#im finally going to see my best friends... the two ive known forever and ever and love with every bit of my heart | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lollybliz · 5 years ago

Text

bout to make a Monster of a fic rec post here we go

heyo @jinx108! We’ll start with the complete ones because sometimes you’re just not in the mood to wait for the last chapter, you know? I don't remember details of all of these so i’m just going to copy the author’s summary rather than write my own. I am literally just going through my bookmarks, I got 400 of these to sort through. if ive talked to or am familiar with the author im gonna mention them, but if I mention you and you don't want me to have Please tell me and i’ll remove it.

If you’re not into spoilers Please Tread Carefully, I don't watch out for that stuff so I wont know to label it

1>Crushing Truth by Bunzuku: Tododeku. “Romance is hard enough for a teenager to understand when they have a good relationship role model. For Shoto, it takes two excited meddlers for him to even realize what his feelings really are.“

2>Disowned by b00mgh: tododeku + others. Unrated, some traumatic elements. “Shouto freaks out under a bridge and I use the word "grass" a lot more than I really should. Izuku does his stupid martyr thing and everyone makes continuous references to his propensity to break his bones. Aizawa goes "oh FUCK my kids are dying again" and his students use him as emotional (and physical) support. A friend requests angst, I say what kind, she say idk make someone get disowned and i say oh this I can absolutely provide my good buddy.”

3>cotton candy hands by @chonideno: Kiribaku. I will take Any excuse to rec this fic, its the most fluffy pile of feels Good Lord. also the first fic I ever bound into a physical book. “Studying to become a hero requires knowing how to take care of yourself. Sometimes you might need help on the way so if your crush offers to do your hair for you or to give you a well-deserved back rub, it'd be stupid to say no. A series of soft vignettes in which a love-struck Kirishima and a touch-starved Bakugou care for each other and it's definitely not making their hearts jump through hoops, they’re never this close to kissing, no, they're totally best friends bro“

4>Catching Sight of the Storm by neo7v: Kiribaku, tododeku. A considerable amount of Whump and related angst, and kinda sad tbh. “Blind. Quirkless. Useless.The first two things were stated clearly by the doctor that sat about five feet in front of Izuku. The third was a word that Kacchan called him everytime he failed to make the jump on whatever forest excursion they were on or when he ran into a tree because he hadn’t seen it. “I’m so, so sorry, Izuku.” Was his mom giving up on him already? But he could still be a hero if he tried hard enough, right? Quirkless or not. Blind or not. Just because Izuku was useless now didn’t mean he would stay that way forever, right? *** A Blind!Izuku AU”

5>Yell Heah by fakecharliebrown: Chatfic. M a n y pairings. technically complete, but part of an ongoing series. “Iida creates a group-chat for Class 1-A. It doesn't go as planned.“

6>Sunshine by Rosey_Note: BIG SAD. tw- failed suicide attempt. KiriKamiBaku. “They didn't deserve to put up with his crappy mood. Because Denki Kaminari did not feel like Sunshine right now. And they deserved sunshine. In fact, Denki didn't feel much of anything right now.“

7>Electric Connection by Onlymostydead: ShinKami. “Kaminari's quirk has always had... Weird side affects. Like his ADHD. And his constant energy. And his insomnia, which wouldn't leave him be right now, when he really needed to just get some sleep. But, thankfully, he has good friends.“

8>The Best (The Worst) by Onlymostydead: no romantic pairing. tw- rampant transphobia, both outside and internalized. “Bakugou Katsuki has known who he was since he was four years old. He was a boy, it was as simple as that. Around his friends, at school... But things couldn't just be that simple, could they?“

9>Lichtenberg Figures by Q_loves_you: no definite romantic pairing. “Kaminari Denki has a very powerful force of nature running through his body. Kaminari Denki doesn't want to hurt anybody. He doesn't always get what he wants, and "anybody" does generally include himself.“

10>Eventuality by KikaTouka: ill be honest I don't remember this one at all, I maaaay not have read it yet :/. anyway. ShinKami. “Shinsou learns more than just hero lessons after being transferred to 1-A.“

11>Pickup Lines for the Soul by MustardSoup: ShinKami. “Denki is twelve when he is flicking through the TV channels and lands on an old RomCom movie about soulmate marks – specifically the same type that he has. “I can’t believe I’ve had to walk around with a cheap pickup line written on my ankle my entire life because of you!” The leading lady yells at the leading man as he stares at her in awe. Denki laughs. “Oh no.” His mother says, watching him. “Oh no, indeed.” His sister repeats quietly.“

12>caught in my own web by @anxioussailorsoldier: ShinKami. “Shinsou needs some help after getting caught up in his capture weapon. Kaminari enters from stage left.“

13>not so summer love by nataliya: ShinKami. “Class 2-B’s common room, although typically quiet, was currently filled with five students—three slowly giving up on homework, one bitching about noise and another that rushes through the front door. “We’ve been waiting for you—” Mina starts, but Kaminari’s vaulting over the back of the couch, eyes wide as he practically buzzes out of his skin, emitting light like crazy as currents dazzle across strands of hair. “I have a big ugly crush,” He steps off the couch and onto the coffee table, much to Bakugou’s chagrin, “On big ugly Shinsou.””

14>Blamed by coldandhotsoba: ShinKami. Tw- they fuckin kill a guy and its a lil nasty. “This was not how the day was supposed to end. They were supposed to end the day like they do most nights. Kaminari clutching onto him like a koala as he slept, wrapped in the millions of tacky blankets Kaminari had bought. Warm and safe in their bed. It was not supposed to end with both of them tied up in some cold metal room.“

15>Lightning Scars by Present-Mics-Scream (write_your_way_out): Shinkami. “It's hard to be confident in your abilities when you're surrounded by people with incredible quirks. Shinsou Hitoshi would know better than anyone. Sure, he was admitted to the hero course in his second year, but being admitted to the hero course, and keeping up with the rest of the class are two different things. Lucky for him, Kaminari is there to prove that the flashiest quirks come with the largest drawbacks.“

16>See No Evil, Hear No Evil by randomfan188: no romantic pairing. “Kaminari Denki is legally blind. When he forgets to wear his contacts and breaks down during math class, comfort appears in the strangest of ways.“

17>how not to enjoy the weather, an article by kaminari denki by dreamtowns: no defined romantic pairing. “If there was one thing Kaminari hated the most in a world wth villains, it would have to be thunderstorms.“

18>”Studying” by emmyrox22: ShinKami, EraserMic. “Shinsou and Kaminari have been “studying” together for a while (but not for school). Shinsou gets stopped by his dads on the way to another “study” session and mistakes are made“

19>Weaknesses by sunflowerstorm: ShinKami. “Kaminari's quirk and storms compliment each other in the worst way, but he's convinced he can deal with it on his own... until he really can't any longer. When Shinsou accidentally overhears Aizawa confronting Kaminari about recent changes in behaviour and hears about the hell his quirks been putting him through, he can't just pretend he never heard. He wants to help.“

20>it’s hurt denki hours by memeingfultrash: ShinKami + others. ““Certain members of our class are...under the impression that...you’re the traitor.” Denki’s body went cold and felt like he was going to short circuit. ~some of class 1a believes that denki is the traitor and avoid him”

21>Petition to replace Mineta with Shinsou- (signed by Kaminari Denki) by CharaTheQuartz: ShinKami + others. This is one of my favorites, I go back to reread it from time to time. It SAYS 41/42, but that's just a glitch cus chapter 36 doesn't exist for some reason, I talked to the author about it and its fine. “Mineta brings shame to the color purple. You know who does not bring shame to the rich color, but pride and sexual tension to one infatuated Kaminari Denki instead? Shinsou Hitoshi, aka sexy zombie man, aka the most perfect hunk of a man to walk planet earth, aka future husband. Shinsou has finally gotten his chance to prove himself to the hero course, and he did more than prove himself. The only question left unanswered is whether he will start in A or B, and how Kaminari can manipulate the end result.“

22>How to Get a Boyfriend (in Four Easy Steps!) by e1ana: ShinKami, EraserMic, + others. “Step 1: Get kicked out of the house by your homophobic parents. Step 2: Run headfirst into your brooding, mysterious crush. Step 3: Sleep in his dad’s (see: your homeroom teacher) house Step 4: Watch everything you thought you knew go to shit. This isn’t exactly the sweet, romantic plan that Kaminari Denki longed for. Will everything be ok, or will step 5 be to crash and burn?“

23>Bakugou and Todoroki’s Foolproof 5-Step Plan to Fuck with Mineta Minoru by Anubis_2701: Kiribaku, TodoDeku, + others. This is another one of my favorites, and the one I am currently folding and sewing into a physical book. you learn how to do funny things when bored and quarantined ig. “It was a simple enough idea; screw around with the resident bastard of Class 1-A to let him know that his medieval ways and perverted behaviour weren't going to be tolerated by even the most career-focused of UA's students. To say that things had snowballed was an understatement. Todoroki had no idea how he had ended up sitting on Bakugou's floor at 1 am, holding a dossier of incriminating material that would make the FBI slobber, but he wasn't sure he wanted to know. The long and short of it was, fuck Mineta.”

24>Colour Theory by chancellorxofxtrash: TodoBakuDeku. this one’s a series. “Midoriya/Bakugo/Todoroki slow burn soulmate AU. All three of them are nerds with their own emotional issues, trying to navigate their way through becoming heroes, and their own relationship with each other.“

25>Summer Sunshine by Mara97: TodoDeku. Ever want a Barbie in a mermaid tale/Bnha crossover? No? well here you go anyway! “Instead of worrying about college, Izuku spends his summer vacation finding out his father is, supposedly, a dead merman king and going on a quest to dethrone the current king, Endeavor. Along the way, Izuku becomes close to the three journeying with him, makes friends with strangers, starts crushing on an unattainable prince, and, in the end, learns to love himself. Oh, and he saves a kingdom, too.“

26>The snowflakes on our skin and the flames in our soul are one (and the same), my love by missunderstuffyou: TodoDeku, Kiribaku. this is one of the ones I keep a running reread comment going on. its at,,, 6, atm. “Before your quirk begins to present itself, the soulmate link comes through, and suddenly whatever you write upon your own skin appears on the body of your soulmate. As your soulmate writes to you, the emotions they feel follow through the ink.Izuku Midoriya is four years and a few months old when he first feels the slight ebbing in his arms. It doesn’t hurt… he can just feel something, and it’s enough to make him sprint into his mother’s arms screaming that his quirk is coming. She had been washing in the kitchen, and the sudden screech as her son rockets into her side is enough to make her jump with panic, immediately grabbing at him and looking for cuts and bumps before she understands his words and the stupidly bright, alight smile on his face with large, watery, hopeful eyes. Shoto Todoroki doesn’t feel his soulmate connection open up. It is drowned in the aches of a small body worked far too hard.“

27>It was dark inside the closet by Chad_Champion69420: Pre-ShinDeku? maybe? its tagged shindeku but like. it’ll make sense if you read it. “Midoriya is invited to a party. He and Shinsou decide to play a little trick on the rest of the party during Seven Minutes in Heaven.”

28>how to woo your local trash gremlin: a comprehensive guide by Todoroki shouto by wonhaebunny: TodoBaku. this is the fic that dragged me into todobaku, fun fact. “five times shouto tries to confess to bakugou, and one time he doesn't bother tryingaka: wikihow is a scam and bakugou is a terrible, terrible boy“

29>top ten photos taken right before disaster by Shookspeare: ShinDeku. “Izuku participates in a harmless prank, only to end up ruining it and running for dear life.“

30>Secrets to Share by pechebaie: no definite romantic pairing. “Kirishima comes out first, and nothing changes. Kirishima and Kaminari still hang out to complain about class and talk about boys - and sometimes girls, too, in Kaminari’s case; he still plans stupid pranks with Sero that get them sent to the principal’s or nurse’s office every time; Ashido still kicks his ass at Mario Kart without hesitation; and Bakugou doesn’t get angry at him any more than he usually does.“

31>What One Hides by Pinalinet: TodoDeku. “All Might gives class 1-A an unusual assignment that results in Midoriya Izuku and Todoroki Shouto attending a weekly acting class. But with a mysterious villain targeting individuals without Quirks, and a developing issue of Todoroki's own, an after-school assignment is the least of their worries.“

32>whether or not we’re fated, we’re meant to be by juurensha: KINDA SPOILERY. TodoDeku + others. “Todoroki didn’t have a soulmark for most of his life.His siblings all did, but up until the day of the U.A. entrance exam, he had shoved the idea aside. It’s not like they could help him anyway. And then a 9 appears on his chest, and a green-haired boy barrels into his life with a fire and ice soulmark on his arms, and suddenly Todoroki cares very much about all this could mean.”

33>The Midnight Shift by meiishu @meiishu @totallytodoroki (idk which you’d rather I attach so I went with both): ShinKami. ““Hey Toshi,” Denki says, and he laughs, clearly embarrassed. He’s got on a jean jacket that did him absolutely no help and a white tee shirt that is currently stuck to his torso. It’s got a pikachu design in the center. “By any chance, do you sell umbrellas?” “You really went out in this weather.” Hitoshi deadpans, instead of dignifying that with an answer. or hitoshi works the midnight shift at the gas station, which also doubles as a pokestop for pokemon go. of course, denki is a regular.”

34>Rock the House by AkabaneKayo: ShinKami. “It wasn’t just his bed. It was his entire fucking room shaking. Only one thought crossed his mind at that moment: “Holy shit. My room is haunted.”“

35>Technically, they’re morning kisses by CharaTheQuartz: ShinKami. “Most nights, Shinsou cannot fall sleep. Neither can Kaminari. It seems counterproductive to have a sleepover then, but they try to make it work. And they fail, but that is okay.“

36>someone to call mine by nearly_theyre: ShinKami, EraserMic “From: Me wish you were here, denks From: kitten 💛💘💛 what if i was tho? OR Four times Denki snuck into Hitoshi's room and one time he walked through the front door.“

37>Pretty by Onlymostydead (noticing some repeat authors? me too): no definite romantic pairing. “(Or, Kaminari still can't figure out bra clasps.) Kaminari has never really felt good about himself. Herself? Whichever way, not knowing doesn't make anything easier. Especially when he (she?) and Mina have their bodies swapped during training, and everything seems too right.“

38>If I offer you my hand, will you take it? by bleukitsune: Kiribaku. SPOILERY. ““Why?” Kirishima leaned back on his hands, trying to create some space between them. Too close. The ash-blond looked really nervous, his usually arrogant and cunning demeanor gone. “What do you see when you look at me? Kirishima is worried. Bakugou is hurting. After his confrontation with Midoriya, he finally reaches out to him. “

Theres way more but I haven't tagged them properly yet so that m a y come later if I can ever finish going through and adding my sorting tags.

and then a last few that Are Not Complete but im really very fond of them. not as many as id like to add, but my hands are getting tired tbh.

39>State of Mind by GuardianOfTheLoaf: no relationship YET but its looking like it’ll be either tododeku or shindeku, probably the former. EraserMic. tw- childhood neglect and severe depression. Izuku’s not a happy kid. “Izuku was a late bloomer, his quirk lying dormant until his tenth birthday when in a fit of emotion he grabs his mother and she disappears. With All Might slowly restoring his confidence Izuku begins the difficult journey into becoming a hero.“ 18/? chapters.

40>Izuku Eats His Problems by CosmicAce: ShinDeku. Izuku’s a flerkin, what more could you want? “His whole life, Izuku Midoriya was taught to keep his powers, his Quirk, hidden from the world. His kind were feared, hunted to near extinction because of it. He just wants to show people he’s different. That he can be a HERO. And nothing is going to stop him. Even if his Quirk IS like an eldritch abomination.“ 43/? chapters

and then probably my current favorite bnha fic- although it fights with Apertum Mortem for that spot but that ones d a r k and not here-

41>family of the year by periiwren: EraserMic. “Hitoshi is done. Done with moving around every few months to a couple that will scrutinize him and eventually dump him right back where he started. Good thing he’s well past his strike limit now- at least he can stay in one place, be content to age out of the system and finish out his training with Aizawa. Maybe transfer into the hero course, maybe be a hero- but none of that was guaranteed. The only thing for sure was that he was going to stay in that center for the rest of his childhood. Or so he thought- because Aizawa Shouta and Yamada Hizashi have other plans.“ 24/? chapters. we’ve been informed that this one’s gonne be l o n g and im Very Grateful.

42>Here There Be Dragons by here_and_there: pre-ShinDeku. “Izuku looked at the small circle Aizawa had motioned to in front of them. "I won't fit," he whispered, thinking. He raised his hand, tentatively. Sighing, Aizawa grumbled, "What?" "I-I have a question. Actually, two." His teacher just stared at him, unimpressed. Izuku continued. "Can we activate our quirks before we step into the ring?" Aizawa looked up into the sky, muttering something Izuku didn't hear. "If you must." "O-Okay. Uh, second question. You said we have to stay inside the circle, right?" "Yes." The man looked disappointed, not only in Izuku but in himself for letting the kid speak. "Great. Uh... does that include tails?"“ 6/? chapters.

43>Another Option by sandersonsister: TodoBakuDeku, Touya/Hawks, Dabi/Hawks. Potentially Spoilery, depends on whether horikoshi has the guts to confirm Touya. this one is waiting around the corner with a baseball bat, its really cute, and then r e a l l y painful. it might be getting better though. maybe. it might be getting worse. “When Touya stops his mother from hurting Shouto, he decides enough is enough. He needs to get out of this house and he's taking his baby brother with him.“ 33/? chapters.

That's it i’m done for now, oof. maybe ill edit more onto this post later, maybe i’ll just make another one. hope some of these work!

#fic rec #bnha #mha #tododeku #todobakudeku #kiribaku #shinkami #shindeku #erasermic #To Be Continued

306 notes · View notes

orionwhispers · 5 years ago

Text

Wishing It Was You; Tommy Shelby Imagine

(A/N - hey guys... its been a while. I started this in april and finally finished it. she might be my longest yet my fave imagine ive done. im tired and lazy so sorry if there are any mistakes. PLZ let me know what you think and my ask is always open!! ily)

Tommy knows he's standing next to Grace.

He can feel the warmth radiating off her skin, can feel the pressure of his hand against the curve of her waist, can smell her expensive perfume, with it’s notes of rose water and lemon, lingering on her neck, but all he sees is you. Grace is leaning into him, her giggles sounding like twinkling diamonds as she laughs at a joke he hasn’t registered, his mind completely preoccupied with thoughts of the woman standing at the other side of the room.

He hadn’t expected to see you here. In fact, he hadn’t expected to ever see you again. It strikes him like a bullet in his gut, leaving him winded and gasping for air in the middle of an expansive ballroom, the gin on his tongue suddenly as hot as acid.

Have you seen him yet? The thought fills his brain like a buzzing hornets nest, the feeling is immediate and prickling at the back of his skull.

Do you know he’s here? Have you noticed him?

Most importantly though… Did you come alone?

His hand unconsciously tightens around Grace’s waist and she smiles at him, as sweet as sugar, completely unaware of the femme fatale on the opposite side of the room, capturing her husbands attention and luring him like a siren.

He bites his tongue until he can taste metal and copper. A fresh wave of guilt and shame collapse over him but he swallows it down like it’s nothing but a lump in his throat.

He loves Grace, he adores her. He isn’t doing anything wrong.

And yet, he can’t take his eyes off of you.

At first he thought he was going mad. He hadn’t believed in ghosts and spirits since he was a boy, sat in a caravan, reading tarot cards with his Mum. He became too used to death and decay in the war, too used to seeing blood and rot to believe in a chance of a second life - not when he had sinned so much in his first.

He hadn’t thought of you in so long. Hadn’t conjured up the image of you in his mind like he used to do late at night, imagining the feel of your skin against the pads of his fingertips, the smell between your shoulder blades, the weight of your ribs underneath his.

You were always at the back of his mind though. No matter how hard he pushed you away, your smile and voice would always linger at the back of his head, a beam of sunlight whenever the shovels would get too loud.

You were real though. You were back. He could tell only because of the way you captivated everyone around you, the faces of those enchanted by you were proof that you weren’t just a memory his drunken mind had created. Throwing your head back and giggling, chewing on the bottom of your painted lips, you had everyone under your spell.

He can’t take his eyes away from you. Its like he’s a puppet and you’re toying with the strings without even realising. He’s tethered to you, no matter how far apart you may be.

“Tommy?”

Grace’s syrup like voice cuts through him like a blade, and he straightens up. He’s acting like a teenager and the thought repulses him, he’s a businessman, not a child. He’s fought in the war, dealt with fearless gangsters and killed men with his bare hands, how come seeing you has rendered him breathless?

He turns to look at her, her gentle features illuminated under the chandeliers, her brow is furrowed with a mixture of mild irritation and curiosity and he lets her familiarity wash over him like the ocean. She smiles kindly at him, turning her attention back to the guests surrounding her, and Tommy feels a clench of white hot shame that whilst he is stood next to his wife, his mind is dizzied with the thoughts of another woman.

Grace is Grace.

She’s beautiful and soft and kind and warm. She was the stability he needed, the type of woman he needed to come home to, she tended to his wounds and listened to his rants and kissed his scars. She was too good for him and he knew it. She had lied and deceived him in the past, but it strengthened their love, rebuilt their trust like a fortress. He loved her, he wanted to have a family with her.

But she would never be you.

You were as familiar as the peaked cap that adorned his head, you were as much as a part of him as the gun in his holster. Your face flashed in his mind whenever he heard the last gasp of air from an enemy, it was you who appeared in his dreams and rescued him from the depths of his nightmares. It was as if you were stitched into his skin since the very first day you met when you were children.

He needs to get home, he can’t stay. Too long and you’ll sink your claws into him. Too long and everything he’s worked so goddamn hard for will start to crumble around him.

He flattens his palm against the back of his wife’s dress, ready to make hasty excuses and polite apologies and leave, nestle her into the back of his car and drive far away.

He opens his mouth to speak, but before words can slip from his tongue, he spots a smug, sparkling eyed Polly approaching, arms spread, lips curled into a smirk.

