullikestyles @bopbopstyles

#dtl #1dff #one direction fanfiction #niall horan fanfiction #one direction fan fiction #niall horan fan fiction #niall horan oneshot #one direction one shot #down the line

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niall-is-my-dream · 5 years

Text

Lost Without You - Part Seven

2630 words

"This is perfect." Niall said as he played with the fingers on your free hand. Your other hand was holding the novel you were reading. "You're perfect."

"And you're a charmer!" You giggled as you turned the page.

"Hey, I hadn't finished that page." He said, so you turned it back.

"Didn't realise you were reading it, thought you were just looking at my boobs." You replied smiling.

"Was doing both, you're very distracting."

You giggled at him again and he gently kissed the top of your head. Both of you had been laying in the hammock in the grounds of the villa for about an hour. A shady spot towards the end of the property boundary with an amazing view of the countryside.

You'd arrived late last night, so had decided to laze around the villa for the day and maybe venture out for a walk or something later when it had cooled down. The weather was warm and you could see your friends from your spot on the hammock jumping into the pool to cool down and sitting on the loungers under the umbrellas seeking shade.

Niall had ushered you down to the bottom of the garden and kept you to himself since lunchtime. The need to just be on your own instead of with the 8 friends you'd come with.

Humming a contented sigh, you closed your book and turned slowly on your side making sure not to fall out of the hammock.

"Had enough of your book already?" He asked you.

"No, just wanted to give you a kiss." You replied leaning up to let your lips meet his.

"Going to miss you so much when you go to Paris." He whispered against your lips.

"I'm going to miss you too Niall."

"I'm so incredibly proud of you though."

"I know you are. And I'm proud of you too, your second album is coming out in like two months. I know you've worked so hard on it."

You couldn't help but reach up your hand and cup his cheek, stroking your thumb across his stubble. Both of you were silent now, but you knew he was thinking the same as you. The dreams you were both chasing were different but they would always lead you back to one another.

"When we come to Paris to do some promo in October I've asked to have the day off after so that I can come and visit you."

That meant you'd be apart for at least 6/7 weeks before you'd see each other again and then another 6/7 weeks until you'd be back from the internship and Niall would be taking a Christmas break.

"I'd love for you to come and visit me." You replied and you held back the tears that were threatening to fall.

"You know I think I fell for you the first time we met." He whispered his eyes never leaving yours.

"Is it because I saved you from that stalker girl in the plastic dress?" You smiled.

"Well that was one of the reasons." He laughed. "But I don't know, I thought the way you stood up to her was hot, I couldn't help but keep glancing at you all night after that."

"I noticed you were staring at my bum while I was filling up the fridges."

"Not going to lie, I did look quite a few times, Willie caught me doing it." He laughed.

It was in that moment that you realised just how serious things had become with Niall in just a few short months. You knew that you were falling in love with him, but there was no way you'd utter those words. The niggling feeling that he would end this soon enough was still in the back of your mind. Even after he had asked you to take things further with him, something more serious. There was still something holding you back from giving him your heart completely.

You had been seeing Niall for quite a while now but the majority of your time was spent in just each other's company. You'd been for a drink with his friends and then a gig and you'd had dinner at his when Willie was home. However seeing him with his inner circle of friends when he was at his most relaxed was the best feeling.

His hand never left your thigh when you were sitting at the outside table. Whether you were eating a meal or just having a drink in the evening with everyone he had to touching your skin in some way. It was calm and comforting and gave you a warm feeling in your heart.

All your friends got on really well, Jess had clearly hit It off with Conor and they kept sneaking off together which was cute. Hannah wasn't interested in anyone but she had formed a bond with Deo of all people. As serious as Hannah could be sometimes, she was the most outgoing of you all. Her and Deo had some great banter going on and would constantly be laughing about something together.

The 5 days in Italy came and went too quick in your opinion. You'd managed to take in the sights of the old town you were staying near without being spotted, no one knew where you all were. Niall was relaxed and you'd spent your days by the pool or lazing in the hammock together. Evenings were spent eating way too much food and drinking too much wine.

It had been perfect.

Niall was leaving in less than a week for L.A. where he would start his promo for his new single. He was nervous and excited at the same time. Once he was gone you wouldn't see him for over 6 weeks. The thought made you feel sick and you had no idea why you had chosen to share some of those thoughts with Niall one morning. It was a few days after you had got back from Italy and you were in the kitchen making coffee for you both. Niall had stayed over and was in the bedroom getting dressed after a shower.

You were staring at the mugs as you stirred the coffee, your mind wandering off to what you'd both be up to next week.

"Hey you ok?" Niall asked you. "You look like you're in a world of your own love."

You hadn't realised he had been stood at the kitchen door.

"Yeah.....yeah I'm good. Coffees done, did you want some breakfast?"

"You're not good, I can tell. What's wrong?" He said his voice laced with worry.

It was at this point that your mouth just spoke without you wanting it to.

"Do you want to take a break from this thing with me? Because it's ok if you want to."

"What?"

"I know you're going to be busy and stuff."

"Why are you bringing this up again?" He asked you, his voice sounding annoyed.

"I just want you to know that you can end it and I'll be fine."

"Do you want me to end it? Is that what you want?"

Niall voice was getting angry now and you could feel yourself getting upset. Why had you said anything to him? Hannah had told you to be brave and take the risk with him. Not to worry about being apart and go with the flow. Enjoy it.

Now you were fucking it all up.

"I don't want you to end it, no. I just thought you might want to take a break from us so you can focus on your work and not have to worry about me." You replied but you could barely look at him.

"Why on earth would you think that?! Is this just some fling, some game to you?"

Tears were welling up in your eyes now and you quickly wiped them with the back of your hand.

"You know I don't think of this as a fling or a game." You whispered.

"Then what am so suppose to think? We talked about this a month ago, I told you how much I cared for you. Fuck, I poured my heart out to you and now you're trying to end this. I just can't .... " He said and he walked out of the kitchen.

"Niall....." You called after him but he was already shoving his phone in his pocket and grabbing his bag from your bedroom.

"Niall.....please don't go." You sobbed.

"Why's that, when you've clearly already made the decision about us?"

"Please stay and talk to me."

He completely ignored you and walked towards the door, slipping on his converse he reached for the door handle. He paused for a second and you thought he was going to say something, but he didn't. The door closed with a bang and you felt your legs buckle beneath you. You landed on the floor with thud, your hands coming up to your face to try and hold in the sobs that were tumbling from your mouth.

You weren't sure how long you were sitting there for but you managed to get yourself up and walk towards the kitchen. Reaching across the sink to the box of tissues on the window sill, you paused.

Niall's car was still in the car park below.

Grabbing some tissues you wiped your eyes and blew your nose. Straightening out your hair a little you shoved on your flip flops, grabbed your keys and bolted out the door. Taking two steps at a time you made your way down the back stairs and ran across the car park. Throwing open the passenger seat you quickly sat down and closed the door.

Niall didn't say anything as you climbed into the car, you stared straight ahead, looking at the brick wall of the building next to yours.

"I'm sorry." You whispered. "This, us, the being together but being apart for months is scaring the shit out of me. Hannah had told me to take the risk and stop worrying about it, to deal with the being apart. I just thought you'd maybe want to just pause whatever we are and pick it back up when you get back."

It was then that you looked at him, his eyes were red and full of tears. His hair was a mess, he had clearly ran his hands through it with his frustration.

"An hour ago we were lying in bed after having just made love to each other and I couldn't have been happier and then you start telling me you've been thinking about ending this with me. Do you know how that made me feel?" He whispered.

You didn't reply, the broken sobs that escaped your lips were enough.

"Having a relationship is hard for me. I thought this was different, I thought it meant something to you." He said.

"It does. Niall I'm so sorry."

"I just need some time to think. I need to go."

"Ok, can we talk later?"

"Yeah."

You nodded, but he couldn't even look at you.

Slowly you pulled the door handle and got out of the car, as you walked up the steps to your flat, Niall reversed his car and left the car park.

Curling up in your bed that smelt like him was both a comfort and a curse. You couldn't believe you had blurted out your doubts to him.

They were ridiculous.

He had done nothing for you to doubt him. You knew he wouldn't cheat on you, you knew he would message you or call you when he could. He had done it when he was in L.A for three weeks when you first started seeing each other. And you would be busy in Paris with your job and meeting new people, he was probably having his own anxieties about you being away from him.

You were a complete twat who had pushed away an amazing guy over your stupid insecurities.

Breathing in his scent you fell asleep crying.

The loud knocking on your door woke you up, you looked at your clock and noticed it was a little after 3pm. Pulling yourself out of bed you attempted to sort out your hair in the mirror on your vanity. You looked a mess but you didn't care, the sound of a knocking on your door again alerted you as to why you'd woken up.

Niall was stood at your door, you honestly hadn't expected it to be him.

"Hey." You whispered.

"Hey." He replied. "Mind if I come in?"

"No, of course not." You replied as you let him in.

He followed you down the hall to the kitchen where you noticed the two mugs of coffee you had been making earlier were still sitting there. Taking a deep breath you took them to the sink and poured them away. The silence in the room was causing your mind to wander, you had no idea what he was going to say. By the time you'd rinsed the mugs and placed them on the draining board he still hasn't spoken a word to you. It was only when you were drying your hands that he spoke.

"I'm sorry I left like that."

"I don't blame you for wanting to leave after what I said."

"Be honest with me, do you want to end us?"

You shook your head, unable to form any words. You knew as soon as you did you'd start crying again.

"Then why did you say it?"

"I don't know why you're with me. You could be with anyone and it scares me that you're mine. I don't want you feeling like you have to call or message me when you're busy trying to do promo all over the world."

There, you'd said it outright, no more avoiding the real reason for your outburst.

"I'm with you because when you saved me from that girl that night we met you didn't even care who I was, you treated me like I was normal. You're beautiful, kind and you care about everyone in your life. You make me feel relaxed and at home when I'm with you. I don't want to be without you, I don't want to take a break, we can survive being apart I know we can."

Your heart was beating so fast as his words were sinking in. Tears were falling down your face with relief that he had come back to you. You hadn't lost him.

Niall moved closer to you, his hand coming up to your face, his thumb wiping away your tears.

"Please don't cry anymore Petal, it's breaking my heart." He whispered.

You nodded and then he leaned down and placed his lips against yours. The kiss was needy, both of you trying to hold on to the other, both of you wanting to show the other that you needed to be together.

Niall ran his hands up under your cotton t-shirt in search of skin to caress, your hands had been place firmly in his hair. You were both frantic as you pulled at each other clothes, heavy pants leaving your lips as you tried to rid yourselves of the fabric that was causing a barrier between you.

The walk down the hall to your bedroom was rushed, you bashed your arm on the door frame of the living room and let out a pained ouch. He mumbled an apology but you didn't care, you needed to show him exactly how much you wanted him. Your clothes were scattered along the hall way and by the time you'd got to your room you were both naked except for Niall's boxer shorts.

He laid you down on your bed and began kissing along your jaw and down your neck, nipping and sucking as he went. You could hear him mumbling about how perfect you were and how much he needed you. Tears were threatening to fall again as you began to realise how stupidly in love with him you were and how you couldn't believe you had nearly lost him.

As you laid in bed together that afternoon, you finally plucked up the courage to tell him.

He smiled at you and kissed you gently, whispering that he loved you too.

Part Eight

https://niall-is-my-dream.tumblr.com/post/188342533653/lost-without-you-part-eight

#Niall #Niall Horan #Niall fan fic #Niall fan fiction #Niall Horan fan fic #Niall Horan fan fiction #solo Niall #Emily writes #Niall fluff #Niall smut

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wistfulcynic · 5 years

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Self-Promo Sunday: The Very Witching Time

Tomorrow I’ll be posting The Sleep of the Sun, my contribution for @cspupstravaganza and a continuation of The Very Witching Time, which I wrote for the Supernatural Summer this year. It isn’t necessary to read TVWT to read the TSotS, but just in case, here it is!

Though it starts in summer the main action takes place in October, and there’s an eerie, witchy vibe throughout. It’s a modern setting, because I love witch!Emma as a modern woman who wears jeans and watches Netflix and uses her magic to keep her drinks hot and make her pancakes perfectly circular. But of course when she’s threatened by ancient evil she can use her magic for far more than that. Or when she meets an injured dog in the forest and needs it to heal him.

I love this verse so much, and these versions of Emma and Killian, AND the next chapter of their lives, beyond The Sleep of the Sun, which I hope will appear next year for the Supernatural Summer! I just can’t let it go.

