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alpinelogy · 15 days ago

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Fic Writer Interview

thank you for tagging me @13834. Hopefully the tag works <3

Under the cut cause I said so much help. This took like an hour?? Probably maybe even longer

How many works do you have on ao3? 16 posted as attraqtia + 6 posted on anon + 1 one I hid because I did not like it. And an extra one on my old AO3 but I'm discounting that one lmao. Also back in the day I posted on a further unspecified fanfic archive that is not AO3 (and is still around) as well as on Wattpad and ff.net but I've forgotten my username and login to all and I refuse to admit to those anyway so...

What’s your total word count? 238,447 words. Insane

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

ether strike (313 kudos)

galaxy collapse (somebody scream) (257 kudos)

home is only a town (you're just a guest) (224 kudos)

kicked out the stage lights (you’re still performing) (222 kudos)

system’s breaking down (there’s been a glitch) (214 kudos)+ because I find it funny, 6th place is shared between fill your drink with tonic gin (this is the american dream) and universum both at 187 kudos

Do you respond to comments? Why/why not? I try to (I say as if I have responded to a comment within the past several months) but I am not very good at it. Wish i could like a comment tbh, sometimes it is a idk what to say but your comment made me smile. Also I just get so much burnout I hate it here

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending? Uh... probably fill your drink with tonic gin (this is the american dream). Don't really write angsty endings but this is open ended so o7

What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending? Heckies there are several possibilities. Ignoring pwp cause I almost exclusively write established relationship so that is technically happy;

galaxy collapse (somebody scream) is a romcom that ends in loscar happy in a relationship. Happiest ending I've written. That being said

we found wonderland (you and i got lost in it) has a less happy ending but it is significantly angstier so it has a bigger range of emotions. Same goes for kicked out the stage lights (you're still performing). Putting them together cause they both have the roughly same setup of lost contact in an angsty way

same goes for now entering a world (from which you will never return) aka timeloop. Not a super happy ending but the amount of angst makes it feel more happy I think

finally maybe we got lost (in translation) and home is only a town (you're just a guest) are both getting together fics and they end in a happy get together. So adding those as well. They are not romcoms since there is plenty of drama and angst in both

Do you write crossovers? Uh... no rules (in breakable heavens) aka cycling au is a crossover right? I took guys from media A (F1) and put them into the universe of media B (cycling). Granted they are both sports that exist in the same universe but I think this should count as a crossover to me

Have you ever received hate on a fic? Nope. Thank fucking god. In all my close to a decade of writing never and I hope it stays that way

Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Yeah. Mostly established relationship pwp so I am pleading to AO3 to please add tenderhorny as a tag, most of my smut involves some (mild) kinks but also the established relationship part is important!!

Only single thread of gold (tied me to you) has explicit smut and is not pwp lmao. And yeah... that also has domestic fluff as a tag so who tf knows

Have you ever had a fic stolen? Nope. Or at least no that I know of

Have you ever had a fic translated? Nope

Have you ever co-written a fic before? No... technically. Me and kiro have been floating an idea of co-writing a fic earlier this year but we never got around to it. Kiro come back from the war (US education system) I wanna co-write that fic 🥺

That being said I would love to cowrite a fic one day, it always sounds so fun!! Any writing mutuals (or non writing mutuals who even just need an emotional support writer or anything else o7) hmu I would love to co-write a fic <3

What's your all-time favourite ship? All time including previous fandoms? Bokuaka from Haikyuu!!

F1 only? Probably Piarles actually. Or Loscar or Lolex, been leaning a lot towards Lolex recently Honorary cycling mention: pogrog. The ideas people post and the few fics on AO3... Please these two intrigue me so much

What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will? I am eternally scared I would never finish time travel George :(((. Really wanna write it, one of these days I will lock in I promise.

What I will never actually write? The original iteration of rbr!Oscar. Idk if I ever will write a version of it, I plotted the original version in August last year and my opinion of rbr has changed since then. I have replotted some of it few months bac but idk how I feel about rbr still lmao. But I am stealing a lot of the backstory for a Merc!Oscar AU so I suppose it works out :3c

Cycling AU also used to look very different. Tbh if anyones interested I'd love to yap about it, don't think it could ever work and it was the first thing I plotted but I have a soft spot for it :). Honestly I just really wanna talk about cycling AU, I have done so much worldbuilding for it and I adore it <3

More ideas from 2023 I will never finish: a Le Mans au for a further unspecified ship, several landoscar wips, several different takes on the pierresteban beef (one day I will write one. Just the ones I have rn will never make it out of the Google docs in their current state). Several different character studies of a driver I now hate so 😂😭

What are your writing strengths? Description I think. Being ESL and having a read a lot in English as a child means that my vocabulary is wide and messy and I am willing to stick three different words with the same meaning next to each other so lol and lmao

What are your writing weaknesses? Dialogue. Idk how to even talk with people irl, does anyone think I can wrote a dialogue of two people?

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? Idk I'm not a huge fan unless it is to make a point? Like if you speak the language then I suppose but idk, dont vibe with it

That being said non-English pet names when relevant (ie Piarles using pet names in French) is cute :)))

What was the first fandom you wrote for? Refuse to admit to it. Second one was Naruto asdfghj

What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to? PIERRESTEBAN. Like my second wip ever after cycling au was pierresteban. I have always had at least one pierresteban wip. I never managed to write one that I actually liked but one of these days they will be free. Lets see if I can finish my Brazil fic (also known as azincourt so if that spawns o7) or not

Also gewis. I always forget I have not written them yet lmao, time travel George truly lives rent free in my head :)))

And one of these days I will write a proper cycling fic, not an a with the F1 guys. I just... have a weird relationship with cycling rpf on account of growing up with the sport, but I respect the work yall do and I do have the cycling rpf tag opened in a tab on my phone. One of these days I will process my thoughts on it and then write a pogrog fic o7

What's your favourite fic you've written? Heck idk. Top 3 5 in no particular order:

galaxy collapse (somebody scream) - not that good cause its close to a year old but I adore the premise, I adore the vibes, I adore her so much. She is so fun and chill I think I could've done a better job on her in hindsight so she does not get to be No1 but my beloved

now entering a world (from which you will never return) - timeloop!! Probably if I had to say just one it would be her, a labor of love, I think some bits of my thesis of the fic (trust the people around you, it is okay to rely on them at times) are clumsily executed within the actual text and in hindsight there might be bits I wanna retcon but I do adore her a lot

we found wonderland (you and i got lost in it) - my dearly beloved first proper long fic. I still regularly think about the galex in this AU. Like no joke I have made up a very cheesy and idealized and probably lowk ooc future for them that I shall not yap on here about (re: the ooc bit) but honestly, if anyone wants to know it I am willing to yap in DMs o7

kicked out the stage lights (you’re still performing) - so fun to write!! wrote across like three or four sessions, feels like a very condensed version of wonderland and yes. I may or may not have thought of what happens after as well

home is only a town (you're just a guest) - I adore soulmate AUs a lot!! It was on my bucket list to write some day and I'm so glad I finally wrote it!! I vibe with the premise so much and the world building my beloved, so many bits to explore in just Alex and Logan's upbringing (bottom line consider the fact that Charles and Alex would have a fundamentally different relationship cause Charles' soulmate is also named Alex!! Just marinate on that) + honorary mention of no rules (in breakable heavens). I was (and still am lowk) working through a burnout so she is sorta ass but its cycling au. I adore cycling au. I don't think I can put it into words how much the cycling au means to me, one of these days I will write drabbles about the other guys. Bottom line George and Alex in that AU intrigue me

Sorry for the long ass yap asdfgh. Tagging uh... @landoisokay @lafaerie @weegreenbean @autumn816 @femmegeorge @racingliners and @kiroiimye if you by any chance open Tumblr in the next few days >:) come on come back to writing

#tag game #god I yapped so much I am so sorry

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embersofthewoods · 1 year ago

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The Way I Loved You ~ A Soukou fanfic

It was twilight, and Chuuya was sat on the roof of the mafia building, overlooking the city, smoking a cigarette, and completely lost in thought.

“You should smoke so much you know. You’ll damage your lungs – like my brother.”

Chuuya almost leapt out of his skin. “Jesus, Gin, I didn’t hear you coming.”

She only shrugged before adding, “I am an assassin. And quiet is kind of my thing.”

She sat down beside him, and swing her legs over the edge of the building. They sat in peaceful silence for a few moments, before Chuuya finally asked, “Why are you up here anyways?”

Gin gave him a look. “You’ve been up here, alone, for almost an hour.”

“So?”

“You miss him.”

Chuuya felt his face flush bright red. “What!? No, I- I mean… who are you- I don’t even know what you mean.” he declared.

“It’s alright,” said Gin, “I miss him too.”

“You- you do?” Chuuya couldn’t hide his surprise.

“Yes. Despite being excessively cruel to my brother sometimes, Dazai-san has taught him much. He was also the first person to ever give us a home. So yes, I miss him.”

“I suppose so. Why would I miss him though!?” asked Chuuya. His attempt to bluff his way out of the situation failed, as Gin gave him another look that quite clearly said ‘Don’t give me that crap.’

Chuuya sighed resignedly. “Okay. Fine. We were secretly…friends.”

“…”

“OKAY. More than friends. We- I- … Much as I hated him, - and I did hate him, - I… I think I loved him. And now… now that I’ve realised and accepted that… I miss him. So much.”

Gin looked at him silently, her soft eyes clearly indicating she understood and was listening.

“What was it like, to love him?” she asked softly.

“Wow.” Chuuya leaned back on his hands and gazed up at the stars.

“That’s a big question.

“Well, we would constantly be screaming at each other, especially in public obviously, and fighting to prove our strength.

“But then he would randomly come and drag me out of my apartment and we would kiss in the rain…” Chuuya sighed and smiled at the memory.

“And I was constantly up at like 2am, thinking of him. I would curse his name because I just couldn’t get him out of my head!! I was… I was that madly in love it made me act insane!” Chuuya punched his palm aggressively and covered his face with his hands. He peeped through his fingers and Gin, who was still listening in her quietly comprehensive way, before continuing.

“I had so many mental breakdowns, like panic attacks, and times when I would just… I had to cry in a corner.” He stopped again and glared at Gin suddenly. “You won’t tell anyone about this. Will you.” he said gruffly.

Gins eyes, filled with kindness, stared back. “Not if you don’t want me to.” she promised.

Chuuya relaxed slightly. “Good. Yeah. Well, when… that happened, it was always okay, because he was there to comfort me, and tell me ‘its okay, I’m here’. And I would always be there for him. And now…” Chuuya broke off, his voice filled with emotion. He composed himself quickly and resumed, in still a slightly shaky voice.

“Also… he was the one who encourage me to come out to you guys… do you remember?”

Gin nodded, “I do. That was so brave of you.”

Chuuya sighed sadly, “well, Dazai was the reason I has the courage to do it.

“It… I mean… the whole experience gave me a rush, like I was on a rollercoaster, ya know? It made me giddy with love and happiness, but now, its over, so suddenly. And all I feel is kind of… sick.

“But mostly… I just never knew I could feel that much. Like… I’m… I don’t… I’m hardly human. Yet all these emotions that I couldn’t explain, let alone understand just filled me, and… it was all because of him.

“So yeah. That’s the way I loved him. And God, did I love him. I see that now.”

Chuuya sniffed, and breathed deeply.

“It’s alright,” said Gin.

“I know! I’m fine!” insisted Chuuya.

“Yes. But… that’s a lot. I think you should tell him how you feel. Then maybe… he will come back. For all of us.”

Chuuya looked at her sceptically. “I could never say all that to him.”

“Well maybe, you don’t have to.”

The confusion was evident on Chuuya’s face, so Gin continued,

“You’re a musician, right?”

“How on earth do you-“ Chuuya interjected.

“Never mind how I know. But you could write him a song. Saying everything you’ve just told me.” she suggested softly.

Chuuya stared vacantly at the city.

“I… well, … maybe I could.”

But I miss screaming and fighting and kissing in the rain,

And it's 2 a.m. and I'm cursing your name,

So in love that I acted insane

And that's the way I loved you.

Breaking down and coming on out,

It's a roller coaster kind of rush,

And I never knew I could feel that much,

But that's the way I loved you

HELLO MY FRIENDS I have returned from the abyss. This fic took /ages/ as I just kept procrastinating it but it is now finally here.

Obviously I based it on the lyrics to the Taylor Swift song "The Way I Loved You". I just thought the lyrics fit Soukou so damn well. I like taking inspiration from random stuff like this :) I have more lyrics fanfics in the works so lemme know if you'd want to see that and if there's any songs or ships you'd particularly like to see :)!

AS USUAL any feedback is gratefully received. I want to know what you guys think!! I had loads of fun writing this so I hope you like it too!!

K bye I will return. Soonish. :)

Edit: oh yeah tags are a thing

#YAY SOUKOKU FICS #fic based on lyrics #bsd #fanfiction #bsd chuuya #bsd dazai #nakahara chuuya #chuuya nakahara #bsd dark era #soukoku #soukouku #bsd skk #skk #skk fanfic #bsd gin #gin akutagawa #bungou gay dogs

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witchcraftandburialdirt · 2 years ago

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── 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖙𝖊𝖗 / 𝖇𝖑𝖔𝖌 𝖆𝖘𝖘𝖔𝖈𝖎𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓

ᴀɴɪᴍᴀʟ: ROBIN -- For centuries, this tiny bird has been the symbol of good luck, happiness, rebirth - and sometimes even as a messenger for lost, loved ones. There are tales stretching back to Norse mythology where the robin is the protector from storms and lightning. And in Celtic folklore the robin is known as the Oak King of Summer. VULTURE -- Vultures teach us the value of patience. In their world, there is no need to rush their choice. Remember, Vulture does not kill. It simply collects what is already dead, and death is inevitable. They are the bearer of omens. These birds also represent duality – our spiritual nature and our body, heaven and earth, stagnation and action.

ᴄᴏʟᴏᴜʀ(ꜱ): CHARTREUSE -- Chartreuse represents enthusiasm, happiness, nature, growth, and youth. Like standard green, chartreuse is associated with the liveliness and the blossoming of spring. However, in contrast it can also stand for sickness, jealousy, and cowardice. As far as its negative qualities go, chartreuse is jealous, unconfident and insecure.