Fuck being polite. He’s Tommy fucking Shelby, he can do whatever the fuck he wants.

His hands curve around Grace’s spine and she tuts in protest, ready to scold her husband for his haste, but she snaps her lips shut at his flushed expression.

“Oh Tommy! Isn’t it wonderful?”

Polly approaches, already buzzed, arms spread like a bird in flight, just waiting to engulf him. A cigarette dangles from the corner of her cherry painted lips, her eyes gleaming with a mix of alcohol and mischief.

He inwardly curses, Polly cornering him like a lioness, ready to tear him and his wife apart. She’s practically chomping at the bit, the delight of seeing your familiar face and the knowledge of what that’ll do to Tommy and Grace making her float across the floor. She’s drunk on elation and glasses of champagne, her mind too fucked to even think about the consequences.

“Oh Tom!” She repeats, cradling his face like he’s a boy again. Under any other circumstances he would be delighted to see his Aunt so happy, a sight he was rarely blessed with, but now he’s wishing for anything else. Grace’s grip tightens, he can feel her stare on the side of his skin, burning holes into his flesh. Polly feels her gaze and turns to the blonde beauty, her disdain for her nephews wife enough to drill the final holes into his coffin, sealing him shut into eternal darkness.

“It’s (Y/N)! She’s back.”

Grace stiffens beside him, arching a penciled eyebrow at her husband and opening her lips. Tommy can feel his palms moisten, an unfamiliar sensation that takes him back to being a teenager, one that only ever occurred around you.

“Who’s (Y/N), Thomas?”

————————————————————

You were the same age as Ada, reserved and soft spoken, new to Birmingham and all of its smoke and gristle coloured cobbles. She saw you one day in the school yard; sat alone on your first day, picking at the skin on your swollen lips, round doe eyes following the other children roughhousing and laughing. She was immediately drawn to you, her inquisitive mind growing protective, and it wasn’t long before she strode over to you, confident as ever, introducing herself and deciding to take you under her wing.

The two of you became fast friends, sharing jam sandwiches and apple slices under the sun, skipping along the streets and throwing stones into the cut at dusk before your parents hastily called you inside and scolded your recklessness. You barely left one another’s side, spending every night you could at each others house, giggling and gossiping under the covers, trying on your mothers makeup and making sticky pinkie promises to be best friends forever.

The years passed and you still remained attached at the hip, growing closer than ever as your limbs grew and you wandered into adolescence, facing every problem you encountered together. You were Ada’s shoulder to cry on when her mother passed, sleeping next to her in a single bed for month on end as the night terrors kept her awake. You grew closer to Ada’s family as well, especially considering the amount of time you spent there. Aunt Pol became a surrogate mother to you, chastising you and supporting you and always being there for you, sometimes with a smack on the back of the legs, like the time she caught you both smoking before you hit your teens.

You became a fond fixture in the Shelby household, slotting in like just another straggly stray at the dinner table every night. You were young, but you weren’t stupid, you had known the Shelby boys since the very first day you came back to their house and even as a child you could sense the mischievous aura surrounding them. As you grew, so did your curiosity, and it wasn’t long before you learnt of the betting shop located in the back room of Pol’s house. Ada and Polly were both protective of you, and managed to keep you out of trouble despite the spark of interest that brewed in your stomach and so that back room just became another chest to lock in the back of your mind.

They both knew that there was something different about you, and as you grew from a timid child to an inquisitive teenager your thirst became insatiable. Ada had always recognised the unpredictable nature the you harboured, you could be quiet and meek but under the surface your brain was a kaleidoscope of spontaneity. It was you who suggested late night adventures and rain splattered trips that got you both into trouble, you who dreamt of cities and lives bigger than the both of you. Ada adored that about you, your desire for change something she wasn’t used to in the dismal, grey town she grew up in but deep down she was terrified that you wouldn’t ever be satisfied.

She wasn’t the only one who noticed the impulse in you. From the very first time he saw you all those years ago he noticed the crackle of electricity under your docile exterior, bubbling under the surface like lightning that struck the sky. Of course, back then you were just a child and Tommy was far too interested in pursuing the betting shop than taking notice of his little sister’s friend, but he always kept an eye on you. The two of you had a bizarre relationship, despite the age gap between you both, you managed to find a level ground. Whilst Arthur and John would ruffle your hair and swing you over their shoulders as if you were still a toddler, Tommy would talk to you as if you were an adult, the two of you could bicker like siblings but there was a mutual respect underlying it all, you both connected by your need for more.

It came to a head when Tommy was counting money at the betting shop one evening in August. The sun was fading to the colour of a bruised peach and the air was still warm, notes stuck to his fingers and he hummed in frustration just as the large doors swung open. His head snapped up and he came face to face with a flushed Ada, her cheeks were as red as a Gala apple and tears welled in her wide eyes. Tommy immediately reached for the gun shoved in it’s holster ready to send bullets flying over his watery eyed sister, before her exasperated voice broke through the silence.

“It’s (Y/N)! She’s had a fight with her fucking dad and now she’s gone! Please, Tom, can you help me find her?”

As Tommy had the family car, he was left trawling through the country lanes surrounding the city whilst Ada and Pol searched your usual hiding spots in Small Heath. According to Ada, you had about a two hour head start from your house, and Tommy’s foot itched over the pedals at the thought. This was hardly the first time you had run away, usually it was over to Polly’s for the night after you had had enough of your family, but after a particularly bad spout with your parents last year, Ada had found you halfway to London. You were definitely a flight risk.

Tommy’s hands clenched over the steering wheel as the sky darkened, you were a beautiful teenager, walking alone through the streets at dusk; it was a recipe for disaster. Tom knew you could hold your own, but the creatures that lurked around at night were ravenous and there was no way in hell he would let them sink their claws in you.

Tommy could feel heat prick at the bottom of his spine. He wasn’t stupid, he knew that the feelings he harboured for you stemmed much more than the ‘sibling love’ he disguised them as. The attraction between the two of you had always been there, something magnetic joining you both before you could realise it. Over the years it had blossomed, despite his attempts to distinguish the fire that you brought out in him, something about you had captivated him.

All of his thoughts turned to wisps of smoke as he rounded a corner, nearly swerving into a thorn bush as he spotted you. You were walking with determination, and he couldn’t help the smirk that grew on his face as he watched you march forward like a solider, your small frame filled with force. Your hair was loose, draping around your shoulders like a halo, bouncing with every step you took.

He trailed behind you, edging his foot off the gas and waiting as the car slowed next to you. He knew you noticed the intrusion from the way your shoulders tensed briefly, and he allowed the car to match your pace, the two of you moving like boats on water. He knew you would be the first to speak, and allowed your words to run over him like warm milk and honey.

“Hello, Thomas. Out for a drive?”

He smiled, rolling his eyes slightly before responding. “C’mon (Y/N), time to come home.”

“No thank you.”

“It’s getting late.”

“Is it? I hadn’t noticed.”

He tensed his foot against the gas, the car rumbling lowly and rolling forward. He pulled it into park right in front of you, the dark exterior blocking you from walking any further up the lane. You exhaled in frustration, the tips of your ears and the apples of your cheeks flushed the colour of Shepard’s delight, and he cant help but bite back the smile curling in his mouth. He patted the seat playfully and watched as you scuffed your foot into the mud like a child, coyly sucking on your tongue before clambering next to him, crossing your arms and settling into the leather.

Tommy’s hands rested on the steering wheel, he flexed his fingers for a moment before turning to face you, examining your skin under the dim light. Both of your fathers had a lot in common, alcoholic, nasty and violent, something dark like rum boiling inside of their blood, men who ruled with fear and aggression. There were no marks he could see, not like the time your arm was coated in purple thumb prints that left him seething, only calmed once you and Ada had snuck off to her room and he could control his thoughts with a cigarette. That night he pretended he couldn't see Polly watching him like a hawk.

“He didn’t hit me this time.”

Good. He would have killed him.

“Kind of wish he did though, Mum bought a new frying pan that could have come in handy.”

He let you talk, the birds and the wind the only noises disturbing the peace. You were quiet, and it was rare for you to open up like this, so he cherished the moment despite the underlying bleakness of it all.

“I know it seems childish, but it just feels easier to get away.”

He hesitated, looking down at you picking your nails in the front seat of his car. The words forming on the edge of his tongue tasting like whisky, not knowing how to comfort you without implicating himself. He tried to imagine himself as Polly or Ada, the kind of person who would know what to say.

“You have people that care about you, you don’t need to fuckin’ up and leave.”

“I know I do, but anywhere is better than Small Heath.”

He blew air through his teeth. “It ain’t so bad.”

You swivelled to face him, round eyes and raised eyebrows set on him like a sniper. “Really, Tom? You do know you’re saying all this sat in the front seat of a bloody Bugatti? Bought with dirty money might I add?”

It’s the first time he’s seen you so heated and despite the truth in your words the sight of your small face twisted in annoyance is enough to make his lips curl, only adding fuel to your fire.

“You can sit here and tell me that all you want, but you know better than anyone that there’s more out there than Birmingham. I can see it in you Tom, and if you want you can act like you don’t need anything more, then that’s fine by me! But I hope you’re alright with lying to yourself.”

He stared deep into your eyes, expression blank and solid as if your words had truly punched him in the gut. You watched him for a moment, cheeks flushing slightly and eyebrows scrunching, wondering if maybe you had over stepped the line before his eyes glimmered and he held his hands up playfully, peaked cap bouncing with every exaggerated movement.

“Alright, bloody hell. Remind me not to get in a fight with you. I can see how much our Ada has rubbed off on you.”

You let a tiny smile tug at the edge of your lips before it expanded and took over your face, tossing your head back and letting your hair fall over your shoulders as you grinned. Tommy swore he felt his heart skip a beat. He started the car as quickly as he had stalled it, feeling it purr and jut under his feet, the world righted once again now that you were sat next to him. The car rolled over a bridge, and after you crossed over onto the other side he cleared his throat, opening his mouth to speak.

“If you ever feel like running away again, come and see me first, alright?”

He kept his eyes on the road, but could feel yours on the side of is neck, running softly over his flesh like fingertips.

“If I didn’t know any better, Thomas,” You spoke teasingly, using his full name just to get under his skin, “I’d think you were going soft.”

The evening sun beat down onto the two of you, and as the car lurched forward he mirrored your own smile, because maybe he was, for you.

————————————————————————-

After that long drive home it was like a switch had flipped. The two of you became closer, as if an invisible thread was tying you both together. You were allowed into the betting shop more often, counting coins and change and bickering playfully with the Blinders. Tommy took you to your first horse race under the guise of “teaching you more about the business” you wore your finest dress and he pretended he couldn't feel his breath catch in his throat when he looked at you. His hands clung protectively around your waist as you downed a glass of strawberry wine, rolling his eyes and smiling as you laughed into him as the horses galloped and the crowds cheered. You spent evenings climbing through the window in his bedroom, sitting on the sloped roof tiles as rain pattered onto the streets below, sharing a cigarette and watching the stars peek through the smoky air, unsaid words bubbling behind both of your lips as yours knees pressed together.

The rest of the family noticed the change between the two of you, but said nothing. Even Ada couldn't help smiling to herself when she saw the glances that you shared, her kind and clever older brother was the only man she could possibly think was good enough for her best friend. Although she would never admit it, it meant he was distracted enough to not notice her leaving to spend time with a certain man named Freddie.

Tommy drove you to the beach for the first time, exploring the pier and walking barefoot across the sand. Your wide smile as you danced in the surf and talked under baying seagulls was forever cemented into his mind, he vowed silently that he would move mountains just to see you happy, the feeling unlike anything he had ever felt. He taught you how to shoot a gun, your body pulled flush against his as you squealed in delight as the bullet ricocheted off the can. Your conversations flowed like running water, able to converse and laugh about everything and anything from dusk till dawn. He was mischievous and playful and would crack jokes even on your worst days, when your father was mean and your mother was distant, he would make you feel whole again.

That’s why, on a rainy Thursday as the two of you walked side by side by canal, you pulled his face towards yours with your small hands and kissed him. He froze, with all of his previous girlfriends he had always initiated things first, but with you he had felt uncharacteristically hesitant, terrified of scaring you off and losing you. However as your parted lips met and he felt you smile into his mouth, tasting of cherry jam and stolen tobacco, he let his hands snake around your waist as if they had been carved there. The wind whistled and the rain splattered both of you, his peaked cap sheltering his ruffled hair and your face from the droplets, it was freezing but heat crackled between the two of you. You were practically half his size, resting on your tip toes to meet him fully, but in that moment he knew you had him utterly under your thumb.

The relationship the two of you shared was pure and untainted. It was all soft skin and moonlight painted faces, freckles and wide teeth and apricot coloured skies. His hand would brush against yours as he walked you home, you’d laugh into his neck at the Pictures, your words would mingle together at midnight as you sat and talked. Things couldn't have been more perfect, as sweet as the whisky tea you would drink with Ada and Polly, as merry as the laughs you shared with the brothers and as syrupy as the kisses you would have with your first love. But just like the smoke that filled the once clear sky above your heads, your life was soon to darken.

It all happened so suddenly, maybe your blissful youth had created a candy coated picture over the political dramas happening around you, but now they couldn’t be ignored. There was going to be a war. You knew from the start the brothers would be drafted, they were filled with pride for their country, they were young and fit and strong, they knew how to fight, punching and slashing with their razor blades, but you loathed the idea. You bit your tongue until it bled, knowing there was no point in arguing, but that didn't stop you staining your pillow with tears every night.

You refused to let the boys see you in such a state, and tried your best to enjoy the last few days you had until you would be separated from your family. The ache in your chest remained despite your false bravado, dinners were different, quieter, and you would often catch Polly staring at nothing, as if she could see a ghost.

Tommy took you away the night before. He drove the caravan for miles, his favourite dappled mare pulling you through fields of wildflowers as the sun followed you overhead. You parked in the woods by the river, silence falling over both of you. His hands laced through yours, thumb running over your soft skin, and you watched him, drinking in all of his beautiful features like whisky.

“Will you wait for me?”

His voice is quiet, so unlike his usual boyish, playful tone. Seeing him so vulnerable was like a bullet entering your heart. You rested your head on his shoulder, feeling the soft cotton of his shirt dance against your cheek.

“Forever.”

He intakes sharply. He plucks a daisy from the grass, toying with the tiny flower between his large palms before turning to you and pushing it behind your ear, looking at you in a way that makes your body melt like butter.

“I love you.” He watches you, gauging for your reaction, but you don’t give him any, you just look up at him with those big fucking eyes. He exhales, turning back to face the water as he continues. “Known it since we first met. Since that very first day, when we were just kids, I knew. You had a hold on me since day one. I couldn’t leave without telling you…telling you how grateful I am for you.”

His voice softens, “How much you mean to me and because of that,” He clears his throat as if struggling to get the words out, “I’ll understand if you want to move on, find someone else or…”

You don’t let him continue, you attach your lips to his as if they were magnetic, feeling him collapse under your touch. You pull away much too soon for his liking, a smile reaching your eyes as you press your forehead against his, the light making you look angelic. “Stop talking.” You kiss him again, harder, in that teasing way you have mastered so well.

“I love you too.”

Under the stars, as the moonlight bathes the caravan in a soft eerie glow, you pull off the straps off your sundress, watching Tommy follow you as if he’s in a trance. Calloused, firm hands meet your tender flesh as he worships you like a Goddess, unable to believe that you are human. You give yourself to him fully, and it’s unlike anything he’s felt, the connection flowing between your bodies stronger than anything, love and lust connecting as your bodies mesh. Despite his earlier sentiment, as he buries himself inside of you, he loathes the idea of another man touching you and you can feel the heat radiating from underneath his skin and pull his face to you, staring him down, telling him everything he needs to know.

You’re his, and he’s yours.

Candles flicker around you, painting your limbs the colour of the sunrise. You playfully touch his nose, and then his lips, dragging them open with your finger. Your bodies are slick with sweat, exhausted but alive, feeling as if you are the only two people in the world despite the knowledge of what lurks ahead, you just feel young and blissfully in love.

“You won’t forget about me, will you Shelby?” You tease. “Won’t find a nice French woman to take my place?”

You’re joking but he kisses you silent, eyes connecting to yours, “I’ll never be able to replace you, little one.”

——————————————————————

No one expected the war to last as long as it did, least of all you. Every day you sat by the radio, waiting and wanting desperately for news that it was over, but every day you would leave with tears filling your eyes. You busied yourself the best you could during those long, dark days. You and the girls ran the betting shop, you looked after John’s kids and Finn as if they were your own - despite your young age, the war had forced everyone to grow up.

Four years is a long time, and that’s exactly how you felt as you waited on the platform, hand in hand with Ada, waiting for your boys to come home. You felt as if you had swallowed rocks, nausea bubbling inside of you, acid in your throat. He had been home three times since it had started. Three times in four years had you been able to see his face in real life, touch his skin, tell him words that wouldn’t do justice on paper. You had seen the effects of the war distort the people around you, heard awful tales of shell shock and seen men returning home with missing limbs and broken hearts. Every day you waited for that call, that piece of paper that told you Tommy wouldn’t be returning, but blessedly it never came, and finally, he was coming home.

You’ll always remember that day he came off of the platform. The last time you had seen him had been so long ago, but even then you had noticed the grey of his skin, the pain in his eyes. He was quieter, milder, refusing to speak of the horrors he must have endured, instead focusing on light happy stories. You wondered how much he had changed since then.

He was beautiful.

He still had that boyish look, his sharp jaw and tousled hair, but he looked older, haunted. You felt your knees buckle at the mere sight of him, the way his eyes danced over the platform, looking for something, someone - you. Your eyes met and you watched them glimmer, something you had been starved of for so long that you devoured the feeling. Euphoria bit through your skin and tears pricked at your eyes. You ignored everyone else, storming through the crowd like you were the solider, racing with your arms wide open, not caring how childish you looked. He smiled in what looked like relief and laughed in exhaustion as you fell into his arms. He held you so tight that you could feel the air expel from your chest but you didn’t care, you cried hot, wet tears into his shoulder, and you felt him bury his head in your hair. He looked at you, breathing hard and opening his mouth, but before he could speak you smashed your lips onto his, melting into his touch like all those years ago.

“Welcome home, Tommy.”

——————————————————————

Weeks passed, and it was as if the darkness had seeped into his skin. You longed to tear it off of him, wished that you could swap yourself with him, carry a little bit of his pain, but you knew that was impossible. Night was when he found solace, with you wrapped up in his arms, breathing in your sweet clean scent, something he had been deprived of for far too long. If you strayed too far in the night, woke up for some tea for a sore throat or simply because your mind was restless, you would hear the gut wrenching moans and cries leave his lips and would dart up the stairs two at a time to crawl back onto him. The first time you heard it he sounded like a fox with its paw in a trap, something so inhumane that it stayed with you like an awful lullaby on loop in your brain. As you managed to wake him from his own nightmare, he pulled you impossibly close, breathing into your hair as you whispered words of comfort, feeling utterly helpless.

After the war, everyone had their own poison. Arthur started boxing, channeling his anger and frustration into fighting, Freddie started protesting, looking for change in places he found wrong, and for others like Danny Whizzbang, sometimes the war clung its teeth in too far and refused to let go.

Tommy however, became obsessed with power.

You had known about his incredible work ethic and savvy business skills since the very first day you met, but now his hunger was insatiable. He was up before the birds had started chirping, planting soft kisses on your collarbones as he left for work, and didn’t come to bed until you physically had to drag him away from his desk. You were worried, but as always he conducted himself in a manner that made it seem like he was always in control, smooth and charming, unfazed by his hectic schedule and the looks you sent him.

It came as no shock to anyone that Tommy had been leader of his unit, the kind of man that people would listen to and follow without hesitation, the kind of man that knew how to be in charge. You knew some things about what had happened in the tunnels, horrors so unimaginable that it tore your heart in two to think of him suffering, and you were just left wondering what kind of marks that would leave on a man. His high ranking earned him thanks and praise wherever he went, he was honourable and that lead more and more men to join the Blinders, wanting to be close to such a powerful man, wanting the things he could offer.

The experiences he’d suffered through had led him to become disillusioned and determined to move his family up in the world, especially you. He became increasingly overprotective, a trait you at first found endearing and then ultimately suffocating, you knew he meant you know harm, wanting to shield you from the things he had endured, but you felt like a child again. You longed for trips to the country, to walk along the beach with him, to sleep under the stars, but it was as if that part of him had been killed on the front line.

You would be a liar if you said you were unaware of the illegal activity going on in the betting shop, you had always known of the shady dealings going on behind closed doors, but they thrilled you, excited you, mainly because you always knew that Tommy was in control, he could never get hurt. Your whole life you had always wanted more, hungry for a lifestyle that never bored you, but now you were wondering if you had bitten off too much.

He was changing, morphing in front of your eyes like a creature you had read about in a storybook when you were a child. Growing up his violent tendencies were sporadic, but with both of your fathers being unpleasant men he was always tainted by his family reputation. You had helped sew razor blades into their peaked caps, had seen the fights in the school yard over petty childish things, and had wiped his knuckles clean when he beat Tim Green black and blue after he called you and Ada vile names. Back then it was exciting, the adrenaline making you fall onto him, enthralled by this beautiful man, feeling safer with him than you had ever felt before, but now you were wondering if you should be scared.

He would rather die than hit you. He had never called you anything other than sugary sweet pet names, never once raised a hand other than to caress your cheek, never in a million years did you think he would ever hurt you, not intentionally. But it pierced your heart like a bullet, walking down the street, watching those you once called friends hide in their houses, whisper his name like it was sour milk, spit at your feet once you had left. It never bothered you what those small minded people thought of you, but knowing the awful things they thought of your Tommy, that killed you. It felt like a knife in your ribs when you leant back against him and felt the unfamiliar weight of a gun tucked into the waistband of his expensive trousers, as if it was nothing more than the cigarettes he constantly carried. It clawed at your throat like a rabid dog, when he came home at midnight, covered in blood that wasn't his, his eyes grey and pale.