SUMMARY: Emma Swan is a hereditary witch, last in a long line of wise women who for centuries have guarded the coast of Maine and the small village of Storybrooke with their homemade cures and their ancient magic. She holds the delicate balance between magic and mundane, but now that balance is threatened by a new foe, one capable of bringing an end to everything Emma is and everything she loves. To defeat it she will need all her power, help from her friends and neighbours, and the loyalty of a very unusual dog who answers to the name of Killian.

Words: 35k Rating: M (for violence and mild sexy times) Tags: modern AU, magical AU, witchcraft AU, witch!Emma, cursed!Killian, witches, witchcraft, witch lore

On AO3

CHAPTER ONE:

Emma Swan lived atop a jagged cliff in a house that seemed an extension of it, rising up from the wind-hewn face into pointed towers that stood stark against the sky. The house was of the same stone as the cliff itself, great slabs of it, slabs too large to be used for construction, slabs that, observing them, one felt could have been formed only by the hand of nature and never that of man. It was a part of the landscape, that house, as old as the earth and only slightly younger than the sky, perched at the edge of those perilous cliffs in a way that made it impossible to imagine them without it.

The back of the house, or rather the front, as that was where the door was set, however, presented an altogether different aspect; one of a delightful cottage of typical grey Maine clapboard, squat and cheerful with a steeply sloping roof trimmed in white and a low stone wall surrounding a tumbledown greenhouse and a garden where bushes, trees, and flowers jumbled together and neither rhyme nor reason appeared to play any role. On the casual observer the effect was charming in an artless way, yet a keener eye would note method behind the garden’s seeming madness, an ancient wisdom in the randomness of the tumbling riots of colour that shifted and transmuted with the seasons. Where in spring it boasted bright red poppies and purple larkspur, delicate white anemones and pink blossoms on the apple trees twisting around each corner of the wall, summer brought fragrant freesia and heather for the bees, its warm breezes rustling through the tall irises and lilies. Autumn ushered in the muted oranges and yellows of chrysanthemums and the fluffy white of Queen Anne’s Lace, salvia and yarrow and berries from the rowan tree. Even in winter the garden provided: the glossy green leaves and red berries of the holly bushes brightened the snowy vista as pansies and orchids flourished in the greenhouse.

Beyond the garden wall a forest sprawled, dark and wild and perilous, from the very edge of the cliff where trees clung by their gnarled roots to the borders of the village where it dwindled into fenced yards and tidy houses. Here your casual observer would feel a shivering prickle on the back of his neck, that uncomfortable sensation of being watched by things not quite of this world that is more commonly reserved for graveyards at dusk and abandoned Victorian houses. He would move quickly through the dense woodland —yet not so quickly that he appeared to be hurrying— and upon emerging he would feel the sunshine as a balm on skin grown far colder than he’d realised.

The keen observer would, of course, not go into the forest at all.

Emma was as keen an observer as anyone could be but the forest, for all its determined menace, posed no threat to her. She relied on it, in fact, for ingredients she could not or did not wish to cultivate in her garden or greenhouse, just as it relied on her to keep a rein on its magic. Emma and the forest had an understanding.

That understanding failed to extend to the village which separated the forest from the lush farmlands which this stretch of Maine coastline boasted; the richest soil in New England it was said, guarded closely by the residents of Storybrooke who despite their distrust of it were prepared to put up with creepy forest at their backs in exchange for prosperity at their fronts. And though they rarely ventured into the woods themselves they were broad minded and mercenary enough to appreciate the labours of those who did, of Emma and the generations of witches who had come before her; wise women who kept the forest in check and the villagers placated with potions and tinctures, candles to encourage love or drive away evil spirits and balms to soothe every ailment from a bumped head to a broken heart.

And so, just as witches had done in Storybrooke from the time of the earliest settlement of her ancestors in this land, Emma kept an apothecary shop in the village, stocked with the wares she blended and brewed herself, travelling to and from it each day along the very same forest path that had been daily trodden by so many powerful women over the course of the centuries.

The path was so familiar to her she could follow it in her sleep, which she almost did on the August afternoon when our tale begins, lulled by the muggy weight of the late summer air. The sunlight that shone so brightly on the village barely penetrated here; just a few slender shafts of it reached the forest floor, encouraging the growth of the rare plants on which Emma’s livelihood relied but doing little to alleviate the atmosphere made dense by damp heat and malign magic. Emma was blinking heavy eyelids, her mind on the cushioned bench in her garden that was so well suited to afternoon naps when the sound of an animal in distress wove its way into her drowsy consciousness.

It sounded like a dog, which caught her attention. Wilder, less domesticated creatures like cats and witches may feel comfortable enough with the forest’s demeanour to venture within, but dogs, being the keenest observers of all, tended to avoid it with the same diligence and for the same reasons as their humans did.

The noise came again, one that hovered somewhere between a whine and a growl, pained and frustrated. It tugged at Emma’s mind, clearing away her sleepy haze as from the corner of her eye she caught a quivering in the leaves of a hawthorn bush that twisted up from the undergrowth to the left of the path and the flash of a black tail just beyond it.

Without hesitating Emma plunged into the bracken, drawing on her own magic and that of the hawthorn as she went, wrapping threads of both around the bush’s thorny branches and pulling them aside to reveal a large black dog crouched at an awkward angle behind it. The dog looked up and when it saw her it stilled for a moment, staring at her with blue eyes that were almost shocking in its black face, a deep, clear blue she’d never seen on a dog before, bright and intelligent. It blinked and shook its head then looked at her again this time with a plea in those remarkable eyes, giving three quick, deep barks.

{Please help me.}

An affinity with animals was one of Emma’s gifts, and she was not surprised to hear the dog’s voice in her head. She smiled reassuringly and offered her hand.

“Hey, puppy,” she said in a low, soothing voice. “What’s the matter?”

The dog sniffed her hand then gave it a lick, its tail wagging furiously. She petted its head and scratched its ears as she slowly inched closer. It seemed remarkably calm given the circumstances but Emma had seen enough injured animals to be wary, knowing how abruptly their pain and fear could overcome them. She knelt on the ground next to it, murmuring gentle words and stroking its back, and took stock of the situation.

The dog’s front right leg was deep in what was likely a gopher hole, buried up to the middle of its shin, and though the sounds she’d heard and the state of the ground around the hole bore witness to the dog’s attempts to free itself, it was clear to Emma as indeed it would be even to the casual observer that the dog was thoroughly stuck and also that the leg was broken.

“Oh, poor baby,” she murmured. “That must hurt. I can help, if you’ll let me. Will you trust me?”

The dog looked right at her and she could see her answer in its extraordinary eyes, filled with pain but also hope and what she would swear was comprehension. It whined and gave her chin a single, gentle lick, then nodded its head.

“Well, that’s clearly a yes,” said Emma. “Okay, let’s see what we’ve got here.” She hunched closer and examined the dog’s leg, well and truly wedged into the gopher hole, and winced. “I’m really sorry pup but this is going to hurt,” she said, looking up to catch the dog’s gaze again, marvelling at how calm it was despite its distress. She grasped its leg as gently as she could below the break and gathered her magic. “Ready? One… two…”

On three she pulled the leg from the hole, using her magic to ease its way. The dog whimpered at the pain but did not bark or growl and when its leg was free it licked her chin again.

“Okay, that’s step one,” said Emma. “Now let’s see how bad this is.” She probed the leg as delicately as she could with her fingertips, feeling the fractured bone beneath the fortunately unbroken skin. The break felt clean, with no jagged edges. “It’s not as bad as it could have been, I should be able to heal it,” she said, wondering briefly why she was explaining herself to a dog, though the animal in question was watching her intently with those intelligent eyes looking for all the world as though it knew exactly what she was saying. “I’m gonna have to set the break so there’ll be pain again and then I’ll heal it right after. Okay?”

The dog gave a short bark followed by another nod.

{Ready.}

“Okay, then,” said Emma. She gathered her magic, pulling it from the forest flowers and the leaves of the trees for backup, then as quickly as she could she snapped the broken bone back into place and wove her magic into it, knitting it together and soothing the pain in the damaged tissues.

When she finished she sat back on her heels with a sigh and closed her eyes. That was more magic than she’d used in some time and she felt a bit woozy. When she opened them again they fell immediately on the dog, who was staring at its leg in wonder.

Could dogs stare in wonder? She frowned, realising she didn’t actually know very much about the canine species. As a witch she’d always considered herself more of a cat person.

“Give it a try,” she told the dog. “It’s all better now.”

The dog stood up and began to walk, tentatively at first and then with greater confidence. After a few loping steps it spun around and barked excitedly before trotting back to her with a delighted expression, tongue lolling from the corner of its mouth.

Emma, however, was still frowning. Despite the dog’s obvious pleasure its gait had a distinct limp and when it moved quickly it used only three legs, forgoing the left one entirely.

Its left leg… when she had healed the right.

“Hey,” she said. “Come here. Let me see that other leg.”

It limped closer and placed its left leg in her lap, a leg which she was now able to observe did not end in a paw.

“Oh, no!” she cried, bending to get a closer look at what was evidently an old injury and a badly healed one, with rough scar tissue and signs of wear where the dog had walked on it. “Oh poor you. This isn’t the first time you’ve been hurt, is it? How do you walk?”

The dog tilted its head in what was plainly a shrug.

“I guess you manage the best you can, huh? Well, I can’t give you your paw back but if you come home with me I should be able to fix you up with something to protect the end of your leg and help you walk a bit better. How does that sound?”

The dog licked her face enthusiastically and barked, and now that the press of emergency had passed she noticed the peculiar cadence of its cry.

“Aye!” barked the dog.

Emma blinked. She may not be the world’s foremost authority on dogs, but even she knew that they were supposed to say things like “woof” or “arf.” She’d never heard of a dog saying “aye” before.

“Aye?” she repeated with a laugh. “Well, I guess that’s pretty obviously agreement.” She stood and brushed the dirt and twigs from her legs as the dog stood patiently in its slightly off-kilter way. “What should I call you?” she asked it. “I don’t suppose you have a name.”

Killian.

The name sprang into her mind, though the dog hadn’t barked. “Killian?” she repeated, startled.

“Aye!” barked the dog.

“Really?”

“Aye!”

“You sure? It’s not Spot or Buster or Joe or something?”

The dog looked affronted, and she laughed again. “All right, Killian it is then. I guess that means you’re a boy.”

“Aye!”

“Well okay, Killian, let’s go. We can have some dinner and then I’ll see what I can do about that paw.”

Killian bounded in an excited circle around her, his tail a blur. He moved remarkably well, considering, she thought, even as she laughed at his antics, and soon he’d settled into a limping trot alongside her as she headed home.

When they reached her garden gate she opened it and went straight in but Killian halted with a short bark of distress. She turned in surprise at the sound to see him pacing to and fro in front of the gate, whining softly.

“What’s wrong?” she asked him.

He whined louder and gave two short barks.

{Not welcome.}

“But why wouldn’t you be—” Emma frowned. The wards around her garden were designed to keep humans away, permitting none to enter without permission. But they shouldn’t have any effect on a dog.

Should they?

She really needed to learn more about dogs, she thought with mild irritation. This was clearly a gaping hole in her education.

In the meantime she called to the magic in the ancient warding spells, and spoke the age-old words to quieten them. “I see thee, Killian, and I name thee friend,” she said, in a voice that echoed through the open air. “Be welcome in this place.”

The magic of her garden surged and she held out her arms as it rippled and danced around her, ruffling her hair and gilding her skin with tiny sparks of light. Killian stared at her with wonder in his eyes again, and when the sparks faded away and she lowered her arms he cautiously stepped through the gate. The moment he crossed its threshold the garden’s magic… sighed, a soft exhale that sang of enduring hopes fulfilled at too long last, and curled itself around him, ruffling his fur as it had her hair.

Now it was Emma’s turn to stare. Her magic had never done that before. She gaped as Killian seemed to smirk —could dogs smirk?— at the unseen attention he was getting before rolling onto his back and letting the garden’s magic rub his tummy.

“Seriously?” cried Emma. “That’s enough of that, from both of you, Killian, come inside.”

She marched over to the cottage door and pulled it open. Killian leapt to his feet and ran after her, pausing just at the doorstep to wink at the garden before trotting into her kitchen.

Could dogs wink?

Emma made a mental note to dig up a book on canine behaviours later that night. There must be one in her library. Somewhere.

“I don’t have much that’s suitable for dogs,” she warned him as she opened the icebox. “But I think I’ve got some hamburgers in here if that’s okay—”

“Aye! Aye!”