ᴍᴏɴᴛʜ: OCTOBER -- The month of spirits, where the line between the living and the dead softens and blurs. The air is chilled, and the sun is setting on the year, filling the month with beautiful colors painted across every plant.

ꜱᴏɴɢꜱ: STALKER'S TANGO -- I know, I know, I know, I'm always in your place But don't you see, my dear? I am your doppelganger, I have your face so Love me, love me, love me, love me...

ᴅᴀʏ ᴏʀ ɴɪɢʜᴛ: DAWN -- Dawn suggests the notions of illumination and hope, the beginning of a new day and thus a chance for happiness and improvement. Sunrise is a symbol of birth and rebirth, of awakening. The coming of light, resurrection.

ᴘʟᴀɴᴛ: ROSEMARY -- Rosemary is an herb that has long been associated with remembrance and death. Since ancient Roman times when the herb was used in burial rites for this reason, to several accounts of funerals in England where mourners traditionally tossed bouquets of rosemary on top of coffins.

ꜱᴍᴇʟʟ: FRESH HERBS -- Dried and tied into sacs to be carried on the body, to ward off dark spirits, hide the smell of decay, and stir into medicines to heal the living.

ɢᴇᴍꜱᴛᴏɴᴇ: LARIMAR -- Larimar is said to enlighten and heal in a physical, emotional, mental and spiritual way. It stimulates the heart, throat, third eye and crown chakras facilitating inner wisdom and outer manifestation. It represents peace and clarity, radiating healing and love energy.

ꜱᴇ��ꜱᴏɴ: AUTUMN -- Autumn is at once symbolic of plenty, ripening, harvest, and abundance; and, at the same time, a symbol of decay, decline, old age, and even death, with associations of things being past their prime.

ꜰᴏᴏᴅ: STEW -- Stew indicates one is troubled. Stews and soups with many ingredients are the consistent metaphors in many languages for big, complicated events and procedures.

ᴀꜱᴛʀᴏʟᴏɢɪᴄᴀʟ ꜱɪɢɴ: GEMINI -- Geminis are flexible, extroverted, and clever, and there's never a boring moment while they're around. These quick-witted twins can talk to anyone about anything. Their flaws include indecisiveness, impulsivity, unreliability, and nosiness, therefore don't disclose a Gemini your innermost deepest fears.

ᴇʟᴇᴍᴇɴᴛ: EARTH -- Oh to return to the eternal darkness beneath our feet.

ᴅʀɪɴᴋ: SMOKED NEGRONI -- A Negroni is an Italian cocktail, made of one part gin, one part vermouth rosso (red, semi-sweet) and one part Campari, garnished with orange peel and smoked rosemary. Tagged by: @wolvensden ♡♡ ((Thank you lovely!

Tagging: @piltover-sharpshooter@aquatic-hybrid@songofsilentechoes@darkseraphscorner@bells-of-black-sunday@voidwhispxrs@thegoldentigress@the-flame-blade@perfect-fourth@ahri-thefoxylady

#mun speaks #dash games #this was really fun!#Really let me dig into robin's character

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thegirlwhowrites642 · 2 years ago

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He wasn't sure why

Summary: Harry is not very good at brooding when Ginny is around. (summer 1996)

HBP missing moment

Canon Complaint

Read also on AO3

************************************************************************

The sun shone on The Burrow, a perfect day for a fly, but despite his best efforts, Harry didn't seem able to shake the terrible mood he had woken up in. His last days of summer appeared destined to be clouded by what he had seen in Knockturn Alley. He knew that Malfoy was up to something shady, and Ron and Hermione dismissing his concerns wasn't helping him get the mystery out of his head. Was it really so difficult for them to trust him? Before he could spiral once more in the unfairness of his best friends' skepticism, the door of Ron's room opened and Ginny stepped in, her hands behind her back and her mane of long red hair framing her freckled face.

"Hey," she greeted him softly, her tone cheerful, and yet he could read it in her bright brown eyes that she was there with a purpose, Ginny always seemed to do everything with a purpose, constantly sure of herself, a never wavering rock.

"Gin, what are you doing here?" he asked unable to not let a corner of his mouth quirk up. Before he could register what was going on, Ginny was seated near him on his camp bed, their backs against the wall, their shoulders touching, and a warm sensation invaded his body. Whatever she had been hiding behind her was covered by her freckled creamy legs. He trusted that she would eventually show him what it was.

"I'm your new brooding buddy." she brought up her chin, her vibrant eyes boring into his. "I must confess I was initially a tad mad at you for depriving me of one of my last opportunities to annihilate you on a seekers match before we go back to school,"

"You'll never beat me, just give up," he couldn't help but point out smirking, but she went on unfazed,

"But then I realised I was missing the unique opportunity of witnessing the master of the brooding process at work, and so here I am!" her arms opening theatrically.

"I'm not brooding,"

"Sure, very convincing." but she didn't insist and a comfortable silence fell upon them. Even if he had been brooding, and that was still extremely arguable, Harry could've not imagined going back to his previous emotional state. There was something about Ginny Weasley... he couldn't quite put his finger on it. He suspected, if he were honest with himself, that it had always been there, but now that they were, finally, proper friends, it was becoming increasingly more difficult to ignore it. All he knew was that it seemed particularly difficult to sulk when Ginny was around.

"Fine, maybe I was brooding," he admitted after a while.

"You don't say,"

"But just a little bit," the sound of her laughter filled him. Her shoulder bumped into his.

"Let me guess, it has something to do with the three of you disappearing while we were at Fred and George's shop," he supposed he should have been more surprised by her seemingly omniscient knowledge.

"I just..." she gently grabbed his arm and a sense of calm washed over him, he sighed, "I saw something that reminded me that as soon as we step out of the Burrow my biggest worry won't be reminding you of who is the superior seeker." matching grins were gracing their faces, yet her eyes carried a deep comprehension and not for the first time, he felt like she could read his mind.

"We did have a pretty idyllic summer, didn't we?"

"The very best," he confessed while memories of the two of them sneaking out at night for a fly, teasing Ron, making fun of Bill and Fleur, and talking about everything from the most serious topics to the silliest ones, invaded his mind.

"I have a surprise for you," she announced immediately affecting him with her enthusiasm despite his arm feeling suddenly cold by the loss of contact with her hand. "This is Arnold, Arnold the Pygmy Puff." a bundle of purple fur was placed right in front of his eyes, and he recognized the little animal Ginny had taken from her brothers' shop. "I've finally named him, I wanted you to be the first one to officially meet him," he wasn't certain of why that was and he even less understood why this need of hers made him so giddy but before he knew it, the little creature was in his hands and he was petting him. Then he fully registered what she'd said.

"Wait, you said you called him Arnold?" he couldn't stop laughing.

"Yes! It's a great name!"

"Gin, be honest with me, do you secretly hate animals? First Pig, then this?"

"I'll let you know, Captain Know-It-All, that Pigwidgeon means small creature, it's more than appropriate as a name for him. And Arnold, well, it's an anagram for Ronald. I did kind of steal from Ron the opportunity of naming his pet," she shrugged refusing to look at him as if the idea of showing care for her brother was something to be ashamed of.

"So, you like playing around with words?" Harry thought he should've realised, she had written him a poem after all.

"I-" and as she looked at him he noticed two things. One was that for the first time in years, he was witnessing an authentic Ginny Weasley blush and the other was that she was silently asking him to keep whatever she was going to reveal between them, "I like words, well, to be honest, I like writing."

"You write?" he wondered if it would ever come the day she stopped surprising him.

"Yeah..."

"What do you write? If you want to tell me,"

"A bit of everything," she said caressing Arnold, an action that brought her to press her front against his arm, for some reason he felt his neck warm-up, "Sometimes when I listen to Quidditch matches, I write an article about it like I was a journalist or something, I know it's stupid,"

"It's not stupid,"

"I mainly write personal thoughts and stories, though. I had stopped for a while because..." fragility suddenly showed itself in her entire body language.

"Because of Riddle." he realised, before he could stop himself he grabbed her hand in his, their fingers interlaced without hesitance, his thumb brushing her soft skin, and he felt her relax.

"Yeah, I think starting to write again was part of healing," while he listened intently, he became vaguely aware that despite them having done this all summer long, it was not normal for him to be so comfortable while having this type of conversation. But this was Ginny, it was just different with her, he could not imagine talking like this with anybody else.

"When did you start writing? I didn't know about it,"

"Oh, I was seven, Mum and Ron knew, but after a while, I think they forgot. I kind of stopped talking about it, it was almost like a secret," he couldn't help but observe how secrets seemed to surround Ginny. Her passion for Quidditch, the diary, her writing, her true personality... for a second he felt resentful, shouldn't he have been able to know her for longer? Why had she hidden from him for so long? It was not fair. "I think it was because at the time all my stories were about..."

"About?" he asked encouraging her by squeezing her hand, Arnold meanwhile was still producing delighted noises, loving the attention given to him by Harry's other hand. But Ginny did not answer, and when he finally looked at her, he saw her expression completely frozen in panic. He wondered what was the matter, then it hit him like lightning.

"No!" and he laughed like never before, "Please tell me he had a little adorable companion named Ginny!" her head snapped towards him.

"How do you-"

"Come on, do you really think I would forget my first encounter with the Ginny Weasley? First of September of 1991, King's Cross station. I remember her being quite taken with this dashing bloke known as The Boy Who Lived," he was never letting her live this down.

"I hate you!" she groaned burying her head between his shoulder and his chest.

"So, what were we up to? Did we defeat any dragons with a sword or-?"

"Shut up!"

"So definitely some dragons, did we have some cool talking animal? I've always wanted one. Maybe I should get a pet snake, I can actually talk with them after all..."

"I'll let you know that my Harry would have never made fun of me! He was a real gentleman, much funnier too, he never brooded,"

"Well, maybe his Ginny was more likable,"

"Hey! I'm extremely likable in any version!" her head lifted, and their noses were nearly touching, he was sure that her grin was matching his.

"Will you let me read them?" he surprised himself when his voice came out in a husky whisper.

"Never," if they hadn't been so close, he wouldn't have heard her.

"Come on, they are about me!" she rolled her bright eyes.

"They are about The Boy Who Lived, I didn't even know you wore glasses,"

"Maybe you should write a new one then,"

"And what should happen?" she was so close, and yet so far away, he felt like he was losing his mind.

"Well," he started licking his lips, "maybe Harry and Ginny should-"

"Harry!" they jumped apart, Ron had entered the room, and the raven-haired boy tried to suppress the thoughts of what the Harry and Ginny of the story should've done, what was wrong with him? "Oh, Ginny you are here too, perfect! Quidditch?" the other two nodded, "Great, we'll meet outside, I'll go convince Hermione to join us." and with that, he was out. For the first time in years, silence with Ginny wasn't comfortable, and he wasn't sure why.

"Er, I just- thank you, Gin." she looked at him, her cheeks held a rosy color. Was she blushing?

"For what?"

"It's pretty difficult to brood when you are around,"

"Oh,"

"I wish, I wish I could be there for you like you always seem to be for me," at his words something in her eyes changed, they were blazing.

"You are."

"You don't need to lie,"

"I'm not," a mischievous smile appeared on her lips "and if you stick around maybe next time you'll pay attention to what you're doing,"

"I will." he didn't think it would ever again come a time in which he didn't pay attention to Ginny Weasley.

#ron has the wrost timing #harry potter #ginny weasley #hinny #harry x ginny #ginny x harry #harry and ginny #halfblood prince missing moment

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yourcooladdiction · 4 years ago

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i didn’t have a back-up plan | bucky barnes

summary: reader x bucky break-up but nothing one of tony’s infamous galas can’t fix ;)

pairings: bucky barnes x female reader

warnings: 18+ only pls!! (smut, unprotected sex, public sex), angsty, little bit of fluff, jealous bucky, cuss words

You’re sitting at the kitchen table with your head cradled in both of your hands. Your cheeks are stained from the hour's worth of tears and for a second you are so glad you didn’t put on any mascara this morning. You hear the screeching sound of a chair pulling out across from you and you refuse to look up. You’ve been going at it for hours now.

He just got back from a three-month-long mission, and everything had been fine until he told you how long he was going to be gone this time. You couldn’t do another three, four, maybe even five months without seeing him. You’ve been together for almost two years, yet it seems like you’ve only physically been with him for maybe 4-5 months. You didn’t expect much from this relationship. You knew when you met him it was going to be hard, and if you’re being honest, you didn’t think it was going to last this long…but there was something about him you couldn’t get over. You fell for him hard and now you are dealing with the consequences. You weren’t accustomed to his lifestyle, and you knew you’d never adapt to it. Being an Avenger isn’t something you just sign up for and it’s certainly not for everyone. He didn’t force the lifestyle upon you, he never forced you to Tony’s lavish parties even though he wanted you to but he knew you’d be too uncomfortable. He loved you. You knew that. You loved him. He knew that. But you knew he deserved more, someone like him, and you deserved someone more like you, with nothing too special about them.

“You want to yell at me some more?” You ask.

“Doll...” His tone is cold and emotionless. You know where this is going. You both have known where this is going.

“Do you think we need to break up?” the words escape his lips, and you finally glance up at him.

“If that’s what you want.” You state.

His shocked response is not what you were expecting.

“What do you want? Do you want this to work? Do you love me?” His tone now filled with sincerity. Where the fuck has this been the past two hours you think to yourself. You could’ve sworn you were taking the words out of his mouth, you wanted to beat him to it. But his puzzled look is telling you otherwise, telling you he doesn’t want this at all.

“Bucky, we haven’t been doing well for so long. It’s just... it’s just not working. Our lives do not mesh together anymore. You are all over the place and I can’t drop everything when convenient for you.” You explain your decision and he sits back in his chair.

“I’ve never once expected you to ‘drop your life for me.’ Jesus fucking Christ.” His tone back to irritated. There he is. There’s the Bucky that you’ve been dealing with for the past few hours and the past few months.

“We fight all the fucking time! That’s all we’ve done for months! When you’re gone it’s over the phone or in text, when you’re here it’s in person. Nothing has changed. Nothing helps. It’s not fucking working.” Your voice cracks and his eyes begin to water.

“I... I love you, I don’t want this to end. We can work on this. I can work on this. I can tell Sam I need a break and take some time off.” He attempts to save himself and you shake your head.