You wanted to be by his side throughout everything, holding his hand and being the woman that he had turned to for everything, but it felt like you were hidden in the shadows. He didn’t want you involved, wanting to rise up on his own merit, and give you all of the rewards without seeing the carnage he was leaving behind, but that wasn’t you. You weren’t some housewife who just tended to his wounds and looked the other way when he stuffed the local officers pockets with bribes, you wanted to be his equal.

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust you, it was that he didn’t trust anyone else.

Some nights you would sit staring at the moon from the windowsill of his small bedroom, reminiscing on making love under his scratchy sheets, giggling into his skin, thinking of days when you would tell him anything and everything, and he would always know what to say. You hated yourself for thinking this way, knowing that he had fought for his country, with the terrors he had lived through, of course he would be a changed man, but this seemed more than that and it tore your heart in half.

He’d slip into the room at midnight, any miseries of the day diminishing when he saw your small frame, and he’d wrap his arms around you, whispering into your hair. Any bad thoughts you had would vanish as he cradled you, reliving all the times you had in the past, feeling as if home was a person, but you would be jolt at his words. He’d tell you of all the things he would buy you one day, spun tales of all the things you deserved as if he could magic them from thin air. He spoke of a large manor, marrying you in a ceremony with a thousand roses, expensive cars and hand-cut jewels, things that were enough to make anyone salivate, but not you.

The war had forced you to put your life in perspective. Those gut wrenchingly long nights away from your lover, biting your lip raw wondering if he was suffering. Days spent feeling numb, trying to distract yourself from thoughts that plagued your head, you wanted to escape. Small Heath had suffocated you, the smoke and the ash now clung to your lungs thicker than ever, and you were desperate for a gasp of fresh air. You thought that was what Tommy wanted too, thought that the both of you would flee Birmingham, climb on to a ship, sail around countries neither of you could pronounce, kiss under hot rain and see the buildings you read about in the newspapers, but maybe not.

You would have to make sacrifices. That’s what love is, you told yourself, tying your hair up with an expensive silk hairband that Tommy had bought, that wasn’t really you. You loved him, adored him, you were so head over heels with him that the thought of leaving made you feel nauseous. You would follow him to the end of the earth if he asked you to. This was the man you wanted to marry, the only man you could picture yourself having a life with, and you knew that he felt exactly the same. That’s what love is, you remind yourself, staring at the unfamiliar painted face in the mirror, it’s about compromise, right?

When Arthur bought the Garrison, despite Tommy’s apprehension, you took a job as his accountant and secretary, helping him keep business afloat when all he wanted was to drink his money. You fell into a comfortable routine, waking up early and working late, taking extra time on Sundays to learn how to bake, going a little further into town to buy fresh vegetables from the market, reading books that had sat on their shelf for years. You wore a smile that could melt even the toughest of hearts, but deep down you were so mind numbingly bored, it felt like you had slipped on somebody else's skin, trapped in your own ivory tower. It all became worth it though, when Tommy would come home, his skin igniting against yours, lips savouring the taste of your flesh, the only good thing in both of your days. His hips pressed against yours, scratching your nails into his back and feeling him melt under you, enthralled by you, both of you so totally in love that it radiated around the small room, you knew why you did it. Curled under his arm he would smile and laugh, tell you snippets of his day, talk about the future, and hearing his words and charming accent, the way they fell from his lips like wisps of gold, running his hands through your hair, knowing that it was for a better future for both of you, you accepted your fate.

Ada noticed it first. Of course she did, you two were practically sisters. You knew each other like the back streets of Birmingham, like the lines and curves on your hands. She watched the way your vibrancy dimmed until you could fit in with the grey coloured photographs on Polly’s coffee table, listened as your giggles and playful teasing came to a halt and you spent more and more hours alone, separated from the world. She was heartbroken, torn between shaking you and forcing you to come to your senses, willing your vivacious personality to rise to the surface, and knowing that doing so could ruin the best thing Tommy had going for him, and shatter both of you into a million pieces. The rest of the family saw it as well, your light dulling with every day that passed, but they were unsure how to help without stepping over the protective line Tom drew around you, and with business tougher than ever, there was more than enough on their own plates.

To Tommy you were the most precious thing in his life. Because of you, his youth had been damn near perfect, meeting you had changed his life and he felt that he owed you the world. After the war you had rescued him from the depths of his own murky head, your letters and the image of you in his battered brain and been the only thing keeping him alive on he frontline. Whenever he felt like he was drowning, it had always been you that had pulled him from underwater, your smile putting the air back into his lungs. You made him feel alive, made him feel like in the world of smoke and debris he could breathe, that even on his lowest and darkest days, it was you that kept him going, but even he knew that was a lot for a person to carry.

You were wilting like a flower and he despised it. You had always been so beautiful. You could light up a room just by entering it, could trap men and enamour women with nothing but a look, could take his breath away with just a smile, but you were fading away. He had felt the darkness radiating off him since he returned home from the war, and he had fought tooth and nail to stop it corrupting you, you were too perfect, too pure, to be dragged down with him. He thought that he had kept you untainted, thought that he had done what was best for you, but now he wasn’t so sure.

He watched you when you weren’t looking, his eyes always finding your features no matter where you were. Whenever he was nervous or unsure he would find you and his breath would steady and his heartbeat would calm as if you were a shot of rum on his tongue. Almost a year after he had returned home did he start seeing you clearly, he had been so wrapped up in love, in coming home, in becoming the best man he could be, that he had clouded over you like fog on a winter morning. The glisten in your eyes had faded, they had dulled like a worn penny, and your collarbones and ribs began to rise from under your flesh. He tried to think of the last time he had made you laugh, a proper belly laugh like when you were kids, and he came up empty. He knew what the reason was but he refused to accept it, refused to admit that their might be cracks in your perfect relationship, because losing you just might break him.

He tried to be better for you, but he was too far gone. He could feel you slipping away from his fingertips and there was nothing he could do. You had tried to change for him and in the process you had lost part of yourself, and the war had carved a hole between both of you. It was heartbreaking and nauseating, both of you loving each other too much, but ultimately becoming different people. He refused to let you go without a fight, he knew he was being selfish and possessive but he couldn’t just let you leave, you had both been hopelessly in love since the very first day that you had met, you were soulmates. He chain-smoked you like a cigarette, took in your body like it was holy, craved your touch like it was medicinal, you were his everything. You were the reminder of the good days, looking at you and he was transported back to his youth, chasing you under apple trees, kissing until your lips were full and swollen, laughing until your ribs grew rough. You couldn’t imagine life without him, and every evening you clung onto his body, inhaling his sweat and tobacco covered skin, tracing his tattoos like they were bible verses, a million words lingering between you both. You were clinging on for dear life, knuckles glowing white as you refused to release your grip, desperate for everything to work out.

On a Friday, he let you go.

Curled up beside him, you felt otherworldly. He allowed himself moments of weakness around you, to everyone else he was the devil incarnate, but he softened whenever he touched you. He wanted these final moments to last forever, his girl wrapped up in his arms, the only bright light in his world of darkness. Tears were welling in his eyes, something so unfamiliar to him that he had to catch his breath, clear his throat before he could speak.

“I’ve not been good to you.”

Your head rose, resting on his strong chest as you peered at him, noticing how he refused to look at you.

“If I was a better man, a stronger man, I would have let you go sooner.”

“Tommy…”

“I’ve been selfish, little one. Too fucking selfish, and I see that now.”

You sat up further, already knowing his next words, your heart racing like one of his prize mares in your chest. You cling onto him, knuckles tensed as you feel him under you, willing him to look at you, but he can’t. He knows that if he sees your beautiful face, watches the tears slip down your cheeks and your lip quiver, he’ll crumble. That’ll be it, he’ll have broken, sweep you under him and try to piece you back together, but he knows this time he can’t.

You trace your fingertips over the hairs on his chest, the rhythmic motion helping to calm your rapid breathing. You feel like you’re in the firing line, on your knees, head bowed, just waiting for the final shot to blow your skull into pieces.

“I’ve never loved somebody the way I’ve loved you.” He coughs, rubbing his nose, and you’re not sure if its because it’s the tobacco in his lungs or the lump in his throat. “And know I’m realising that, what I’ve put you through, was wrong.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Tom, none of it. I’d do it all again if I could. In a heartbeat.” He knows you’re telling the truth, the honestly in your tone making his heart swell, but it doesn't make it any easier. He knows what he has to do, he has to be the bigger man, no matter how much it’ll wreck him, he has to do the best thing for you.

“I know you would, but that’s not the life you deserve.”

Silence falls across the room. Both of you bathed in smoke and ash and moonlight, memories flutter around you like torn photographs, drifting down onto the wood floor like snowflakes. The air is thick with tears that you both refuse to let slip, you had both known this time was coming since long before either had you had spoken the words. This was love. It tore you and ripped you in half, and neither of you had gone down without a fight. You loved one another so much that it had consumed you, swallowed you both whole and you wouldn’t change a thing. Despite the pain, it had been the best years of your life.

“I don’t think I know how to exist without you.” You confess, your lover such a part of you that it feels like you’re going to lose a limb, a terrible hollow feeling in the pit of your stomach.

“You will. You know I wouldn’t let you go if it wasn’t safe for you, you know I wouldn’t…I’ve got some money for you, to find a place to stay, somewhere far away from here, OK?”

“I’m not taking your money, Tom.”

“Yes you are.You’re not leaving unless I know you’ll be alright, eh?”

“No I’m not T, seriously -”

“Always so bloody stubborn!” He laughed, pinching your outer thigh playfully, a gesture so innocent and intimate and awfully familiar that it makes you both deflate with sadness.

You refuse to let the silence engulf you. Refuse to accept that this might be the last time either of you smell one another’s skin, the last time you can take comfort in one another, refuse to accept that forever might not mean what you thought. Refuse to accept that saying goodbye felt like the right thing.

“Tom. There’s no doubt in my mind that you’ll rule the world one day. But promise me something, promise me you won’t lose yourself? Promise me that you won’t do anything that you can’t come back from. For me?”

He nods, burying his face in your hair.

His exasperated laugh sounds like sparkling champagne, “I almost drove myself mad thinking of what I was gonna say to you, but I couldn’t find the right words. After everything we’ve been through though, we don’t need words do we, little one? I love you and you love me, that’s more than enough. No matter what happens, it’ll be us forever. Even if we’re apart. We don’t need words to say what we mean.”

Your lips met his, making him come alive just as you had done under the canal all those years ago.

“So let’s not talk.”

Tommy wished forever that he could burn the image of that final night behind his eyelids, see you whenever he closed his eyes. He dreamt that he tatted you on his skin, could trace your figure whenever things got too rough, that you would pull him back to shore. That final night felt like a dream, you both cried, sank into one another’s bodies, muffled one another tears with open mouthed kisses. Your beautiful gangster falling apart only for you, his darling angel clinging to just him in those final hours. Your bodies had intertwined for the last time, exhilarated with lust but exhausted from sadness, communicating through touches and kisses.

Tommy slept the best he had done for years. No dreams of shovels, no thoughts of the business racing through his skull. Instead he let himself get utterly wrapped up by you,falling into a satisfied sleep with his girl next to him. Woozy and delirious, when he first opened his eyes he forgot about everything that had happened, felt that unfamiliar emptiness in the bed beside him and thought that he’d find you nestled in an armchair drinking sweet tea, but nausea filled the pit of his stomach like acid when memories came flooding back.

It wasn’t until he saw the envelope he had filled with notes and coins for you, unopened on the desk, and your treasured photograph of the two of you from that very first beach visit, left on top, painted with a cherry red lipstick print and the words, “Goodbye, Tom. I love you.” Did he lose it. He flung the peaked cap off its hanger, let out an animalistic roar and shattered his fist through the wall, before falling to his knees and burying his head into his hands.

———————————————————————————————-

He had heard that you came back. Similar to a alley cat, you snuck in and out of the city under the cover of moonlight, only being seen by those you wanted. He had heard that when Ada fell pregnant, and she stayed locked away in Freddie’s basement flat, you were the only person she let in. Sometimes he would loiter on those back streets after work, hoping and dreaming for a glimpse of you, something to satisfy his hungry mind, but he never got so lucky. You kept in contact with the others, sending them letters and postcards, but they kept them hidden from him, and he pretended he didn't fantasise about ripping them open and devouring your words. Polly and Ada would speak of you sometimes, but would fall silent whenever he was nearby, and he would pretend he was unbothered, despite the want of knowing where you were clawing him inside out.

He threw himself into work harder than he had ever done before. He could feel himself slipping away, and without you to ground him he felt the darkness start to consume him, but he would never blame you, you were too good, and he would have ruined you. He dreamt of you every night, thought of you in every spare moment, so it was easier to be doused in another’s blood or making a dangerous deal than to be left alone to his own devices. Wondering if you had met someone new made him feel violently ill, it was like torture thinking of another man making you happy, another man touching you, making you smile. Almost every night he paid a visit to a whore house, fucking somebody else and dreaming it was you, he knew it was unhealthy, but he couldn’t stop. You lingered in his brain constantly like the smoke that left his sullen lips.

He became used the the thought of being alone. Enamoured with the idea of being on top; controlling and dominating the streets was all he cared about. You were always at the back of his mind, wherever he looked he saw you, thought of you, it drove him crazy, but then again you always had. He was in desperate need for a distraction, some form of happiness to grasp after you had left, he knew he had to move on, but he was uncertain he would ever find it again. He had to get used to the nauseating fact that you were gone, and then, like a ball of sunshine, the new blonde barmaid smiled at him and he felt his world lighten.

But now you were back.

————————————————————

He can’t remember walking towards you.

His feet and brain were disconnected, he had become an entirely different person than the calm, collected business man he usually was, his composure crumbling the moment he saw you. The second he saw a falter in your conversation, when you excused yourself from the enamoured, sleazy men around you, practically drooling as you stood before them, did he know he had to say something to you or risk regretting it for the rest of his life.

He apologised quickly to Grace, half heartedly and rushed, something he knew he’d have to explain later, but he couldn’t stop himself. He also didn’t miss the curl of Polly’s lip at the sight of her nephew infatuated with you, reminding her of the teenager she missed dearly.

Every move of his was calculated. From business to his personal life, he refused to let himself be ruled the same as the common man, everything he did was deliberate and precise, but even he’ll admit he was tongue tied as he pushed past the rest of the people in the ballroom, eager to reach his target.

You had stepped outside. Desperate for the relief of cool air against your flesh, the comfort of the stars above you and the solace of a must needed cigarette between your lips. Tommy couldn’t help the smile on his face, 5 years of separation pouring out of him as he exhaled at the sight of you, so close that he could reach out and graze your skin with his fingers. It was intoxicating, you were intoxicating, and he hated himself for still being enchanted with a woman he couldn’t have and shouldn’t want.

Movement behind you made you turn your head, dazed and hazy from the alcohol and the smoke filling your lungs, but you felt stone cold sober as your muddled mind placed the man before you. Air left your body like a pinched ballon, your chest expanding with surprise.

He’ll admit seeing you so flustered at the sight of him did wonders for his ego. Igniting the flame inside of his stomach that proved that you still thought of him, still cared for him. But just as quickly as you lost your cool, you regained it instantly, straightening up and letting a soft smile grace your features, and he felt himself melt.

You looked so familiar, yet different.

You were more tanned, freckles across the bridge of your nose, constellations he could remember tracing when he was a teen. Your hair was longer, tousled into a style he had never seen on you, but it looked right.

He could tell your dress was expensive, embroidered and embezzled with lace and crystals, a finely crafted necklace sliding off of your collar bone, and thoughts of gifts from admiring suitors sent him into a tailspin. He loathed himself for it, but his eyes narrowed to your left ring finger, audibly exhaling when it came up empty, and he didn’t know if he should feel relieved or ashamed.

A moment of silence and shared memories flashed between you quicker than the spark of a match. A warm familiar feeling brewed in the pit of your stomach, so gut wrenchingly nostalgic you feel as if you have been winded. Both of your senses are heightened, you can smell him, imagine the feel of his hair, despite it being almost shaved to his scalp, imagine the tattoos under his expensive suit, can practically recall your nails tracing them in a sleep induced haze. You had forgotten just how he made you feel, and the recognition makes you both halt.

He breaks the silence first; as if to prove to you his new status. He was no longer as boyish, as playful, he controlled the room, owned it, and the devil sitting on his shoulder wondered if that extended to you.

“Hello, (Y/N).”

“Hello, Tommy.”

He almost falls to pieces at the sound of his name on your sugar sweet lips, reminding him of the times before the war, the times he had locked away in his mind. You’ve turned a strong man weak, rendered him speechless and you grab the control as it slips from his fingertips.

“It’s been a long time, Tom.”

“That it has.”

“You’ve been away for quite some time.” He inhales sharply, determined to clasp the reins once again, determined to dismantle you and get a reaction, “Didn’t even see you at Freddie’s funeral, would have been nice of you to show up.”

The funeral was years ago but he still hates the fact that he hadn’t seen you that day, he was burying one of his best friends and yet you had clawed all over his mind like a virus. He even stayed after everyone had left, saying private words to his friend, and wondering if he could catch a glimpse of you, but that evening he walked home as alone as he came.

You raise a brow in challenge, your eyes glinting with a mix of disbelief and humour. “I stayed with our Ada for over a month when Freddie died, I was by her side through the thick of it. I didn’t come to the funeral out of respect, I didn’t want it to be about anything other than him.”

He swallows your words, nodding slowly. Letting the silence settle around him like smoke before he asks you his next question. “Where did you go?”

A small smile fell on your lips, and you looked up at him in a way that almost made him turn his head as it was too familiar, too painful.

“Anywhere and everywhere. Paris, Rome, Berlin. It was nice to see them rebuild after the war. I stayed in America for a year or so, Boston and New York, and then settled on the beach in California for a bit, it was beautiful.” He listens to every word that escapes your mouth, noting how happy you sound as you describe your travels, so breathless and elated as you reminisce.

“You did always love the sea.” He says gently.

“Yes,” you smile, “I do.”

“What brings you back? To a party like this?” He changes the subject, not wanting to linger in the past, fearful of what that might bring up in him.

“I’ve been in London with a friend, I owe him a favour and ended up here.”

Him. Three words that strike him in the gut and nearly make him double over. He can feel the heat rising in him, he’s married and it’s been years since he’s seen you, but the thought of you with another man makes vomit and red hot anger ascend inside of him.

“He’s just a friend, Tom.” You say slowly, offering him an olive branch, you shouldn’t have to explain yourself but you want to, because it’s just as hard for you. “He owns a distillery but he doesn’t do well at parties, so I offered to take his place.”

He laughs humourlessly, almost breathless from disbelief at the sheer incredulity of it all. “Solomons? Of fucking course.”

“You know of him?” You ask, tilting your head slightly.

“You could say that.”

“Well,” You grin, “Looks as if we have something in common.”

The knowledge that you were mere miles away, laughing with Solomon’s, head thrown back as you made time for a man that wasn’t him, drove the nail further into Tommy’s own coffin.

“So your dress? Your jewels? Presents from him?” It comes out harsher than he intended but he doesn’t care, the sight of you has made him as inebriated as a dozen shots of whisky on an empty stomach and he allows it to distort his words.

“I make my own money, Tommy.” You respond.

He steps closer, the toe of his expensive leather shoe inching towards you like a high tide.

“Do you ever think about me?” The words escape him before he has a chance to stop them, and he sees emotion pool in your eyes, and he watches a breath escape your lips.

“Everyday.”

He isn’t sure what to say, suddenly feeling 15 again, if anyone saw him now they would be in utter disbelief that he was the same ruthless gangster they knew. He is within reach now, you could extend your fingers and feel him under you like you had once done a million times before, you wonder just how different his lush suit would feel compared to the ones he had run around in when he was a teen. His eyes scour your face, drinking you in like water, comparing your face to the last time he had seen you. Neither of you let your eyes meet one another, darting away like rivals, and yours slip over his head back into the crowd.

“Is that your wife?”

His head snaps up as if he has been doused in ice water, and he follows your gaze across the floor. He sees Grace, surrounded by other women, but her eyes trained on the two of you. He knows later he’ll have a conversation he isn’t ready for, knows he’ll have to explain feelings he’s kept hidden for years, but he turns on his heel, away from his wife and towards you.

“Yes.”

“She’s beautiful.”

“She’s not you.”

Silence. He loathes himself for his words but hates himself even more that he doesn’t regret them.

“Good. You deserve someone better.”

Your eyes finally meet.

His are stoic and unwavering, lacking the spark you loved but still the same ocean eyes you loved to drown in. Yours are filled with emotion, finally exposing yourself after so many years, you soften him to the touch as your eyes meet his, melting him like an icicle.

“I know what you’re thinking, Tom.”

“You always have.”

You smile softly. “I almost came back you know.”

His ears prick up like a bloodhound, his heart bursting under his flesh.

“I heard rumours. People would whisper in the street about a devil, I knew exactly who they meant before they even spoke your name aloud.”

He inhales sharply, not knowing where the story will take him, desperate to regain control but ultimately knowing he’ll always be trailing after you.

“They said you were cunning and brilliant but they also said you were ruthless and cold blooded. They said you were a man on a mission, a man destined to get to the top, they told me they were scared of you. Terrified.”

He steps closer.

“I begged Ada to tell me everything, managed to get her drunk from expensive liquors, you know the ones she loves? The ones that taste like the sweets we would nick after school?”

He nods, the memory distant but familiar. The taste of sugar on your lips, teeth clashing together, giggles that sounded like bells.

“She told me the darkness came back, took you away. She said she was worried for you, she told me she didn’t want to lose her brother, not again. I was going to come back, but I was a coward.” Your voice falters, and he wants nothing more than to cradle you in his arms but he knows he can’t and instead watches the rise and fall of your chest. “I was worried that if I came back you would get worse, I’m not good for you Tom. You know that.”

“You’ve always been good for me.”

“You say that cause you love me,” You tease, “But we’re not kids anymore, Tommy.”

He looks at you, older now, taller. He can remember the colour of your hair from the sun, the grass that stained your knees, the way you felt under him. He can remember everything. If you aren’t good for each other, why is he still under your spell?