“Okay, let me just heat them up.”

She defrosted the hamburgers with some gentle warming magic and put them on a plate for him. The minute she set it on the floor he dove in, gobbling up the meat with enthusiasm bordering on frenzy.

“Wow, you were hungry! How long has it been since you ate?”

He looked up at her and licked his chops, tail wagging vigorously, and barked twice before digging in again.

{Long time.}

“Well, don’t eat too fast, it’ll make you sick.”

Emma made herself a sandwich and munched it as she watched him diligently try to eat more slowly. When the last morsel was gone he lapped the plate clean then came over to her and licked her hand in thanks, wagging his tail as she scritched his ears before relaxing back onto his haunches and giving her the opportunity to observe him.

He was, as she had noticed in the woods, a large dog, though not a bulky one, with long slender legs and lean muscles. Standing, his head reached her waist with his shoulders around the middle of her thigh. His fur was thick and shaggy and a deep, light-absorbing black, though a v-shaped tuft right in the centre of his chest was bright white and fluffy and so soft-looking that her fingers itched to pet it.

He watched her examine him with a twinkle in his blue eyes that she was certain couldn’t be normal for a dog, as though he knew what she was thinking. She popped the last bite of sandwich into her mouth and when he pouted —did dogs pout?— she gave him a small smirk. “You had your dinner,” she said firmly. “You can’t have mine too. Now what do you say we go and see what can be done about that paw.”

She stood and left the kitchen, Killian at her heels, and headed past the living room and the closed library door, through a dark and narrow passageway towards the rear of the house. As she approached, the solid-seeming wall at the end of the corridor began to shimmer with the same sparking light that had surrounded her in the garden and a doorway appeared, wrought from the same stone as the slabs of the house itself, curving elegantly to form a pointed Gothic arch and frame a door of solid wood, thick and heavy and older than anything that surrounded it.

The door swung open as Emma drew near and she breezed through it without a thought. Killian, sensing the darker energy emanating from the other side, hesitated as he had at the garden gate. Emma turned, her smile understanding.

“Don’t be afraid,” she said. “It’s not dangerous, just old. Old things are sometimes… indifferent to younger ones. But it won’t hurt you. Nothing will hurt you here.”

Hesitantly he came through the doorway, moving slowly to allow the magic there to get a sense of him. It was less welcoming than the garden had been, but not hostile. As Emma said, it was simply indifferent. This magic had seen too many mortal creatures come and go in its time to care overly much about yet another one.

Emma led him into a large stone room with no windows, the tall, thick candles lining the walls its only source of light. These she set burning with a wave of her hand and the illumination they produced flooded the room with a golden glow despite their modest number. Stone stairs curved up the walls on either side of the room, leading to the towers that flanked the house, their twin helixes twisting up and disappearing into a darkness too dense even for the candles to penetrate. A heavy and cluttered wooden table spanned the length of the far wall, and this Emma approached, producing a thick, soft blanket of deep midnight blue scattered with stars from a woven wicker basket beneath it.

She spread the blanket carefully over the centre of the otherwise bare stone floor, placing at each of its corners a small silver bowl filled with sea salt and thyme and a few dried violet leaves, murmuring a short incantation over them as she did. “Sit here,” she instructed Killian, indicating the centre of the blanket. “I’ll need a few minutes to get my things together.”

Obediently, he sat and watched her in fascination as she rifled through the jumbled collection of bottles, jars, and bags on the table, frowning and muttering to herself as she did.

“…comfrey and rosemary and a bit of peppermint, sage to infuse and to burn…” she intoned as she gathered the named ingredients together. When all were assembled she snapped her fingers to light a fire beneath her copper kettle, then carefully weighed out the herbs on her silver scales while the water inside it came to a boil. She blended the herbs in a large mortar, crushing and grinding them with the pestle to blend them well and draw out their essence before tipping them carefully into a painted ceramic pot and pouring the boiling water over them. Stirring them gently with her magic, with her fingertips she traced arcane symbols through the steam as it rose from the pot into the cool, still air.

When she judged the herbs sufficiently infused she strained their liquid through a clean cheesecloth into a wide copper bowl. As it cooled to a comfortable temperature, she removed a lump of pure silver from a leather bag, holding it up to observe its gleam in the candlelight. The lump was large but to complete the healing properly would require all of it, and it was also precious. Glancing behind her she saw Killian sitting patiently, watching her, his eyes wide and curious but not afraid. Trusting.

He was worth it. She felt sure of that, and though she had no idea why she did not vacillate. Emma had long since learned to trust her instincts.

She took a bundle of dried sage and held it up to a candle flame until it caught —some fires needed to be started in the mundane way— then blew the flame out with a quick puff of breath and waved the smouldering herbs around the blanket and over the copper bowl before dropping them into the potion. Carefully she lifted the bowl and carried it to the blanket, kneeling down upon it and placing the bowl in front of Killian. Closing her eyes she muttered a brief incantation before taking his damaged leg and bathing it in the warm liquid, her fingers gentle but thorough, making sure to clean away all the dirt and debris from the gnarled scar tissue. He growled softly, deep in his throat, and she shot him a smile, knowing it was a growl of pleasure.

“Feels good, huh?” she said. “Soothing.”

“Aye.” His bark was as low as his growl.

{Good.}

When his leg was clean she dried it with a linen cloth and set it in her lap, then took out the lump of silver, placing it at the end of his leg and cupping both loosely in the palms of her hands. Closing her eyes once more she focused her powers and drew forth the metal’s own magic, its primal properties of health and healing, her hands beginning to spark and glow with light as she kneaded the silver, stretching and weaving it back into itself, moulding the lump into the shape of a dog’s paw and then knitting it into the damaged flesh of the leg. Killian watched with wide eyes, whimpering slightly as the metal sank into his skin and fused to his bones. The light from Emma’s hands burst into a sudden blinding brightness, flickered out, and the silver paw was part of him.

Emma slumped back on her heels, exhausted. “Whew,” she said. “Done.” She patted the metal paw. “Give it a try.”

Killian sniffed the paw, licked at the seam where it joined his leg, then tentatively placed it on the floor and leaned his weight on it. He took a few careful steps followed by bolder ones, then turned to Emma with an incredulous expression. She laughed, happy he was happy. “Go on, stretch yourself,” she encouraged.

“Aye!” he barked, frolicking joyfully around the room, spinning in circles and leaping through the air. He ran to Emma and jumped on her, putting his paws on her shoulders and licking her face until she pushed him away, grinning through a jaw-cracking yawn. “I’m glad you like it,” she told him as she rose unsteadily from the floor. “I gotta get to bed. Um…” she swayed on her feet and Killian was there immediately at her side, pressing firmly against her leg and letting her brace herself with her hand on his neck as she stumbled from the stone room and out the doorway.

It disappeared behind her, the magic within whispering far more warmly than before, no longer so indifferent to Killian as it had been.

Emma sank her fingers into his thick fur, clinging to him as she made her way up the stairs to her bedroom. Her head felt heavy and woozy, her fingers and toes numb. Moving clumsily she kicked off her shorts and unhooked her bra, pulling it from beneath her tank top with jerky movements and dropping it to the floor before collapsing into bed, sinking deep into the pillows. Dimly she was aware of Killian moving around the room, his fur soft against her skin as he pulled the blankets up over her, the warm weight of him curling up at her back, his chin resting on her hip. With the last of her energy she reached up to stroke his head then fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

~~🌺~~

Some hours later Killian was awoken from his doze when the magic from Emma’s garden called to him. He lifted his head from where it still lay on her hip and gave a low growl, staring through the bedroom window into the pitch blackness of the night.

Something was out beyond the garden wall, moving around its perimeter, methodically testing the magical boundary in search of weaknesses. Killian could sense it there, could feel its cold determination and intent even without the garden’s warning.

Threat, whispered the garden magic in his mind. Danger. Stay with her.

Killian flexed his new silver paw, feeling the power that still thrummed within it, feeling the absence of pain in his left limb for the first time in many a year. He looked at the golden haired woman still sound asleep, drained to exhaustion by the act of healing him, of selflessly giving him this invaluable gift. He recalled her warm green eyes and kind smile, the strength and gentleness in her touch.

He lay back down, pressing tighter against her, curling his neck around her hip and placing his silver paw gently over her waist. He closed his eyes again and answered the garden’s plea.

{Always.}

Tis now the very witching time of night,

When churchyards yawn and hell itself breathes out

Contagion to this world.

—Hamlet, Act III Scene 2

Continue to Chapter 2

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nerdy-bookworm-1998 · 5 years

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The Arranged Marriage part 9 Aftermath

Pairing: (Royal AU) Prince!Steve Rogers x Princess!Reader Words: 1151 Warnings: Implied smut A/N: If you wish to be tagged in future works feel free to send me an ask. Please leave feedback/reblogs. Feel free to check out my Ko-Fi and Patreon accounts, I’m running a promo on Patreon for the first 20 subscribers. Links are available in my bio.

The aftermath of the battle was chaotic, to say the least. Many of our allies were dead or wounded. Bucky had injured his left arm badly. Thor had suffered a cut to his right eye. Tony had suffered a harsh blow to his chest.

Even though there was much loss to grieve, there were also countless feasts across the lands to celebrate our victory. Once we returned to the capital we were greeted by our parents with open arms and joyous smiles.

"We are so glad that you are safe and sound. We were so worried about you!" Sarah exclaims as she embraces us tightly.

"Yes indeed. We have hardly slept since you left. But now that you have returned, there is something we wish to discuss with both of you," George adds seriously.

"Is everything alright?" Steve asks, concern evident in his voice.

"Everything is perfect. Your mother and I have decided that it is time for us to retire. This whole war situation has made us realize that we are really getting too old for this. We will still live in the palace grounds, but we will be in the manor by the lake while you and your lovely wife will stay in the palace," George explains.

"It is time for a new king and queen to take over. And who better than the crown prince and princess Y/N, the Titan Slayer?" Sarah adds, making heat flood my cheeks at the new moniker the people had bestowed upon me after learning the events of the battle. "So? What do you think?" Sarah asks.

Steve and I share a look before turning back to the older couple. "We would be honored," I smile brightly as I lace my fingers with Steve's, giving them a soft squeeze.

The months that followed were some of the busiest in memory. There was much rebuilding to be done after Thanos' army destroyed so many towns and cities. Then there was moving all my belongings and those of the staff accompanying us on our journey to our new home. There were still small cells devoted to Thanos, but they were dealt with as swiftly as they popped up. Before I knew it nearly three months had passed since vanquishing our enemy, life could not be sweeter. Yet I could not help but feel like there was something missing...

On an afternoon stroll through the gardens with Nat and Wanda at my side, I confide this feeling to them.

"Have you talked to Steve about it?" Wanda asks.

"No, you know how he is. He would try to lay all the blame on himself, and that is the last thing I want him to do," I sigh heavily as I feel the beginnings of a headache creep up.

"Pin him to the bed and keep him there until he has no doubt that he is not to blame," Nat suggests which makes Wanda blush scarlet with a hissed "Nat!"

Suddenly a lightbulb has gone off in my head. I turn quickly to my two best friends. "Nat might actually have a point. If you ladies will excuse me, I must go see my husband urgently." And with that, I'm hurrying off into the palace. I search through all the most likely rooms with no luck. Just as I'm about to give up hope I see Bucky walking further up the corridor.

"Bucky!" I call out causing the man in question to turn around and wait for me to catch up to him. "Do you know where Steve is?" I ask, slightly breathless from all the running.

"He's in your chambers, is everything alright?" Bucky asks, worry coloring his tone.

"Everything's great, thank you!" and with that, I'm sprinting off again in the direction of our chambers. Once I reach the door I take a moment to breathe and calm my nerves before slowly entering the room. Our chambers are large with dark wooden flooring, a few tapestries depicting hunts and battle victories, a door on the far side that leads to the bathing chamber, large oak desks and bookshelves are pushed against the wall with the battle map table next to the window, and on a raised platform in the middle of the room and surrounded by heavy dark blue curtains in the largest and most comfortable bed I have ever slept in with feathered pillows and countless warm fur blankets and a large, blazing fireplace opposite it to keep the room warm.

Steve is bent over some documents on his desk when I enter. His brows are furrowed and he is deep in thought. For a moment I consider abandoning my plan and rather going to sit by the fire with a book. But that plan is flung from the window as soon as he looks up and smiles widely when he sees me. "Hello my darling, I was just wondering where you were," Steve says as he rises from his chair and walks across the room to wrap me in a loving embrace.