“Buck – I love you but I’m holding you back. You need to be with someone who understands your world and I- I’m just not that person.” You try to fight back the stream of tears and he drops his head in defeat.

He attempts to save himself one more time as his mouth opens but nothing comes out. You stare deeply into his piercing eyes. Trying to memorize his face. Trying to memorize him.

He stands up from the table and stops beside you. He reaches down and squeezes your hand. You squeeze back and glance up at him one last time. His eyes fill with tears once more and he takes off to the door. You sit there and force yourself to stare at the now empty seat across from you. You hear the door shut and the floodgates of emotions hits. You sit there for the longest time. Tears and tears flow down your face. Your heart has found a new home in the pit of your stomach. Your eyes eventually dry up and you know that this was the right decision. It was never going to work…

You are pulled out of your poorly timed reminiscing when your date reaches out and grabs ahold of your hand,

“Ready babe?” He asks.

You force a smile and step out of the car.

You find it oh so incredibly ironic that your work is co-hosting one of Tony’s infamous charity galas. After you and Bucky broke up you landed a big-time PR job which involved working the one and only…avengers. You haven’t seen Bucky since the breakup but he had to know that you were practically working for the team by now. You had wondered how long you two could avoid each other, it was bound to happen eventually.

Nevertheless, 8 months post break up...here you are. The guy you’ve been seeing, a stockbroker on Wall Street was more than eager to be your date to this event. He wouldn’t shut up about the networking opportunity, and a chance to “meet the avengers.” Eyeroll.

You, on the other hand, didn’t want to go. You’ve been staring at the guestlist for weeks, well, you’ve been staring at one particular name on the guestlist for weeks. You’ve been racking your brain on why he would come to this event. He usually never goes to these stupid gala events, but yet he is attending a random gala…that you are in charge of…come on. You also find it convenient that he had a plus one beside his name. Of course, he does. He’s Bucky Barnes, why wouldn’t he have a date.

You and your date walk the imitation red carpet that’s laid out. You are the chair of this event so you have to pose for pictures and stop for questions. You hated this part of your job, you just wanted to be behind the scenes but unfortunately, people love you and your work, so they want to know all about you at all times.

You make it through the interviews and pull your date inside. He is enjoying this publicity a little too much. You find some co-workers/friends and push him off on them, and quickly head to the bar to get the strongest drink possible.

You order a dry martini with extra gin and take a sip.

“Some things don’t change, hm doll?”

You stand there frozen. The accent. The beautiful Brooklyn accent that you miss every fucking day. Those six words send chills down your back. The way “doll” flowed off his lips. This fucker. You take a deep breath and pray your makeup has remained in tack and your hair looks good from behind.

You slowly turn around and are met with those deep blue eyes. His hair was much shorter than the last time you saw him, but still so damn handsome. The scruff along his chin almost makes you drool because you miss the feeling of it against your skin. Your eyes make their way back up to him and he is smiling.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi.” You say back.

“You look...fantastic,” he smirks.

You bought this dress specifically for tonight. For this moment. You got it in his favorite color because you wanted him to see you and admit you looked good. You give yourself an internal high five before responding to him.

“Thank you, so do you.” You gesture at his tux. One of your favorite looks on him.

“I-uh-I hope that it’s not weird that I am here,” he says as he takes a step into you.

“Oh, no. Not at all. I am glad you’re here.”

You quickly realize what you said and try to recover,

“SO you can take part in the donations! The more avengers the merrier!” You laugh nervously

You idiot.

He chuckles at you and shakes his head.

“Is there somewhere more private we can talk?” He asks.

“Uh-I shouldn’t. I have to-“

“Oh right, yes, of course, you’re working. Well, maybe we can meet up before the night is over? I would love to catch up,” his voice is almost a whisper as he is only a few centimes from you. You can smell his unique scent. You used to joke that if he could bottle it up and sell it he wouldn’t have to run off and save the world every other day.

“Yeah, mhm, enjoy your night!” You respond and walk off.

An hour or so passes as you get caught talking to other donors before you can make your way back to your date. He is completely sloshed and making a fool of himself. Great. You call him an Uber and tell him he has to leave. He doesn’t take this very well and begins yelling at you. You and a few co-workers manage to get him outside as you wait for the Uber but he continues yelling at you.

“You’re just a fucking bitch! Get over your fucking metal-arm freak of an ex and you will be happy! I could make you so happy!” He says as he points a finger in your face.

Before you can respond a man quickly jumps in between the two of you and slams him into a wall

“Call her a bitch again and I will kill you, yeah?”

Your date's eyes go wide, and he runs off to the Uber as it pulls up.

“Bucky, what in the absolute fuck is wrong with you?” You yell and he chuckles.

“Really? I just helped you with that fucking asshole and you want to yell at me?”

Without thinking you take ahold of Bucky’s hand and pull him inside and off to a side room. You slam the door behind them both of you and he takes a few steps inside before turning around to face you. You cross your arms along your chest and tell yourself to be calm, give him a chance to explain himself, but as he opens his mouth you cut him off.

“What the fuck are you doing here, James?” You question

A smile splays across his face as you use his first name. He takes a few steps towards you, attempting to close the gap. You slowly take a step or two back still allowing the distance between the two of you. He smirks as he realizes what you’re doing.

“Well doll, if you must know. I needed to see you He says. His accent was thicker than before, which is a clear indicator he’s been enjoying the open bar or some Asgardian liquor or both.

“What about your plus one? Where is she, hm?” You question.

“You mean Sam? Yeah, I’m sure he’s having a great time in there.” He chuckles.

Of fucking course it’s Sam.

“Why was Sam not on the – oh forget it, we aren’t together anymore Buck, you don’t get to just show up and call me doll and pretend that everything is normal.” You sigh.

“Why not?” He asks playfully.

“We broke up, Bucky.” You sigh once more.

“Yeah and?”

“And!? And YOU walked away” You scoff

“Are you fuckin’ kidding me, doll?” His voice irritated.

“No, I’m not fucking kidding ‘you.” You tilt your head and mock his accent. His eyes narrow and the muscles in his jaw clench. You forgot how fucking sexy he is when he’s mad.

You two stare at each other for a few seconds as if you’re having a contest. Your emotions begin to overwhelm you and you feel the tears swelling in your eyes. You look down in defeat and you hear him let out a small sigh.

“Love.” His voice cracks. Fuck. You can’t hold the tears back any longer and you feel them fall down your cheek. You look back up at him and his eyes are bloodshot too.

“I fucked up, doll.” He mutters.

“Yeah. You did.”

“I know I did! I know! I should have stayed and fought for you. I know that now. I am sorry. But I’m here now. I’ve been working on this little plan for weeks now, to see you and –“

“No! No, no. You can’t do this. You don’t get to do this.” You interrupt, you wipe a tear away, and turn around to leave.

“It wasn't just me, doll! What about you, huh? You couldn’t adjust to my lifestyle yet you’ve been parading around all the other avengers for the past 8 months. Helping Tony with these bullshit galas!” He challenges.

You spin around and narrow your gaze at him.

“It’s my job.” You defend yourself.

“Yeah? I was your fucking boyfriend, not a lot of effort given there though?”

“Oh, fuck you, Bucky. Fuck. You.” You ridicule.

You both stare at each other down. Waiting for the next one to say something. You are soon questioning why you were so excited to see him tonight. Why you picked out this specific dress. Why you enjoyed it when he defended you against your douchebag date. You feel another tear fall and you quickly wipe it away.

“I should’ve tried harder. I’m sorry. I couldn’t handle the distance and I gave up on us too easily because I was scared and I’m sorry.” You finally confess.

He stares at you. Contemplating what you just said. His jaw is still clenched, and both of his hands are stuffed into his pockets. The silence is almost deafening, and you turn to leave as your heart can’t take this anymore. 8 months later and you’re still not over him. You’ll never be over him.

Bucky grabs your hand as you begin to turn and spins you back around to face him.

“Doll, I miss you. God, I fucking miss you.” He croaks.

Before you can speak his lips crash against yours. He quickly has you pushed against the wall as he deepens the kiss. You moan as you feel his tongue enter into your mouth. You wrap your hands in his brown locks and attempt to pull him further into you. He slides a leg in between yours and you moan as he grazes your sweet spot.

“Buck, we’re in public-“ you let out a raspy moan.

“I need you, please.” He groans.

And with that, you’re gone. You give in to whatever he wants. He slips off the straps of your dress and you step out of it, he takes you in as if it was the very first time seeing you. You attempt to cover yourself up, you haven’t been this exposed since the last time you were together.

“Don’t,” he demands.

He lifts your chin with his finger and places the sweetest kiss on your lips.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispers.

“Buck, I haven’t- I haven’t been with anyone else.” You admit.

“Me either, baby. I couldn’t bring myself to think about anyone but you. You’re all I’ve ever wanted. Let me show you how much I've missed you."

This time the tears swelling in your eyes were happy ones. He smiles as he finally renders you speechless. He wipes the tear away and kisses you once more. The kiss goes back to heated and passionate. You reach for his belt buckle, and he groans as your hands brush up against his erect member. He pulls his bow tie off and quickly unbuttons his shirt. He slips off his pants and underwear and once again has you pushed against the door. He begins kissing down your neck as he slips off your bra. He hooks a finger into your underwear, and you moan as his hands slide down your thighs.

“You ready?” He asks

All you can do is nod as the sight of him is enough to make you come.

He hoists you up against the door and you wrap your legs around him as he slips himself inside of you.

“Fuck, baby girl.” He groans.

“Buck – Jesus.” You cry out as he fills you up. He stills as he thinks he hurts you and pulls away to check on you,

“Move, please.” You giggle and he nuzzles his head into your neck and begins peppering kisses along your collarbone.

He thrusts himself in and out of you at an unrelenting pace. Anyone else would probably be embarrassed with how quickly you’re about to fall apart but you don’t care. You’ve missed this touch for months. You’ve craved it for months. You knew you needed him again. You just needed to realize it.

“Y-you close baby? I’m so close. Fuck.” He moans.

You attempt to speak but all that comes out is a loud moan of his name. He smiles at how easily you fall apart for him. He’s always loved this effect he’s had on you. Even though you held your own, there was something about Bucky that made you putty in his hands. He knew he had to get that feeling back. He knew the second he walked out he wanted to come back. He almost did. He stood outside your door for the longest time but couldn’t bring himself to knock. He knew you’d come back to him. He knew he’d find you again and you two couldn’t help but get back together. You were meant to be.

“Fuck, I’m-“ is all you get out as your orgasm takes over.

“That’s it, doll. Let go. Fuck. I love you. I love you so much.” He praises you as you clench around his cock.

Your head spins as you see stars. With a few more sloppy thrusts, Bucky is moaning your name as he lets go inside of you. He slowly places you back down on the ground and kisses you all over.

“Are you okay?” He asks.

“I love you.” You say as you lean up to steal a kiss.

He smirks against your lips and wraps his arms around your waist. You two stand there in each other’s embrace.

“Can we make this work? Can you be mine again?” He whispers

“Yes.” You smile.

“Good, I didn’t have a backup plan if you said no.” He smirks and you laugh.

“Let’s get dressed. I’m sure everyone heard us.” You roll your eyes.

“Hey that’s never bothered you before,” he teases.

#bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x yn #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes one shot

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wyattjohnston · 3 years ago

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put your arms around me - nolan patrick

note: this is a sequel to say that we'll be together and is set in november 2020 after Gin agrees to move to Philly.

word count: 2,056

warnings: this depicts depression. it's not glamourous but it's also not horrible, but there are descriptions of depressive episodes and conversations about them.

summary: a new city and a whole new life is even harder than she had imagined. feeling lonely doesn't always mean you're alone.

It was a lovely day outside—the sun was out, not a single cloud in the sky and there was a lovely warm breeze to combat the overnight chill that hadn’t quite left. Virginia only knew as much from the blinds and window that had been open since Nolan woke up two days earlier.

She had barely moved since he left on his short road trip. All she’d really done was use the bathroom, eat a handful of crackers, and cried to her mum on the phone—her usual activities when Nolan was away.

She was barely awake when the door to their bedroom opened, and she heard Nolan’s heavy footsteps. The major difference between that and every other road trip was that Virginia was normally able to get out of bed before he got home.

“Big night?” he asked, laughter in his voice because he was never sympathetic to a self-inflicted hangover.

Virginia tried to laugh, she really did, except the sound that came out was a sob—loud, wet, and right from her chest.

Something hit the ground with a loud thud, Virginia sobbed again, and then Nolan was underneath the covers, pressing up behind her, wrapping his arms around her tightly.

“What’s wrong?” he asked softly. “What happened?”

Virginia didn’t want to tell him, didn’t want to bring him into her emotions but when he squeezed her to assure her that he was there, she said, broken, “I’m so lonely.”

Silence consumed them, only their breathing and the outside world could be heard. Nolan wrapped her up tighter and draped his leg over hers to be certain he was holding her as close as possible.

Sobs continued to wrack Virginia’s body despite Nolan’s hold. She’d been crying so much that her entire body ached, and she felt sick to her stomach.

“Is—was this just a few bad days or--?” Nolan asked, evidently afraid of what her answer might be.

She really did not want to tell him the truth, but he deserved to know, even if it would break him, too.

“Every time.”

Somehow, Nolan managed to hold her even tighter, a breath being punched out of him. Virginia sobbed again. The world continued to move outside with some cars honking, someone yelling, Kev’s moments downstairs, but Virginia and Nolan laid in silence despite it all.

Nolan’s hand reached over to brush her hair from her face; he kissed her cheek and said, “We’ll get you a plane ticket home, okay? This weekend.”

She didn’t think it was possible but the ache in her chest worsened at the thought of getting out of bed, of leaving Nolan, of boarding a plane and leaving him for good. If she couldn’t bear him leaving for a few days, how would she survive leaving him permanently?

“You don’t want me here?” Virginia asked, her voice barely audible even to her own ears.

Nolan sighed, his breath brushing against her cheek. “I want you here, Gin, but I want you to be happy.”

“You make me happy.”

“I can’t be here every day.”

“You’re here now.”

“Yeah, I am,” he breathed, kissing the back of her head. “Do you reckon you could take a shower?”

“Will you come with me?”

Nolan’s answer was yes, and Virginia was relieved even though she truly hadn’t expected him to say anything else. Getting out of the bed was hard, just as it had been every day since he left, but it was a little easier with Nolan there to guide her.