He can see the way your face contorts, passion evident on your features.“She told me you met a woman, fell in love and got married. I was mad with jealousy at first, like a bloody woman possessed.”

He hates the way your admission makes him feel smug.

“But Ada, she told me she was good for you. She told me how she makes the shovels stop Tom, she makes you a better man. I knew in that moment that you deserved her, and she deserved you. You deserve to be happy, because you’re a good man, Tom.”

You walk towards him, luring him to you like a ship to the shore. He responds immediately, so close that he can feel the warmth of your body, smell the wildflowers that linger on your neck.

“I asked for a sign that night,” you say softly, “a sign that you would be alright.”

“A sign?” He asks almost playfully, just enough teasing in his tone to remind both of you that maybe he isn’t too far gone.

“Yes, a sign, and I got one.”

You tear your eyes from him, down to your diamond encrusted purse in your hands. You open the clasp, and rummage around, slipping out a piece of paper no bigger than your palm. You rest it against your fingertips before holding it out to him, and he slowly takes it, not missing the sparks he feels as your hands touch.

He turns it over, and let’s out a genuine laugh, one that shocks you both.

It’s a newspaper clipping, from one year ago, the black and white print almost seeming harsh under the light of the moon. He traces the picture with the pads of his fingers, smiling more this evening than he can ever remember.

He clears his throat and reads softly, “Tommy Shelby’s mare “Little One” comes first place at national derby.”

Your eyes connect once again, the corners of your mouth upturned. “Little One.” You repeat, “She was my sign.”

He nods, looking down at the picture of the thoroughbred he loved dearly. “She’s the most beautiful horse I’ve ever seen, but she’s stubborn as all hell, can be aggressive too.”

“She sounds lovely.”

“Oh, that she is.”

You tentatively place one hand onto his chest, as if you are taming a wild animal. He responds to your touch like he’s been craving it his entire life.

“I should go, Tom.”

He doesn’t know what to say, or do, something so rare for a man always one step ahead. All he can think of is to cling to you like a child, wanting to savour the moment for as long as he can.

“I don’t want to lose you, not again.” He admits, his tough facade shattering like glass.

“You let me go once before Tom, you can do it again.”

He holds you against his chest, not bothering to wonder who can see him in such a fragile state. A lifetime of memories flutters between you like pages of a book. Everything unwinding in your mind, tears pricking at the back of your eyes. You feel like a teenager again, can smell him beside you, feeling as if you are curled up back in his single bed, running your fingers through his hair.

“You’re going to go back to your wife, Tom. Your beautiful, kind wife. The wife who is good for you, and you’re going to go and be happy.”

He thinks of it all, the money and the mansion. The power, the gold and jewels and paintings that lather every wall in his house, he thinks of everything he has, and wonders how any of it compares to you.

You place one palm against the side of his cheek, pulling him into you and you shake your head as if you can read his mind. You plant a soft kiss against his skin, it scorches into him like a branding, like rubbing salt on a fresh wound. He exhales shakily, watching as you step away from him, forever beautiful and young and enchanting, slipping back into the teenager he chased around sunflower fields and danced with under the stars. Back then his hands were freckled and tanned, now they are covered in blood.

“Goodbye, Tommy.”

“Goodbye, Little One.”

He swears he only turns away for a second, to locate Grace, to try and think of any explanation for his erratic behaviour this evening, to not let you see the emotion flooding over his face like a tsunami, and when he turns back around, maybe to stop you, or maybe to get one final look before you go, you’re already gone.

#peaky blinders imagine #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby oneshot #peaky blinders oneshot #thomas shelby imagine #writing

899 notes · View notes

nessaiscute · 4 years ago

Text

A high school confession

AN: This is an experiment might make a bigger thing bout of this also its time for some fluff

“Try not to embarrass yourself.” Stated Mab as I left the Castle.

Same old bs, never a ‘good luck’, or, ‘do your best.’ Always about the kingdom and my eventual inheritance, I will rule the Ice court, I will make descions that will affect millions of people. Knights will depend on me, servants will want guidance. Other courts will want to challenge me. Seems…. A lot for someone like me. A teenage fairy, but it is the life I have to lead once i graduate. But thats not till a long time down the road at least a year.

I got on the carriage and we went to the human world, to the high school I attend.

The carriage pulled up to Fallbrook high school, not too bad of a school. I mean we have our bully issues and teachers don’t really care but we don’t have to worry about Gangs. The leaders of the nevenever make sure of that. It's a red brick building with a flagpole in the middle.When I got out of the carriage, I was greeted by a red haired boy. A summer fairy but a treasured one.

“Hey ice boy. Have you seen the princess?”

My nerves were instantly shot, “Do you not know where she is?”

“I… I saw her at breakfast but then i heard a welp and she vanished.”

Son of a bitch!!

I bolted straight into the building, people moving out of my way as I bulldoze into hall, Puck going after me.

“Ice boy! Slow down! You don’t know if shes in trouble!”

But I did, i knew exactly what happened. I knew that she was hurting her. I swer this time I’ll kill that freak!

My heart was beating faster then I thought it ever could, why am I reacting this way? Its not like this is the first time its happened. But I could barely keep track of her glamour, It was getting weaker and weaker. Gods no, please if there is any beings of higher power out there protect her. Please protect her…

Sure enough As i turned to the gym, a Black teeanger had blonde teenager in a choke hold. The blonde teeanger had tears forming in her eyes, my rage erupting like a volcano. My ice glamour exploded freezing everything around The black teeanger, she stepped on ice and fell on her butt letting the blonde go.

“Meghan!” I shouted and rushed towards her.

Meghan fell to the ground and I caught her, i scooped up her fragile body in my arms.

“Meghan! Talk to me!”

I heard a growl from behind me and Puck sheriked as I felt a fist lunge at me.

I tanked the blow, everyone told me stories bout Tyras monster strength. Gangers won’t mess with her cause of how scary she is. But she didn’t impress me, her punch hurt but it was nothing I haven’t handled before. I shot an ice spike to get her to jump in the air. Tyra landed gracecfully on the ground.

“I’ve had enough of you getting in my way of beating retard!” Tyra snarled.

I told Puck to come over he did, I handed him Meghan and told the two to get out of here. They left. But by this point a crowd had gathered.

“Tyras gonna fight the ice prince!” Said a student.

“No, Tyras gona destory the ice prince. No one can handle Tyra.” Said a teacher.

Tyra cracked her knuckles grinning, “I’ve been looking forward to this, youre hot but youre too nice. Im going to fix that.”

“Is that right?” I smirked.

I slowly walked around, in a slow mocking matter. Bending my knee, her brown eyes glaring at me. People asked what I was doing, I walked around her slowly. Finally she shouted and lunged

I blocked her punch and pushed her off me, I did not strike her. She got ready for another punch, and she went through with her attack, this time she missed. I leaned out of the way, Tyra tried to bear hug me but I slide under her.

“FIGHT ME!!” Tyra roared.

Suddenly an ice blast froze Tyra solid, I looked around and there was the principle. He glared at me.

“Mr. Johnson?” I asked surprised.

“What happened young man!” Mr. Johnson snapped.

“Tyra attacked Meghan Chase sir,”I replied, “I was defending my friend.”

Mr Johnson was trained by my mom to use Ice glamour, he takes no crap from any of the students and hes very strict. He puffed and singled for a cop.

“Take Miss Tyra away she will be expelled if Ash is…”

Suddenly Mr. Johnson’s phone rang, it was the nurse.

“What is it miss bells?”

“What? Miss Chase is unconscious?”

Everyone gulped.

“Everyone get to class! NOW!”

We all scattered.

I went straight to home room, I was sure I was going to get jumped Tyra was very popular. I know people were going to be pissed. In fact I got sneers and glares as I walked through the halls. I expected someone to try and deck me.

But I was greeted by Puck, who looked sad.

“Hey, how is she?”

“She won’t wake up ice boy. They called in an ambulance.”

Darn it!

I patted Pucks shoulder, “She’s been through hell before, she’ll get out again.”

Puck touched my hand and smiled at me, “Youre right.”

We both sat down, and class started. It seemed like nothing changed, Meghan was gone but no one seemed to care. Meghan was a huge part of all of our classes too. The teacher didn’t seem to notice that no one was answering questions besides me. Its normally me and Meghan.

“The left index.” I answered.

“Very good Ash.” The teacher replied.

A student laughed, “Man, I can’t believe that rere was holding Ash back.”

Bile rose in my throat, Meghan has had mental illnesses for as long as I remember. Its been the number one reason for her being bullied.

“Meghan wasn’t holding back anything I-”

“Rere!” The student snapped, “Gods how long have you been here? Learn the terminology fairy!”

“Meghan is not a ‘rere’ or whatever you call her. She's just as important to this class as I am.”

“Ugh, what is she? your girlfriend or something??” The student yelled

Everyone gasped like he just dropped an F bomb.

The teacher jumped in, “Anthony leave Ash alone. Theres no way he would date Miss chase. Now lets get back to the lesson.”

The class went on without a hitch though that accusation never left my mind.

What is she? Your girlfriend or something?

Did I see Meghan like that? She's been my friend for as long as I remember. She's my best friend. I feel content when shes around, when we’re cuddling and I can feel her heartbeat. When we’re watching a movie, when I’m fighting off bullies for her. I even defied my mom to be her friend, it was the one argument I ever won against my mom. Even as a king I will never abandon Meghan, I’ll run away from the throne if I have to I-

Oh. I am in love with her.

The class ended and I was called to the nurse’s office. I power walked there, my heart racing as I opened the door…

“You’re late.” Greeted Meghan.

The smile ran across my face before I realized it, “It took forever to get out of class.”

She opened her arms and I took her in mine.

“When Tyra grabbed me that time….I thought it was over.” She sobbed.

“I took care of it. Shes expelled.”

“Isn’t that only going to make things worse?” Meghan asked.

“Nope.” The nurse shook her head, “The students have gotten a clear warning. Anything happens to you over her jail will be next. Now, I have lunch to grab, you two stay here.”

The nurse left and it was just me and Meghan, my heart going into over drive. I wanted to tell Meghan how I felt. That I’m in love with her, I sat down next to her.

“Did you sleep well last night?” Meghan asked.

I nodded.

“Are you okay?”

“I… I need to tell you something.”

Now or Never.

“What is it?”

I took a deep breathe gathering my thoughts, It was time to face this.

“I love you.”

The words didn’t register right away, she just said, “huh?”

“I really love you.” I repeated.

Meghan gasped, her eyes smacked with shock. Did I make a mistake?

She looked down, my heart was bout to fall into the depths of hell when she said, “Um…. Can you give me some time to think Ash? After school, meet me at the front gate. I’ll see you then.”

Meghan then ran away and I just went to class.

“Man youre lame.” Puck stated.

“Shut up Summer shit.” I snarled.

“Seriously that was the best you could come up with? Although I’m honestly shocked this didn’t happen sooner.”

“Whats that suppose to mean?” I asked.

“Ive known you both for bout 5 years and from the moment I met you… Ive had to deal with the soft stares and cuddling and couple fights. I remember when Tyra first started bullying her, and she cried that no one was going to care if she died. And You got really mad at her and you both started yelling until you screamed ‘if you died I’d rip out her heart myself’ and you both stared at each other mouths agape till I had to bring up the newest book coming out.”

Puck was right, although it was embarrassing to hear him bring up the past.

“So, were you joking?”

I swatted at him, “Of course I wasn’t!”

Puck Patted my head, “Good luck lover boy!”

He ran away before I could kill him.

I went to the front gate and Meghan was waiting for me.

“Hello Ash.” Meghan Greeted.

“Hey, Um, can I have your answer?”

My whole life hangs on this.

Meghan smiled softly, “I… was so happy when you told me. Thank you. But here is the thing…. I can’t believe you actually said it. and...I’m wondering if you made a bet with Michael. To see if it would be funny…. So i have to ask… were you joking?”

Tears were forming in her eyes when she asked if I was joking, what exactly do people take me for.

“No i meant it.”

“You… do know im not normal right??” Meghan asked shocked, “I’m not pretty like the other girls. I like dumb things and I can barely do anything right. And then there is the fact I'm on adhd medication. People will always judge me for that, I just doze off and I get mad quite easily; I annoy people very easily…. One of my favorite thing bout you is how patient you are with me. If…. we start dating that patience will be tested to its limit. You’ll have to deal with that stuff all the time. I… don’t want to be a pest to you.”

This foolish…

“You aren’t a pest Meghan!”

Meghan gasped and i kept going.

“Hell I love you doing those things, do them all the time. I don’t get those anime cartoons you watch nor do I understand shipping and all of that but I want to be with you every step of the way. As for your mental illness I love you, all of you, especially those parts. There's nothing you could do to make me lose my patience in you. Hell, I don't even consider it a test of patience. Being with you is a choice I make. I make it every day, and I’ll keep making it till the end of time.”

“Ash….” Meghan gasped, “Has anyone ever told you… that you're dangerous to a woman's heart.” her face was flushed.

“Do love me Meghan? Cause I can’t stand the thought of not being with you. I can do anything but losing you would destroy me.”

“Yes. I love you, Ash Please be my boyfriend.”

I walked towards her, took her face in my hands and kissed her. She coiled her arms around me and I crushed her to me. She was mine, Nothing will ever change that.

#fall fey #I randomly got inspired by rune factory #Meghan Chase #Ash Chase #high school au #should i expand on this #or does it suck?

2 notes · View notes

mithranqueersmusings · 4 years ago

Text

Before This Dance Is Through IV

Chapter: 4/16

Rating: U

Summary: Ringo's being going through a dry spell for the last year or so and when he regretfully tells his best friend John, he insists on taking them to an all-male strip club for some "fun". Ringo isn't sure whether it's the alcohol, his desperation or a mixture of the two but he thinks he might be falling in love with a stripper.

Tags: AU - Strippers, Modern Setting, Smut, Slow Burn

Pairings: George Harrison/Ringo Starr, John Lennon/Paul McCartney

AO3 link here / Fic masterlist here

Once Ringo had managed to compose himself, which took far longer than he'd care to admit, he ventured back out into the chaos of the club in search of John. He wasn't difficult to find, standing at the front of the stage cheering - practically screaming - and waving money around to get the dancer's attention. Unsurprisingly, the dancer was Paul. He was currently spinning around the pole with one hand, his ankles entwined to give him support. It was quite a beautiful sight, Ringo thought, watching his gentle movements. The club was considerably more empty by this point and the remainder of the customers had circled around the stage. Ringo slinked past a few drunken layabouts as he made his way over to John, he had to shout in his ear just to get his attention.

"Oh, Ringo!" John grinned, his breath stank of whiskey "How'd it go?"

"A little too well." Ringo chuckled, he coaxed John to sit down.

"Did he almost kill you this time?" John only passed Ringo a few glances, mostly his attention was on Paul.

"I think he did kill me. Then brought me back. Then killed me again." Ringo picked up John's drink and took a sip "Are they supposed to touch you?"

John paused his shouting for a moment "Touch you how?"

"Just... Y'know, touching. Getting me to touch him, him touching my chest." Ringo decided to leave out the crotch contact, he still wasn't sure whether it was intentional or not.

"Oh yeah, that's fine. As long as you're both consenting o'course. And as long as he's not dropping on his knees and sucking you off." John laughed and Ringo almost choked on the drink, the image those words conjured up was a surprising one.

"How much longer are you planning on staying?" Ringo settled back in his seat and turned his attention to Paul.

"Why? You in a hurry to get home and bash one out?" John nudged him without pulling his eyes away from the stage.

"Speak for yourself." Ringo scoffed, he didn't see the point in denying it.

"We can head out after Paulie's done." John nodded to gesture towards the man in question.

"Fine." Ringo stretched his legs out in front of him.

If he hadn't been so exhausted from Spike, Ringo probably would've gotten a little excited watching Paul but he was completely worn out. John had a shine in his eyes that Ringo didn't see very often, and his happiness was definitely contagious. They sat watching Paul for another two songs, during which he exhibited a ridiculous amount of core strength that Ringo could only dream of ever achieving. It was obvious that John was hoping to catch Paul before they headed back home, as much as he was trying to hide it, and Ringo probably would've hung around with him had he not been so exhausted or so sure that John was probably going to be back here within the week. In truth the main reason Ringo wanted to get out of there so quickly was because he didn't want to risk seeing Spike again, or rather Spike seeing him again; Ringo happily could've watched him from a safe distance all night but as soon as Spike was looking right back at him, knowing what Ringo was thinking, that was too much.

The cold night air stung Ringo's face and hands as they stepped back out into the street. Luckily his car wasn't too far away and while he was perhaps a little too tipsy to be driving he made sure he stayed off the main roads and never went over the speed limit - he could drive recklessly when he was sober but he'd never risk that when he was drunk. John was the only one talking on the drive back to his place, mostly rambling about things Ringo couldn't understand so he just nodded along and made affirming noises.

John leaned on Ringo for support as they walked up to his front door, Ringo knew he wasn't so drunk that he couldn't walk but he tended to do this when he was feeling a little lonely. Ringo had gotten more than used to it by now, he'd had to carry John to bed bridal style many times over the years so this was nothing. John fell face first down onto his bed which was still unmade and either fell asleep immediately or wanted Ringo to think he had. It had almost become a routine by this point: Ringo drove them home, carried John up to his room, left a glass of water by his bed and tidied up a few bits and pieces on his way out. Occasionally he'd check in John's fridge to see if he had any food in and if it was empty, which it often was, he'd offer to buy or cook the two of them dinner the next day. Ringo wasn't the subtlest about it sometimes, once or twice he'd even shown up with bags filled with groceries and left after handing them over without much of an explanation. John never acknowledged any of these things Ringo did, at least not verbally, but Ringo knew he appreciated them and he was sure John repaid the favour in some ways he wasn't aware of, or very aware of in the case of tonight.

Exhaustion hit like a strong wave once Ringo finally got back to his own place. He kicked off his shoes carelessly in the hallway and staggered into his bedroom; he didn't dare look at the time before he slid into bed, just chucked his phone into the furthest corner hoping that he'd remembered to set his alarm for the following morning. As soon as his head hit the pillow he expected to fall asleep almost instantly but his brain had other ideas. His body was definitely ready for sleep, his eyes were stinging and his muscles ached a little yet his mind was racing. This didn't happen a lot. Ringo was notoriously known for how well he slept and how loudly he snored but tonight that wasn't the case. He couldn't shake the images of the night from his mind or how warm Spike's skin had felt beneath his fingertips or the inviting smell of him. Ringo let out a groan as he tossed and turned, as though vigorous movement would throw the thoughts out of his head. The last thing he wanted to do was give into the urge but the first thing he wanted to do was sleep, and it was a pretty strong urge. Was there any better way to get to sleep than a quick orgasm? Probably. Ringo just had to tell himself that he was doing this purely for that purpose, as he wanked himself off under the covers with his eyes scrunched tightly and his brain filled with thoughts of Spike.

The following day was fairly uneventful, Ringo was up on time to sit eating breakfast in front of the television for an hour before he had to head out for work. It was his weekly lesson with a kid called Peter, he was nice enough and his parents were more than pleasant if not a little stupid. He'd been working with Peter for almost a year and while he'd made a great deal of progress since their first lesson he wasn't showing a massive amount of promise, but at least he was trying. Sometimes Ringo felt like speaking to his parents privately and breaking the news that their son wasn't going to become a world famous drummer, probably not even a locally famous one, but he needed the money too much. Peter was better than a lot of Ringo's students, most of which had watched Whiplash a few too many times and decided they wanted to be the next John Bonham only to give up in two months because it was 'too hard'.

After their lesson ended Ringo decided to walk around town for a little while, usually he'd be out in search of lunch by now but Peter's parents always prepared him some food which he was never too polite to refuse - after all smoked salmon was considerably more appetising than a tepid sausage roll from Greggs. He decided to pop into his favourite record shop, although it wasn't like there were many others to choose from. Despite the accessibility to music his phone provided, Ringo always had a deep love for vinyl records; they were nostalgic somehow, even if they had no significance to his own childhood. Like most record shops, this one sold a fair bit of vintage clothing too although Ringo was never too interested in that. He didn't really have any particular record in mind as he walked in so ended up browsing through the plethora of options. There was only one other person in the shop, excluding the owner who sat behind the counter and gave Ringo a welcoming smile, but it sounded like there were a couple of people downstairs in the clothing section. As Ringo began to flick through some of the records his phone buzzed in his pocket.

can you bring me coffee???

It was John, which was a little surprising considering he usually didn't wake up until far later in the afternoon if he'd been drinking heavily the night before.

hello to you too

i dont have time for formalities i need COFFEE

why dont you have any coffee in your house

i dont have time for questions either

any coffee in particular my liege?

ha ha just get me one from maccies pleaseeee

fine im just in town atm can you wait like 10 mins

suppose ill have to

suddenly im too busy

shut up just bring me coffee ill love you forever and all that

i should bloody think so too

Ringo chuckled to himself quietly as he put his phone back into his pocket, he took a final quick look at the stack of records then began making his way outside. Before he could make it to the door he suddenly collided with someone who had been turning up from the staircase, which resulted in a few pieces of clothing flying upwards and landing on the ground. Ringo began apologising immediately, crouching down to pick up the clothes to hand them back over. As he straightened back up to apologise for perhaps the fourth time he froze upon seeing exactly who he'd bumped into.

"Spike." Ringo blurted out, his brain had decided to throw the name out as soon as it crossed his mind.

"Only after 9." He responded instantaneously, it must've been a frequent line he used "Do I... Oh! It's you."

"The very same." Ringo chuckled nervously, he wondered whether he'd actually recognised him or was just being polite - Ringo couldn't decide which one he'd prefer.

It was very strange seeing him like this, so normal that it was abnormal. He was wearing a dark blue turtleneck which framed his sharp jaw and hugged his slim body nicely. Over that lay a yellow beaded necklace and his trousers were a dark suede material; he looked good, somehow more alluring when he was fully clothed. Ringo noticed he was staring, he only hoped that Spike hadn't noticed but it was impossible to tell with the unreadable darkness of his eyes. He cleared his throat, as if he couldn't get any more obvious, then held out the patterned shirt he'd picked up so Spike could take it from him. Their hands brushed slightly at the exchange and Ringo felt the hairs on his arm standing up.