Even though I return it he can still feel the tensed way that I hold myself. He pulls back enough to see my face. "What's wrong sweetheart? What troubles that beautiful mind of yours?" he asks softly as he leads me closer to the warmth of the fire.

"I know that you love me, just as I love you. But... what you said that evening before we went into battle, about wanting to start a family once the war was over, was that all just talk?" my voice comes out softer and more hesitant than I would have liked.

"Of course I want to start a family with you sweetheart! Why would you think anything else?" Steve sounds perplexed, his brows furrowing as he tries to coax my chin up to meet his stare. "Wait..." he says softly as if a thought had just dawned on him. "I'm such an idiot! Sweetheart, listen, the reason why I haven't touched you in that way is that I didn't want to rush into something that you might not be ready for. I never meant to hurt you." He cups my face between his warm hands, his eyes begging me to understand.

"I know you didn't sweetheart, it's okay. But, I really do want to start a family with you," I reassure him as I bring my hands up to caress his wrists and turn my face to kiss his palm.

Without warning he sweeps me up into his arms, carrying me towards the curtained platform. "Steve! What on earth are you doing?!" I squeak out through the giggles pealing from my mouth.

"Showing my wife just how much I love her," Steve says just before my back hits the mattress. The look in his eyes tells me that we wouldn't be leaving any time soon if he had anything to say about it.

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@mcdesij @spiderrrling @arrow-guy @interestedbystanderwrites @murdocksmartinis @gwendelerynan @here2have-fun @bvckys-doll @bookscoffeeandracoons @bambamwolf87 @loricameback @rockrchick51 @love-nakamura @baebeepeach @timelordy-fangirl2 @jewelofwinter @caramell0w @jewels2876 @ladysergeantbarnes @notawritergettingtherethough @patzammit @fanfictionjunkie1112 @lumar014 @kirsty-evans-writes @robertdowneyhiddleston @lil-lex1 @dragonrosegardens @bookgirlunicorn @farfromshawn

#the arranged marriage #marvel #avengers #prince!steve rogers #princess!reader #steve rogers x reader

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katwriting · 5 years

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Fic: Sound of your Heart

celebrity AU // chapter 1

When Magnus Bane returns to his favorite coffee shop after weeks of being out of town, he doesn't expect that place to be more packed than usual. He also doesn't expect sharing a table with a stranger and actually having a good time. And most importantly, he doesn't expect that stranger to be surprisingly funny, interesting and kind. But if Magnus learned one thing over the years, it's that life doesn't exactly ask for your opinion.

Word count: 2.7k | Read on AO3 (or continue reading below)

“Thank you, New York City! You guys were amazing, goodnight!”

Turning his back to the roaring crowd, Magnus walked off the stage, pulling out his earpiece as he walked down the steps. Someone handed him a bottle of water, which he gulped down in a matter of seconds before wiping a towel over his sweat drenched face.

Another show done. The first of two at Madison Square Garden, both sold out. And the second-to-last one before his well-deserved break. As Magnus walked through the backstage hallways back to his wardrobe, past posters that of upcoming concerts at this venue and several ones that announced his own two New York shows, he shook his head and couldn’t suppress a smile. Sometimes he still couldn’t believe how fast things had progressed ever since that fateful day about two years ago. How his career had basically sky-rocketed from working as a barista at a café and singing at weddings or company holiday parties to selling out Madison Square Garden two nights in a row.

The two reasons for that unreal twist in his life were already waiting in his dressing room when he got back. Magnus barely had the chance to drop his towel into the hamper in the corner when he was already enveloped in a warm, familiar hug and a kiss was dropped on his cheek, despite his sweaty, slightly disheveled state.

“Magnus Bane, rock star. Look at you,” Catarina said when she let go of him, still holding him at arm’s length and beaming. “Your mother would be so proud.”

Magnus smiled at her and tried to swallow past the lump in his throat. Instead, he looked at the second person that had been waiting in the dressing room, who was just getting up from the chair he’d made himself comfortable in. “And what’s your verdict, Ragnor?”

“The show was sold out, the crowd adored you as usual and I’m pretty sure the press will as well,” Ragnor replied, his British accent as heavy as ever. He shrugged and slipped his phone into his back pocket. “I suppose you did alright.”

Magnus grinned and then only too happily accepted a hug from Ragnor as well. As disinterested the reply may have sounded, it was hard to ignore the pride in Ragnor's eyes as he looked at Magnus, trying his best to remain as unfazed as possible.

Ragnor Fell and Catarina Loss were a married couple of almost ten years and had been ruling the New York music business for just as long. Their record company, Downworld Records, had the most popular artists of the city signed; every time Magnus attempted to count the Grammies, Oscars and Golden Globes those artists had won in total, he ended up with a headache.

Magnus would have never dreamed of getting to know them, let alone signing for their label. But ever since he had, things in his life had taken a U-Turn in the best possible way. With the help of those two heavyweights in the music business he had soon turned from flamboyant, outgoing barista-turned-singer to record-breaking superstar and taken the music world by storm. Magnus couldn't possibly more grateful for their help and support over the years.

With a sigh, Magnus dropped on the couch that Ragnor had just stood up from, grabbing another bottle of water. “So, now that we have the business talk covered, let’s get to the essential stuff,” he said, then took another sip of water. “How’s Chairman?”

Apart from being the most amazing managers that Magnus could have ever dreamed of, Ragnor and Catarina also came with another pretty useful feature: Whenever Magnus went abroad, they took care of his one and only child, a tabby cat called Chairman Meow. When Magnus went on tour or had promo appointments left and right, he left Chairman with the two of them, knowing that he would get his darling kitty back happy and well (and likely a little more overweight than usual).

When he’d taken Chairman to his usual check-up after his world tour last year, the vet hat told him to feed Chairman less, which Magnus had just internally scoffed at. No pet of his would ever be overweight, Chairman was just a little…small for his weight, but fabulously so.

“Oh, he’s great,” Catarina retorted. “Last week when I wasn’t looking, he ate half of the tuna that I wanted to make for dinner.” “- and threw up all over our living room carpet half an hour later,” Ragnor threw in.

Magnus snorted. “Sounds like my son.”

Ragnor rolled his eyes, but smirked. “Damn right he is. That cat is just as extra as you are.”

Magnus just shrugged, getting up again and heading towards the showers. “What can I say, I raised him well.”

+++

Two days later, after sleeping for 12 hours straight and spending an hour in the bathroom to make sure that he didn’t totally like a zombie, Magnus set foot in his favorite place in the world besides the balcony in Catarina’s apartment: Pandemonium, the café he’d worked at before his music career had taken off. The tiny café was wedged in between a Chinese restaurant and a thrift store and there were maybe twenty tables but still, Magnus loved going there. He’d spent many hours there – working, writing songs, trying to make decisions, or simply taking a break from real life. Besides, the place sold the best coffee in Brooklyn, if not even entire New York. And since it was so tiny and kind of an insider tip, he didn’t risk running into fans, reporters or other people who could recognize him there.

Magnus hadn’t been to Pandemonium for a few months now as he had been on tour, but as soon as he stepped through the narrow door and into the cozy atmosphere, he felt himself relax. The off-white brick walls, the many different chairs and couches, none like the other, the scent of freshly roasted coffee beans and the music playing in the background never failed to make him feel like home.

What did, however, very much disturb that feeling of coming home was his first look around the room. More importantly, the realization that the entire place was packed with people. There were young parents trying their best to keep their kids from spilling their coffee, business people typing away on their laptops, their drinks all but forgotten – and then what seemed like a hoard of college kids, taking up the rest of the room.

Magnus sighed. As much as he loved this place for its cozy atmosphere, the limited number of tables and seats did pose as a problem whenever he came here on a particularly busy day.

Nevertheless, he headed for the counter and ordered his coffee to go, already halfway expecting he would have to drink it on the go somewhere. Or alternatively in his own living room under the skeptical gaze that the Chairman seemed to reserve for whenever Magnus went out and didn’t come back with food or at least a treat for his cat.

Thankfully, at least the line at the counter wasn’t all that long so it didn’t take much time for the baristas to make his drink. Paper cup in hand, Magnus turned away from the cash desk, stuffed his wallet back into the inside pocket of his jacket and then scanned the room one more time, hoping against hope that the few minutes he had spent waiting for his coffee would have been enough for an empty table to appear somewhere – or at least one of the several college kids to realize that the Wi-Fi in this place was crappy for a reason and leave. And indeed, just as he scanned the room one last time, a couple who had been sitting at a tiny table in the far corner across the room rose from their seats, took their empty cups and turned to leave.

Bingo.

With quick, resolute steps Magnus navigated his way through the maze of furniture, laptop chargers, messenger bags and brief cases on the floor towards the now empty table and managed to snatch a seat, effectively cutting off two women’s way who had been walking towards the same table. With an (entirely fake) apologetic smile he sat down on one of the chairs and placed his cup on the table, then grabbed the magazine he had been carrying with him and tried to blend out the noise around him.

It worked surprisingly well for a while, despite the buzzing noise around him. He was halfway through a quite interesting piece about an up and coming local fashion designer, when a voice dragged his attention away and back to the real world.

“Excuse me?”

Suppressing a defeated sigh, Magnus put his magazine aside and looked up, already expecting to be met with the expectant and excited face of one of someone who had recognized him and was about to ask for a photo or an autograph. Instead, he looked into hazel eyes, hidden behind thinly framed glasses. They belonged to a guy that seemed to be in his twenties, maybe a few years younger than Magnus. He was wearing dark blue jeans and a white t-shirt underneath a well-worn leather jacket and had a dark brown messenger back slung across his shoulder.

“Can I sit here?” the stranger said, looking around as if he was checking if an empty seat had appeared somewhere, but then shrugged.

"Uh…sure,” Magnus replied, a little taken aback. He uncrossed his legs so the stranger would have some space and took his magazine off the table, making room for his new seat neighbor’s coffee.

The stranger took a seat and placed his mug on the tiny table between them. “I’m sorry, I wouldn’t normally do this. But this was literally the only free seat so…"

He shrugged, as if it the entire issue explained itself, and put his messenger bag down on the floor.

“It’s no problem. Actually, I haven't been here in a while. When did this place become so crowded? This used to be an insider tip," Magnus pondered and let his gaze roam through the room once more. Now that the guy sitting across from him had taken up the last empty seat, there was literally no space left.

Alec followed his gaze, then shrugged. “Honestly, I have no idea. I come here every few weeks when I'm in the neighborhood, and I didn't notice anything changing. I guess at some point some of those hipster college kids must have discovered the place and made it their most recent Instagram-worthy coffee place or something."

Magnus huffed out a laugh. From the looks of it, those hipster college kids must have told a bunch of their friends too. “Must have been something like that. Last time I was here, there was maybe one seat taken, not just one empty."

“I know, right?", Alec huffed. "I mean, I’m sure they’re all great kids, but the point of me coming to this particular place was so I can enjoy my lunch break in peace. Not in the company of seventeen thousand undergrads,” the stranger grumbled, packing his laptop back into his bag and pulling out a notebook instead.

This time, Magnus genuinely laughed. “I’ll drink to that.” He picked up his cup and jokingly raised it in his neighbor's direction. He took a sip and then placed the cup on the table again. “I’m Magnus, by the way,” he added, holding out his hand a little awkwardly as the stranger was currently focused on a folder he had taken out of his bag.

Clearly startled, the guy looked up from his notes. “Huh? Oh…yeah, hi. I’m Alec,” he said, quickly taking Magnus’ hand and shaking it, almost knocking over his coffee in the process.

Magnus smirked. “Nice to meet you, Alec.”

He was just about to ask Alec what job he was working that his lunch break had led him to a tiny coffee place in Brooklyn, when a woman who had been sitting a few tables over got up and left. Alec picked up on that, watched her leave and then turned back towards Magnus, frowning.

"I should probably…you know," Alec said, gesturing towards the now unoccupied table across the room.

“Oh, don’t bother. I could use some company.”

A surprised smirk ran over Alec's features. "Okay."

Over the course of the next half hour or so, Magnus learned that breaking with his habits from time to time wasn't that bad of an idea. Alec turned out to be quite decent company. He was more on the introverted side, a lot more reserved than Magnus, that much Magnus could tell. But when he did say something, it was either funny, smart beyond his ears or sarcastic to a T. From crowded coffee shops and the general unpleasantness of undergrad students their conversation soon moved on to more personal topics. Magnus learned that Alec worked in his parents’ publishing company and was being groomed to take over as CEO one day, which he described as rewarding but also quite challenging from time to time. Magnus, in return, told him some of the stories he always told people when they asked him to tell them a little about himself – how he’d always been fascinated by music, how Queen had been his favorite band when he was a kid and Freddie Mercury still was one of his biggest idols, whether it came to music or life in general.