She let herself be undressed, her limbs heavy and unhelpful. If there was less fog filling her brain, maybe she’d have been concerned that it was the least sexy she’d ever been, that Nolan had never seen her in such a state, but it didn’t matter. Nothing did.

Virginia waited, leaning against the counter, as Nolan turned on the shower and let the water warm up while he stripped out of his own clothes.

It was nice under the water, feeling days of sadness wash off of her, Nolan wrapped around her and angling them so that the water was running over her hair and body but not streaming down her face.

“I love you,” she whispered into his chest when he was running soap down her back. “I want to stay with you.”

“Whatever you want.”

Virginia was sitting on bed, her laptop on her knees, searching for any job that would possibly take her without anything but a high school diploma and experience at a tiny hardware store in Manitoba. She’d applied to every job she thought she had a shot at and was going to keep doing that until there was no job she hadn’t looked at.

The bedroom door opened, and Virginia looked up, expecting Nolan to come back upstairs with her coffee, only the person in her doorway was much shorter and much blonder.

“Hello,” Amy said cheerily. “Let’s go.”

“Go?” Virginia asked in a panic. “Go where?”

“Girls night at Ryanne’s. Attendance is sort of mandatory.”

“Uh… no,” Virginia said, her eyebrows pulling together, and settling herself further into the mattress.

Amy raised her own eyebrow, her arms crossing over her chest, “Why not?”

“I’m not going with no warning to hang out with a bunch of women I have nothing in common with.”

“How could you possibly know you have nothing in common with them when you’ve never spent time with them outside of games?”

“Because they’re not like me.”

Amy froze, one perfect eyebrow raised towards her hairline.

“If this is some Not Like The Other Girls—”

“I’m from a town with less than 300 people. I have no money and no job—”

“Virginia,” Amy said, in a way that Virginia had only ever heard from her grandmother, “I work at a zoo. I’m not even a zookeeper; I give tours to snotty elementary school kids. It’s not a great paying job.”

“Amelia—you can do that because you have a trust fund and a grandfather who tops up your bank account every month,” Virginia snapped, her own bank account figure shooting through her mind along with the stress of what to do now that it was dwindling.

“I still thought we were friends despite that,” Amy said, shocked but reserved. “You don’t have to come but you need friends and not all of them grew up like I did—I’m probably the outlier here. Some of them might even like to fish but you won’t know unless you come and talk to them.”

“Nolan said something, didn’t he?”

“Yes. This may or may not have been thrown together in half an hour after he called me this morning.”

“What do I wear?”

Amy checked out Virginia’s outfit, her yoga pants and very large #19 Flyers hoodie causing a shrug. “Literally what you’re wearing now. I’m not getting changed.”

Virginia didn’t quite buy that what she was wearing was acceptable, because Amy was at least wearing her own clothes even it was athletic attire. As she stood up, after putting her laptop aside, and pulled Nolan’s hoodie over her head—it smelt a bit ripe, anyway, so changing out of it wouldn’t hurt her.

Amy was still standing in the doorway, waiting, and watching as Virginia grabbed her shoes and put on the absolute bare minimum of makeup. She also made sure her hair looked at least semi-brushed. Any other day she would have recoiled at the thought of the other WAGs seeing her in anything less than she would wear to a game.

“I’m sorry for implying we weren’t friends. We are,” Virginia said sheepishly, standing in front of Amy.

“Call me next time you’re feeling down then, okay?” she said without any hostility. “You don’t have to be alone in this city.”

They made their way downstairs, coming across Nolan, Kev and Teeks in the kitchen laughing raucously. Virginia walked straight to Nolan, placed her hand on his upper back and then pushed it to his neck so she could tangle her fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck. When he looked at her, she smiled at him; it wasn’t big or showy, just something to let him know that she knew what he’d done and that she appreciated the effort he’d gone to.

Exhaustion was taking over Virginia by the time Amy drove her back home, collected Teeks and left. Kev had long since hidden away in his room, so it was just Virginia and Nolan on the couch. Nolan stretched out on the couch, Virginia settling easily on top of him her ear to his chest listening to his steady heartbeat. One of his hands settled on the back of her neck, making her feel small and safe.

“You had to get Amy involved,” she mumbled, trying not to succumb to her need for sleep. “It couldn’t have been Sofia?”

“Sofia wouldn’t have been able to bring together everyone’s wives and girlfriends—I have no clue what she and Kev are doing but she’s not sitting in the family box. What’s wrong with Amy? I thought you liked Amy.”

Virginia sighed. “I do like Amy. She’s just very persistent.”

“That’s why I called her. Would you have preferred Ryanne? Get the Captain’s wife to drag you outside?”

“Yes. I wouldn’t have put up a fight and accidentally implied that we weren’t friends.”

Nolan’s chest stilled beneath her for the briefest moment before it vibrated with his low laugh. He said, incredulous and amused, “You didn’t.”

“I did, after I had a Not Like The Other Girls moment.”

“You’re not like the other girls, though.”

“Choose what you say next very carefully.”

“Because you’re mine.”

She raised her head to kiss him. It was brief and soft and there was nothing else she could have asked for. The smile it brought to his face, discrete and oh-so Nolan, brought one to hers, too.

She repositioned herself so that her chin was on his sternum, so she was talking directly to him while she recounted what had actually happened. He told her he didn’t need to know, that she was allowed to just spend time with the girls and not report back with everything, but she continued—she wanted to share stories of what she’d done with people she was beginning to think of as friends.

Her eyes widened as she remembered a particular moment, Nolan widened his back in gently mocking anticipation.

“They tried to hand me a baby,” she breathed dramatically. “Nol, there were so many babies. What if they think I’ll babysit?”

He scoffed, another laugh sneaking out, “Nobody is going to ask you to babysit.”

“You don’t know that.”

The hand that had been on the back on the back of her neck moved down her back until it was resting on her ass, a favourite place for it to just be. One of her own hands was underneath his t-shirt, pressed against the warm skin of his abs.

Nolan, still laughing, said, “I bet you flinched when they tried to hand you the baby. I know you flinched.”

“Yes—”

“Everyone has babysitters and, if they don’t have babysitters, they have Amy.”

“She’s so good with kids,” Virginia sulked. “It never looks like she’s going to hurt them.”

He patted her ass lightly, barely any pressure, and managed to shake his head. Effortlessly, his hands on her waist, he pulled her further up his body so that they were face to face. He kissed her nose and then her mouth.

“Thank you for going,” he whispered, his voice low and his breath brushing over her lips. “I didn’t know how to get you to go without just throwing Amy at you.”

“I wouldn’t have,” Virginia admitted freely. “Thank you for asking for help. I’m going to—get help. For myself. I just need you to know that it’s not you.”

It was clear that Nolan didn’t believe her, his mouth pulling in small and his eyes squeezing shut. Virginia pushed herself between him and the back of the couch so she could comfortably put her head on his shoulder and cuddle in close.

“It might be. And that’s not… bad. I just want to know how to help properly.”

“I don’t regret being here, Nol.”

Please consider leaving feedback - reblog and write in the tags or send an ask, I’m not fussed. I just want to know what you’re thinking!

note: there's also another fic that i have to rework because i fully expected Patty to end up in Seattle.

#nolan patrick fic #nolan patrick imagine #hockey fic #hockey imagine #nhl fic #nhl imagine #homemade fic #say that we'll be together fic #don't look at me #fic: golden knights

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honestlywtfisgoingon · 4 years ago

Text

A Match Set

Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Pairing: Benny Watts x Reader

Summary: After meeting one night in New York, you and Benny Watts are drawn to each other. As you go through different experiences with one another, you grow closer until it finally gets to be too much for Benny.

Word Count: 2685 Damn

Warnings: Alcohol and also a little sad?

Notes: hehe the plot continues... also please give feedback I’m still new to writing and can use the help 🥺

Your first date with Benny was like all your experiences with Benny. It started out ordinary, and ended up somewhere completely different.

He took you to a small cafe, one of those hidden spots known only to New York natives.

You and Benny sat down in a little corner of your own, and you felt an imbalance when he didn’t look nervous at all. After you ordered you relaxed a bit, finding out that he was just as anxious as you were. Sure, Benny had an incredible poker face, but the way he kept tapping his cheek while he leaned his chin on his hand had been the tell.

On the outside it looked as though the two of you were on a regular date, exchanging all the usual smiles and small flirtations, but that’s where it got a little more interesting.

Benny wasn’t conventional and didn’t care to be, and you were always trying to get past the surface of things. Neither of you cared for menial small talk, and instead went straight into a passionate exchange of thoughts and views. You ended up talking like you had known each other for years. There was a connection there, an obvious chemistry that you hadn’t found before.

There was a second date after that, and it was even better than the last. He had taken you to dinner that time, and once again you found yourselves falling back into discussion about various thoughts and ideas, nothing boring or ordinary.

As you cracked jokes back and forth and learned more about each other, you had a warm feeling. You recognized that for all these last few months, being with Benny was the first time you really felt at home in New York.

That was before, but this is now. Now is when a part of you shattered. Now is just after you got a devastating call that your father was sick.

“Thank you,” you said before hearing the click of placing the phone back on the receiver.

Thank you for what? You were just told your father was dying and you were supposed to say thank you? You had finally gotten the chance to go beyond your small town, thinking everything at home was safe, that it was taken care of. It was your father that convinced you of that.

Living where you did had it’s limits, and there wasn’t much for you there. He pushed you to get out and explore, telling you that you didn’t need to worry about him.

You were taken from your thoughts when you looked at the time, realizing Benny would be picking you up soon. You could’ve canceled, considering the recent circumstances, but you were grasping for normalcy at the moment, trying to shove away the awful reality you were just hit with. You told yourself it wasn’t because you were running away, you were just being considerate of benny. Yes, you were just being considerate. That meant you could push off thinking about all this until you got home.

This time, you and Benny were walking together in Central Park, and you were trying to pay attention to what he was saying as best you could.

“Hey, y/n?” You heard benny’s voice break through the numbness.

“Sorry, what?” You were embarrassed that he caught you blatantly ignoring what he was saying.

“I was asking if you were able to come to to the championship, but I think you’ve got other things on your mind.” He didn’t seem offended, more concerned.

“I’d love to, I know how important chess is for you, and I haven’t gotten the chance to see you get really competitive.” He would’ve been happier to hear your answer had he not seen straight though you.

“Right now, you’re what’s really important to me. Just tell me what’s really going on.” His admittance for caring about you would’ve made filled your heart yesterday, but today it made you want to run away.

“Nothing is going on.”

“You’ve been off the whole day, I just want to know why.”

“Nothing is going on. Why are you so convinced that there is?” Your tone became slightly more aggressive.

“Hey, you don’t have to tell me right-“

“Just leave it Benny!” You snapped, letting go of his hand and and walking away from him. You didn’t know why you took off from someone you liked so much, but you didn’t really know why anything was happening at all.

You were stopped as Benny ran after you and grabbed you hand firmly. You tried to pull away, but he was stronger than you. He spun you around to face him. You became acutely aware of the tears that had started to fall from your eyes. Looking up into his eyes was your breaking point.

You let out a sob before caving into him. You felt his arms wrap around you before letting him usher you to a bench. He held you for what seemed like forever, until you were too tired to cry anymore. He was rubbing you back and gave you a little smile when you faced him. You apologized and hastily wiped away your tears, but he insisted that it was ridiculous of you to be sorry. You still felt guilty after your breakdown, so you explained what was going on to make it up to Benny. You couldn’t exactly run away anymore, physically or emotionally.

“It’s my dad. I got a call this morning. He’s sick, but he wants me to stay here. How am I supposed to stay here, dealing with a new job, a new life really, while my dad’s back home dying?” You let Benny see all the stress you were under, ready for him to leave now that he’s seen you as a mess.

“All those things, you have to take one at a time. If your dad’s what’s important right now, just focus on that.” It was easier said than done, but Benny wasn’t the emotional type and he didn’t know exactly what to say, but he cared, that much was clear. You just nodded, trying to pull yourself back together. “Are you going to listen to him? Are you going to stay here?” You could tell that behind his question, he was scared that you would say no.

“I- I don’t know yet.”

“Whatever you need, I’m here.” He said as he gently placed a hand on your cheek. It was smooth and warm and you wanted to lean into it, but you snapped out of it.

“Maybe what we both need is for you not to here.” You didn’t want to hurt him, but your walls had rushed back up. You had so many things going on, and the last thing you needed was a boyfriend. It pained you to say it, but you wanted to be honest.

“I don’t have to be here as... whatever we have going on now... but I can be here as a friend.” As of today, romance was off the table for you, but a friend was different, and Benny wasn’t the type to let go of you so easily, even if a friendship was all he could get.

You just nodded and looked down into your lap, not knowing what to do now. Benny knew it was time for silence, so he held your face in his hands so you looked up at him. He didn’t say anything as he used the pads of his thumbs to wipe away the tears sitting on your cheeks. It wasn’t a romantic act, it was more endearing, a quiet action as if to say that he was willing to catch you if you fell.

You let out a small laugh at his little gesture. His eyes radiated a sort of comfort now that you he was edging into a part of your life that even you avoided.

With the intention of continuing your date that wasn’t really a date anymore, he grabbed your hand to pull you up from the bench. When he tried to let go, you didn’t let him. He looked at you curiously but he didn’t question it. You didn’t even know why you did it, still mentally screaming to push him away. You both just ended up going along with it, holding hands for the rest of the day until he walked you back home.

Nearly 3 weeks had passed since then and you hadn’t gone out or had contact with anyone. Despite your moment with Benny, you had still distanced yourself from him. Holed up in your apartment, existing off of gin, cigarettes, and frozen foods; ignoring calls, presumably from your friends.

You sat in the middle of the living room floor, forcing yourself to sketch. It had been therapeutic for you before, but now you found yourself more agitated as your drawings felt forced.

“Argh!” You yelled out into the room as you threw the papers across the floor. The one thing that you could always turn to was your ability to do art, and now you felt a block.

After taking a swig of gin, you laid back on the floor. You had turned to alcohol after another call with your father. He demanded that you stay in New York and that you go on with your life. Instead you felt like you were at a standstill, unable to keep going knowing that the one person left in your life wouldn’t make it another couple of months, and yet you were unable to see him. It made you hurt and angry that he didn’t want you home, but you wouldn’t go against his dying wishes.