"They're nice, er- Nice clothes." Ringo stammered, yanking his hand back to his side.

"Suppose I should be thanking you for them." Spike replied, there was a faint smile on his lips.

"Oh?" Ringo heard the pitch of his voice rising slightly.

"You helped pay for them." Spike explained, the smile grew.

"Well John paid, really. But he does owe me money so I guess I did pay in a way. Glad to see the money's going somewhere good either way." Ringo rambled, once again his mouth was moving before his brain could stop it.

"Right." Spike said, his tone was very final yet he didn't move to leave.

"I best be getting out of your way so you can actually pay for those." Ringo shuffled sideways towards the door, expecting Spike to step backwards to give him some room but he just stood there looking at him - was it not enough to make him suffer at the club, did he have to punish him now too?

"Are you always this nervous?" Spike grinned.

"No I- You just caught me by surprise is all." Ringo forced himself to take a deep breath.

"Okay." Spike squinted his eyes slightly then turned to head towards the counter.

Ringo was surprised he was able to get back to his car without collapsing, all the tension leaving his body as soon as Spike's eyes were off him made him feel practically boneless. Spike didn't look back at him but Ringo supposed he didn't have to, he would've known he was staring at him. Ringo gripped the steering wheel tightly as he drove, somehow managing to make it to the drive-through without consciously driving there. He ordered a coffee for John and a milkshake for himself, he figured he could do with a pick-me-up after that atrocious encounter. Not once in all the times he'd gone to that shop had he seen Spike there, and it couldn't have been a case of merely not noticing him before because Ringo definitely would've noticed someone looking like that walking around. It felt like God was playing some cruel trick on him, but in reality it was nothing more than a coincidence married with Spike's cruelty which produced that painful exchange. Ringo tried not to think about it as he drove over to John's but his brain had apparently decided to betray him, just as his mouth had done earlier.

John had took a while to answer the door and Ringo began to worry that he'd fallen back asleep - it was times like this that he figured he may as well have a key to his place. When the door swung open, Ringo burst in a little too aggressively and knocked John backwards slightly.

"Jesus, what's crawled up your arse?" John chuckled as he closed the door "Don't tell me the ice cream machine was broken again."

John's presence calmed Ringo significantly but he couldn't shake the tension in his body completely "Guess who I just bumped into." He set the drinks down on John's kitchen table and took a seat.

"Ooh was it that guy from the train station? Or how about-" John took a seat opposite him and gripped the coffee eagerly.

"You're not actually meant to guess." Ringo interrupted, he tried to sound commanding but it was a little difficult when he was holding a strawberry milkshake.

"Then don't say 'guess' you git. The English language is wasted on you." John put his feet up on the table "Who was it then?"

"Spike." Ringo widened his eyes.

"No shit. Really?" John cackled "What happened?"

"I was at that record shop and he was coming up from the basement and I walked straight into him." Ringo explained.

"Nothing straight about it." John mumbled behind his coffee.

"Funny." Ringo glared "It was so fucking embarrassing, I could hardly speak."

"What did he say?" John asked.

"Nothing really. He probably said about three words so I figured he didn't want to talk to me but he just stood there. I didn't want to be rude and just rush out but looking back I probably should've." Ringo sighed.

"Yeah, you probably should've." John snickered.

"Not helping."

"What do you want me to say?"

"I dunno... I'm sure it wasn't that bad or something."

"Well, was it that bad?"

"He asked me if I was always so nervous."

John burst into laughter "Jesus, Ringo. That's pretty bad."

"Guess that's the last time I'll be going to the strip club, or the record shop for that matter."

"Don't be so dramatic. So you were a little awkward in front of him, who cares?"

"I care."

"Why?"

"Because I don't want him thinking I'm some sort of loser."

"Why do you give a shit what he thinks?"

Ringo didn't say anything, he just held his cup tightly and looked at John straight in the eye.

"Look, you've got nothing to get so worked up about. If he thought you were so pathetic he wouldn't have even spoken to you." John lifted his feet off the table and leaned forward in his seat "He's just messing with you, probably thinks it's funny."

"He was smiling." Ringo mumbled.

"Well there you go." John reached his hand forward and poked at Ringo's arm "You're being ridiculous. Chances are you won't bump into him again, you've gone your whole life without doing it before."

"But-" Ringo began.

"No buts! Unless they're butts on the stage covered in leather I don't wanna hear it." John interrupted "Bottom line is you like watching this guy strip right?"

"Well, yeah-" Ringo tried again.

"So what's the problem? It's not like you found out he's your cousin or one of your students, is it?" John smiled warmly.

"Suppose not." Ringo couldn't help smiling too.

"We really need to get you laid, it's making you crazy. I'm supposed to be the crazy one, don't try and take that away from me." John leaned back in his chair again.

"I don't intend to." Ringo chuckled looking down at his feet.

"So... Same time next week?" John raised his eyebrows expectantly.

"You really hate me, don't you?"

"On the contrary! I love you very much, my dear Ringo. That's exactly why I'm gonna take you back there so you can prove you're not some pathetic weirdo."

"How exactly?"

"Just be yourself, you can manage that can't you?"

"Not quite sure I want to."

"Oh hush. Leave the self-deprecation to me if you don't mind." John paused to sip his coffee "This time next week you'll have forgotten all about this, and I'm sure he will too."

"I guess you're right."

But John hadn't been right. Ringo had thought about that small exchange for days. He found himself picking apart every small moment and trying to rationalise it in his mind: had Spike actually recognised him? Why did he just stand there while Ringo tried to squeeze past? Why had been smiling so strangely the whole time? No matter how many answers Ringo tried to give to himself, the whole situation only became more confusing. He felt like a teenager again, stumbling over his words and blushing at the tiniest bit of contact. It was pathetic, shameful really. Maybe if he just took John's advice and actually went and slept with someone all these weird feelings would just be gone. But he didn't want just someone, he wanted him.

#the beatles #beatles #beatles fanfic #the beatles fanfic #beatles fanfiction #george harrison/ringo starr #ringo starr/george harrison #ringo starrxgeorge harrison #george harrisonxringo starr #starrison

10 notes · View notes

today-we-will-survive · 6 years ago

Text

meet me in the tree house

Moodboard made by @snowflakeu25

BTS au-imagine

Yoongi x Reader Y/N

fluff, romance

Word Count: 3.5K

A/N: This was a request from @snowflakeu25 💜

Three knocks on his studio door.

A gruff voice, muffled by the walls enters your ears and you twist the knob and push into the room with your hip since your other hand is preoccupied carrying a shallow box of takeout containers. A boy sits in a computer chair facing a mountain of recording equipment. Speakers jut from the two corners of the ceiling. Three large monitors sit atop the mountain, an expanse of panels, keyboards, knobs and sliders filling the valley below. At the sound of you entering the room, he turns around, his mouth twitching into a quick smirk before his eyes fall to the food in your hands.

“Hey,” you say.

“Hey,” Yoongi replies spinning around fully to face the coffee table as you set the box down on its surface.

“Working hard?” you ask and take a seat on the leather couch that sits adjacent to him.

Yoongi stretches, arching his back and raising his arms in the air with a groan. “Always,” he says. “Chinese?”

“You know it.”

The two of you are quiet for a while as you work at getting all of the take out containers open and onto the coffee table. Then you pass him a pair of chopsticks before taking your own pair and grabbing the closest container. You’ve watched Yoongi become a big time producer, his songs winning award after award. You’ve seen him on tv, standing on stages, making speeches, wearing designer clothes and being adored by people that don’t know him.

Yet every Wednesday, you come to Bighit, the security guard giving you a smile and a nod of recognition and you take the elevator up to the fourth floor, carrying take out, walk down that hallway lined with albums that have gone gold and platinum before reaching the studio. And there you find him, in his baggy sweats and baggy shirt, sometimes a beanie to keep his hair out of his eyes and he’d turn and greet you with that same tired smile. He’s never treated you different. He’s never let the fame get to him. Probably because he knows how far of a fall it would be back to the bottom where he started if he were to let it all go to his head.

You moved to the city not long after Yoongi got the job at Bighit. The two of you have been best friends since you were in fourth grade, when he moved into the house next door to yours. He had a tree house in his backyard that you had been eying for a while and when his mom had forced him to come over and ask you to play, you’d been ecstatic to finally be able to see the inside of it. It was as cool as you’d thought it would be, and that was where you’d spend a lot of late nights during the summer.

As you got older, the tree house transformed from a playhouse to a safe house. If your parents were fighting or lashing out at you, you’d send a quick text to him asking him to meet you there. And by the time you climbed up the rope ladder, the hatch would already be open and Yoongi would be waiting for you, his ears open to listen or his arms open to hold you, whichever you needed. Usually, it was both.

Once he moved away after college, there wasn’t much left for you in your small town, so you followed him, getting a job in the city and hanging out whenever he was free. Which wasn’t as often lately.

“So what have you been working on?” you ask before shoving a piece of orange chicken into your mouth.

Yoongi perks up, swallowing his mouthful of food before spinning to face his desk again. “Tell me what you think of this. Then with a couple clicks of his mouse and a press of a button on one of his keyboards, the room fills with music.

You close your eyes so you’re not distracted by anything and listen to the steady rhythm as it builds. After a few measures, Yoongi’s familiar voice starts in, delivering the deep lyrics he’s become so well-known for. You can feel the smile spreading your mouth as you listen, your head automatically bobbing to the beat. You’re really enjoying the song when suddenly it cuts off and you open your eyes to find Yoongi looking at you, his hand poised on his keyboard. You frown.

“What did you stop it for?”

“I just wanted to give you a sneak peek. You can’t hear the whole song until the mixtape is done.”

“Mixtape?” you ask as your smile returns.

Yoongi smiles back and looks down at his hands shyly. “By the way, I’m making a mixtape.

You let out an excited squeal, reaching out to hit his arm over and over, his smile growing bigger with every hit. “Are you serious?” you finally ask when he’s rolled out of your reach. “You’ve been wanting to do a mixtape forever!”

“Yeah,” he chuckles and scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah, I’ve finally gotten some time to work on it so I’ve been kind of messing around, writing some stuff.”

You pick up the container of pork fried rice, poking at it as you shake your head. “I’m really excited for you, Yoongi. It’s going to be amazing.”

“I hope.”

“It will be,” you say. “You’re crazy talented.”

Just then you feel your phone vibrate in your back pocket and when you reach for it and look at the screen, you can’t help but smile. The room is silent as you type a response to the message you received.

“Who has the audacity to interrupt our Wednesday night dinner?” Yoongi asks jokingly as he wheels back over and swipes a container off of the coffee table.

You send the message and set your phone onto the table before taking another bite of rice. “Just a guy I’ve been talking to,” you say. “Sorry.”

Yoongi blinks, obviously caught off guard by your response. “Oh, no, it’s okay. I didn’t know you were talking to someone.”

“Yeah,” you say with a shy smile. “I met him at a party last weekend and, I don’t know. We got to talking and now we’ve been texting each other a bit.”

Yoonig lets out a grunt, suddenly very interested in the container he’s holding.

“I don’t know,” you say again. “I think I’m finally in a place to start wanting to date again…you know, after everything that happened with—”

“Y/N,” Yoongi says cutting you off. “It’s okay. You don’t have to talk about him. I’m glad you’re able to move on now. I’m happy for you.”

You tilt your head as you study your best friend. His words sound genuine but the sentiment doesn’t seem to reach his eyes. “Thanks,” you utter. You hear your phone vibrate against the coffee table and you watch as Yoongi’s gaze falls to it for a split second before focusing back on poking his chopstick into his food.

Y/N: So Chinese again tonight or something different?

Yoongi: Ive got a lot of work to do tonight. I dont think I can hang out.

Y/N: Oh ok. See u next week then?

Yoongi: Sure.

Y/N: Hey, did u want to go out tonight instead of me bringing something? Theres a new ramen place I wanted to try.

Yoongi: cant hang out tonight. Busy.

Y/N: …ok. Next week then? I miss u.

Yoongi: Sure.

Y/N: ok. Im kidnapping u tmrrw night. I kno u dont rlly like going anywhere on Wednesday nights since u hav to work but we havnt hung out in like 3 weeks and I want to take u to see this new horror movie with me. And I kno that telling u Im kidnapping u kind of negates the whole “kidnapping” thing but I kno u dont like surprises.

Yoongi: cant.

Y/N:…really?

Yoongi: Sorry. I have to work.

Y/N: man…ur working a lot lately, arnt u?

Yoongi: its my job, Y/N. Maybe next week.

Y/N: Next week Im going to be back home to visit some family.

Yoongi: oh ok.

Y/N: Whatever, Yoongi. If u dont want to hang out anymor, just say it.

Y/N: Or dont. Whatever.

Yoongi: hey

Yoongi: Y/N

Yoongi: I know ur mad at me but please respond.

Yoongi: Y/N I was just being an idiot.

Yoongi: Y/N

Yoongi: Please talk to me.

Yoongi: look, I kno ur reading my texts and I kno u probably wont respond but if u end up seeing this, please meet me in the tree house in like twenty minutes. Alright? Thats where Ill be. I need to talk to u.

“The tree house?” you utter as you re-read his last text. As in the one at his parent’s house? The one that’s over an hour away from the city the two of you live in now?

You’re at a family dinner at the moment but you’ve all already eaten and now your parents are just talking to your aunt and uncle and though you’re a bit reluctant to actually meet up with Yoongi (since you’re still pretty pissed at him for ditching you for the past three weeks) he’s the perfect excuse for you to duck out early. And you do just that, saying goodnight to your extended family before telling your parents that you have to run but you’ll see them back at home later. Then you head out before anyone can argue.

It’s about a thirty minute drive from the restaurant back to your house. You can’t even bring yourself to pretend to feel bad for making him wait those ten extra minutes wondering if you’re even going to show up. It serves him right. The two of you have been best friends for as long as you can remember and have been doing Wednesday night dinner together ever since he got the job at Bighit. After all this, he decides he’s too busy to hang out? He’s never been too busy. Has the fame finally gotten to his head?

A terrible thought occurs to you as you pull into the driveway at your childhood home. What if he wants to meet you to break things off? To tell you that he doesn’t have time for friends anymore. That you shouldn’t come around anymore because it’s interfering with his work. That he’s outgrown you.

With an angry jerk of the stick shift, you jam your car into park and turn off the engine, yanking the key out. You can already feel yourself getting worked up as you slam the door and stomp across the yard to Yoongi’s house. When you get through the gate and enter the backyard, your eyes trail up to the tree house where it resides in the tall maple in the middle of the lawn. The sun is almost all the way set and the sky is already turning a medium shade of blue. It’s getting dark fast and you can see golden light filtering out of the windows in the tree house. He’s there. Good.

You take a deep breath then make your way up the rope ladder. This was a lot easier when you were younger, and smaller, and you can’t help but wonder how much longer this rope will even hold. With that thought, you scurry up the last few rungs, hoping the whole time that it won’t snap on you. Then, when you poke your head up through the hole, your eyes fall on Yoongi.

He’s laying on his back, hands on his stomach and his eyes fixed on the ceiling. At the sound of your arrival, he turns his head, his gaze locking with yours.

He sits up quickly. “I thought you weren’t going to come.”

You back away from the hole in the floor until your spine rests against the wall. “I wasn’t going to but it was an excuse to duck out of dinner early.” You cross your arms. “What are you even doing here, Yoongi?”

Your best friend gets to his feet. “I wanted to talk to you about…everything.”

“Well?”

Yoongi sighs, bringing up a hand to scratch behind his ear. A nervous tick you’ve always thought was a bit endearing. “I guess I just got kind of…jealous.”

Um…

You stand there against the wall blinking for several seconds, not really sure if you heard him right. “Jealous,” you finally say. Yoongi nods. Your brow furrows and you let out a humorless laugh. “I’m sorry, Mr. Big-shot producer, what the heck would you be jealous of?”

As if on cue, your phone chimes in your pocket and Yoongi’s eyes fall to the outline of it against your thigh. You’ve still been talking to that other guy from several weeks ago and now it kind of dawns on you, just what Yoongi is jealous of. The two of you lock eyes again.

“Yoongi…”

The apples of his cheeks dust a light pink, contrasting against his pale mint hair and he shifts on his feet. “No, it’s stupid. I shouldn’t have been like that. Not when I’ve never even told you how I feel. I just wanted you to meet me here so I could tell you that I’m sorry and I want to keep doing our Wednesday night thing and you can text that guy all you want. And I know you don’t need my permission but I’m just letting you know that I won’t be a jerk about this. And I won’t start acting all weird. Date him. Marry him. I’ll still be your best friend as long as you want me to be. And if you don’t, I understand that too because what kind of person freezes their best friend out over another guy? You’re more important to me than that and…Y/N?”

His words finally trail off when he looks up and realizes you’ve been standing there gaping at him the whole time. Your heart is in your stomach and your breaths have become shallow. Are you having a panic attack? Here? In Yoongi’s tree house? In front of Yoongi?

“Y/N?” he asks again.

“What did you say?” you utter.

“What?”

“What did you say?” you ask louder. “Just now. What did you say?”

Yoongi fumbles with his hands for a second, running his fingers through his hair and switching his weight to his other foot again. “Uh…that you’re my best friend?”

“Before that.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Before that.”

“I was being stupid?”

“After that.”

Yoongi bites his bottom lip, the pink in his cheeks becoming darker. “…that I haven’t told you how I feel?”

“Yeah,” you say. “How do you feel, Yoongi?”

“I feel like…” he takes a tentative step toward you, keeping his eyes locked on yours even as the blush spreads down to his neck. “…like I’ve been in love with my best friend for the past five years.” He takes another step toward you. The tree house isn’t very big so even after just these two steps, there’s only about a foot of space between you now. “How do you feel, Y/N?” he asks, his voice much lower than it was before. You peer up at him, heat creeping up your own neck to settle on your cheeks.

“I…uh…I—” your phone chimes in your pocket again and Yoongi sucks in a sharp breath. “Give me two seconds,” you whisper then pull your phone out of your pocket with trembling fingers and check the screen. Yoongi leans in a bit to peek too. “It’s my mom,” you say and you hear him chuckle under his breath. “She wants to know if I want them to pick up ice cream on their way back.”

“Do you?” he asks leaning in more, his dark eyes now drilling into yours. You’d back up if you could but you’re already pressed against the wall.

“Do I what?” you ask him.

He hesitates for just a moment, a smile quirking the corner of his mouth. “Want ice cream?”

You both know that’s not the question he’s really asking and for a split second, your eyes dart down to his lips. You pull your own into your mouth as you try to conjure up the words. You’re already a flustered mess with this boy so close to you, looking at you the way he is, his body heat radiating across the small space between you.

“Of course I want ice cream. I frikin’ love ice cream.”

The tension in the small space seems to burst as Yoongi falls forward, his head landing on your shoulder and laughter bubbling up out of him. You can’t help but laugh too as you feel his shoulders shake against yours and then he’s wrapping his arms around your waist to keep either of you from tumbling to the floor. The room is filled with your giggling and tears have sprung to your eyes and finally, once the muscles in both of your stomachs are good and sore, he lifts his head back up.

The laughter dies down as the two of you lock eyes again. You watch with bated breath as he reaches up to brush the hair back from your forehead, his fingers sliding down the side of your face and lingering on your jaw. “Can I kiss you, Y/N?” he utters.

You don’t even hesitate to nod before he closes the small gap, his lips moulding to yours along with the rest of his body. His one hand tightens on your waist and the other slides to the back of your neck and then he’s tilting his head to kiss you deeper. Of course, then your phone chimes AGAIN causing him to jump back with a small gasp.

“Sorry,” you mumble, your head swimming as you look down at your phone still in your hand. You look back up at Yoongi again. “Flavor?”

Yoongi stands there breathing hard for a second, staring at you as he processes your question. His tongue flicks out of his mouth for just a second. “Chocolate,” he finally says breathlessly.

You type the word as fast as you can, getting frustrated when you keep screwing up, before hitting send and dropping your phone onto the rug. Then you reach out to grasp Yoongi by the shoulders, pulling him to you once again.

“Just listen to this one,” Yoongi says as he pulls you back down into his lap.

The computer chair creaks under the weight of the two of you and you grip the arms to keep from toppling over. “Yoongi, I have to go. I have to get up early for work tomorrow.”

“Just this last one,” he says and slides the headphones back onto your ears. You’ve tried taking them off for the last five songs but every time you do, he wants you to listen to just one more. This is the last one, I promise.

“Yoongi, you’re really making me seem like a jerk of a girlfriend that doesn’t want to listen to your music.”

“But you do want to listen to my music, right?”

You smile and reach up to touch your palm to his cheek. “Of course, I do,” you say. Yoongi’s mouth lifts into a gummy smile as he nuzzles your hand. “You know I’m your biggest fan.”

“I know,” he says with a contented sigh.

He’s too perfect for his own good. So talented and so soft lately. Yoongi has always been more on the reserved side. Never cold but a bit closed off, even to you. But ever since the two of you talked—if you can even call it that—in the tree house, everything has changed. He’s revealed a different side of himself to you. A softer side. A happier side. You can hear it in his music, too. How happy he’s become.

“Alright,” you say. “Just one more.”

Yoongi claps excitedly before pressing a button on his keyboard and then settling back in under you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his cheek against your arm. He loves watching your expression as you listen to his music. Loves seeing how it affects you, loves seeing the uncensored reaction. He knows you’ll always be honest with him, because you want him to give his best. Besides his colleagues, you’re the only one who’s opinion he trusts.

As you listen, Yoongi starts playing with your fingers, pressing the pads of his own against yours so you mirror his movements, and then when he glances at the screen and sees that the song is almost over, he slides his fingers through the gaps between yours and locks your hand in his. You knew he wouldn’t let you go after this song.

You shake your head until the headphones slip from your ears. “Yoongi,” you say.

“Just one more,” he says quickly and releases one of your hands to pull the headphones back up.