Lucky for Magnus, their conversation always shifted to a different topic before they could get to what he did for a living. That was, until Alec straightforward asked.

“You said you like music a lot. Do you work in music as well?”

Internally, Magnus let out a bunch of curses, most of which Catarina would have murdered him for in cold blood if he ever used them in public. Externally, he resolved to something a little less scandal-inducing. Smirking to cover up the shock on his face, he took a sip from his coffee which was barely more than lukewarm at that point but perfectly served as a measure to buy him some time. Time that he used to think and come up with a perfectly fine explanation.

“I do, actually,” he said, “I work for a record label here in New York. It's called Downworld Records."

Technically, that wasn’t even a lie – he did have a contract with Cat and Ragnor's label after all. Besides, not telling strangers everything about himself right away was not lying, right? It was just being responsible, thank you very much. However, considering Alec’s reaction, Magnus might as well have told him the whole truth straight away.

Alec nodded, but other than that seemed pretty unfazed by Magnus’ reply. “Never heard of it. But I don’t really listen to a lot of music and at work we focus on books, so I guess that’s no surprise.”

Magnus blinked. “You don’t?”

Alec shook his head and grabbed his own mug. “Not really. I mean, I do like instrumental pieces or some classic rock if the mood strikes. But other than that, I guess I prefer books to records.”

Magnus smirked and relaxed back into his seat. “Instrumental stuff and classic rock, huh? Well aren’t you something else, Alec.”

Their conversation then shifted to less potentially cover-blowing topics for Magnus. They kept on talking for another while, until Magnus excused himself to the bathroom. When he returned, ready to hear more about that hilarious story of Alec's siblings, he startled, then did a double take just to be sure he hadn't walked to the wrong table. But he hadn't – Alec was no longer there. Alec's jacket and bag were gone and their table abandoned, save for a slip of paper tucked under the half-finished cappuccino Magnus had gotten only a few minutes ago. When Magnus picked up the little note, he found just a few words scribbled onto it in a barely readable handwriting.

Emergency call, had to run. Was good chatting with you, I really enjoyed having some company. A.

Magnus turned the sheet around, feeling a little disappointed when he found it empty. He sighed. “Me too, Alec. What a shame that you didn’t leave me your number.”

Smirking, he put the sheet into his bag, then picked up his stuff and headed towards the exit. The little break at the café had been undoubtedly fun, but now he had a cat to get home to.

#malec #malec fic #malec fanfiction #shadowhunters #shadowhunters fic #shadowhunters fanfic #multi-chaptered #celebrity au #magnus bane #alec lightwood #katwriting

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viktuuriangstbang · 5 years

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a @viktuuriangstbang promo ficlet by @skateonme , aka tiny pride and prejudice au

It positively could not be that this was the estate in which dwelt Viktor Nikiforov.

Yuuri had often imagined it – but not by will or choice, mind you, for the idea of it had been forced upon him by the witless talk that each utterance of the name procured.

“Pemberley!” they'd cry. “So large, so vast, so elegant!”

It made him clench his teeth until his jaw ached. He was sure it was vast, with gardens that could barely bud and awnings of cobweb swathes gathered to rejoice in the friendless void of the estate. Those who praised its glory were fooled by the monetary weight of the Nikiforov name. Yuuri only agreed to venture upon the grounds because he'd been told there would be no Viktor Nikiforov present to be dealt with! Good and good riddance, Yuuri had thought.

However, their carriage neared the end of its journey through the forest, and his breath caught when the house peaked through the leaves with the sun dapples. And then it burst forth as they broke from the trees and cleared the hilltop, and there was no mistaking its majesty as abused and heartless. That previous talk had been witless though – for it had not done the home justice. Tall, uncracked stone walls grew up from the land, and windows abounded all sides to capture every inch of sun, with charming roof slats that sat over the manor like a little hat on an unassuming, beautiful creature.

And the gardens...

The gardens. He was sure at some point in his life, he'd wished at least once to have a garden of his own only half that size.

The snap of a branch under the carriage wheel jarred him from this daze, and Yuuri remained still and silent as they drew to the front and the servants greeted them. Even they seemed cheery and blessed.

His mind whirled for an explanation as to how the owner, the wretched, cold, unkind owner could bestow a place like this to the world.

The servants were delighted to show Yuuri and his fellow travelers through the home, and Yuuri tried his best not to awe at the welcoming corridor, the wide and lovely rooms, and the curtains thrown back from every window to let the hillside pour in.

It must be the fortune of good servants! Aha, indeed, that must be all! Nikiforov's father must have been an agreeable man who passed down a good line, and Nikiforov was merely lucky he didn't have to concern himself with his charmlessness leaking onto the property.

Yet Yuuri found himself peering down into the gardens at every window that glanced them, and he thought the arrangement of flowers along the paths, and the hedges running along the house, and the intersection of path alongside the forest all had a quality that reminded him faintly of Nikiforov. He could not fathom why, and it made his cheeks go red to even think upon the comparison too long. The only relief came with remembering Nikiforov was not here, nor was it likely he'd ever know Yuuri had stepped foot in his home.

It was then he heard a gasp from the servant guiding them, and he'd already stepped into the next room before he could hear the words the servant exclaimed in surprise, and by then it was too late, as Viktor Nikiforov stood in the hall. And it was Nikiforov who, upon seeing Yuuri stride into the room, fell back a step and dropped a bundle of papers he'd just been holding.

Yuuri thought Viktor went rather pale a moment before going entirely pink.

#Viktuuri Angst Bang #Yuri on Ice #Viktuuri #Bang Promo #p&p is the og slow burn :')

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your-dietician · 3 years

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More like this: Arteris Plus Review: Real Ingredients or Scam Blood Pressure Support Formula?

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shitloadsofwrestling · 7 years

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I came across a VERY cool find: a photo tour of the WWE warehouse! The photos above were taken inside the warehouse which holds billions of dollars’ worth of memorabilia, including rings, props, cages, caskets, you name it! There are more photos from the tour here. Definitely worth checking out! Here’s the write-up from the tour:

Back in March WWE and Charity Buzz ran a bunch of Superstars for Kids Auctions which had different Meet and Greet Opportunities. One that really caught my eye was a Tour of the WWE Warehouse and it would be hosted by Howard Finkel and WWE Warehouse Archivist Ben Brown. I wound up winning this auction. Dont ask me how much!!! lol. Although myself and cousin split it. Also it did all go to charity. I arrived at WWE Headquarters at 9:40 for the scheduled 10am Meet time. Right from when you get off the exit for WWE HQ you can see the building with the WWE Flag at the top. Its such a cool sight! They had us park in the visitors section of the garage. When we entered the hallway from the garage there were various WWE photos of superstars and events lining the walls on the way to the lobby. I asked to use the rest room. I had to take the elevator to the second floor. Inside the elevator they have WWE Programming playing on a small LED screen above the door! Really cool. Once off the elevator, like the previous hallways this one was also lined with different event and superstar photos. Just really cool. In the lobby they have the life size statues of Andre the Giant and Bruno Sammartino they had on display from the past two Wrestlemanias. They also have a giant size poster of the upcoming PPV for the month. So its currently a Payback poster. First our escort from WWE came down and introduced herself. Shortly after Howard Finkel and WWE Warehouse Archivist Ben Brown came down and said hello. Howard Finkel remembered me from past conventions and last years Wrestlemania Axxess VIP Backstage Tour. After we said our hellos, we all got into a waiting SUV which took us to the WWE Warehouse! From the outside you would never guess this was the WWE Warehouse. It has no markings at all indicating WWE. Inside the warehouse is huge. Aisles and Aisles of three tiered shelves with nothing but WWE Equipment and Memorabilia. The first section had a bunch of unconstructed rings. The wood for the rings, the ring posts, ropes, ring steps etc. Also in this section was the Punjabi Prison set which was cool to see in person. The next section had one item I hoped would be there. An actual WWE Ring!!! Ben Brown said they use the ring for training sometimes when wrestlers are in the area. So I asked to make sure if it was ok to get in the ring to take a picture, and they said it was ok. Now I have been inside Indy rings which was cool, but this was an ACTUAL WWE RING. Such a cool moment. i have to say to, the mat was alot harder with alot less give than I thought there would be. The next section over had alot of cool random stuff. Some of the cool highlights were the original King of the Ring Chair used on TV, the old Wrestlefest Arcade Game, random promo posters, an old Saturday Nights Main Event Entrance Sign and even an Arena used sign from the FINAL WCW PPV. Greed. Next they had the last remaining piece of the old school blue steel cage, an unconstructed hell in a cell cage, an old original WCW logo sign and the giant fist which used to be part of the Smackdown Set on TV. Ben Brown said the thing weighs 6,000 pounds. They also had a pile of event used barbed wire baseball bats, sledgehammers and other weapons. Back in 2009 at the Bragging Rights PPV they had RAW vs Smackdown and the winner got a Trophy Cup. That was there also. One of the coolest pieces to me was the Original Tumbler used at the early Royal Rumble PPVs which wrestlers would draw their numbers out of. Another section had all the old caskets used in Undertakers various caseket matches. A few that stood out were an oversized casket used for Big Show, the big black coffin used at the 98 Royal Rumble for Undertakers match vs Shawn Michaels. The one Kane lit on fire at the end. It was all burned and still had the holes Kane put in it with an ax. Another was the one used for Mark Henry at Wrestlemania 22. The lady from WWE who was our escort took a photo of all of us by it and tweeted it from the Official WWE Twitter account. They also had the 2 coffins used in the background during the funeral parlor skits from the early 90s. Another Undertaker piece was the the big Undertaker logo that was set on fire on Raw back around 1998. Probably the coolest piece there was the actual ring used in Madison Square Garden for Wrestlemania 1. It was not setup, but you could see all the pieces. The final couple sections had more random props or event used memorabilia. Slammy Awards, Saturday Nights Main Event Neon Sign. HBK Ring Worn Entrance Gear. L.O.D. Shoulder pads. Damien Sandows MITB Briefcase, Brutus Beefacke Clippers, Andre the Giants and Buddy Rogers boots. Old Womans title from the 50s. John Cenas original US Spinner Title. They even had the actual "contracts" used on WWE TV at contract signings. Two that stood out for me where the Triple H vs Brock Lesnar for Summerslam a few years back and also the Hulk Hogan vs Vince McMahon for Wrestlemania 19 which Hogan made Vince sign in his own blood by busting him open. The contract still had Vinces dried blood on it from 11 years ago!! I saw so much stuff in the warehouse, yet there were still TONS of boxes unopened that contained even more memorabilia. Some boxes even the Archivist Ben Brown admitted he had not even got around to opening yet. You could spend days upon days in this place. Any true old school WWF fan would LOVE this place. At the end of the tour Ben Brown gave me an actual event used RAW Ring Skirt which is really cool. After the tour we went to lunch at a BBQ place called Dinosaur BBQ. I never heard of it before, but it was really good food. After lunch Howard Finkel and Ben Brown said they had one more place they wanted to take us. They brought us to the WWE TV Studios where their HUGE video vault is. The vault room alone was worth the visit. Row after row of shelves from floor to ceiling of ALL the WWE,WCW, AWA, Memphis etc. wrestling tapes. I even saw a shelf with TNA & ROH logos. It was crazy to think that pretty much almost every piece of wrestling footage ever was stored in that room!! The guy who showed us around the TV Studio was George from the duo "George & Adam" from the mid 90s. They played WWF Superfans and did small skits which aired during WWE TV then. After the TV Studio they took as back to WWE HQ where we then parted ways and started the drive home. I have to say this was an AWESOME Experience. Seeing all those props, sets and pieces of memorabilia brought back so many memories. Definitely worth it to me.

One thing I left out from the TV Studio was one of the areas they showed us was where Lord Alfred Hayes, Sean Mooney or Mene Gene would do the Updates segment from the control center with the tvs in the background. They still have that room just with updated screens. Also the area Todd Pettengill used to do WWF Mania from. That area is still there also.

Also, I got a kick out of this. Read the “contract” from the 2012 SummerSlam match between Triple H and Brock Lesnar:

#wwe #wwf #ecw #wcw #pro wrestling #wwe warehouse

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Text

EMP Theory from HLV to TLD

Here’s my big write-up on what I think is going on if EMP theory (extended mind palace theory) is correct. I’m not totally sold on it, but I’m even less sold on every other theory I’ve heard, so I’m going to just make the most solid case I can.