You groaned when you heard the sound of the phone. You dragged your hands across your face when it wouldn’t stop ringing, forcing yourself up to confront whoever was pestering you.

“What the fuck!”

“Glad to know you’re alive.” Bennys voice greeted you.

“Can’t you tell when someone wants to be alone?” You missed Benny, but you were slightly drunk and your defenses were up.

“What someone wants and what someone needs are two very different things.”

“Well then tell me what I need.” You said sarcastically.

“You should come out with us. We’ve been calling, Cleo and Annette and the rest of us. We haven’t heard from you.”

“Well the reason you haven’t heard from me is because I haven’t been answering.”

“Funny,” he said humorlessly, “we all miss you.” He paused, “I miss you. And I said I’d always be here so I have to make good on my promise.”

You paused. You had to admit, you missed them and Benny too, but everything just seemed so scary right now. For all your philosophies and ideas, you were hiding from your own thoughts. Going out with people would only expose them.

“I can’t.”

“You don’t have to have a night out, but have coffee with me at least.”

“Benny I-“

“Great. I’ll be there in five.”

“What? Benny no-“ He hung up. The bastard hung up on you. His audacity was what actually made you laugh for the first time in days. After a minute of laying on the floor, you gathered energy to trudge over to the bathroom and make an attempt to clean yourself up. Looking at yourself in the mirror, you made a grimace at your reflection. You brushed your hair and washed your face, brushing your teeth twice to get rid of the alcohol on your breath. You swiped some face makeup to conceal your dark circles and changed out of the pajamas you had been living in.

You buzzed Benny in, expecting him to wait downstairs in the lobby like usual. Instead you heard a knock at the door in the middle of clearing things up. You got flustered as you rushed around to pick up glasses, pillows and other articles littering the floor.

“I thought we were going for coffee,”You said as you opened the door, panting slightly.

“I thought I would make things easy, come to you.” He said as he made his way in, slinging his arm around your shoulder, “plus ive never been in here.” He took a look around, making no comments about the state of your apartment. He made himself comfortable, going through your kitchen, presumably looking for coffee or something to eat. “Do you want anything? More gin maybe?” He said as he picked up an empty bottle sitting on the counter.

“Benny-“ you warned, silencing him. He joined you on the couch with some chips he found in the cabinets and a can of coke.

“We don’t have to talk about anything serious, I just don’t want you to be alone. For my own sake really.” He turned his head away from you while saying the last part.

“You know I should be a dick more often, I’m making you all soft.” You nudged him in the shoulder as a small smile crept up on his lips, lightening the mood. Something about him being there made you unconsciously drop your facade. You had to admit it was nice to relax for a moment.

“Hey don’t go telling everyone.”

You didn’t talk about anything serious like Benny said you wouldn’t. After a while you eased into laughing and chatting casually. Eventually the conversation reached a comfortable lull.

“I missed you too you know. I didn’t say it over the phone.” You told him. Having him here with you made you feel bad for your outburst. You admired his patience for you.

“I knew.” He shrugged as he gave you a sideways little smirk.

“cocky bastard.” You said jokingly.

“Your favorite cocky bastard” he tilted his head towards you as he lifted his brow, smiling.

“Top 3 maybe.” You leaned back like you were pretending to think about it.

Suddenly you remembered what you talked about before the little breakdown you had on your walk.

“The championship! Do you still want me to go?” You sat up with your sudden remembrance.

“Course I do. I didn’t know you would still be up for it.” Benny looked happy, but you could tell he didn’t want to get his hopes up.

“I didn’t think I was, but I didn’t want to miss you winning.” You ruffled his fluffy blonde hair. He gave you that cocky smirk again. You really won points by stroking bennys ego.

“Well we can drive together then. It’s next week.” He said it nonchalantly, but he smiled as he took a sip of his drink.

You paused, not realizing the championship was so soon. You thought you had at least a month. You didn’t feel as though you were ready to enter back into the world yet. Just Benny was alright but having to hold your own with all those people while Benny played scared you. Benny caught your hesitation and went to hold your hand. They were chess players hands, soft with long fingers that intertwined with yours. They were cold and his rings were a bit uncomfortable, but your breath still hitched a bit.

No. You said you wouldn’t get involved with him. Still, you kept your hand in his. It was probably the one mildly romantic thing either of you could get without risking the friendship falling apart at this time.

“How exciting,” you finally continued. You lifted your coke and you and Benny cheers-ed together. Once again that warm feeling of home crept in, that feeling you got when being with Benny. No matter how many walls you built up, Benny, someone you hadn’t even known for more than a couple months, had an amazing way of bursting through.

Just this morning you were firmly committed to becoming a hermit, and now you were planning a road trip. You chalked it up to Benny being special to you. No, you pushed that thought away again. Special in a friend way. That’s what you needed, and that’s what he was willing to be. You were in a state of conflict around him, shoving him away and holding his hand to pull him close. You shook off your thoughts and looked at Benny, and there was a moment where his eyes shone with admiration, and then it was gone as he turned his head away and continued to talk about one of his chess feats while you listened attentively, just happy to be around him again, even if it was unwillingly at first.

#benny watts x reader #benny watts fanfiction #benny watts imagine #benny watts fluff #benny watts smut #the queen’s gambit #queen’s gambit #benny watts #Thomas Brodie-Sangster

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velvethopewrites · 3 years ago

Text

Two of Us

Bingo #8 - “I want to go to the beach. It’s the middle of winter. I don’t care.” For some reason, when I read those lines, this is what came out. lol

Also on AO3 for reviews and kudos!

"I want to go to the beach."

"Gin, It's the middle of winter."

"I don't care."

Harry sighed as he continued to rub his pregnant wife's feet. She was due any day, and they both knew it. It was their first, and Harry couldn't help but feel excited and worried and anxious all at the same time. He thought he might explode with all his emotions if the baby didn't decide to arrive soon. But he knew it was nothing compared to what Ginny was currently going through. He knew she was beyond ready to no longer be pregnant. And she'd been handling it all great – hardly any mood swings or weird food cravings (Bill had told him to be on the lookout for that, and Arthur had told him about the former, all the while looking around to make sure Molly wasn't listening). But these last few days, his wife had been most…disagreeable. And emotional. As though she'd waited the whole pregnancy just to make his life a bit crazy at the end of it.

But now, he could tell from the stubborn tilt of his wife's head that she meant business. And they were either about to have a terrible row of Final Battle proportions, or he was about to be visiting a cold, windy beach very soon. Suddenly, Harry had an idea. They still had the baby's room to finish, and so far, neither of them could decide how to finish it. Maybe this was a sign.

He shifted out from under her feet and gave her an apologetic smile. "You know you can't travel anywhere, love, Healer's orders, but…if you permit me, I can bring a little bit of the beach to you?"

Ginny raised an eyebrow at him and folded her arms, eyeing him with suspicion. "All right, as long as this isn't some way of getting out of here until my mind is changed. Like you did with the biscuits."

Harry had the grace to feel embarrassed about that incident and rested his hand on her rather large belly. "Promise," he said, making his voice as earnest as possible.

Ginny's expression immediately melted, and she reached out to rest her hand on his. "Oh, I'm sorry, Harry. I am so…I just want us to have one more moment of happiness before the baby comes." She sniffed. Loudly. Harry didn't think pointing out that the baby coming would make them both beyond ecstatic was the wisest thing to say at the moment.

Harry refrained from sighing and rubbed her stomach soothingly. "Just leave it all to me, yeah?"

She nodded, her eyes big and hopeful. Harry stood up and pulled the blanket over her, leaning down to kiss her head. "Have a nice kip here, and I'll be back before you know it, Gin."

She nodded and lay back against the settee, eyes falling shut. Harry watched her for a moment, his heart filling with a raw sort of emotion. It was a fierceness to protect her and their son, as well as to try to make her as happy as he could. He pushed his glasses up his nose and looked around, wondering where was the best place to start, and headed towards the floo in the other room so as not to disturb her. He had a beach to bring home.

When Ginny awoke, she felt disoriented, forgetting she was on the downstairs settee. She blinked until her eyes focused – the sitting room was dark, with just the soft glow of the fire Harry had clearly started for her. Next to her on the coffee table was a mug under a stasis charm and her wand. She reached for both and brought the lights up in the room, for there was also a note.

Gin-

Come into the baby's room when you wake up. I have a surprise for you. – Love, Harry.

Ps. Drink your potion first. *stern face*

Ginny giggled softly and dutifully drank her potion. It was just a pre-natal concoction the Healer had insisted she drink every few hours, the closer they came to the baby's due date. Apparently, it was full of wonderful things for both her and the baby, and it was supposed to make delivery a breeze, but so far, all Ginny knew was that it tasted like feet. Well, it tasted like she imagined what feet would taste like if ground up and tossed in with some dirt and grass. It was wholly disgusting, actually.

After struggling to get off the couch (and Ginny was embarrassed at long, it actually took her to heft herself up) she turned to find her husband.

She could hear the soft murmuring of voices coming from upstairs somewhere and sighed as she gripped the banister. She was re-thinking her decision to put the baby's room on the second floor, although she knew, in a few weeks, she'd be happy with the idea again. She somehow managed to quietly make her way upstairs, even though she did rest at the top for a moment. The door to the nursery was open, with warm, golden light spilling out of it, and Ginny paused as she could have sworn she heard the distant call of a seagull.

"Harry?" she called out. A moment later, he stuck his head out of the room, smiling at her.

"Hey, you're up finally. I thought you were going to sleep through your surprise. Come on, Gin, I think you'll love it."

Ginny frowned as she waddled forward (that was all she could really do these days, was waddle) and took Harry's outstretched hand as he led her to the doorway. She gasped as she took in the room and what he'd done to it.

Along one wall was a vast mural – and this was a beach scene – right down the swaying palm trees and sandcastles and crabs moving along the side, as though trying to break out of the image. It was painted in the bluest blue she had ever seen – with a moss green accent around the trim and the slightest hint of a sand-burst of yellow along the bottom, giving the effect of a seaside motif. It reminded Ginny of something that she couldn't place. The trees appeared to move with a breeze she couldn't feel, and the waves were rolling back and forth, as though with the tide, as the sun started to set, casting the room in deep oranges and purples. A moment later, the room would brighten again as the sun began to rise. She looked at her husband.

"What is all this? How did you paint that?"

"I contacted a few of our friends and family members, and they all pitched together to help me bring you the beach. Don't you recognize it? It's one of our photos from our honeymoon. Well, magically enhanced, that is. Luna helped turn it into a painting… Bill also helped with that part to make sure it covered the whole wall, and Hermione helped with getting it to continuously move. We can slow it up to last like a real day or any time in between. That was what I did to it. And Ron did this."

Harry pointed to a small shelf near the baby's crib, and it had various pictures of her and Harry together on the beach they'd visited after they'd married – laughing and playing in the sand together. It was done as a collage sort of arrangement, with the frames sticking together to form the silhouette of a bungalow. Ginny blinked rapidly and put her hand over her heart.

"This is amazing, Harry. It's so pretty. But I thought I heard you talking to someone up here. Did someone just leave?"

Harry led her to the rocking chair they'd placed in the corner of the room and gave his wife a grin. "Now, for the best part. See that?" He nodded at what looked like a little transistor wireless – Ginny had seen her dad work on enough of them during her young life to recognize the Muggle contraption.

"Tap it with your wand," Harry said, his voice excited.

Ginny did so, and suddenly, the sound of the ocean filled the tiny room – it was soothing, actually. She heard the same bird cry she'd heard from before. Amazingly enough, the fresh scent of ocean air also filled the room – full of sun and sand and water. There was even the smoky hint of an evening fire, reminding her of the time they stayed on the dunes all night talking. Then they'd made love next to the dying embers of the fire, lost in each other in the best way possible. She didn't know how he'd managed to capture that scent, but it honestly smelled like the beach. She turned to Harry to say something, but he held up his hand for her to wait, and then she heard it. His voice coming from the wireless.

She fiddled with the volume so that she could hear what he was saying.

"This reminds me of us and all the fun we had on that beach for our holiday. Do you remember, Gin? We'd stay up all night, make love when we wanted, order room service, and then take strolls along the water? I had never been on proper holiday before, you know. And to be there with you, as my wife, it was amazing, Gin. I love you so much. And you're having our baby, and I can't wait to meet him, and you're worried about us never being happy again, but Gin, I could never be unhappy because I have you, and soon we'll have little James, and it will be perfect."

Ginny felt the tears behind her eyes and sniffed as she looked at her husband. Harry bent down and took her hands into his.

"We can record over the message as much as we want, or Hermione said that we can switch it to music for the baby to listen to while he's in here. I thought maybe some of that steel-drum type of stuff we heard that one night we went into town, remember?"

"Oh, Harry! This is amazing. Oh, I am so sorry I've been so out of sorts and not myself. I don't deserve you, sometimes."

"Hey, stop that. And anyway, you have the best excuse, and no, you haven't been too much you daft thing," Harry kissed her gently as he wiped away a tear that had fallen. "Now you're up and down emotions, on the other hand…."

He quirked his mouth at her, and she laughed, shaking her head. "Thank you, Harry."

"Your welcome, Gin. I love you. I hope you understand that. And I'm sorry I couldn't take you to the beach, but…until you're able to travel, maybe come in here and just remember."

"Maybe after James is born, we can go again to our little bungalow?"

"Well, I reckon. I mean, if you're that intent on giving him a sibling so soon," Harry said, chuckling. "Seeing you in that bikini once more might turn me into a wild animal again." He rested his hand on her stomach lovingly as though remembering.

Ginny snorted, pretty sure it'd be a while before she could even fit into that skimpy bikini again. "Hmm, give me a year, yeah? At the least. Not sure I can do this again, quite so soon."

Ginny felt the baby kick then, as though in reply, and they both marveled at each other. Harry gave her a huge smile.

"I love it when he does that," he said, feeling her belly.

"He's coming soon, I think," Ginny said, nodding. "He's in a hurry to see his dad."

"And his Mum. You're gonna be great at it, you know. I reckon we both will. We'll only make half-a-dozen mistakes a day, I'm sure."

Harry leaned forward and kissed her, and Ginny felt some of the tension she'd been carrying the last few days start to wear off. She pulled back and winked at her husband as an idea came to her.

"Care to try one of the things the Healer said we can do to speed this birth along?"