280 notes · View notes

angrylizardjacket · 6 years ago

Text

when i said it i thought it was true [4] {Ben Hardy}

A/N: 2973 words. Listen, I massaged the timeline a little bit, just suspend your disbelief, perhaps it only takes 4 months to be in post production. Also yes I know X-Men didn’t actually film in Egypt, but I didn’t know that at the start of this fic and now I’m sticking with my mistakes because momma didn’t raise a quitter but she did raise a fool.

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3]

“You’re not proposing to me in a sheer shirt.” The moment the makeup team leaves, you turn on Ben, amusement tugging at your lips as you cross your arms, cocking your hip.

“You don’t like it?” He asked, the picture of innocence as he fiddles with the cuff of his jacket. You raise a singular eyebrow. “I think you do like it.” He hummed, a mischievous sparkle in his eye. When you refuse to break eye contact, your silence is answer enough. “I think you like it a lot.”

It’s been almost a four months since shooting officially wrapped, two since you’d filmed the last of the pick up shots they’d needed, and a full month since you and Ben seen each other in person; you’d been busy with a Netflix series, and Ben had been in talks about a new project, and you’d been messaging every day but seeing each other in person is... well there’s something different. Playful. Easy. Somehow neither of you seem worried about the looming proposal, and are just making up for lost time.

“Love, you’ve gotta take it up with the stylist, not me.” He shrugged, as if helpless, and turned, making his way to the door, knowing without even looking that you’ll be following behind him. He’s chipper, brimming with excitement and looking damn good, and once he gets to the elevator and pushes the button, he offers you his arm while he waits.

“Marry me.” He says it suddenly, watching the numbers of the elevator tick up to your floor. There’s no-one around, and the ring is still in his pocket.

“What?” With a frown, you step into the elevator, and press the button for the lobby, still tucked up against him.

“What if we just show up engaged?” He asks, hand in his pocket where he’s fiddling with the ring box. He’s not nervous, just contemplative.

“And deprive Swarovski of their moment?” You scoffed, and he tipped his head to look at you, eyebrows raised in exasperated amusement.

“I know you hate the ring, ‘too gaudy, too ostentatious by half’, isn’t that what you said?” He snickers after doing as half decent imitation of you. Giving him a shove, you duck your head to hide your embarrassed smile.

“It’s so ‘look at me! Look at me!’” You huff, and he can’t help but laugh at that. The sound of it, in person rather than over Skype, made you feel, for lack of a better phrase, like you were home. Not that there really was a better phrase, you just didn’t want to think about or admit how much you’d missed him.

“Sorry to say, dude, but there’s nothing more ‘look at me! Look at me!’ than a red carpet proposal.” And yeah, okay, maybe he had a point, but that was one night, you had to wear that ring until... they hadn’t told you the DVD release date, but you’re pretty sure it was some time in the New Year. When you bring this up, he just rolls his eyes. “You’re not the one getting down on one knee for a fake proposal; I’m gonna look like an idiot when this is all over.”

“Well fine, if you’re so worried, I’ll propose.” Instead of dwelling on his words, you step away, holding your hand out expectantly. When he just stares at you, bewildered, you motion for him to hand the ring box over, and he finally cracks a grin, shaking his head.

“If you think I’m gonna be caught dead in that ring you’re wrong.” He spluttered, and you can’t help but laugh at that.

“Fine, I won’t take your first proposal away from you.” You hum with a smile, tucking yourself back against him. He goes very quiet. It takes you a few moments, but you look up at him, brow furrowed. He seems lost in his own thoughts. “It- Ben you’ve never been engaged before, I feel like I’d know if you had been.” Your words snap him out of his trance and he looks at you with wide, bright eyes, and an unconvincing smile.

“Yeah, no, I would have told you by now otherwise.” The silence that falls around you in not a comfortable one, and you’re glad when the elevator comes to a stop. “I got close once, though.” He admits, quietly. You don’t know how to respond to that; you hadn’t considered how much those words would hurt. You want to ask with who, but you already felt an unreasonable rush of jealousy at the thought of someone else stealing his heart enough for him to want to be with them forever. Unreasonable jealousy.

Filming for X-Men started a week ago and he’s only called you once; he’s on a film lot somewhere in Canada and his hair is curly and god he looks cute but the apartment feels so empty. He’s bright eyed and excited. He’s rambling about how busy he is, and he’s still wearing his makeup. The call lasts five minutes; the cast are going out for dinner. You tell him to have fun, but you’re heart’s not in it; he can sense it, and promises to call you tomorrow, before he hangs up.

He doesn’t call, part of you isn’t surprised.

“Marry me.” He asks again, voice low in your ear. The others in the car can’t hear him, but part of you is afraid they might. They don’t technically know it’s not a real relationship, though part of you thinks Gwilym has his doubts, not that he’d ever voice them.

“Not the time.” You shoot him a warning look, and he just slings an arm around you, leaning back in his seat.

“You’ll regret not letting me be low-key about it.” He warns in return, giving you a blithe smile, and you narrow your eyes at him.

“Low-key about what?” Lucy asks, and you elbow Ben in the ribs. He keeps smiling, though his mischievousness slides to something more fond as he actually looks at you.

“About anything.” You say by way of explanation, and though she, along with the rest of the car, still look confused, they don’t push it. There’s reporters everywhere when you get out of the car, and you and Ben are the last ones out.

“Last chance before this becomes a spectacle.” He murmurs when he steps out after you, straightening the back of your dress just a little, and he sounds amused, but there’s something genuine in his voice, and you take a moment to pause, turning back to him. His hands land on your hips, his touch light, and his expression is so familiar it hurts, and you realise he is a little nervous; it’s a very public setting for what should be a very private matter. With cameras going off all around you, you pull him in for a kiss, and he relaxes somewhat, kissing you back with his grip tightening on your hips.

“We’re being paid to be a spectacle.” You remind him, and he nods, smiling softly, and the two of you make your way down the red purple carpet together. You have to stop every few feet to do interviews, and soon enough you had pulled ahead of Ben; he had a much larger part in the film that you did, it wasn’t surprising the reporters wanted to monopolise him. It still felt strange, to turn and not have him there. Sometimes you’d do interviews with the other boys, sometimes he’ll be there, and as the main photo area loomed, you could finally feel the butterflies in your stomach.

Soon.

Perhaps too soon.

“What do you mean you’re going to Egypt?” You snapped, wishing your internet connection was better so he could see you glaring clearly.

“I told you about it ages ago.” Ben sighs, clearly tired. It’s there in his eyes, how drained he is, how hard he’s been working, and your expression softens.

“That’s exciting,” you force yourself to take a breath, it was the first time you two had spoken that fortnight, neither of you needed this to be hostile. The days had started feeling so long when you don’t hear from him; all you want is a damn hug and he’s on the other side of the world. “What if I come visit you?”

“In Egypt?” He asks, eyebrows raised.

“In Egypt.” You confirm, a weak smile on your face, he doesn’t look thrilled by the process.

“Don’t bother.” He sighs, and the moment he sees your expression fall, he realises how his words had sounded, and he’s sitting up straight, panicked look on his face, spluttering his way through an apology. “I didn’t mean it like that, I’m just busy and it’s going to be hot and-”

“No, I get it.” Your dejected sigh was followed by a yawn, and you hovered over the end call button. “When you’re less tired I think we should talk.” You tell him, and you see the confusion, fear, and resignation pass over his face in quick succession.

He agrees quietly, and neither of you really say goodbye before hanging up.

He was tapping on your shoulder as you were halfway through talking to E! News, and you’ve never been more anxious and excited in your life, and never so thankful to not be at the main photo area on a red carpet. His timing was perfect.

“So sorry, could I borrow Y/N for a minute?” He smiles charmingly at the reporter, and his expression softens when he sees the relief in your eyes.

Before he even starts, it feels off, feels wrong, feels like a performance for the cameras more than anything else.

“Don’t get teary on me, I know how hard your makeup artists worked.” He begins, and you make sure the cameras catch your surprised confusion. He’s takes one of your hands in his, linking your finger together, and the other holds your face. There’s a moment that passes between you two, his expression softens as he looks in your eyes and it’s as if he’s looking past everything that had happened, the whole setup you’d found yourself in; he was seeing you.

“This is probably the biggest night of my life,” he starts, taking a deep breath, “for more than one reason; you’re my best friend, you’ve been there for some of the highest points in my life, and some of the lowest. I know you, Y/N, I feel like I’ve known you my whole life, and I want to. I want you there by my side for the rest of it,” it sounds... so much more planned out than you’d expected, so much more heartfelt, and you’d be damned if there weren’t tears in your eyes. Despite the fact that this very private moment had a huge audience, which included a reporter muttering ‘holy shit, is this what I think it is?’, you could only see him. Damn if it didn’t feel real.

“I love you; I’ve loved your since-” his voice catches in his throat, and you see a hint of pain flash across his face before he’s smiling again, “since I first saw you in that damn wig they put you in,” it sounds like an addendum, like he doesn’t really mean it, or like it’s not the whole truth, but it’s enough to make you laugh, and when you look down to hide your embarrassed smile, your tears fall from your eyes, “since you agreed to all of this,” he gestures to himself with a self-deprecating grin, though his double meaning is not lost on you, though his expression turns serious after a moment, “since I first kissed you on set, though that feels like a long time ago.” Your breath catches in your throat, and he sounds like he hadn’t mean to say that last part, his voice too raw, his heart too honest for it to be a truly fake statement. You can do little more than whisper his name in reverence. Gently, so gently, he lifts your head, his thumb wiping the tear track from your cheek.

“Marry me?” It’s a question this time, and when you look at him with confusion, disbelief written on your face at the way he chose to word it, he laughs softly, sinking to one knee and pulling out the ring box, and revealing the single most frivolous ring you’d ever had the displeasure of seeing. “Will you marry me?” He corrects softly.

The crowd behind you is going absolutely mad behind you, and cameras are going off at an almost blinding rate, but his eyes don’t leave yours. Nodding, you can’t even form words, so caught up in the moment, and he stands, pulling you into a kiss. The flash of cameras surround you like a sea of stars and Ben’s the only thing keeping you on solid ground. His grip is tight enough that he almost lifts you off the ground, and you’re on your tiptoes with his arms around you before his grip loosens, his hands sliding down the small of your back, and for the first time since this whole fake relationship began, he doesn’t hesitate before he deepens the kiss. He tastes like mint and you’re so glad you’re wearing that twenty-four hour lipstick or you know you’d be a mess, and when you pull back, you’re both out of breath, looking at each other with a something akin to awe in your eyes.

You’re pretty sure, in this moment, you love him; nothing fake about it. And you can see it in his eyes that he loves you too. This is dangerous territory for you both.

Stepping back, he takes your hands again.

“I told you not to cry, love.” He laughs gently, voice so soft as you dab at your eyes with your right hand, watching as he slides the ring onto the ring finger of your left hand.

“What can I say, you have a way with words; how long were you working on that speech.” You sniffle, grinning brightly as you examine the ring, still holding his hand. After a beat too long of silence, you look up to see him smiling softly at you.

“A while.” He admits, and something about the way he says it makes your chest ache. The moment passes and he looks down at your joined hands. “That’s fucking hideous.” He whispers, shaking his head at the sight of the ring, and you giggle, preferring to throw your arms around him, kissing him again.

The two of you are the last two to arrive at the formal photo area, with the logo backdrop, and Joe’s grin is confused where he greets you both at the edge of where everyone was in a line getting a group shot.

“What was all the commotion over there?” He asked quietly, and Ben stepped into position easily, slipping an arm around Joe’s shoulders and pulling you in. You were still beaming, you couldn’t help yourself.

“We got engaged.” Ben murmurs to Joe, careful not to draw attention to them, which was immediately counteracted by Joe’s loud ‘What the fuck?!’ “Calm down, man, we didn’t want to take all the focus off of the premiere, you know?”

As soon as the big group shot was taken, you stepped off to the side as the four boys had their photos taken, and you could see Joe murmuring to the others, while Ben just smiled for the cameras and tried not to blush.

Photos were taken with Brian and Roger, of Rami and Lucy, and even some of you and Ben, and when you posed, you both had an arm around each other, and you leaned into him, resting your hand on his chest with your ring on clear display.

There’s congratulations all around as you’re heading into the theatre, but the biggest shock of the night comes in the form of Roger Taylor wrapping you up in a hug while you’re still glowing with pride.

“Before we go in, I want you to know you did an incredible job, dear. You’re a stunning performer and I never had any doubts about you.” As he says it, you can feel Ben give your hand a gentle squeeze. You’re pretty sure you’ve got shock written all over your face. “I’m very proud of you both.” He claps Ben on the shoulder, and Ben thanks him quietly. It looks as though he’s about to head in, but he turns back. “Be good to her, you hear?” He says to Ben sternly, but there’s a glimmer of fondness in his eyes, and Ben rolls his eyes good-naturedly. He’s still holding your hand.

“What was that?” You breathed as soon as Roger had left; you feel like you’ve been doused in cold water, though you can’t help but smile.

“Well I think he definitely approves of you playing Amanda.” Ben moves to wrap an arm around you as the two of you head into the theatre, searching for your seats. “And I think... I think he gave us his blessing?” That sounds more confused than anything else, and you don’t know how to respond one way or the other, apart from softly laughing as you sit down next to Lucy. Part of you, the largest part that had stayed sane and not drunk on this fake engagement, is pretty sure Roger’s going to be the hardest to break it to, when everything’s over; part of you worries that without Ben, you’ll lose his approval, which you didn’t realise you’d been craving until you’d received it. There’s an anxiety that builds in your chest as the lights go down, but Ben’s hand is in yours and you lean your head on his shoulder, and you can ignore that little worry for now.

the rat pack: @hotspacedeacon @strangeandwonderfulconcepts @itssaje @d-r-e-a-m-catchme @callumidiot @rockandrollandshit @bohorap @pietrorunsforme @sweetfierceimagines @itsjackothy @mhftrs @sherlockiantheatrenerd @softbenhardy @multifandomgirlrandomstuff @virtualsheepeat @smile-nine @i-padfootblack-things @deaconsroger @spookyfrances @holyurlbatman @your-idiotic-excellency @cosmicsskies @chlobo6 @screaminggalileochickenwrites

(crossed out means it wouldn’t tag; i’ll try again for the next part, lemme know if you wanna be tagged xx)

#ben hardy #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy x reader #bohemian rhapsody #borhap #bo rhap #borhap imagine #borhap cast #borhap cast imagine #bohemian rhapsody imagine #the angry lizard writes

276 notes · View notes

letstalksymphogear · 5 years ago

Text

Symphogear, EP.7 (Cont.)

“i have not now, nor ever, liked this creepy ass church elevator.”

“kanade please get out of my head, just because im hungry doesnt mean you have to tell me every time i am”

Hibiki finishes getting a full body X-ray. She’s fine.

“that anime protagonist immunity is really kicking in well!”

“by the way, your wife is here! and she’s looking mighty miffed., as opposed to me, mighty milfed.”

“you dont strike me as a mother figure but ill play along for now”

“i just hope miku’s okay...”

“oh, she’ll be fine! see, i’ve seen these kinds of plots before. big secret revealed, another lover is shown, the victim watches as they’re thoroughly cheated on, and they get to lik-”

“please stop breathing”

Genjuro’s wasting away again in Margaritaville. Looking for some daughter to adopt. SOME PEOPLE SAY THAT THERE’S A, WOOOOMAAAAAN TO BLAAAAAAAAAAME, BUT HE KNOWS

XYLOPHONE RIFF

THAT’S IT’S ALL HIS FAULT

XYLOPHONE RIFF

“i hate it when he gets like this. jimmy buffets not a good look for him.”

“for once you and i agree. seeing the commander sulk like this like a middle aged perma-tourist is genuinely miserable”

“hey homies! im back and i brought some bitches! oh, jesus, why does this place smell like mistakes in miami?”

“its me. im sorry. every time i feel like i failed as a dad, my anti-dad energies manifest. imagine every midlife crisis rolled up into a single ball, smacked into the face for eternity. thats the depth of my pain for failing this girl.”

In a moment of positivity, the friendship between Tsubasa and Hibiki is cemented.

> Tsubasa has joined the party.

“FRIENDSHIP!”

“fweindship.”

“uuuuhhhhh... dadship? yeah thats close enough.”

“WE’RE ALL GOOD FRIENDS!”

“ya tiddies are ringing again, better go get it”

Ryoko also points out that Hibiki’s relic is fusing with herself at an alarming rate. This is important to keep in mind.

Meanwhile, at night.

Miku is posing in the motherly “you done fucked up, where have you been young lady” position. A cold scolding is coming.

“.........................hey miku......”

“you can come in. are you worried im gonna bite? you suplexed a car. that shouldn’t be an issue anymore.”

“miku, i.... i wanted to tell you.... but.... the plot wouldn’t let me, miku....”

“should’ve told the plot to fuck off anyway. now you’re gonna live with that. you’re sleeping... on the bottom bunk.”

“b.... b..... b...... b.... b...... bottom bunk...?”

They slept separately that night. God, this is so stupid. All of this is so goddamned stupid. “I’m so mad at you even though you saved my life.” This is just so. AUGH. THIS IS DUMB. KANEKO WRITE BETTER ANGST THAT MAKES SENSE THAT ISN’T THIS.

Meanwhile, far away from this garbage...

Chris, having been evicted from Fine’s McMansion, wanders the streets of mumblemumble aimlessly. Don’t be fooled by her new fancy dress. Basically, she’s a combat-competent hobo.

“no food. no home. no victories. this sucks. whyd you do it, fine? we coulda been great together. but no. ya fired me. now i look like im prancing the red light district with a highly advanced superweapon around my neck.”

“no... hibiki’s to blame. ever since that genderbent little mac showed up to fight me, it’s been all downhill. fine thought me a laughstock because i couldnt take out her oversized boxing gloves, and now she beat me while i had nehushtan. god... i wish i never met that damn hamster faced chubby cheeked nerd.”

“wait, whats that crying”

Chris spies two kids talking to each other, one of them crying. Chris immediately makes an assumption, believing the big bro is bullying his sis.

“hey! stop nicking her lunch money, twerp”

Chris currently is a firm believer of corporeal punishment.

But the sister deflects the blow. Chris can’t even defeat children right now. Truly, this is a record low for her. You know you blew it when even kids are schooling you on basic morality. She then tells the little girl to stop crying, ironically mirroring her brother.

The infamous double T-Pose maneuver. Chris, you might as well get a shovel and start digging your own grave.

“i keep doing bad things badly, and now im doing good things badly... when fine said i was bad... did she just mean im not talented?”

Chris, finally, does a good thing and helps these kids find their parents.

“yeah. hibiki saved a kid when she got her gear. guess what? bam! im saving two! that’s fifty percent more kid per kid saved. take that, weirdo.”

The kids call her out on Chris singing unconsciously, and Chris gets flustered over it. Dawwwwww.

Chris manages to get them to safety to their Dad...

...while brutally lying about it, making Chris look like a predator. There’s a very crushing irony at play here, given who Chris used to serve.

“ugggggggggggggggghhhhhh hes not even gonna payyyyy meeeeeee why the fuck did i dooooo thiiiiiiissssss”

“hey, you know. you kids have a really nice relationship with one another. care to give me tips on how to be an empathetic human being capable of making friends?”

“maybe we’re born with it”

“maybe its maybeline”

“maybeline...”

Meanwhile...

A cold wind blows through Lydian Apartment 69-L. (I don’t actually know if that’s their room number, I just made it up.)

“jesus take the wheel, because i’m jumping out the passenger seat to save this current wreck of a relationship”

“miku please i saved your life, doesnt that count for anything”

“you already killed me the moment you lied. also im taking the bottom bunk so i dont have to see your face coming down the ladder.”

“miku you cant hide in this depression den forever. i know i hurt you and im sorry for it, but please understand i literally couldnt do it. you saw there were punches and violence and stuff... i didnt want you tied to that...”

“what was that? i cant hear your apologies over my incredibly loud snoring. SNOOOOOOORE. SNOOOOOOOORE. SNOOO- fuck, i just swallowed my spit, fuck”

“i hope this cocoon of displeasure you’ve made for yourself lets you erupt into a butterfly of acceptance so i can fly with you again.”

“......thats not fair. you cant say those beautiful metaphors and get away with it. let me be mad... sniff... let me be mad...”

Sadness wafts in the den of lies Hibiki has been forced into.

No music plays. There is only heartbreak, and woe.

In the midst of this pain...

Ryoko loredumps about how the Symphogears work and are immune to the noise on her blog, ‘hornyonmainforscience.org’, her hybrid science journal slash kink zone. It’s mostly a recap with some pretty good soft techno beats in it.

“i made a custom brew of red bull, five hour energy drink, coffee, and cream. i call it gamer girl piss.”

“damn. that’s some good piss.”

She muses about how Hibiki has managed to break the limitations of her Symphogear, making her a totally unique specimen. Wait, where have we heard this before...?

Hey... Ryoko... let’s just... cool it a bit with the Hibiki pictures... come on...

Ryoko touches upon the Custodians and the Curse of Babel. We ain’t touching that shit until later, because that’s another shitfuck box of crazy just ready to jump us in a dark alleyway to rob us of our wits.

Back to Lydian:

“miku whats the answer to the first three multiple choice questions”

“B. A. D.”

“oh, thanks. huh, BAD.”

“yeah. you are.”

“mmm. taste likes dissapointment. just like my life.”

“hey table for two haha get it cause there’s two chairs and miku for the love of god, please, forgive me”

“ive surgically removed my eyes and drew eyelashes over them with sharpie so i dont have to see your bird bangs.”

“thats very rude to both me and my hair. also, wig.”

Even Hibiki’s meal is judging her. Mainly for not eating it. Fucking look at this. God, that looks amazing. Fuck, why did I write this while I was hungry.

“miku you cant do this forever. i might die and youll end up crying on my tombstone going ‘oh god, why, oh god’, and really, i cant live with myself if that happens. mainly because id already be dead by then”

The Anime Janai crew show up to break some icebergs with a goddamn sledgehammer. As the self-aware Gods of this realm, they got very tired of this poor display of angst, and have decided to directly intervene.