Feel free to raise objections, ask questions, contribute additional evidence, or point me toward metas you’ve already written on points I bring up. Please note that I really suck at keeping up with responses and such, though, so anyone who reads this should also trawl the notes.

Note about the BFI screening:

Note that I think the early screenings of TFP are fake versions made to protect their secret reveals and to play upon the alternate endings of the movie Clue, so please do not dismiss this theory because of “spoilers” you may have heard.

If EMP theory is real it is integral to the Johnlock reveal, so they would not reveal it in a screening. Same goes for things like Mary being alive, Moriarty possibly being alive, Rosie never having been born; those are all contingent on EMP theory. Any fake version of TFP would have to keep Mary and Moriarty dead, Rosie alive, etc.

I saw the Russian screener and it only makes me feel that EMP theory is more likely.

There was nothing in the version of TFP that was screened that explains any of the weirdness in T6T or TLD via any other competing theory. So you either have to believe that they’ll never explain it at all, or they’re going to reveal some explanation only when it officially airs on Sunday -- in which case you may as well consider EMP theory.

If they’re not doing EMP theory, I feel they would have had to have filmed a lot more extra footage to explain things via a different theory, but who knows. The Russian screener contained a lot of scenes that would be great prior to an EMP reveal.

Table of Contents

Background on EMP Theory

Why Our Dads Would Totally Do EMP Even If You Wouldn’t

Why EMP Would Not Suck or Be Cheap or Whatever

My Take on EMP Theory

1. Background on EMP Theory

EMP theory is the idea that starting around the time Sherlock gets shot in HLV and all the way through at least the beginning of TFP (we’ll have to see), the scenes are actually in Sherlock’s mind while he’s in the hospital.

Please note that theory does NOT originate with me as I wasn’t really aware it existed until well after I deleted in February 2016, I’m just way up its ass since T6T aired and watching S4 thus far has felt like a fucking LSD trip. The origins of the theory are explained here in the EMP theory masterlist compiled by @monikakrasnorada. Quote:

The term “EMP” was coined early in January 2016 in a discussion just after the airing of The Abominable Bride between @the-7-percent-solution, @gosherlocked and myself. This discussion entailed trying to understand / decipher which “present day” scenes in TAB were real which then snowballed into the possibility that perhaps more of His Last Vow might have taken place in mind palace as well. So, a theory was born!

Other contributors on that page are @isitandwonder, @ebaeschnbliah, and @tjlcisthenewsexy. Additional people whose metas or comments got my attention after T6T aired and made me reconsider EMP theory are @impatient14 and @doomsteady.

I’ll reference specific metas as I go, but please let me know if I make an argument and don’t reference someone who worked on that argument already; there’s tens of thousands of people in the community, and it seems like most of the hundred blogs I follow have been hitting the post limit daily since T6T aired so my dash is overloaded, and I have been utterly unable to keep up with my mentions and asks. Given that the basic idea behind the theory is pretty simple to grasp, I’m sure I’m going to run into the same ideas others have via convergent theorizing. Also, this has been brain-frying to write, what with juggling images and links, so I may have omitted some people on accident; just correct me. I’m not trying to take credit for anyone’s ideas and I’m totally happy to link to anything others have written before this.

There are several ideas about when EMP kicks in, but I’ve settled on the one that seems most damning to me. But before we get to that, let’s get a few things out of the way first.

2. Why Our Dads Would Totally Do EMP Even If You Wouldn’t

Well, the fact that they did The Abominable Bride is pretty good evidence.

But honestly, if you haven’t already, stop and read this meta I wrote about the parallels between Sherlock and the movie What Dreams May Come, which is about the protagonist dying, his spouse killing herself in her grief, and the protagonist going to hell to save his spouse. I’m going to argue that what’s going on in S4 is that Sherlock begins sensing from within his coma that if he dies John will kill himself, so Sherlock must return to consciousness.

There are TONS of very specific things borrowed from What Dreams May Come discussed in that meta, including:

the promo imagery of water and the hole in 221b’s wall

the entire concept of John’s therapist telling him that writing a blog will make him feel better when it’s really just being with Sherlock that makes him feel better

the protagonist remembers a dog being put down while he’s dying, and his old dog licks his face when he’s in heaven

the protagonist jumps off a waterfall to get to his spouse

the protagonist can sort of hear his anguished spouse while he’s dead and she’s alive; it bleeds through into his world

the protagonist is creating everything around him in his own mind

the idea of characters masquerading as other characters and saying things those characters would say

the idea that suicidal people punish themselves in their own mind

the protagonist has to understand that he’s more than just a brain

dying forces the protagonist to get over his fears

going through hell involves confronting terrible memories

time is weird and dreamlike when you’re dead

Seriously, READ. IT.

Past that, have you ever seen Doctor Who? While it doesn’t mean they are doing EMP, Doctor Who is the biggest reason why “they wouldn’t do it” is simply wrong: Our dads grew up with crazy shit and write crazy shit on the regular. There are episodes of Doctor Who with all sorts of fake shit, including one that’s really similar to the movie Inception, a movie about dreams within dreams. People scream and complain about Doctor Who ALL THE TIME, believe me, there’s always people saying everything they do is dumb and cheap, but our dads don’t give a fuck. Remember, they just write the sort of thing they want to read/watch.

And what kind of stuff do they like to read and watch? Just like What Dreams May Come, this comes via @skulls-and-tea:

Tom’s Midnight Garden. It’s about slipping in and out of the Victorian era. Moffat says, “I love that book, and I’ve been remaking it ever since.” But we could argue he already did this with TAB and Doctor Who, sure.

Other notable influences on our dads that don’t necessarily have to point to EMP theory specifically (again, thanks to @skulls-and-tea): Alice in Wonderland, The Wizard of Oz, H.G. Wells, Agatha Christie does a lot of unreliable narrator stuff, etc.

But the point is they’re VERY into these weird types of stories, so just because you aren’t, that’s no reason to think they wouldn’t do it. Also, a lot of people really like EMP theory and also grew up with weird stories like this -- like me, for example -- so remember that just like anyone else with particular tastes, our dads know other people with similar tastes exist, they wish more stories catered to their tastes, and it’s feasible they would want to write those stories.

Remember: If they cared very much about alienating people they wouldn’t make a gay Sherlock Holmes adaptation. And their Doctor Who stuff already does stuff similar to EMP.

I also went into a lot of depth about our dads’ twisting of genre conventions, and how it’s necessary in the mystery genre to stay ahead of the reader/viewer, in this meta. When you’ve had a century-long genre convention arms race to keep fooling audiences, you have to do crazier and crazier shit to keep from being too simple. S4 has really proved that so far. And the biggest fucking rug pull in the world would be telling mystery viewers that they missed the point in the story where everything went all fake.

Come on, that’d be fucking hilarious. Do you know how much trouble I had writing M-theory after the point where Mary shot Sherlock? SO MUCH TROUBLE. Everything just stops making sense at that point. And if EMP theory is real there ARE clues there in HLV, so I couldn’t say it wasn’t fair. It would be so funny. Soooo fucking funny. I and so many other people will have spent so much time trying to rationalize things that simply don’t make sense. I would never feel more honored to get jerked around by the author-god in my life.

If ANYONE IN THE WORLD would have the gall to pull “it was all a dream” on such a high profile show, IT IS OUR FATHERS. That is EXACTLY the sort of shit where they’d be like, “You know how you could do this bullshit right...? If the fake scenes actually advanced character development and ended up being important to the plot.”

3. Why EMP Would Not Suck or Be Cheap or Whatever

My biggest reservation about EMP was that it would be unsatisfying, so when I glanced at it in early December I didn’t really dig very deeply. But now that I have, I don’t feel that way at all. I think it would be really cool and fulfilling!

Sherlock didn’t get played by Mary, he just got played by his own mind choosing over and over to be a good, selfless person!

John was never so indifferent to Sherlock! He’s been at his bedside the whole time! He never just forgave Mary for shooting him! When Mary supposedly died and John said, “don’t you dare, you took a vow, you swore it” he may have actually said it to Sherlock when Sherlock appeared to be dying in the hospital. John never beat the shit out of Sherlock in TLD, it was just Sherlock’s brain punishing himself!

Mycroft wasn’t so weirdly idle about Sherlock being shot! Mycroft didn’t hold back tons of info about Mary just to reveal it later like it wasn’t so important a secret anyway! He didn’t act so amused by Sherlock’s investigation and seem so pleased with himself for giving Sherlock mere crumbs!

It could all be setting up the casuals to feel that everything is off and doesn’t make sense, so when the rug is pulled and it turns out John actually raised hell about Sherlock getting shot and Mycroft wasn’t useless, they’ll be like “THANK GOD YES THIS MAKES WAY MORE SENSE.” And they’ll totally want Sherlock to end up with John because they’ll have just seen Sherlock mentally torture himself trying to make sure John is happy. That beautifully aligns with the BBC LGB report’s goal of showing homophobes that queer love is compatible with their values.

Furthermore, character development still happened! Most “it was just a dream” stories suck because they’re just a big unplanned reset button, but this wouldn’t be. It would only retcon stuff like Mary being a saint and Sherlock being an idiot and John being an asshole. Y’all would miss that stuff and grumble about it being fake? Really? I mean I’ll accept it if it doesn’t get retconned, sure, but come on. Sherlock’s the character who’s been growing all these episodes and he’ll get to keep that growth. The plot will require that growth going forward.

And unlike most “it was just a dream stories,” it lays a lot of important foundation for what happens going forward: Sherlock has been going deep into his own head, confronting a bunch of fears and repressed memories, and sorting himself out to be a better person for John. We just had whole episodes of how much Sherlock’s stupid little heart and brain will twist themselves in knots to do right by John. We just got shloads of evidence that Sherlock is NOT a sociopath, and is in fact ungodly levels of selfless when it comes to John. They showed us that Sherlock is willing to lose John and just be massively depressed if that’s what’s best for John. Come on.

Plus, not necessarily every bit of plot was fake. We know from TAB that the different levels of mind palace can bleed together, so Sherlock may be overhearing things said in his hospital room and incorporating them.

Some people feel like we’d have been in Sherlock’s mind for too many episodes, but look at it this way: TAB wasn’t supposed to happen at all, it was just an extra episode they gave us because they like us, and it was actually full of clues that help us figure out T6T and TLD are fake. It also reassured us of the arc the story is taking with the waterfall scene. It was fun and still relevant to the game, and I don’t have it in me to complain about something so amazing. Y’all are gonna complain we got several episodes just for us, episodes they knew only we could untangle?

Furthermore, I personally would love to know we’ve been in Sherlock’s head this whole time because it tells us so much more about Sherlock’s character than we’d ever get to see otherwise. His mind and emotional issues are complicated enough that I would expect it to take a multiple episode journey to sort it out.

Finally, just from what I’ve observed about alternate theories for what’s going on in T6T and TLD, it seems like most of y’all want the most important parts of T6T and TLD to be fake anyway. Most people don’t like Mary being good, John blaming Sherlock for Mary’s death, John beating the shit out of Sherlock, John cheating with some rando instead of texting Sherlock, etc. Y’all were willing to throw that stuff under the bus for something like alibi theory or drugs theory or an unreliable narrator, but suddenly the little details are sacred and it would be cheap if those were fake too?

Come on. Give EMP a chance.

4. My Take on EMP Theory

His Last Vow

There are a few ideas about when EMP begins. For example, when Sherlock gets shot, or when the ambulance comes to get him at 221b, or even just after he gets on the plane. However, there’s one scene that stands out to me as the most likely entry point.

Just after Mary threatens Sherlock in the hospital, we get the scene with Janine. She notes at the end of the scene that she’ll give Sherlock’s love to John and Mary, which implies that Sherlock has not yet been conscious when John is in the room. And that makes sense, because we didn’t get any scene where John asks who shot him and Sherlock tries to hide the fact that it was Mary or anything. When John and everyone are trying to find Sherlock, John even wonders aloud why Sherlock would protect his shooter, as if that question is a new development.

All evidence suggests that Sherlock did not get to have a conscious off-camera visit with John in the hospital; John just hears Sherlock say, “Mary,” when Sherlock is barely conscious.

In other words, it appears that Janine is the first person Sherlock is awake to talk to.

Janine (who I suggest is working for Moriarty, or is his sister, in M-theory) added something to Sherlock’s IV when he was unconscious; she admits she “fiddled with the taps” and that it must be a “dream” for Sherlock to have drugs hooked up to him.