Harry looked confused, and then his face turned a bit pink. "Really? Um, okay. Yeah. You never have to ask me for that, just so you know. I will always be up for doing my husbandly duties."

Ginny laughed as he helped her out of the chair, and they made their way to the bedroom. She couldn't wait for the baby to be born, this was true, but for right now, she was okay with it still just being her and Harry.

o-o-o-o-o

#Hinny #harry and ginny #harry and ginuary bingo #preggers ginny #Harry potter #ginny weasley #my writing #fan fic #ginuary bingo

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sgiandubh · 1 year ago

Note

“Amateurs seek the sun. Get eaten.Power stays in the shadows."

Amateurs ; Sam

Power ; caitriona

Dear Oppenheimer Anon (with a European circadian rhythm and no knowledge of the proper use of a semicolon),

If you think your paltry quote from a movie I am in no particular hurry to watch is going to fill me with dread, you are wrong. To that effect, you could have quoted Oppenheimer's Bhagavad Gita's reference (And now I am Death, the destroyer of worlds) during the famous Trinity Test of the atomic bomb, in 1945. But I digress, as usually.

So what is your point, girlfriend? To point out again that S is an amateur, doomed to be eaten alive by your mob, as opposed to consistent, supremely intellectual and feminist icon C?

Fuck me, I am stupid, for refusing to get this Pravda slogan in my head! So since you don't get it, I am going to write it down as clearly as I can. For you and any other twat who thinks she can scare me with movie quotes:

S loves C. C loves S. C and S are parents. I am fascinated by S &C; not particularly by S , C, or any other combo. I am also very glad to be part of a group of witty, funny and kind women who happen to think the same. I am very sorry S upset you all so much by not behaving the way you wanted him to. These people are not your toys and they live their life and their truth as they see fit. Right now, S is in the United States of America promoting his new gin. This is a business side project of his, not a campaign for alcoholism or juvenile prostitution, nor a money extortion operation from gullible fans. This is work. This man is minding his own business: learn a bit from example, Anon? The best places where you could promote a new spirits beverage are clubs, bars, restaurants and specialized retailer venues, with some media coverage added for increased impact. In the meanwhile, C's movie projects are delayed by the Hollywood strike. I am very sorry for her and for them, by the same token, and I wish this situation to be soon over and with as little damage as possible.

But really, I shouldn't have gone to all that trouble, Anon. Your spelling told me everything I needed to know, because you see, Freudian slips are bitches, like that. You used a capital letter to spell only the Amateur's name, while the Power remained minuscule.

That capital letter is the emotional ROI you never got, bitter Anon. Finally, allow me to quote my favorite Christmas movie. Avec le sourire de la crémière:

#Anon

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nervousladytraveler · 4 years ago

Text

@veryflowerobservation asked me for a little story with a very specific plot line. While I doubt this is what they had in mind (apologies in advance) this is what came to me over my morning coffee. Also, I’ve been reading Life After Life by Kate Atkinson, and am indebted to her for the world (and tone) of that novel that I borrowed here.

---

She was already seated at a table in a quiet back corner when Ross entered the restaurant. A sandwich sat in front of her--untouched. How long had she been waiting? Ross hadn’t been late. In fact he was rather pleased with his timing.

He’d only just found her note a mere half hour before he was to meet her. He’d almost missed it--a small piece of folded paper deposited on his desk and no one claimed to have seen the messenger.

Dear Mr. Poldark, it read. Please meet me, if you can, noon today. The Drake. Important item to be discussed. Yours, Miss D. Carne. The ink had smeared a bit revealing an impatient or untidy author.

He remembered Miss Carne. Often, if he were to be honest. He smiled at the physical feelings associated with the memory and was on his feet shuffling for his coat before he’d thought it all through. After a late breakfast, he wasn’t hungry yet his curiosity was piqued by such a veiled message. Then again cryptic was the nature of their business, he supposed.

Ross hadn’t wanted the job but was cajoled, battered--railroaded really. But his gallantry in the previous war and in his off-the-record jaunts in between, not to mention his Good Family (“So many Poldarks already in the high ranks, you know”) were all tallied up. If Ross was trying to slip away from duty unnoticed, it seemed he was his own worst enemy. And if he had a choice, he’d have preferred to return to the army, but his ankle still bore shrapnel from ‘17 and apparently he wasn’t needed in that capacity.

“We need trustworthy men inside, Poldark,” some smart Undersecretary and an older but oh so reputable Colonel had huffed. They nodded in agreement with one another, and without waiting for an answer, had begun making plans for Ross in an unmarked office at the end of a serpentine hall in That Building.

The last thing Ross wanted was to be trusted with someone else’s secrets and yet, there he was--working for the War Time Government, which he soon learned was a very different machine than the one they’d elected in times of peace, the one everyone thought they knew. And once he saw the ways the gears really moved, Ross was certain most would prefer not to know much about this one at all.

Miss Carne, the author of the note and the guardian of the untouched sandwich, was one of the girls in the unmarked office. The department that didn’t really exist on paper needed scores of young women to keep it running.

She was different from the other girls. Not just a typist but clever--she was always solving problems, often before they were discovered, and saving the men who didn’t really exist on paper from very real embarrassment.

Ross hadn’t many dealings with her. Well, not until that one night when he got to know her quite well.

It had been a Thursday and there had been cocktails out--what had been the occasion? War had already been declared so it was quite unusual to have held a work do. Why was she even there?

He remembered the dress she wore--blue satin--and the way it fit her. Like a glove. No, more like water in a stream rippling smoothly over immovable stones. It made him feel at ease to look at her and he knew how the night would end.

In the all the secretarial pools across the city, few girls had their clothes tailored--who had time or money? So when they ventured out after work, they sported those subtle signs of economy--gaping necklines or tight stretches across the middle. Their one good dress hadn’t been replaced in so many years but their bodies had changed with the war. Rationing had left them scrawny or cheap gin had left them bloated.

Oh but those girls tried, didn’t they? They carried on the best they could. With their lips so brightly made up they could violate the black out, they were hell bent on keeping up the spirits of the lads. Wartime made for an interesting and furtive nightlife. Of course the nice girls, the ones with breeding and good dress makers weren’t out much at all these days.

But this one, Miss Carne, with her red hair--real, not from a bottle--and a fitted dress the colour of the sea at twilight, was different. Demelza was her name. It sounded like some yet-undiscovered gem. Rare as hell and essential to keep out of enemy hands. She didn’t seem to belong in either world--not the world of well dressed would-be fiancees nor the seedy boîtes, that were filled after hours when the good girls were tucked up in their bunkers.

The hotel Ross had taken Demelza to after they’d left the party was nice enough. Not the Savoy but it had a toilet ensuite and the sheets were clean. She was not Ross’s first affair so he knew how to be discreet when signing the register. He needn’t have bothered--the concierge clearly hadn't cared.

He remembered the sound of that blue dress as he unfastened it down the back. A crisp zip in an otherwise quiet room. That and her breathing and his heart beating in his chest. The sounds of anticipation. Before the dress slipped from her shoulders and his hands clasped her naked body to him.

Today she wore a stiff woolen frock the colour of filing cabinets. It reminded him of a wall of sandbags, protecting a hidden softness beneath. Still the zipper would sound the same.

“Miss Carne,” he smiled and held out his hand to her. He contemplated kissing hers when it was finally offered but sensing some unspoken chill, he refrained. He sat down opposite and gave his serviette a merry snap.

She twisted her lips when she spied the gold band on his left hand.

“You're married?” she began, raising one perfect brow. Was it naturally arched or was that her own artistry?

He might have wanted to scrutinize her face, to map out what was artifice and what was real, but at that moment he didn’t dare look her in the eye.

“Yes, I am,” he said, just a decibel louder than a mumble. “And yes, I was married when we…” He took a gulp from his water glass.

“And yet there was no ring that night,” she mused. She had no problem with eye contact, her blue eyes remained fixed on his face.

“We...uh...we were in the midst of a separation then but the war has made us rethink things…”

We. Us. There wasn’t really an us. Elizabeth was merely feeling scared and lonely, between lovers, and suddenly liking the idea of a strong husband about. But since then her plans to retreat home to Cornwall, first spoken of as a ‘hypothetical perhaps’, had started to come to fruition. She’d been packing a trunk for some days now and was fretting about whether to take just some of her furs, or all of them. She was clearly planning to stay away. Ross’s response was to arrange a driver.

“Well then,” Demelza said and pushed away her plate. “That will complicate things but doesn’t change reality one bit,” she continued crisply.

It was an office voice. With it she would manage the girls under her with confidence and efficiency. No time for emotion, yet it wasn’t sour. Must keep morale up. They had jobs to do and every memo taken, every letter filed, was a fulfillment of their duty.

It was not the soft, easy voice that laughed in his ear as she lay next to him on the pillow in the blacked out room. The dusky voice that had whispered his name as he crawled up her body like a soldier crawling through mud. On a mission. Towards his target.

“It seems, Mr. Poldark, that I’m to have a baby.”

He held his glass aloft and stared at her.

“What?” he spat. “Well, it can’t be...I didn’t…not in...” Of course he couldn’t utter those words in daylight. Not over a sandwich at lunchtime. One needed a stiff drink before dissecting the mechanics of love. Yet somehow he knew it was possible. He thought he’d been careful not to leave seed in the field. Now it hit him he’d in fact laid a land mine.

“Well it doesn’t really matter what you believe you did not do, because apparently whatever you did, was enough,” she responded coolly.

He didn’t dare ask if there were any others who might stand accused with him in the dock. His gut told him she wasn’t that type. And though she hadn’t confirmed it during their night together--nor had he looked for evidence later--he suspected she’d been intact before he took her to bed. Oh, she’d been a quick learner!

He also sensed that she’d rather be sitting across from just about anyone else than talking to him now, so she certainly wasn’t trying to trap him.

“Are...are you sure? I...I need to think,” he said, aware that he sounded like an old Spitfire whose propeller couldn’t quite get going. So much sputtering.

She lit a cigarette, took one long drag, then ground it out carefully in the ashtray. No doubt she’d revisit that same fag again later, at a time when she was less impatient, when she could enjoy it alone.

“Well, you do that then,” she said, and gathered her handbag, ready to take her leave.

“Wait! Where are you going? How can I reach you?” His words came out in a fast and frantic stream. The engine had started--the sputter became a steady buzz filling the room.

She narrowed her eyes and shook her head lightly. Today her hair was held back with tortoise shell combs on either side. Tidy, discreet, and appropriate for an unmarked office. Or any office.

He recalled his hands getting lost in a sea of those curls, fistfuls he’d grasped in passion. An unexpected lifeline, it had seemed at the time, that prevented him from drowning.

He felt himself going under again.

“Now you want to reach me, Mr. Poldark?” she said archly.

“Hey--you left me! You were the one who waltzed out of that hotel room while I was asleep, without so much as a backwards glance,” he growled. He’d been rankled that she continued to call him Mister Poldark, especially when he could still hear her hiss in his ear--Ross--while her body bucked under his.

“I assure you it wasn’t a waltz,” she said. And that was all she said. At least she didn’t claim she’d been trying to save him the embarrassment of a morning after. “I share a flat with another girl in Kingley Street. We don't have a telephone but you can find me at the office--unless I get reassigned in the next few days. There are changes coming, I’ve been told.”

She rose to her feet and towering over him, nodded.

Ross tried to stand up quickly--to plead with her to stay? To follow her out? He couldn't say what his intentions had been but it mattered little. He was too slow. His legs got twisted under the narrow table, his chair scraped awkwardly, and the remaining lunch things began to tip before he caught them with his broad hands. He narrowly avoided one mess, aware that he had quite another still to be cleared up.

And just like that she was gone. Leaving her entire sandwich and almost-intact cigarette behind afterall.

In a strange flash, Ross was surprised she didn't offer to pay for her own lunch. Of course a gentleman should pick up the bill for a lady no matter the circumstances, but there was something so determined and iron about her now, that he couldn’t imagine her allowing anyone to help her.

And yet help her he must. Somehow.

He felt his pockets frantically for a scrap of paper but only found a stub of a pencil.

Kingley Street, he scrawled on the back of a matchbook. He had no house number, nothing else to go.

Could he ask someone to watch the street? He knew some blokes who would do a job like that--a stake out--for the right price. Or was he better off handling this himself, intercepting her at work? Even if she did get moved to a different sector--one that also did not officially exist--he might have channels to find her.

He sat back in his chair and reached for her cigarette. He imagined it smelled like her but he lit it anyway. It helped him to relax for just a moment while he planned his next move.

Ross knew he had a duty to this woman--to their child if one was to be--and while that was an overwhelming and unforeseen realisation, he was taken aback by a different unexpected sensation.

Desire.

He wanted her. Again. Now.

And he had to find her.

#poldark fanfic #poldark modern au #london blitz #ross poldark #demelza carne #blue dress #fastens down the back

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0ghostwriter0 · 4 years ago

Text

Peaky Blinders Imagines

This is a bit random. This is not edited or proof read so please read and like if you want. Not tagging anyone for this as can be very sensitive.

Pairings: Thomas Shelby x Original Character (Lucille Hughes)

Warnings: Suicide but no major detail, emotions, violence, mention of affairs, swearing

The two meet for the first time when Shelbys chose to expand to south London. Lucille is the niece of Father Hughes so she’s uses to a different way to life.

Before the war, Lucille was abused by her father sexually and physically. His excuse was that he blamed his daughter for not being able to conceive another child after her birth. A fact that her mother had turned a blind eye to. During the war, Lucille was 14 when her father had left for the war and months later she would be orphaned following her fathers death in action which triggered her mother’s depression. By 1924, the 24 year old had been running the Hughes for 10 years. The Hughes were powerful business people but an even more powerful London based Gang. Much to the young Lucille’s dismay, the Hughes became notorious. Being the only person to hand during the war, it was her responsibility to control the legal and illegal business from going under. During the years of the war, Lucille face abuse and hardship from every angle. Much to her surprise, the uncle who comforted her sought out to abuse and rape her for many years before she claimed her full power in the Hughes during 1919. After which the young woman had prematurely aged in wisdom and became one of the most powerful gang leaders in London. After the Italians and Russians were run out of London by the Shelby’s, the young Hughes became a legend. The death of Father Hughes allowed Lucille to hide in the shadows and conduct her business as she saw fit. The once well known woman of society, started to decline from social events until she stop attending, the risk was too high to be left unguarded with socialites. As her power grew so did her lack of trust and rightly so.