Nevermind. They came for her kneecaps, and they most certainly got them.

PLEASE. I’M BEGGING YOU. END THIS GARBAGE PLOT THREAD.

“look. imma lay down the facts. yall are gay. yall are in love. yall are angry for the wrong reasons. its nobody’s fault here but the writer. so please kiss and make up. pretty please.”

“kaneko... you fool... we all know what the original sin is. its your hack writing making this stupidity in the first place. let the pencil go, asshole!”

They bring up the fact that Hibiki isn’t doing her work and wonder if she has a job on the side, which isn’t allowed by the school. Miku gets annoyed and bails, with Hibiki running after her. Unfortunately, Miku runs faster...

“oh god miku not the rooftop whatever you’re thinking just dont do it! please!”

“no. i came here to angst, since this is the Maximum Angst Zone.”

“i..... okay! okay, that’s fair! rooftops are the perfect place to look sad while getting proper air ventilation, thats fine”

It really would have been better played if it was played off that she felt hurt not because of the lie, but because she felt like she could have helped her better having known the truth, and it being a self-loathing sort of scenario for not being there better for her and not fully understanding the risk at play.

But no, instead, we get this.

youtube

Absolutely obliterated. A heart ripped, shredded, and sent to the Shadow Realm.

The episode ends on that note, but has a post credit scene.

Naked. On an old timey telephone. On a computer. Wearing stockings and long gloves.

The main antagonist of the series, everybody.

She’s talking the best English possible to some random-ass American when suddenly bursting through the scene is none other than:

“I WANT WORKERS COMPENSATION YOU BITCH, BEFORE I UNIONIZE YOUR NAKED ASS”

“AND I WANT A GOOD REFERNECE FOR MY FUTURE EMPLOYER, AND ALSO A SEVERANCE PACKAGE SINCE I’M FUCKING HOMELESS”

“i paint my eyelashes with mascara made from the tar of freshly carbonated corpses manufactured through noise, what on gods green earth compels you to think id give a rats ass about you?”

“so you never cared, huh! you’re just a nasty naked hedonist trying to- trying to- what the fuck are you even trying to do?!”

“i want to live the dream every spicy little fossil like me yearns for.”

“I WANNA FUCK GOD!”

“how- what? what? how do you even- what? are you- do you want to be the pope? is that it? does the pope get to fuck god? are you- is this a larping thing? you’ve really been into larping lately! i don’t like this!”

“youve never read the old testament, have you. ass out, pussy bare, hips up and barefoot. that’s how god’s always liked it.”

“now get lost, punk. you tipped off my hand to genjuro and now you being here is going to ruin everything. if you still feel any semblance of devotion, eat one of your own bullets and call it a day.”

“it’s 2012 bitch, if the mayans dont get you, I WILL”

“what god gives, He takes away, and so do i. i built you from the ground up. your relic, which was good for jack shit on you. the nehushtan, which you failed to do anything with except zap a couple hundred people. stop wars? you’re a walking war, waged by me, for me. and your cartridge has just run out of bullets.”

“uh oh! hand’s acting up again! better bail before i send you back to smacktown where all the bitter little shittalkers like you strut around spending their lives being useless as hell.”

“ah fuck, im not dealing with no manos: the hands of fate bullshit again”

“and guess what else i got on motherfucker”

“i see the union efforts have officially been busted. understandable, have a nice day ma’am”

“LEAVE.”

“I’M GOING, I’M GOING”

#symphogear #symphogear season 1 #anime #recap #comedy

20 notes · View notes

negasonicimagines · 6 years ago

Text

TEAM (Part Two)

I forgot to mention that this fic is partially inspired by Lorde’s “Team,” hence the title. Kind of about how no matter how much you and the other characters here bicker, you’re all on each others’ team.

This is the second part to TEAM (Part One) [but I hope that’d be obvious] and therefore is inspired by the same request and has essentially the same trigger warnings.

“So, you and Ellie, huh? About time,” Logan remarks, and you feel yourself blush.

“No! It’s not like that! I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’d be the luckiest girl in the world, but, uh… No, it’s not like that.”

“Are you sure about that? I’ve seen the way you two are together. When she’s not looking at you or her phone, she’s watching everyone else like a hawk, like they’re threats. Honestly, Piotr’s worried about her.”

At the mention of Wade’s friend, you’re reminded of what Logan said before, about the thing that he knew that he shouldn’t tell her, the thing Wade also knew.

“What was that, anyway? The thing you knew that you didn’t know before that you would’ve told me if you had but couldn’t tell me?”

“I’m afraid that’s Wade’s business.”

“Great,” you remark. “So, I’ll never know.”

“Listen, kid, I know the stuff he said-”

“Screamed.”

“The stuff he screamed at you was pretty fucking awful. But… He had his reasons, okay? Being around him, being as close to him as you were was dangerous. It made you a target,” Logan explains.

“When will you people realize that I can’t die forever?! I’ve died plenty of times, and I always come back! Let me make my own decisions!”

“How many times have you died, Y/N?” Logan asks.

“It’s just… Hard not to starve when my mom kicks me out over school breaks, especially with the metabolism that comes with a healing factor. I can’t stay with Wade all the time, he has himself and Al to worry about. Muggers don’t like when you don’t have money. Mom doesn’t like me when I don’t have money. I don’t know, probably like eight or nine times.”

“You should’ve come here!” Logan scolds, and you want to curl in on yourself, just like before. “I’m sorry. He and I both know just how much dying can fuck you up, so, to hear you say that you’ve died.... And that you don’t care if you do? It’s concerning, to say the least.”

“Boo-hoo, Y/N’s crazy. Who isn’t?” you remark, annoyed at his concern. Men, they always think they know better.

He sighs. “Listen. You should just talk to him, I’m sure-”

“No,” you say, and it comes out as a whimper. The wound was still fresh. “I don’t want to.”

“Hey, he’s not gonna hurt you,” Logan reassures you. “He probably feels bad for what he said, and-”

“I said no,” you cut him off, but the sad tone in your voice doesn’t make you sound very convincing.

“And he’s not gonna apologize unless he thinks you wanna hear it. You know how Wade gets when he feels guilty, he doesn’t know how to deal with it.”

“Well, I don’t wanna hear an apology. I just want him to be my friend again, like before. That’s it. I don’t care to know why, or how, or whatever. I just miss my friend,” you admit, and Logan sighs.

“Okay...”

“Is it alright if I go? I wanna get started on my Chemistry homework.”

“Yeah,” Logan says. “Go ahead. See you next Wednesday. Or, sooner, if you need anything.”

You leave the gym, making your way to your dorm with your head down, when you bump into a familiar red-suited man.

“Sorry,” you squeak, not even able to meet the eyes of the mask, before attempting to go past him. He stops you, grabbing at your shoulder, but you flinch away. “Please d-don’t…”

“Y/N…” Wade murmurs, filled with remorse at his rampage. He’d made you scared of him, which means it worked, but he regrets how much it hurt you. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“You’re not, huh?” Ellie, swiftly approaching, asks. “Pretty sure you already did, Deadpool.”

“I just wanted-” he starts, but Ellie, your avenging angel, cuts him off.

“You just wanted what, huh? To terrorize them more, is that it?

“Terrorize? I-”

“You what? Didn’t? Because as someone who sleeps in the same room as Y/N, I can confirm that you did. They cry in their sleep like they did the day it happened. Did you know that, that you made them cry? I guess you do now. So, leave, before I decide I’m going to follow you out the door and blow you to Hell.”

“E-Ellie, I said not to hurt him,” you quietly tell her, and she clenches her fists, grumbling.

“You did?” Wade asks.

“Of course,” you respond meekly, tapping the tips of your fingers together and avoiding the gaze of everyone around you. and Ellie places an arm around you, glaring at Wade without mercy.

“I’m- I’m so sorry, Y/N. I- I just didn’t know what to do, so much was happening. I was so angry at the situation, so scared for your safety, and I took all that aggression out on you, the one person I should’ve been channeling those feelings into protecting, and I- I know I already said it, but I’m a blabbermouth with nothing else to say, so… I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry, kid. I know you probably don’t care, you just wanna start over and stay the hell away from me, but I’m sorry. And my door’s always open.”

“Thank you. I forgive you,” you nod, smiling a little, You’re already starting to feel better, more like yourself.

“You what?” Ellie questions, shaking with anger. “He hurt you. He shouldn’t ever be forgiven.”

“She’s right,” Wade agrees, head down.

“Well, it’s my forgiveness, and I can do whatever the hell I want with it,” you remind them, shrugging.

“There she is,” Wade says quietly, and you can somehow tell that he’s smiling. You don’t know if it’s body language, tone of voice, or what, but he’s smiling.

“I’m sorry for making you worry. I’m gonna keep living here, and I’m gonna keep taking better care of myself, so no one has to worry about me again,” you inform him.

“Wrong goal, but I appreciate the method. I don’t mind worrying about you, kid, but I’d rather worry about you not doing your homework than about the next time you’re gonna collapse on my porch, dead.”

“What?” Ellie wonders, and you groan. “Wait, have you died?”

“Goddammit, Wade,” you grumble. “She didn’t know that.”

“H-how?”

“Not important,” you tell her.

“No, it is, Y/N. You want all of us to get over the fact that you can die, but the truth is that you need to get over the fact that we care if you die,” Wade corrects you. There’s no malice in his tone, but the words themselves cause anxiety to slither out of the pit of your stomach like a snake and curl around your lungs and heart, maintining a tight grip.

“It’s because of you not eating or sleeping enough, isn’t it?” Ellie asks. “That’s what you guys were in that fight about the other morning, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” you admit, and Ellie closes her eyes, taking a deep, shaky breath and trying to remain calm for your sake, for her own sake.

“Right,” she responds, sighing. “Well, I’m not letting that happen again.”

“Challenge accepted,” you chuckle, and she rolls her eyes.

“I was just on my way back to Photography. Forgot my camera. See you later.”

She makes her way in the direction of the classroom, disappearing around a corner.

“Man, if she didn’t hate me before, she sure does now,” Wade says, and you smile, shaking your head. “Really?” he asks.

“Photography is Mondays and Thursdays… And she didn’t even have her camera.”

Wade scoffs. “Well, she’s definitely taking good care of you. I always knew she would, one day. When did you two finally make it official? I’m sorry that I missed it.”

“We haven’t made anything official, Wade, she doesn’t like me like that. We’re just close friends.”

He rolls his eyes, going to playfully shove your shoulder, but you flinch away. He sighs.

“I’m sorry,” he says again. “I- I was so cruel, I just wanted to say whatever i could to get you away, to protect you, from m-”

“From what? The thing Logan keeps talking about?”

“What thing?” he asks, sounding a bit panicked.

“He keeps saying that there’s this thing he knows that he would’ve told me if he’d known before but he shouldn’t tell me now. It’s super weird, but he said you were going to tell me before you- You-” You stop yourself from continuing, still, shaking a little bit at the memory. It was only the day before yesterday.

“Yeah,” he responds quietly. “It was part of the reason I did that. I just- Us being friends was already dangerous, and you being- You- You’re- I- I’m so sorry I left you with her, if I’d known, if I’d known she was pregnant...I would’ve done the right thing! I’m not that kind of dirtbag, you’ve gotta believe me, and I’m just so, so sorry. Everything that’s wrong with your life, maybe it wouldn’t have happened if I’d just thought- If I’d just thought, but I was young, and stupid, and there’s nothing I can do now except own up to it, own up to the fact that I- I am- I’m- Oh, please…” He practically falls into you, wrapping his arms around your neck. You feel him shake with sobs, and you cry, too, but with a different emotion. Not regret, but happiness.

“You? You’re him?” you ask, and he readjusts himself, backing away from you.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve asked before hugging, I just didn’t think it was gonna be so hard, and you’re my best friend, and I- I don’t know, I don’t know. I’m so sorry that I’m your father.”

“You are? You’re sorry?” you ask, knowing that he’s apologizing because he regrets it, regrets you and your entire existence.

“Not in the way you’re thinking! You- You deserve so much better, I wanted so much better for you,” he reassures you, or, at least, attempts to.

“How do you even know?”

“I just… I talked to Xavier to see if he had any connections that could help me find your father, and he said he did, but he insisted that I give him a sample of my DNA to see if they match before he used his connections. I laughed it off, but then… it was a match.”

“How’d you get my DNA?” You wonder.

“Oh, I stuck a cotton swab in your mouth while you were sleeping. Wasn’t hard, you’re a really heavy sleeper,” he says, and you have a faint memory of the dream you had about a week ago where you were abducted by aliens that wanted to harvest your DNA to create genetically modified pet humans for their home planet. You laugh.

“So, you found out it was a match, and then… You were angry about it? Hated that the Wilson family legacy wasn’t going to end with you?”

“No. I was angry, yeah, but at myself. I was irresponsible, and my best friend in the whole world sufferred because of it. I never recognized your mom the times I’d seen her, and we had sex!”

“You had sex with my mom? Bro code violation alert!” you joke, and he chuckles bitterly.

“Right?” he responds. “But… I don’t even know where to go from here. Things can’t go back to normal, that’s not okay. I need to step up. And, even if it was the right thing to do, going back to normal… I get the feeling that you’re not gonna be that comfortable around me for a while. I was… I was just like my dad. My worst fucking fear.”

“You’re not him, okay? I promise.”

“I should be comforting you,” he says, stepping towards you. Out of renewed instinct, you step back. He’s heartbroken.

“Try- Try not to take it personally, I’m like this with just about everybody,” you attempt to make him feel better, but he shakes his head.

“You haven’t been like this with me, not before- Before I did what I did. Said those things, those awful, untrue things. Why did I say those things? They weren’t the truth, they were the opposite of it. I love hearing from you, it makes every day better. Finding you on my couch is a great feeling, knowing that someone as great as you trusts me, sees me as someone who can keep them safe.”

“And my memes?” You ask in a sarcastically accusatory tone.

“The funniest,” he replies. “Can I- Can I give you a hug?”

You nod, and he surges forward, wrapping you up in his arms and spinning you around.

“I always hoped it’d be like that,” you quietly admit, and he beams.

“Listen, we can talk later at dinner. I think you’ve got a certain girl you need to talk to, and she and her metal accomplice are approaching.”

“I think she’s his accomplice,” you correct with a laugh.

“Gotta bounce before the hardest guy on Earth ropes me into another mission. I’ll be back, though, kid.”

“Yeah. See you soon…”

“Wade’s fine for now, unless you wanna call me something else. We can negotiate later, ‘kay? Love you, bye.” Wade scurries down the hall, not realizing that he’s going towards the dorms, not the exit.

“Wade Wilson!” calls Piotr from behind you, and you turn around to see that Ellie is far closer to you than she is to Piotr, having gone faster on her smaller, lighter legs.

“Uh, hello…” you say dumbly.

“Based on your expression, I’d say that discussion went well.”

“Very well. Thank you for giving him the opportunity to talk to me alone, I’m sure you didn’t wanna do that.”

“I didn’t, but I figured it was the best option. Tell me more on the way to the dorm.”

“Well, uh… He apologized, a lot. Not just for the fights.”

“For letting you die?”

“No. Worse.”

“Holy shit, what’d he do, and why haven’t I heard about it?” She asks, tense.

“Because I didn’t know,” you reply defensively. “He’s- He’s my biological father, Ellie.”

“Whoa… Seriously? How long has he known?”

“I don’t know, but not long, the DNA tests were recently. He just wanted to help me find my dad and when he asked Xavier if he had any way of helping, the Professor said that he had to submit a sample to be tested. Turn’s out the old man’s hunch was right. You… You still wanna be friends, right?”

“Yeah, of course, why wouldn’t I?” Ellie wonders.

“I just- I know you don’t like Wade very much, and I’m technically his daughter, so…”

“So? That doesn’t mean I don’t love you anymore,” Ellie argues, and then covers her mouth.

“You love me?”

“Yeah, but just, like, in a friend way,” she plays it off rather smoothly, in her opinion, but you sigh in disappointment before you can stop yourself. “Wait, do you love me in a not-friend way?”

“Not really sure what you wanna hear,” you respond, feeling the recently-sealed cracks in your heart refracturing.

“Do you?” she asks.

You’re silent as the two of you walk to your shared dorm.

“Y/N, I asked you a question. Do you love me as a friend, or as more?”

You feel overheated and nauseous, that’s how nervous you are. You attempt to take some steadying breaths before answering: “More.”

“Oh, thank god…” she sighs. “I- I told you on Monday, when you fell asleep with me. But you were asleep, so, you didn’t hear me… Duh… I sound so stupid right now, don’t I?”

“No, not at all! Jeez, today just keeps getting better and better, I mean it!” You exclaim.

“Can- Can I kiss you?” Ellie asks nervously, and your eyes widen, but you nod. She takes your face in her hands and just goes for it, pressing her lips to yours. You respond immediately, wrapping your arms around her neck while her hands slip past your face and into your hair, tugging gently. You let out a small, quiet moan at that, and you can feel her smirk a little. She kisses you faster, pushing her body closer to yours, and your knees give out. She catches you in the nick of time, laughing a bit at how easily flustered you are as she nudges you toward the bed, sitting there with you. “Your knees are right, we probably shouldn’t rush into things.”

“Yeah…” you admit, resting your head on her shoulder.

“I love you…” She mumbles. “I’ve loved you for a long time, actually.”

“Same here. When did you know?”

Ellie replies: “It’s kind of embarrassing.”

“I can tell you first, if you want,” you offer.

“Yeah, do that…” She says.

“I just realized that every time I was upset, you were there, making me feel better. Even if you didn’t know it. Every time my mom hit me, or I got stabbed by an asshole mugger, or I was about to faint from hunger… You were right there. Making my life better just by existing.”

“I wish I could’ve been right there in person, to help you,” Ellie says, and you shake your head.

“That’s not the point. The point is that you did, without even trying. You always make me happy, without even trying.You just have to be there and everything is better.”

“That’s really nice… I feel dumb now,” Ellie confesses.

“It’s not dumb! Probably not, I mean…” you reply, nuzzling her chest a bit as you try to get a bit cozier.

“Um...You probably don’t know this, but I used to get in fights a lot before we met. And Piotr would always lecture me, telling me it wasn’t heroic to fight out of anger. That I should fight for something, not because of something. That I should be aware of the consequences that come with fighting, and truly think about them before I did. I never understood what he meant, and then we met and became friends… Then best friends…

“I didn’t even realize that before every fight, even the ones I was assigned, I’d think about how I was going to make the world a better place for you. I’d think about what you would think if you heard what I was doing. I- I made a mistake at one point, got angry over nothing and got into another stupid, pointless fight. It was the first time in awhile I’d heard Colossus’s spiel, and I realized my thinking process with every world he spoke. It all just made me think of how I feel about you. You’d made me a better person, more mindful of the consequences of my actions, my thoughtless, immature violence. That’s when I knew.”

“Oh, shut up! That’s way better than mine and not embarrassing at all! Show-off,” you remark, and she chuckles.

“That was fucking beautiful!” Wade wails from behind the door.

“I think I liked it better when you two weren’t friends,” Ellie comments, and you smile at her, shaking your head. She takes your hand in hers and squeezes gently.

“Oh, come on. You can’t hate him. I mean, I wouldn’t exist without him, for a few reasons. I mean, he’s the one who passed me the gene for a healing factor, even if his was recessive before. And, I mean, he’s the sperm donor either way.”

“I heard that!” he shouts, and Ellie smiles at you, planting another kiss on your lips.

You could get used to this.

32 notes · View notes

beanyboobee · 6 years ago

Text

The Prince and his Witch, Chapter 1 (Prinxiety)

Ship:Prinxiety (RomanxVirgil)

Setting:Fantasy AU

Plot:

Prince of the Cosalona, Prince Roman Sanders , is set to be the next in line for the throne. As his father fall’s ill, He is left to be crowned early, however there is a catch, In order to inherit the crown he must be married. The only problem, Roman has trouble settling down, and in return has had many crushes that all ended in vain, He eventually gave up on searching for love, that was- until an old frienimie showed up before him...

Meet Virgil Anxly, The son of a well known Sorcerer and Healer, His Father is close friends with the newly ill king, and since a young age has been dragged to the palace as his Father was summoned by the King, let it be for assistance or friendly chats. In return he had the unfortunate fate to be forced into the presence of Prince Roman, an- (In Virgils words) self-obsessed, spoiled, idealist.

However, They haven't seen each other since the age of 15, now 22, He is dragged back to the Palace, and when face to face with who he considered ‘the bane of his existence’ he feels- odd...

Will feelings finally bloom between these two? or will they be stuck in their childish hatred?

And when an old enemy shows up to crash the party, Leaving Virgil under the effects of a curse, and Roman having no way of knowing how to reverse the effects, what will become of our two protagonists?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Inspired by “The Swan Princess.” mostly the song “far longer than forever” from it. Ive seen obsessed with it for ages now, and my mind wont rest till i make a fic on it, however i dont feel like making a full fic right now, so instead im going to focus on a two-shot, (maybe) But if you guys like the idea and wish for me to expand on it. Please do let me know and ill see what i can do ;))

Also sorry if this chapter is poorly written, it is literally 3am and i am so tireeed i just needed to get this out of my system. WARNING next chapter is basically what ties everything together and explains why the parents are so set on these two getting together.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As the morning sun creeped over the peek of the city's old bell tower, The soft chatter from the streets below caused a buzz to fill the crisp mid-day air, As the market square began to fill up with stall-keepers who were either offering their assistance to those who seemed well paid, or those who littered the paths browsing the stalls in wonderment.

Some children running along the cobbled roads, giggling and laughing as they did so, other’s seeming to be rolling the metal lining of a barrel top, as some sort of make-shift hoop.All in all it was a rather calm and basic morning in a town with-in the kingdom of Cosalona, Busy, yet- with a relaxed aura..

Many wouldn't even spare a glance to the simple wooden carriage that seemed to carefully maneuver it’s way down the stone path, As with-in this certain city, passing carriage’s were the norm. Seeing as the town was so near the beautiful palace it was no surprise.