Sherlock turns the “morphine” back up during her visit, but turns it down to a trickle -- not off entirely -- when Janine leaves. Sherlock got a decent dose of whatever was in the IV while Janine was there.

Sherlock then has his “Mary Watson” mind palace sequence. We’re lead to believe he comes out of it and flees the hospital, but our big clue that he’s actually going deeper into his mind palace is that his heart monitor suddenly runs backwards after running forwards the whole scene with Janine (credit to @yan-yae for the find and @doomsteady for the gifs, both at the link).

That is a REALLY weird thing for them to have done. Surely they were able to take enough footage of Benedict doing whatever they needed; lying in a bed looking pensive for five seconds is well within his acting range. So why did they reverse it?

Here’s what happens when you reverse it back, so it’s going forward properly:

He goes deeper into his mind palace. Dude is on drugs and in his mind palace. We’ll see further evidence of this scenario having taken place in T6T and TLD.

Furthermore, check out this weird bit of an interview @skulls-and-tea found. Our dads almost never interject to provide extra information to an interviewer, but they wanted to make very clear that Sherlock’s mind palace alone does not create elaborate scenarios, just his mind on drugs does that:

INTERVIEWER: You could go back to Victorian London; you could have more things set in [Sherlock’s] Mind Palace where he’s going back–

GATISS: [interrupting] Well remember – it’s not just his Mind Palace [in TAB].

Mycroft says it explicitly – ‘It’s a memory technique.’

In both occasions where we’ve gone into it – in ‘His Last Vow’ he’s been shot, and he’s obviously doped to the eyeballs.

And in ‘The Abominable Bride’, he’s all – he’s high.

So it’s much – it’s a particular thing.

We could do it [go back to the Victorian setting] of course, but he’d have to… take a seven-percent solution. Or more.

They could have easily just gone along with the interview and said sure, maybe they’ll do something like TAB again one day, whatever. Instead, Gatiss gave the impression that mind palace drug mechanics are particular and important.

Back to Sherlock’s mind palace deduction about Mary being a liar.

In M-theory, I said that Sherlock’s epiphany about Mary may have been that she could be working for Moriarty: saying “Mary Watson” aloud makes him think of “marry Watson,” a command rather than a name, and the gunshot sequence at the end reminds him that Moriarty had left a sniper on John. He also imagines Mary doing the head tilt that Moriarty is known for.

If that’s how Sherlock interpreted things, it would certainly explain why he recently had Moriarty in his mind telling him that “John Watson is definitely in danger.” The whole reason that Sherlock came back to life was to save John, remember? If this sequence isn’t about a potential Moriarty connection or at least Mary being a threat, it’s weird for Sherlock to act as if he has any new startling information about Mary after this deduction; it’s weird that the sequence was necessary at all.

Mary is very ominous in his mind palace, so why does he roll over for her so fast once he leaves the hospital?

One reason why EMP theory makes more sense to me than any alternative is that it’s absolutely nuts that a non-drugged Sherlock wouldn’t immediately suspect that Mary was one of Moriarty’s snipers. We know from TEH and HLV that Sherlock has been trying to figure out who put John in the bonfire, and that he must be concerned that he didn’t take out all of Moriarty’s network given that John was kidnapped the day after Sherlock came back to life. Sherlock’s thought processes seem to make sense up until this deduction, but then they get clouded.

Also note that it makes sense that Moriarty would want to drug Sherlock and fuck with his mind, just in general. We may have gotten some foreshadowing toward the end of THoB, when Sherlock sees Moriarty’s face in association with the fear gas:

Anyway, things get strange after this scene because Sherlock is imagining it all. He’s been drugged so he can’t actually go after Mary. Instead, he’s stuck trying to figure out what may be going on with Mary, and his brain has to make it up. Remember, we’ll see in The Abominable Bride that Sherlock is capable of making up multiple characters with multiple motivations that change as he considers them. We see Sherlock imagine full scenes among characters in TAB when Sherlock isn’t even present for the scenes. We see Sherlock make up entirely new people he’s never met before.

There’s no way to tell a drugged mind palace episode from a real episode except that drugged mind palace episodes wouldn’t make total sense, just like TAB.

Without actual evidence about Mary’s past, emotions start clouding Sherlock’s judgment because there’s several things Sherlock doesn’t want to believe:

That Mary, his friend, could want to kill him.

That Mary could have so thoroughly fooled him.

That Sherlock wasn’t thorough enough in taking out Moriarty’s network, and his negligence left John in danger.

That Moriarty would be insane enough to have some kind of posthumous revenge.

That Moriarty could still be alive.

That someone could marry John and not really love and appreciate him etc.

It’s also possible that Moriarty has agents like Janine or Mary whispering weird shit to him in his drugged state to influence his thoughts; we’ll see some evidence of this idea, and the idea of the real world bleeding through to Sherlock’s mind palace, later.

So Sherlock imagines that all the following are possible for someone who’s just fled a hospital room after nearly dying of a shot to the heart:

escaping through a window several floors up

contacting Anderson with his real location, because everyone would be looking for him, including Mary

moving John’s chair back into its usual position in 221b

acquiring a bottle of Claire de la Lune and putting it in 221b

getting a spare cell phone for Wiggins to hand to Mary

getting Wiggins in position

setting up a projector with Mary’s picture on it

getting to Leinster Gardens

getting John to Leinster Gardens and in position

That’s a lot to swallow if it’s real.

When Sherlock puts up the projection of Mary on the outside of Leinster Gardens, he says, “I never could resist a touch of drama.” He’s going to say this in two more scenes later, one that we know is fake and one that we’re not sure about. (Credit to @1895 for the gif, at the link.) What reason is there for the repetition, why link the scenes that way? EMP theory says it’s because they’re all fake.

Sherlock dictates aloud a backstory for Mary based on what little he does know about her. He imagines the name Mary Morstan came from a stillborn because Jennifer Wilson, whose body he found at Lauriston Gardens on his first case with John, had a stillborn daughter and a pink coat similar to one of Mary’s coats, and the location names are similar. Sherlock’s mind obsessing over the first case with John is going to be a recurring theme.

But Sherlock can’t infer nearly enough about Mary to be sure that she’s working for Moriarty, so his brain tries to reassure him she’s not that bad:

Mary’s an excellent shot, yet Sherlock lived, so she must have meant to not kill him.

If Mary didn’t mean to kill him, she must have been buying time somehow.

For Mary to go to those lengths, it must be because she just loves John so much and wants to keep him forever and ever. It’s not exactly difficult for Sherlock to imagine someone loving John so much they’d kill for him; he imagines himself killing CAM for John at Appledore later.

If Mary loves John that much, she’s not a danger to John.

Once Sherlock’s brain decides that must be the case, he decides he has to do right by John: he wants John to have a chance at life with Mary if that’s what John really wants, which is John’s decision; and even if they break up Sherlock still has to save Mary to save John’s unborn child. So he tells them they’re going to have to talk it out.

Time starts jumping around here because it’s all in Sherlock’s head: he’s trying to construct a narrative of how he could save Mary at the same time he’s trying to figure out what Mary’s true past could possibly be.

If that seems nuts, remember that you already accept this degree of detail and time slips are possible in Sherlock’s mind: we have it confirmed in The Abominable Bride that when Sherlock is drugged up, his mind palace is crazy realistic. It’s not full of wish fulfillment and total nonsense or anything like a typical person’s might be, rather, it’s full of his fears, like John and Mycroft giving him shit.

Think about it. Why did we never get a moving scene of John at Sherlock’s bedside, or Mycroft visiting the hospital at all? Sherlock is stuck in his own mind, where he only partially understands how important he is to them.

When the Watsons have their domestic in 221b, Sherlock’s mind doesn’t have the information to expose Mary’s real backstory. So what does his mind do? It tells him that information is all on a memory stick he can’t read. That’s why we never see any scene of Sherlock reading the memory stick, even though realistically he would. It’s also why he imagines John forgiving Mary without having read the memory stick; that way they don’t discuss it and Sherlock’s brain doesn’t have to fill in information it doesn’t have. Then, since it makes no sense for John “Trust Issues” Watson to not have read the stick, Sherlock decides it must just take John months to forgive Mary.

It’s all dream logic, where you rationalize how things could be happening after the fact.

Why does Sherlock imagine John forgives Mary? Sherlock says it himself in the domestic in 221b scene: John “chose” Mary because she, just like Sherlock, is what John likes. My read of The Empty Hearse and The Sign of Three is that Sherlock is confused over why John won’t pick him over Mary, and Sherlock answers his confusion in that scene: John finally found a female version of Sherlock.

Sherlock also decides that Mary actually likes him; he claims it’s “sentiment” that made Mary “save [his] life.” But how do we know Sherlock’s memory here is inaccurate?

Here’s what CAM says in the actual shooting scene:

But how does Sherlock remember it?

Sherlock also imagines that Mary called the ambulance, when the original footage seems to indicate that it was actually CAM; Sherlock was dealing with dying at the time, so of course he doesn’t know any better. [The link is from @reminderofwhereicanfindher, but I have actually seen several metas point these things out over the years. If you want yours credited, just tell me.]

Sherlock knows that Mary must have been threatening CAM over blackmail material about her past, and decides the next step is to go retrieve it: maybe there’s things in her past that would sway John back to choosing him, but if not, he still needs to save John’s pregnant wife. So he imagines making a deal with Magnussen... in a totally weird, dreamlike setting:

Sure, Sherlock does weird shit; plenty of these scenes could be real, but if they’re fake, they’re good tricks because Sherlock is such a drama queen we just buy it.

But he chooses to leave for a more dignified setting and doesn’t change his clothes? He supposedly set up the whole Leinster Gardens scene earlier but half-asses his meeting with CAM? Furthermore, if CAM really came to threaten him in the hospital like the deleted scene suggests, why didn’t he just get CAM to come to the hospital?

Furthermore, why does Sherlock never seem to go to Mycroft -- even and especially because it’s later supposedly revealed that Mary has been working for Mycroft? Well, Mycroft knows everything and that’s how Sherlock generally perceives him, but the Mycroft in Sherlock’s mind can’t fill in information that Sherlock doesn’t know, so he doesn’t go to Mycroft yet. It’s the memory stick all over again.

So Sherlock goes on to imagine this elaborate plot to visit Appledore. The first sign that it’s all fake is that this time around, unlike at 221b earlier, CAM’s goons don’t check John and Sherlock for weapons.

Once Sherlock is at Appledore, Sherlock's mind hits a wall yet again: he’s expecting CAM to reveal Mary’s past, except Sherlock’s mind still can’t fill in that information. So what does it do instead? He imagines that if CAM doesn’t have physical records of his blackmail materials, or electronic records, that leaves only one thing: a mind palace, just like Sherlock’s.

Of course, we allegedly saw CAM’s “mind palace” at the end of The Empty Hearse and the beginning of His Last Vow. But was that a mind palace? We see CAM looking at real video footage of Sherlock pulling John from the fire in TEH; that had to actually exist in order to get back to CAM, and he even shows them the video when they visit. In other words, CAM does have vaults. And of course he does, because when CAM visited 221b he had physical copies of the letters Lady Smallwood’s husband wrote. If CAM wanted to print a story about Lady Smallwood’s husband, he would probably want that picture of Helen Catherine Driscoll he was looking at, and so on. Surely CAM has to sometimes trade proof of things in order to get what he wants from people. He keeps hard copies of things somewhere.

But Sherlock’s mind writes him into a corner where it must be a mind palace, so he imagines killing CAM to save John and Mary both, securing John’s domestic future. Sherlock can’t ever resist a touch of the dramatic, after all.

Sherlock imagines Mycroft making his case to his colleagues, and imagines Mycroft mentioning “The Other One,” a sibling whose memory Sherlock has repressed because something bad happened to them and part of Sherlock’s mind connects that to his own life taking a doomed twist. Mycroft being the one to drudge up these memories of The Other One will come up again later.

Side theory: Euros is just Sherlock

It doesn’t really matter, but with EMP theory it’s actually possible that Sherlock has splintered memories of himself into the idea of a secret sibling that his subconscious keeps trying to make him remember via his projection of Mycroft. Remember, we don’t get ANY mention of “the other one” until Sherlock is already trapped in his own mind. This seems way more likely to me than Sherlock having a sister who’s nuts.

Consider: Something bad happened and Sherlock went nuts -- and felt that Mycroft did not display enough concern for him after it, apparently -- then Sherlock buried it all. I get the vibe from Sherlock blaming himself unfairly for Mary’s death that maybe Sherlock blames himself for Redbeard’s death or something.