By 1931, Lucille was reacquainted with Thomas Shelby. The two began their professional relationship but Lucille wanted an out. Thomas began to see a different side to Lucille that she tried to keep away from her work- the abused woman. Following his wife’s ultimatum, Mr Shelby kept Lizzie away from charity events in order to get closer to Lucille. But when Lizzie, got paranoid about Thomas sleeping with other women even though she said he could “sleep with another if they weren’t in their home and he hadn’t held his children’s hand the day prior”. The MP had been falling out of his marriage for years but for the sake of his children he would stay. One after noon, Lucille had received an invitation for a charity ball being held by the Shelby foundation. Such an invitation had not been received by Ms Hughes for quite sometime and with the added protection of the peaky blinders, Lucille chose to attend. The night was tedious. Lucille sipped on gin as she warmed up to the riches, even though she was also now a woman with money she felt out of place. After hours had passed, the near 31 year old started her goodbyes before meeting eye to eye with Thomas Shelby.

“I’ve heard that you’re making your great escape before the host can by such a beautiful lady a drink”

“Shouldn’t that woman be your dear wife”

“She neglected to join me tonight”

“Too bad she’s a lovely person to hold conversation”

“Not behind closed doors”

“I must be taking my leave Mr Shelby, I imagine the Monday meeting is still to go a head”

Thomas nodded and placed a kiss on the young woman’s cheek before escorting her to the door. Little to his knowledge, Lizzie had watched the encounter and after Thomas watched Lucille go, Lizzie confronted him.

“So that’s your new whore good to know she has no morals”

“What do you want Lizzie!”

“I want you to be mine, my husband not fucking whores”

“I’m not having this tonight Lizzie, there’s a room full of people waiting for me to go back out so just fucking leave it”

“So you are fucking her. Brilliant. I should have divorced you when I had the chance.”

“Divorce! You want a divorce, fine, I’ll give you one. Lizzie Stark you’re no longer my wife. You no longer have to worry about my business. Oh and that woman, the one that left, I haven’t fucked her”

In the days that followed, no one would have expected the events that unravelled.

It was the following Wednesday when Thomas Shelby proceeded to hand over the divorce papers as a man of his word. The past whore sat silently as she watched the Shelby walk away- walk out of her life. The peaky blinder was far from okay but would never let show the heartache he was suffering. His first wife died and haunts his days. His second, the woman who mothered Ruby and took care of his son, paranoid and divorced. He needed a friend, someone he could drink with and forget. Although, the only person he wanted to see was the lovely Lucille who always found a way to put him in his place.

Later that day, events occurred which no one could predict. Perhaps the only way you leave this family is through smoke clouds. It was around 11 when the Hughes meeting started.

“Now I know what you're going to all say so I'll say it for you. Why are we here? Well, it's come to my attention that over the years I've let things slip through the cracks. So if you're in this room, then you are one of the very few that hold my trust. I can count you all on two hands and I'm willing to cut off fingers. So I suggest you leave or prove that I chose correctly” she sat and waited for one of the rugged faces to stand an walk out on the Hughes for good.

“Right then, there's a file under your chairs. This information stays in the room. Any issues we sort them out now.”

They spent the next 2 hours editing and explain the lengths of the documents. It was 1:15 when Sophia, the Secretary, interrupted whilst stumbling through the door.

“Sophia, dear we're in the middle of a meeting, ” Lucille spoke softly while looking up from her hard oak desk. Although, after immediately meeting the gaze of the stumbling woman, Lucille nodded.

“There's a Lizzie to see you”

“Send her in, I'm sorry about the disruption this should only take a moment” Lucille nodded as she responded. Soon, a distraught sight of a woman entered the office.

“Mrs Selby, what-” her words caught off.

“You don't get to say that name, you whore.”

“Lizz-”

“Dont you fucking dare. He gave me these. I'm guessing your fucking doing!” Lizzie bellowed which shocked the room. Although, Lucilles attention was drawn to the divorce papers that fell on her desk.

“I knew you were fucking him behind my-”Lizzie was cut off by Lucille standing.

“Now I will stop you there, Ms Stark, I suggest you take a walk and return when you've calmed down. These papers have no reason to involve me, so please kindly leave”

“Im not leaving until you understand” as a gun was raise Lucille remained calm as she stood from her seat.

“Do you want to shoot me?” Lucille spoke softly as she gestured for the others in the room to hold their horses. Stepping around her desk, Lucille didn't hesitate to stand closer to Lizzie.

“As I see it you have two choices, stand here and shoot me or hand me the gun and go home.”

“I have no home. I've lost everything. So it's your turn.”

“You still have your daughter and your dignity so I suggest you hand me the gun or shoot me now” Lucille stepped closer.

In this moment, time started to freeze over.

From the corner of her eye, a man rose from his seat as Lizzie cocked her gun. Turning slowly, Lucille regretted taking her eye off of the distraught woman.

The next moments will haunt her for the rest of her life.

She felt the spatter before she heard the sound. One single shot. It wasn't the man she was now facing who had made that single shot. Trembling subtly, Lucille ran her fingers over the splatter of fluid that grazed her cheek. Her fears had been confirmed. Time stood still as the younger woman turned to the spot previously occupied by a broken woman. It was empty. Lucille refused to look down as the shocked faces confirmed what she needed to know.

Looking around the room, she planned the next step.

“In light of this sensitive event, I ask you all to hold your tongue on today’s events. Go home, kiss your other halves and I will converse with you when I am proficient.” she watchedas they all filtered out. Turning quickly,

“You ever try that again I will have your head. I was in control and you tried to be the alpha male. Today this is on me but next time it's on you. Now go.” she spoke harshly with a soft undertone as the burly man dropped his head and left like a stray dog.

The boss watched as the alpha male left and her heart dropped as Sophia started to head for the door.

“Sophia, dear I suggest you don't come in any further. Send for Mr Shelby, say nothing and take the rest of the week off. Inform the rest of the offices to leave for the week.” Sophia nodded and scurried away.

Fear filled her mind as she sunk on to the top of her desk before finally looking down. Lizzie Shelby had blown herself out. Yes Lucille was attracted to Thomas Shelby but knowing full well that Thomas was spoken for and a business partner of the Hughes. But now she had blood on her hands -her face- something she vowed never to do. She became everything her mother and father wanted except she wasn't a man.

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blinder-secrets · 4 years ago

Text

Lion Tamer - Part 4

part one | part two | part three

also on ao3

an: i am so so happy to be finally updating this, please let me know what you think!

wordcount: 2800

It’d been two weeks since you’d seen Arthur, two weeks of Tommy coming back and fourth, with no sign of his brother in tow. No word of how London was treating him. Naturally, it had begun to bother you, or rather, it had bothered you - now it just pissed you off. You hadn’t expected Arthur to check up on you, at least not religiously, but it was hardly asking much to want a phone-call from him; he could at least let you know how he was.

After the first week, you’d given up on hearing from him. The days continued as they always did: you went to work, you went to the Garrison, and you went home. You gave Pol the numbers, you bought John a beer, and then you ate alone in your kitchen. The same day, relived seven times over.

On the Saturday, you went for a drink with a man Lizzie knew. An ex-customer. You didn’t know if he knew that you weren’t a whore, but he was tall and nice, and well, it didn’t really matter what he thought. Anything that would shake up your routine was welcome to you.

‘I’m glad you came,’ he’d said, sitting back in his chair, stomach full and face rosy.

You’d smiled. It wasn’t genuine but he didn’t seem to notice.

‘I’d always thought you were spoken for,’ he said, ‘when I’d seen you about.’

‘Never am,’ you replied, before lifting your glass to finish the last of the wine. You knew what was implied - when he’d seen you about, with them, the Shelbys. He’d thought you were out of the question, untouchable, and who wouldn’t? Especially now Tommy had more say in your love life than you did.

‘Do you want another?’ your date asked, quickly, like he was worried that you were about to make your exit.

‘No.’ You pulled your coat from the back of your seat. ‘Shall we go?’

He’d agreed so you’d taken him home and then sent him away again once it was done with. Not through any fault of his, he was sweet, and gentle, but once you were both spent it felt like an intrusion. Like he’d disturbed the little peace that you’d created, and every minute after was just another chip from your woodwork. It had been a while since you’d let a man in.

After he left, you’d cleaned the house entirely despite the hour, you’d even washed the kitchen floor. Just about anything to keep your mind occupied. Anything to make your home feel yours again. It did strike you that it never felt that way when Arthur was visiting, he even had a key like it was as much his right to be there as yours. You chased the thought away with suds. It was only like that because you were used to him, because he was there enough. Or perhaps because his visits were never more than a friend stopping to say hello.

On the following Wednesday, John was in the Garrison before you were, waiting with an ale in hand. He cleared his throat as you entered the private room, sitting upright as you shut the door. ‘Tommy says you’re avoiding him,’ was his welcoming statement.

‘Does he now?’ You undid your coat and sat across from him, setting your bag on the table between. ‘How can I avoid the man I work for, John? I’m in the office every day.’

He shrugged. ‘Just what I heard.’

You sighed. You hadn’t been avoiding Tommy, you just hadn’t made conversation. Or eye contact. Every day you went to work, at the desk two down from the door to his office, and then you left when the clock said you could. That was it. ‘He doesn’t like me,’ you told John. ‘Why should I pretend to like him?’

He put his hands up, claiming ignorance to the conversation he had started. ‘Am just saying what I heard.’

‘You Shelbys gossip like fish wives.’

‘Nah,’ he snorted around the word, ‘just like to stay updated on what I miss when I’m in London.’

‘Which appears to be never.’ You reached across the table, knowing he wouldn’t stop you, and stole a mouthful of his beer. ‘You’re in here every night,’ you said.

John laughed, watching you drink again, before adding, ‘Not by choice.’ He sighed and relaxed into his seat. ‘Esme would kill me if I wasn’t. Specially now she’s pregnant again, s’like having a fuckin’ firecracker in the house.’

‘One you lit yourself, John.’ Satisfied with your beer-wetted tongue, you went into the first pocket of your bag and pulled a cigarette from the box tucked in there. You barely had it in your mouth before he was questioning you with raised eyebrows.

‘I didn’t know you smoked,’ he said.

‘It’s a recent habit, keeps me company.’ You lit it and took a drag, still awkward in the motion. ‘Something to put my lips round.’

A deep laugh burst from him, sinking into a snort before he could reply. ‘If Arthur fuckin’ heard you then,’ he scoffed.

Your eyes rolled. You took another drag and let the menthol sink into your throat before exhaling again. Arthur never laughed at jokes like that. They rubbed him the wrong way, though he never had the balls to say why. ‘He hasn’t given me a second’s thought since he left for London,’ you said. ‘Fuck him.’

‘You don’t mean that.’

‘Have you spoken to him?’ you asked, watching his chin dip as soon as you did. You both knew the answer to that one.

‘It’s not his fault,’ he started, ‘it’s all that fucking snow. He hasn’t come up for air.’

‘Cocaine?’ He nods. You didn’t know Arthur used it. ‘That doesn’t seem like a good idea,’ you said.

He laughed once, emptily. ’Nothin Arthur ever does is a fuckin’ good idea.’

‘Right.’ That you could agree with, at least now anyways. Before he left you might have argued that he was perfectly capable of making good decisions. Of knowing how to conduct himself, for the most part. But the more days that passed, the less inclined you were to defend him. If you were so far out of his mind, why should he be on yours?

‘You worry about him too much, y’ know,’ John said.

‘No,’ you corrected, ‘I don’t worry about him at all.’

- - - - - - -

It was Friday again when Ada called. She wasn’t speaking much to Tommy, nor any of them, and you could hardly blame after losing Freddie. But she did what she could for them, and for you.

‘Here,’ she said, sweet treacle down the phone, ‘I got the number of the hotel where Arthur’s staying. He isn’t there much, but it’s something.’

‘I don’t want it,’ you told her. ‘He’s been gone two weeks and I’ve not heard anything.’

‘If I believed you didn’t want it, I wouldn’t have rang.’ She sighed. ‘Have you got a pen?’

After she hung up you sat and looked at the paper in your hand. You’d scribbled it quickly, wanting to get it out before your pride could intervene, and it had made your handwriting almost illegible. Almost. You knew where he was now, you could find him if you wanted. Your shift had long ended but there wasn’t a phone at home, and this wasn’t a call you could make at the pub, so you lingered in the offices still. The decision itched at you. If you called and got an answer, what would you even say? Half of you just wanted to see if he was conscious, if he was even in London at all. The other half wanted to call him a prick and hang up again.

‘One bell,’ you said aloud, reaching for the telephone. You’d ring once - just to see - and then you’d put the idea to bed. There was no point agonising over what-ifs.

You asked the operator to connect you to the hotel and waited while it rang, your grip tightened around the stand as soon as the call was answered. ‘Hello,’ you said, ‘I was wanting to speak to Mr Shelby, I was told he’s staying with you?’

The receptionist confirmed that he was. You don’t what emotion that registered, but it wasn’t quite relief. He was saying something else but you’d missed the first part. ‘Can I take a message?’ he asked. ‘Who shall I say is calling?’

You cleared your throat. ‘Sorry?’

‘For when he returns, Ma’am.’

Your gaze sat, unfocused, through the painted glass of Tommy’s office door. ‘No,’ you told him eventually. ‘No, it’s okay. Thank-you.’

The receiver was back on the stand before he could say goodbye.

You’d originally planned to go straight home after work, to treat yourself just once to some real, genuine quiet. But your feet clearly had other ideas; you found yourself in the Garrison, having walked subconsciously toward its warm glow, its Friday night hum. You’d been sat at the bar barely ten minutes before someone joined you and, as God would have it, it was a Shelby. Again.

‘Hello, Polly,’ you greeted her, as she sank into the bar stool to your right.

‘I thought I’d find you here,’ she replied, looking down her nose at you. She always looked that way but it wasn’t insulting like it was on others, it was knowing. A settled confidence that she’d seen you, seen you right to the centre, and she was amused by what she found. She ordered a gin and put her gloves on the bar-top. ‘I wanted to speak with you.’

You gestured for her to go ahead. Your glass was full, you had the time.

‘Are you happy here, [y/n]?’ she asked, turning with her body toward you, facing you wholly. ‘In Small Heath?’

You drank, only looking at her briefly when you answered. ‘As much as anyone can be,’ you said. ‘Why? Taking census for the council?’

‘An opportunity has come up,’ she replied, ‘a chance for something new.’

‘I haven’t been doing well with new.’ It was the old that you missed.

‘We’ll be opening offices in London, once it’s safe, and we’ll need people to fill them.’ She looked at you over her glass, sipping gin between the lines of the proposition. ‘I’d like to offer one of those places to you.’

You snorted. ‘Does Tommy know?’

‘As company treasurer, it’s my recommendation that he listens to. You’d be an investment for the company, someone we can trust.’

‘Thank-you,’ you told her, ‘really. But, I don’t want to move.’ You hadn’t even paused to consider it, it was a no as soon as the words left her lips. You liked it here, you liked your flat, your friends. There was nothing for you in London.

She looked you over, carefully, before reaching to put your glass down for you. It was only half empty, but she set it away from you like you’d finished. ‘You aren’t yourself,’ she stated. ‘You left the day he did.’

‘I’m just the same, Pol.’

She snorted. ‘Yeah, right, and I’m the Madonna.’

You finally turned to her, knees bumping, and asked what you really wanted to ask. ‘Why me? For London, why me?’

She took a moment to consider. You could see in her eyes that she was reading the script you’d withheld, hearing what was implied before you’d implied it. ’If you think I’m asking because of Arthur,’ she said, ‘you’re wrong. I don’t want you there for him.’

‘But for the company,’ you finished. Sure, it was always for the company.

Polly leant forward and put a hand to your wrist, her hold was warm despite how hot you felt yourself. ‘Love, I asked because you deserve to want something more. Something bigger than Small Heath, than Birmingham.’

You didn’t reply, you just looked at her and your world collapsed into itself under the possibilities. You’d never thought of leaving, you’d barely thought of tomorrow, and that was enough in itself.

‘London is an opportunity,’ she continued, ‘for all of us.’ Satisfied that you were understanding, she sat back again, reaching for her drink. ‘I want you to think about it.’

‘Pol, I don’t-‘

‘No,’ she interrupted. ’Just sit with it. Think it through.’

You nodded. She didn’t want an answer yet, which was lucky because you had no fucking idea what to tell her. You couldn’t even think about London as a place of work, or a home, without first dealing with the Arthur-shaped cloud that hung over it. If you were to even consider the offer, you had to resolve that.

‘When does Tommy next go?’ you asked her, coming around from the quick pattern of thoughts you’d just had. ‘To London?’

‘Tomorrow,’ she answered, a faint smile growing. ‘Why?’

- - - - - - -

The gravel was wet beneath your feet, gripping and scuffing against your soles as you attempted to run faster still. You didn’t know what time he was leaving, only that he’d be gone by the afternoon and, well, that left very little room for error. It was already pushing eleven as you approached Watery Lane. You hadn’t meant to leave it that late; you’d sat at your table, turning the idea over and over in your head, wondering if Tommy was even civil enough to do you a favour in the first place.

The thing that eventually made you decide yes, fuck it, you’ll ask him, was that he wouldn’t hesitate if he were in your shoes. If Tommy wanted something from you, he’d say it without the slightest doubt that you’d decline. It was only fair you showed him the same grace.

That’s why you found yourself half-running, half-trotting down Watery Lane to catch him. You couldn’t see him on the approach, thank God, the thought of Tommy Shelby seeing you running frantically toward him was almost vomit-inducing; you were running for your own sake, not his. When you reached the car parked by the bookies, you found it empty — minus the driver—and came to a thankful and panting stop.

You’d packed quickly, and light. Just enough to keep you for the weekend. Now you were stationary, you felt inclined to check the bag that hung over your shoulder, as if the small gift you’d put atop your clothes would have somehow fallen out. It hadn’t. It was still there.

You’d almost left it behind, having decided that the last thing Arthur deserved was a present, but then your heart beat your pride and you’d picked it up anyway. Perhaps something normal was what he needed. It was a book, a favourite of yours, packaged in brown paper with a card between the wrapping and the cover. A note that said you were missing him. That you hoped he could find you between the pages.

When the door opened behind you, you span, and let the flap fall closed over your bag. Tommy stood in doorway with a half-raised eyebrow, his suit smarter and neater than usual.

‘Tommy,’ you began, having lost all track of the words you’d intended to use. ‘I need a favour.’

He considered you for a long minute before replying, only speaking once he had begun to step around you. ‘I don’t have time for favours, love, it can wait ’til Monday.’

You cut him off, putting your body between him and the car, though the pavement allowed you very little space to do so.

‘I want to come with you,’ you said quickly. There was no time for sales pitches, you had to say it now or not at all. ‘I’m coming with you.’

To your surprise, he didn’t laugh. He just blinked once, shook his head, and then said, ’Go home, [y/n].’

‘Polly said I could come,’ you explained. ‘She said if I wanted to move to London, I’d have to visit it first.’

He put a hand to his brow, like you’d just put a pain directly behind it, and sighed. After a moment he said, ‘Alright,’ and from the tone of it, you knew he couldn’t believe it himself. ‘Alright, get in.’

‘Thank-you,’ you said, smiling. Catching him just before he left had worked in your favour, he didn’t have time to argue with you. As you started toward the car, your fingers on the handle, he stopped you again.

‘But one fucking word about Arthur, and I stop the car.’ He brought his face an inch closer to yours. ‘I don’t care where it is, I’ll stop the car, and you’ll get out. Alright?’

You knew if you disagreed you’d lose your spot. You wouldn’t get to see the city, to taste the new life Polly had tempted you with. You wouldn’t get your needed breath away from the black stones of Birmingham. And, as much as you tried to convince yourself that it wasn’t the purpose of your trip, you wouldn’t get to see Arthur. So, you agreed.

‘Alright,’ you told him. ‘I promise, no Arthur.’

Read part five >>

#Arthur Shelby #arthur shelby x reader #arthur x reader #peaky blinders fanfic #tommy x reader #i literally could cry ive been trying to update this for so long i feel so accomplished oh my god #i feel good about this

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sou-ver-2-0 · 4 years ago

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Writing Master List

I love writing analysis and fanfiction for Your Turn to Die. Here, you can find links to all my writing. Spoilers abound!

Meta I’m Proudest Of

Why Calling It “Logic Versus Emotion” Makes Sense

Sou Hiyori and Kanna’s Sister Parallels

I was wondering why Sou had a zero percent survival rate…

What is Sou proudest of?

What is Kanna proudest of?

What is Keiji proudest of?

Unpopular opinion about Keiji

What are your thoughts on Nao as a character?

Why pushing Fake Reko is logical and sparing her is emotional

Shin vs. Kanna choice: each “valid in its own way”

That was a real comedy of errors on your part, Shin

What “Things” did Shin learn at Sou’s House?

If I could kill Keiji to save both Kanna and Shin...

Thoughts on queer-coded villains and Shin

I make Shin say five nice things about Keiji (not meta, but important)

Some jumbled thoughts about Redemption, and Part 2

How different do you think the story would be if Shin were a girl?

Theories

“Midori is Meister’s son,” and other Sou theories <- my favorite theory!

The Hades Incident, the Present Death Game, and the Role of the Man from the Memorandum

Rambling about Meister Family Theory

A Quick Keiji Theory

I’m staking my pride on this one: Keiji won’t die in the coffin. Part 1 and Part 2

Implications of Kanna being Original Sou’s blood relative

The Mystery of Anzu’s High Survival Rate

Fanfiction

My username is Florencetheflowerfairy on Ao3! Any fanfiction I write will be tagged “my fanfiction” on here.

I haven’t yet posted this to Ao3.

My fanart

Soup Hiyori

Happy birthday Kanna!

All of my meta

How does Sou deal with pain?

When does Sou feel safest? What would others change about him?

What would the others change about Sara?

What do I wish to see happen with Sou?

Chapter 3 Prediction: Sara will lose Keiji

Sou & Keiji’s relationship thoughts; and Personal Headcanons

Opinion on Midori / Original Sou; and Opinion on YTTS

Thoughts on Kurumada’s Partnership with Sou and Kanna

What calms Sou when he’s upset?

What does Sou wish he could change about himself?

Who would be Sou’s favorite fictional character?

What would EVERYONE change about Sou?

How did both Sous do in school?

Who does Sou want to please the most?

How would Kanna spend her money?

What calms Kai when he’s upset? How does Kai deal with pain?

How does Kanna do in school? What’s something Original Sou lost that he would love to have back?

What’s something I wish had happened with Joe?

Unpopular opinion about Q-Taro

What’s something I wish had happened with the Yabusame siblings?

Unpopular opinion about Kai

Unpopular opinion about Original Sou

Who would I vote for in the Second Main Game?

Laughing at Q-Taro in Russian Roulette

Speaking of “I laugh at inappropriate moments in YTTD”

Math Saga (Collection of Theorizing Posts about the Percentage Papers)

Why Kanna can’t take the scarf

More Scarf Meta

I think Shin should fake amnesia in the zaniest way possible, please

Thoughts on Mr. Policeman is Joe’s Dad Theory, Parts 1 and 2 (Some of these thoughts are outdated because I don’t think Keiji knew Joe’s last name in the beginning.)

If I ever seem too harsh on Keiji, please keep in mind

We can hear Joe’s music theme in Midori’s music theme

Thoughts on the Floor Masters

Did Shin send the Sacrifice Card to Joe?

What if Joe had one month to live?

What is Original Sou proud of?

Reading Shin as Queer

Alice and Pain

What would other people change about Kai?

Could Shin and Keiji’s roles switch?

What was Keiji like before the shooting?

I encouraged Sister to vote for Kai in Practice Round

How does Original Sou/Midori sleep?

Who do you think Keiji would bond with the most?

Analysis of Sara’s vote in the Practice Vote

Massacre Ending Thoughts

Thoughts on Naosara?

Dummy Bullet Saga (How did Shin know about dummy bullets??)

Keiji is my Confront Character

What will the fallout with the dummies look like?

Keiji seeing the percentage papers is the simplest answer IMO

Thoughts on Keialice

Thoughts on Joesara

Shin Tsukimi could have DIED ON HIS BIRTHDAY?!

Shin is Poor! Part 1 and Part 2 and Part 3

One more funny story, on a walk with Sister...

How would Shin have fared in the Death Game without the Sou persona?

Is Shin too good for this world? (Reaction to above meta)

How would Joe, Kai, and Mishima approach the Second Main Game vote?

What do you think would be Shin’s partnership ability?

Thoughts on AI personalities

Reaction to ‘Sara gets the Sage Card’ Theory

Have you considered the implications of 0.0% vs. 0%?

Foolish Sara AU

When does the Death Game take place, and how long are they there?

Shin’s relationships with Reko and Gin

“When you drink, you gotta be careful not to get swallowed up yourself.”

Judge Keiji by the fact that he’s acting like a cop

I’ve switched to calling him Shin!

What was Shin like in the years after Original Sou died, but before the Death Game?

Headcanons and Shin, Kanna, and trading tokens

Analyzing Shin and Sara’s doll placements in Safalin’s lab

Shin’s reaction to Sara’s “Haven’t we always been the bestest of friends?”

Scenario: Keymaster Kanna takes Shin’s key necklace instead of his scarf

Artists should draw Kanna grieving Shin however they like

Nao and Shin’s friendship

“I happen to like people with nice personalities”

I’m just putting these here so I can find them if necessary: 1, 2, 3

What if Shin thinks Sara is an adult?

Shrodinger’s Lock Saga (Many theories came from speculating about Asu-Naro’s weird locks in Sara’s first trial!)

Shin emulating Sou, oh no

Some thoughts on Shin and Alice, and the darker side to their relationship

A Serious Analysis of the Collarbone Sprites (& other Shin sprites)

Midori and Joe Sprite Parallels

Do you think Ranmaru is more or less reliable than Keiji?

Ranmaru and Keiji Parallels and Thoughts on Keiji flirting

Ranmaru and Keiji reacting to Joe

Out of the cast, who do you think is most likely to be the mastermind?

Miley vs. Gashu thoughts

Megumi Sasahara theories and headcanons

I love that this game’s heart is so earnest

AU where Shin has the Sacrifice, and he can’t pick Kanna

Theory/Headcanon: Sou-Shin-Sara-Kanna three year age gaps

Scenery Paintings in the Gallery

Kanna and Original Sou Parallel - “creepy smiles”

Undertale Parallels, and making Original Sou sympathetic

Kai and Original Sou Parallels

Fic ideas: Green-haired characters, and Shin + Sara Friendship

I love Fake Reko so much!

What if the decision to push Fake Reko affects what happens with the dummies?

Follow-up to above meta about Fake Reko

What if Joe died in his First Trial?

Reaction to Keiji Discourse about flirting, Part 2

Reactions to Fem!Shin:

Kanna’s perspective, Bath Scene Shin, More Bath Scene, Keiji flirting with Shin, I DON’T CARE HOW SEXY HE IS, Am I a lesbian

Will the dummies want to fill in for their counterparts’ lives?

Q-Taro Pacman Sister Theory

Poison Stinger analysis and Rio Ranger’s characterization

Megumi returns as a doll theory

More thoughts on “Back Up Candidates” Theory

Thoughts on AIs representing younger personalities

What if the current Death Game is another simulation?

Shin and Q-Taro ages musings

Shin and Sara ages musings

Honorifics Analysis: Part 1 and Part 2

Everyone’s music preferences headcanons

Shin’s thoughts on Gin in Logic Route

What if Shin died and Kai survived in the Second Main Game?

Imagine Trans Kanna

Thoughts on the names Sara “suspects” when learning that there is a human from Asu-Naro among us

Why doesn’t Shin challenge Keiji for lying that he’s a detective at the start?

Shipping

Which death hurt you the most?

Who do you think is overrated? Who do you think is suspicious?

Shin-Sou roleswap AU

Did you ever notice how Shin is crying during the First Main Game?

How do you think the characters sleep?

What if Shin became Sara’s ally instead of Keiji?

Seven Deadly Sins in YTTD

Song Analyses

“Rat” by Penelope Scott

“Villainous Thing” by Shayfer James

“Nearly Witches (Ever Since We Met)” by Panic! at the Disco

“Butterflies and Hurricanes” by Muse

"House of memories" by Panic! at the Disco