We get crazy Euros stuff later, but we know that Sherlock has a memory of being terrified in a padded cell to draw upon for his death mind palace. So either both Sherlock and Euros ended up terrified in a padded cell, or something fucky is going on.

It seems possible that Euros is a part of Sherlock’s psyche that Sherlock needs to integrate; otherwise she’s kind of a ridiculous character, even for this show. I mean, Mycroft doesn’t want Sherlock to remember Euros... yet he spent years terrifying Sherlock with stories of Euros’s name -- “the East Wind is coming to get you?” That’s a nonsense strategy, to say the least.

But Sherlock locking up his worst memory by labeling it with a concept that scares him away? That seems more likely to me.

Plus, remember in TEH that Mycroft says they both thought Sherlock was stupid until they met other children. Maybe Mycroft’s just politely omitting the crazy sister that Sherlock is too traumatized to remember, or maybe Sherlock’s psyche got fractured prior to being institutionalized at some point in his life. Maybe part of being stuck in his own brain for several episodes is about integrating the sentiment-driven part of himself that got damaged by something traumatic.

Guess we’ll see.

Back to HLV:

Sherlock imagines saying goodbye to John. He imagines John not seeming to care as much as we’d expect. ‘Cause it’s fake.

Sherlock doesn’t tell John how he feels on the tarmac, which through the lens of EMP theory as I see it is because Sherlock’s not yet emotionally developed enough to do so. Remember, Sherlock’s arc is about going from being a great man to a good one. The ensuing episodes are about having Sherlock work out his shit so he’s truly ready for a relationship, and isn’t just the same guy from The Empty Hearse who falls back on humor when he can’t make himself say the things he wants to say. He’ll be realizing that he’s willing to make any sacrifice for love.

On the plane, Sherlock broods over the time he and John met by reading John’s blog (which we can bet Sherlock pretty much has memorized). But as he flies away, something still doesn’t feel right to Sherlock. He and John still don’t know anything about Mary’s past. Something feels very off.

Sherlock feels very weird, like he’s drugged.

Something feels very Moriarty. Wasn’t he worried about Moriarty earlier?

Sherlock’s mind decides that Moriarty must be back. But that’s not possible... is it?

The Abominable Bride

Sherlock is still in the hospital being drugged, but imagines that he’s in Victorian London and meeting John there instead -- because the part of his brain that knows all the gay history referenced in TAB is feeling pretty closeted.

When he later realizes he’s not really in Victorian London, his brain justifies the drugged feeling by deciding he must have purposely taken a bunch of drugs.

I said this earlier but I’ll repeat it anyway:

Note that the first scenes of TAB are about John only, so we know that just because Sherlock isn’t in a scene, it doesn’t mean he’s not imagining it. We see full scenes without Sherlock continually this episode.

Also note that here we get the A Study in Scarlet (Arthur Conan Doyle) version of their meeting. This is important to remember, because the backlit skull in T6T is covered with the text of it.

TAB is where loads of continuity errors start to kick in.

First things first, we’ve got what @skulls-and-tea called “tie hell:” Mycroft’s tie changes from HLV to TAB (credit to Skully for the close-ups):

Okay okay, maybe there was a fuck-up with the wardrobe. Kind of unlikely for this show, given how carefully they do manage everything, but no one’s perfect, right?

But @skulls-and-tea also realized that six months before TAB aired, Mark said this when asked about a fandom theory that existed beforehand that there’s some kind of code to the ties they use:

“There’s nothing, there’s no tie code. No tie code. Sorry! I wish we’d been that clever, but we haven’t.”

Of course they would lie if there was a tie code, so that’s not what’s meaningful here. What’s meaningful is that they already knew the fandom was looking for codes in the ties, thought it was a clever idea they wished they’d used, then fucked up Mycroft’s tie in TAB even though that would make us think something was amiss. TAB was conceived after TJLC was in full force; they’d written the episode for us, the people who pick the show apart more than anyone. Why would they be so careless with the tie?

They weren’t careless: they want us to think something is amiss.

Furthermore, the plane interior in TAB isn’t the same as it was in HLV, and @gosherlocked wrote up a fantastic overview of tweets from set director Arwel Jones and director Douglas Mackinnon explicitly confirming that the differences are intentional because maybe the plane is in Sherlock’s imagination.

Even without that confirmation, there’s good reason to think the “real life” scenes of TAB are all fake... except for a small part of the one real life scene that is revealed to be fake. Which is hilarious, come on.

First of all, Sherlock looks surprised to see the pilot, as his brain had made her into Lady Carmichael. Presumably he’d seen her earlier and incorporated it. But wait a minute... if he’d seen her earlier, would he be quite so surprised to see her now?

We assume that he just didn’t really consciously see her earlier, that he’s drugged up and that’s why he looks startled. But what if Sherlock made her up entirely -- what if he stole her from his Victorian mind palace for his “real life” mind palace first?

And isn’t it kind of weird that in a scene we supposedly know to be fake, Sherlock imagines he’s in the hospital? With John and Mycroft there, just like we’d expected to see in HLV?

We also get this possible nod to EMP -- though it works without EMP too, just like the episode, which is why I think it’s genius:

Then the grave-digging scene that follows is proof that “real life” scenes may look entirely convincing without being real at all. Again, you already accept that if we were seeing a lie, we wouldn’t necessarily think anything was amiss until the rug is pulled! Unless, you know, the things going on in the scene felt ridiculous, like the the grave-digging one.

Given that we see Sherlock incorporate things from the “real life” level into his Victorian mind palace during this episode -- such as modern John bleeding through into Victorian Watson -- there’s no solid reason to believe that the few bits of people looking over him in a hospital bed aren’t real, even if the grave-digging bits are imagined. Dude is drugged out of his mind.

But there’s also some important stuff we’ve got to cover even in the obviously imaginary parts of TAB. Some of it reinforces that the parts of HLV we covered are fake, and some of it reinforces that S4 is wholly fake.

Early on in TAB, Sherlock’s mind realizes that everything is really weird. It’s clear from Sherlock’s real life observations that John isn’t actually that into Mary, no matter what reconciliation Sherlock imagined. Sherlock’s fears made him think that John chose Mary because she ticks the same boxes that Sherlock does and John simply prefers her, but Sherlock’s mind just can’t seem to uphold that fiction when he goes through the evidence: in TAB, Sherlock’s brain repeatedly recognizes that John would rather go off on cases with him than hang out with Mary. In the beginning Sherlock tells himself that John is only hanging out with him because John likes the fame and attention that writing about Sherlock attracts, but once Sherlock winds up at the waterfall, it’s just too unrealistic that John wouldn’t be there with him, so this particular simulation of what would happen with him and John ends on that key truth.

All of TAB is a battle between Sherlock’s logic and fears. It’s all Sherlock trying to run simulations so he can figure out what’s going on with the people he knows. It's made very clear from TAB that that’s how Sherlock’s brain works, which makes it easier to see how the same battle is going on in HLV, T6T and TLD.

For example, things just feel off about Mary, despite everything Sherlock told himself in HLV. She’s still shrouded in mystery, and it bothers him. The whole episode is about casting light on that mystery:

It’s hard to imagine what purpose TAB serves if not to drive home that Sherlock doesn’t totally trust Mary and is still ruminating over her past, and that he sees a connection between Mary and Moriarty. The arc of TAB doesn’t seem to mesh with HLV, and won’t seem to mesh with S4 prior to TFP, because the poor bastard is just stuck in his head running simulations. We’ll see why this one doesn’t stick when we get to the end of TAB.

From the start, Sherlock’s brain tells him that he’s going to have to go deep into himself.

This is a clue that his mind has levels, some deeper than others. We’ll see that as TAB progresses. This is also a concept from the movie Inception that I mentioned earlier.

Also note Sherlock’s use of this phrase:

Sherlock will say this again in T6T, part of his mind echoing the conflict of TAB: what is going on with Mary? He also said this in TGG when Moriarty started his game with him, which links Mary and Moriarty in Sherlock’s mind.

Sherlock says they’re ready to begin and has Lestrade come on stage to set things up. Sherlock imagines a case about a terrible bride shooting people, obviously evocative of Mary. He has her wear lipstick like Irene Adler and sing “Do not forget me.” What did the opening recap remind us?

He even keeps a picture of Irene, and imagines a whole cult of underestimated women who tricked everyone. Sherlock’s mind knows he’s being tricked by a woman and should not forget it, but he can’t quite settle on Mary despite all the evidence. Why?

Well, Sherlock knows it would be all too easy for him to want John’s wife to be awful and out of the picture. Sherlock establishes that John isn’t enthusiastic about Mary, then later imagines John grilling him on his sexuality in the greenhouse. Sherlock agitatedly insists that sentiment would cloud his mind, and soon after imagines Moriarty taunting him about how he doesn’t actually care what’s going on and is just obsessing over John and sex. The idea horrifies Sherlock: he doesn’t want to think the worst of Mary just because of his feelings for John. Even if it seems realistic that John could be into him, he has to be objective.

So his brain tries to tell him that Mary must be working for Mycroft, not Moriarty. That... sort of makes sense, right? Mary was going after CAM partly for Mycroft and Lady Smallwood because she works for them. She’s not evil, she just needed a bit of excitement in her life because John ignores her. Plus she’s pregnant with John’s child, so Sherlock has to help her no matter how much it hurts him emotionally.

It may be worth noting, however, that Mary is not pregnant in Sherlock’s Victorian mind palace. Maybe buried deep, in the episode where Sherlock seems to almost have Mary’s number, Sherlock knows the baby isn’t real and he and John can just elope.

Sherlock’s subconscious mind also knows that Moriarty must be behind all this. His mind reminds him that Moriaty’s body was never recovered. He imagines a scenario similar to what I describe in M-theory where the sound of the gun going off comes from another gun wielded by an accomplice, and blood is splashed to fake the suicide. He goes nuts trying to dig up an ancient corpse just to see if the real body is there, but can’t get any answers because it’s all in his mind and he simply doesn’t know -- the same reason he can’t get solid answers about Mary’s past, only a trickle of snippets that don’t quite make sense. He imagines Moriarty is the head of the cult of underestimated women, wearing the bride’s dress and all.

It all just freaks Sherlock out too much to accept that Mary could be working for Moriarty, that Moriarty could still be alive. Minutes ago Sherlock had said he could never resist a touch of the dramatic (credit again to @1895 for the gif), which links this fake scene to the scene I mentioned outside Leinster Gardens in HLV:

And then his mind has Moriarty mock him for being dramatic and making unrealistic shit up. The problem, Sherlock decides, is that Moriarty is a virus in his brain. Moriarty can’t be alive, Sherlock is just a scared drama queen and it’s ruining his ability to think clearly.

And John is clearly going to be Sherlock’s in the end! Sherlock has realized over the course of the episode that John is just following his lead because he’s concerned about what Mary will do. Moriarty is totally dead, and whatever is going on, he and John together will be victorious.

John kicks Moriarty off the waterfall, except... wait... Moriarty seems happy about it? Like that’s exactly what he wants to happen? (credit to @skulls-and-tea)

Sherlock throws off his detective hat, rejects fear, and embraces love by... jumping deeper, into water.

(Credit to @skulls-and-tea for this too because apparently Skully screamed at me about it six months ago and I forgot because I wasn’t seriously considering anything weird was going on, then I thought I noticed it myself when I went to write this LOL.)

Remember, curly dad keeps saying that Sherlock makes mistakes when he lets in sentiment. And this is a big, big mistake; Sherlock should have stayed paranoid. Moriarty did just say Sherlock would be the first man to ever be buried in his mind palace. And Sherlock just went even deeper than he was in this scene.

Son of a bitch! That’s not how you get out of your mind palace, Sherlock!

And how do we know he’s still stuck there? We see Sherlock talking to John and Mary about how Moriarty is totally dead and he totally knows what he’s going to do next, then they drive off the tarmac...

Except... then we get the epilogue. It has to happen somewhere, at some time in Sherlock’s brain. And it apparently happened after the tarmac scene we just saw, where Sherlock’s supposed to have sobered up?

Sherlock’s still in his brain.

Aaaand shit, apparently you can hit size limits for posts because partway through adding the T6T images it greyed out the option to post or even save this as a draft. Please hang tight and I’ll get more posted hopefully today, HOPEFULLY before TFP airs tomorrow at the latest.

Tagging those who asked to be tagged: @tea-and-gingernuts @theheartandthebrain @softmolly @sherlockprettydamngayholmes @shrlk @alex4555

#tjlc #meta #my meta #emp theory #PART 1

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