However despite the basic out-look of the middle-class carriage, inside it held two rather important figures in the eye’s of the king.

~~~~~~~~~~~~inside the carriage~~~~~~~~~~~

With-in the carriage sat a young man around the age of 22, his pale hand rested against his cheek as he slanted by the window broadly, Locks of what seemed like a dark purple hair, grazed his forehead in almost a ticklish manner, as they softly fell, brushing against his dark lashes, Eyes that seemed the colour of Mahogany in the afternoons light, held a cloud of uncertainty and confliction. Linned in a fashion that could scream to anyone,

‘I am rethinking all my decisions up to this point, at this very moment’

of course, that would probably be tad bit of exaggeration, however you would most likely not catch onto this unless looking rather closely for you see, there always seemed to be this sort of powdery black substance, beneath the water line of these fixated eyes. It seemed to act as some sort of distraction, from what? who knows. But- that is not what we are questioning right now..

Along with this young man, was a clearly older man, who seemed around is late 40′s, that- or if he was older, time was very good to him, He held a stern look, dark hair that was pulled back by a ribbon into some sort of messy bun, done by no doubt his wife, earlier that morning before the trip, a neatly groomed beard, that in all honesty didn't deserve the tital, as it seemed to be more of- stubble, then a beard in all honesty.

heavy bags hung beneath his eyes, that almost seemed to resemble the boy’s in front of him, only- dark... and more full of- wisdom and knowledge. In his left hand was a simple, yet smooth, oak cane, that was firmly pressed his the carriage floor.

All was silent in the mode of transport. Only the sound of the grinding stones beneath them and horses hoofs ahead of them, filling the air, with a soft,

‘click- clok- click- kreec’

That is- until the older decided to speak-

His tone was deep, almost smooth, if it weren't for the obvious dryness of his throat.

“Virgil.”

He called, grabbing enough of the younger’s attention, for the one clad in a dark cloke to straighten in his seat, gaze dancing towards the wiser gaze. A hum of reconcision leaving his lips. This was enough for the hard gaze of the gent to soften,

“you’ve been rather quite. I know you dont enjoy these trips but-” he paused. “They will help you grow as a healer- i hope you know this, i only do it in your best interest... but just this once- please- Please try to get along with the Prince,”

The boy now known of Virgil made a look is displeasure, and opened his mouth to speak, only to be stopped once again by the partially grey haired male.

“I know! you dont like him! hate him even- but just for me, please, dont cause a ruckus.. im sure you're old enough to realize- he might be going through a rough time, with his father falling ill, and he could use a hand, and seeing as he will be the future ruler. it would do you some good to stay in his good books, you always wanted to be a top notch healer right?”

his tone was stern yet had a fatherly softness to it, as he kept eye contact with the smaller.

Virgil didn't feel a need to reply to that, He knew his father was correct, so instead gave a light nod, moving his gaze back towards the window. Taking this as a sign of a finished conversation, The aged man gave a small smile, and a satisfied hum, about to return his gaze to the carriage window also, before a quieter voice spoke up, still deep, but with a softness to it, almost shy.

“i’ll try, But i dont make any promises. “

The Fathers gaze shifted towards the young adult in surprise, before letting out a breathy chuckle, followed by a few coughs.

“That is all i can ask of you son, try. Besides, who knows~ by the end of this you two might be the opposite of what you began as”

A smirk itched it’s way to his lips, a mischievous glint shinning in the old souls eyes,

This simple statement seeming to steer something up in the black and purple haired boy, as he jolted up so fast, his sharp cheek bones now on full display, as his pale complexion turned into a crimson painting, A sound that resembled that of a stumbling fool left his lips as he tried to find his words, once the words were found they were spat out in a frenzy,

“if by that you mean dead? then please!”

~~~~~~~~~~At the palace~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“MOTHER PLEASE! YOU MUST BE JOKING!”

echoed through the halls, in a tone that almost seemed scandalized.

The sheer surprise of the the loud exclamation causing a near by maid to almost drop the tray of china she carried. However she was lucky enough to have fast enough reflexes to balance out the tray before any mishaps.

Sighing in relief, her gaze moved down the hall to the source of the disturbance, knowing damn well who that voice belonged to, if you were you were to follow it, it would no doubt lead you towards the study, that currently held what most would call, an Average looking Queen, and her seemingly scandalized son.

The Queen stood tall, a gloved hand raised to her lips as she did her best to hid her amused smile, by unfolding a white pristine fan, with a quick flip, aware that her amusement would only fuel her sons dramatic moment.

Dark eyes somehow remaining calm as ever, as she watched the Prince pace the room, arms frailing about and waving madly, as he ranted, The Queen had learned to tune out of these ramblings, as most of the time, it was simply him rephrasing the same sentence on repeat, using a variety of different words to express his distraught and aggravated state.

I mean, of course, How dare she, his own Mother! suggest such a vile thought! the thought of- of- BEFRIENDING! that creature of the night! that- that! irritating! INSUFFERABLE! LITTLE WITCH! that somehow always found a way to get under Roman’s skin when ever he decided to make an appearance!

Of course- he supposed it wasn't compleatly like Virgil had a choose- he himself didn't seem to want to be anywhere near Roman either. It was simply for their parents convineance, Much to Roman’s dismay, he didn't take very kindly to Mr.Dark and gloomy. Of course- it had been many years since they had last seen each other.. even so! no one could make such a drastic change to make his company any sort of bearable. HE WASN'T EVEN ATTRACTIVE! ( in Romans eye’s anyway.)

Non the less the pacing continued, His Mother decided that she should shut her son down now, before things got too out of hand, so with a gentle sigh, she clasped the fragile fan down to her opened, and gloved palm. The sound of the slap loud enough, to drag Roman’s attention towards her, silencing him, and keeping him in place, arms lowering as his peircing Pine green gaze, caught to her Oak wood own.

“My dear one, you can rant all you like, but i am simply doing this for your own benifit. The Anxly family are very good to us, and in return we keep them as our family healer’s and sourceres, And we expect when you take over, to do the same. The both of you, are no longer children so please dont act as such, you will be personally meeting Virgil in the Gardens any hour now! so please! go get ready! Unless you plan to give off an unprofessional appearance.”

with a few steps forward, she raised a hand, and brushed a Tawny brown, stray curl from Romans temple, brushing it behind his ear, her gaze lingering on him for a quite moment, before she sighed openly, speaking once more, only this time more quieter.

“i know you two never started off on the right foot, but im sure this time will be different, from what i’ve heard he has turned into quite the gent! believe it or not.”

she couldn't help but praise, removing her hand to brush back a strand of her own light hair, that fell from behind her ear,

“just- give it a chance. you know William is a good friend to your Father’s.”

The Queen added, a sadness almost seeming to gloss over her gaze, at the mention of the King, thats what broke Roman.

Seeing his mother in such a state he knew he would have to give in, But meeting in the gardens? he didn't see the point? shouldn't they be meeting somewhere more professionally? and why was everyone so hooked up on Virgil? unless-

a deep frown carved it’s way onto the Prince’s lips, squinting slightly, in almost a suspicious glare, as he spoke his thoughts out loud.

“Mother, You're making this sound an awful lot like a potential suitor...”

That is when the Queen froze, Her cheeks pinkening ever so slightly, as her gaze moved just above Roman’s shoulder, looking as though she didn’t know what to say, Roman knew this look very well, and he didn't like what it was implying...

~~~~~~~~~1 hour till the long awaited meeting~~~~~~~

“I REFUSE TO KISS HIS HAND AGAIN! NOPE! NO! DENIED! ONCE WAS ENOUGH! WE MAY OF BEEN 12 BUT IM STILL TRAMTISED!!”

Roman complained loudly, As the tailor circled him, pinning and re-stitching,The white and scarlet finery, A small bundle of laughter leaving said tailor, as he listened to the Prince’s ramblings,

“Im sure it isn’t as terrible as you’re making it out to be my Prince! i for one know Virgil personally, and he isn't that bad, He is actually quite sweet!”

He hummed, sticking a pin into the small sponge patch that was attached to his arm, using a tightly secure blue ribbon for security, before reaching up and pushing up the circle lenses glasses, that were managing to slip down his nose, Blue eyes looking up through his lashes, from his place kneeling on the floor, grinning slightly.

This however only made Roman whine even more,

“Patton! you're not helping my case here! my case being! there is no way in all the 6 kingdoms i would ever even consider Tall,Dark and dreary a candidate for a friend never mind a husband!”

The prince all but huffed, arms crossing out of habbit, only to quickly straighten them out into a T pose once more, with a yelp, as 3 small pearl headed pin prodded him sharply, giving our lovely prince a small jump.

“Heheh sorry kiddio! only speaking my mind “

The tailor couldn't help but muse, his gaze moving back down to the task at hand, re hemming this cursed hem of the princely jacket. A half hearted glare was shot Pattons way by none other then Roman,

Before the Queen who was quietly observing this interaction spoke,

“My son i am not asking you to marry him, i simply wish for you two to talk things out and maybe get along. you managed it when you were bother 5! im sure you can do it once again, and if a little bit of woowing! happens along the way, then so be it, a point to me, if not. I’ll be satisfied knowing you have a allay thats a gifted healer.”

she explained further, having almost a tiredness to her voice, like she had explained this many times, even so, she couldn't deny this feeling she had inside, that somehow- she could feel That Roman was meant to meet Virgil, that there was meant to be something more between them. Then solid hatred.

She saw it the first day the two met.. when Roman took that shy boy’s hand,Smiling brightly as he introduced himself, and how he thought Virgil was pretty, before finally ledding the quite child, who looked at Roman in awe,down the long corridor, The small prince exclaiming how they were going to play in the garden.

To their final meeting at 15, where she could swear she saw Virgil nearly reach for Roman’s hand when walking down that exact same corridor only to retract it just as fast. Or how when Roman fell and cut his knee, After Virgil said he hadn't gotten the chance to test his healing on any-body yet, These small things, They didn't think she noticed, but- she did.

Even so, she couldn't deny, that right now all of this was seeming like a waste of energy, She knew her son was stubborn, she blamed herself on that one, But she couldn't help it, she just had this feeling...

Roman stared back at the middle age women, his frown still playing against his lips, He knew he had no way of escaping this situation so instead. Let out a breath of air,

“look fine, i’ll play along with your little ‘be nice’ charade” his eyes rolled for emphasis on his un-satisfaction.

“BUT! i will NOT have any interest in him, not before,nor after this meeting. He is simply a possible ally. nothing more, nothing less. so please- dont get your hopes up Mother” he huffed.

His Mother smiled,

“of course Roman! dont worry about a thing dear, i’ll keep my hopes low”

she sighed in contentment, he gaze landing on Pattons, earning a grin from the tailor, who she has come to welcome with open arms. She simply smiled back, they both knew. Knew something was about to unfold from right under their noses.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~With Virgil and his fatherly unit~~~~~

It had been approximately 40 minuets since they have arrived, and with no time to spare, Virgils Father had opened up all their chest’s of clothing and ordered Virgil to change into something more proper when meeting the Prince,

He didn't quite understand why, seeing as in their previous meetings Virgil simply wore his usual cloke and some old clothes, messy, unkempt hair, and over all looked like a mess. Why was now any more important then those times? However he didn't dwell on the thought any longer, settling for the explanation of, They were older now, and Roman would soon be King, So it was only right to be proper in his presence, Even so,

Virgil knew that as soon as they were out of sight from their parents insults would more then likely be thrown. Shins kicked and bruised, the usual.

So without any hassle, Virgil began to change, tugging on the Mulberry colored shirt, buttoning it up carefully, worried he might miss a button, or crinkle the shirt if he moved to fast, after all, Patton did work hard to make it and sent it all the way out to him, earlier that year.

He was almost shocked it still fit, He then continued to change in silence,

black waist coat, raisin colored suit pants, brushed out hair,(for once styles, due to fathers orders) and finally his good old, tattered cloke, black in color, and decorated with different patches, all different shades of purple.

Once his father seen him leave the changing area, he lit up more than Virgil had ever seen him, it almost made him flush, However his embarrassment was cut short when his Father whipped out a wash cloth and he knew what was coming, no matter how many times he pleaded, it was futile, His black under eye powder was cleaned away. well most of it was, there was still some under his eye, that gave a slightly smoky effect,

Virgil felt naked without it, but he suppose still having a little bit of it, was better then having none of it. So he sucked it up, and sighed looking to his Dad, as they exited their room, beginning the departure, down the halls towards a familer garden, it wasn't till then, Virgil asked out loud,

“why is it you wanted me to get all dressed up? Princey and i are just talking over our differences right?”

He couldn't help himself in asking, This caused the older beside him to stop for a moment, cane making a very distinctive sound when it touched the tile, He seemed to be thinking over something and Virgil wondered what, That is- untill he got his answer, and when he did- he couldn't stop himself from stumbling backwards, he was shocked to the point he didn't see, nor hear Patton from ahead of them, instead he took one deep breath and took off in the opposite direction.

#prinxiety #virgil sanders #sanders sides #sandersides #roman sanders #fastasy au #romanxvirgil #roman x virgil #fluff #cute #OLEASEdontSNATCHmStories!

52 notes · View notes

ogwivia · 6 years ago

Text

Want You Back- Youngblood Stories 1

{This is a set of original stories by Olivia Franklin. Each one is inspired by a song off the album Youngblood. I hope you enjoy, and if you have ideas for the other stories please let me know}

Here you sat, an unopened letter in front of you. It had your name written on it in that handwriting you had grown to know and love; he had even drawn a little heart beside it. How ironic that he would put this in a letter, after all, a letter is what started your relationship. Here you sat, trying to make yourself open it; but you were so afraid of what it might contain. As you sit there contemplating, your mind wanders back through everything that has happened over the past couple weeks.

When you woke to the sound of your alarm blaring on the bedside table, your first thoughts were not happy. You laid there for a few moments trying to gain your bearings and muster up the will to be awake. Then, suddenly, your brain remembered why the alarm was going off and you quickly shot up out of the bed. Your boyfriend Luke had called a couple days earlier to ask if you would go watch the sunrise with him; mornings are something you absolutely despise, but he makes it all worth it.

You quickly get up, throw on some sweatpants and your favorite t-shirt adorned with roses, brush your teeth, wash your face, then head downstairs to await Luke’s arrival. This outfit did not make you look super cute, but this was Luke. You could show up wearing a trash bag and he would say you deserve to be walking the red carpet at the Met Gala.

He pulls up to your house and you quickly jump into the car. You are reminded why you love this man so much when you see that he is also adorning sweatpants and a t-shirt. He gives you a quick kiss on the cheek and you to drive away, bound for the mountains.

When you get up to the top of the mountain, Luke lays out a blanket. He lays down and pulls you into his arms, all is as it should be. You find yourself wishing this moment could never end; everything was perfect.

“Hey, I want to tell you something”, Luke says breaking the silence.

“Okay”, you respond, a little nervous about what is coming next.

“I love you”

As you snap back to the present for one moment, you find this memory has brought a tear to your eye. You wish more than anything in the world you could go back and tell yourself to just say it back to him, but at that moment you couldn’t. You wanted to say it, so badly you did, but because of your past, you couldn’t make the words come out of your mouth. Your brain then painfully continues the memory.

“Luke I-“

“You what”

“You’re so sweet, but I-“

The expression in his eyes changed to one of deep hurt, you could see it in his eyes.

“Don’t you love me too?”

This question pained me so much. He knew you did, he knew the answer to this question.

“Luke, I’m sorry I just can’t. I’m not ready yet, you know why I can’t”

“I can’t believe this”

“Luke I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I’m trying to be over it, I really am. I just need a little bit more time.”

“It’s been three months, when is going to be enough time? Am I just supposed to wait forever for you to be ready?”

He rolled over releasing you from his arms. You tried to hold the tears back, but you couldn’t. His words broke your heart. You laid there silently as the sun slowly began to creep above the mountains, but you found no joy in this scenery.

Snapping back to the present, your eye makeup is now completely smeared on your face. You clutch the letter so tightly that you are not sure how it didn’t disintegrate between your fingers. Why, why couldn’t you have just said it back to him that day; three simple words that could’ve saved you a world of hurt. Your sorrow suddenly turns to anger as you remember why you couldn’t make the words come out of your mouth. Your mind takes you back to another memory, three months before the day of your mountain trip to be exact.

Your parents died when you were very young and none of your family members would take you in, because of this you were sent to a group home. They did their best to care for you, but you never felt very special or loved. You spent most of your childhood trying to prove you were worth something, afraid that no one would ever love or want you. After all, if your own family didn’t want you, why would anyone else? You spent your whole life dreaming of the day you turned 18 and could move out, but for now, you were stuck here; you had no choice but to make the best of it.

You were so desperate to feel loved and wanted that you took the first offer that came along. Darren seemed like a knight in shining armor to you when you first met him during your freshman year of high school. You were so desperate to be loved and wanted that you let him treat you like trash. But you stayed, you stayed because you feared if you ever left that you would be alone forever. Eventually, your mind began to wonder if this was what love was all about. You were only 6 months old when your parents passed away, so you had no idea what real love looked like. At some point, you began to accept that you were stuck, he was probably right, no one else could ever love someone as broken as you.

This was it, this was why you couldn’t say those three words back to Luke. You loved him with all your heart but growing up your mind had been trained to think love meant something very different. When you finally got away from Darren, you made a vow that you wouldn’t say those words again until they meant something again.

When you were seven, the girl’s home you lived in took a trip to Australia; this was where you met Luke. Being so young, you thought of him as a playmate and nothing more. You and Luke played together on the beach almost every day. At the week’s end, you two exchanged addresses and promised to write each other frequently.

You two did your very best to keep in touch and became great friends through the years. Now the little boy you met on the beach was grown up and touring the world with his three best friends. Around the time you began dating Darren, the two of you lost contact. He was busy touring and you were busy trying to graduate high school. After a while, you gave up any hope of expecting a letter and figured Luke had moved on with his life and left you. Goodbye was all you had ever known, so why would you expect this to be any different.

After breaking up with Darren, you ran all the way back to the group home, not knowing what to do or how to handle your emotions. After composing yourself again, you decided you needed to do something, anything! You were not sure what made you do it, but you decided to sit and write a letter to Luke. He always seemed to know how to cheer you up, but would he even reply? Would he even care? It didn’t matter, you had to try.

Looking back now, you are so glad you wrote that letter that day.

A couple of weeks later you received a reply from Luke with tickets to his concert in your town. You went, saw him, and the rest was history. You guys exchanged numbers and from then on phone calls and facetime were a nightly occurrence. After a few weeks of talking, Luke asked you if you would be interested in starting a relationship. At first, you were hesitant, after everything that happened was it a good idea to do this again? Despite your worries, you agreed. Agreeing to be his girlfriend was the best decision you ever made.

Life was so amazing and simple back then, why did that all have to change. Your mind snaps back to that fateful day in the mountains.

You had never seen Luke so upset before, it hurt you to see him this way. The ride home was silent and torturous. He kept his eyes glued to the road, never looking at you. Once you were dropped off at your house, he sped away. As soon as you got in the door your heart shattered; to make matter even worse, it had just began raining. ‘

Through the tears, you heard your doorbell rang; you pulled yourself together and went to answer it.

“Luke”, you said with a mix of confusion and sorrow, “what are you doing here”

“We need to talk”

“Yea, we do”

“I love you, with all of my heart, but I can’t wait around forever for you to be ready to love me back”

“Luke, you know why I can’t say it, I’ve told you a million times why I can’t say. I thought you understood, I thought you were okay with that.”

“I was okay, I really was, but it’s getting a bit ridiculous at this point. You should be over it, it’s time to move on with your life”

“Luke how could you even say that”

“Wait I- I shouldn’t have said that I-“

“You know, I thought you were different. I opened my heart again, which took a lot out of me, and I thought you would protect it and care for it. I thought you were different, but you’re not. I get it, I get it that I’m broken and come with a lot of baggage; but why can’t you just help me carry it until I’m ready to let go.”

There is dead silence, and in that silence, made one of the worst decisions of my life.

“Luke, I don’t think this is ever going to work. I’m not ready to move on and you can’t wait any longer.

Maybe we weren’t meant to be together, maybe this a sign. I- I think you should go”

You stood there waiting for him to say something, anything, but no words came out of his mouth. It seemed as if you were going to explode in tears, but you held back. Without another word, a teary-eyed Luke walked back to his car and left.

Now here you were, two torturous months later, staring at this letter in your hand. Over the past two months, you had done nothing but cry. You could muster up the courage to take down the picture of you and Luke, yet every time you stared at them, your heart shattered a little bit more. You missed him so much that it caused you physical pain, but at the same time, you knew you still weren’t ready to say those three fateful words.

The main thought crossing your mind was that Luke deserved to be with some who could say that to him, someone who wasn’t so broken.

He deserved someone who wasn’t you.

You fully expected to never hear from him again, after everything you said why would he ever want you back?

You had finally accepted that you would be alone forever.

Then you checked the mail this morning. In it were bills, a couple magazines, and the letter you now held in your hand. You had just begun to move on, maybe it would be better not to read it.

No, no. This was not how the story was going to end. Gathering up every bit of courage you had left, you opened the letter and began reading.

My love,

I know a letter from me is probably the last thing you were expecting, but I figured maybe the best way to get my message across would be to take you back to something familiar. I need to tell you that I messed up, I messed up and I am so sorry.

Everything that happened that day replays in my mind like an old song with a catchy tune. Except this song is full of lyrics that I don’t want to hear, they remind me of how badly I messed up. I think of you every single day, and with each one that passes, I miss you a little bit more. All the memories flash through my mind at a million miles a minute.

I try to move on, I really do.

But then I remember the freckles on your back and the way that I used to make you laugh. Every morning I wake up I still reach for you. I remember the roses that were on your shirt when you told me this would never work. You know even when I say I’ve moved on, even though I know that you’re gone, all I think about is where I went wrong.

I still dream for you.

No matter where I go, I’m always gonna want you back. No matter how long you’re gone, I’m always gonna want you back. I know, you know I will never get over you. You are my light, my life my all. I had no right to demand you move on faster. I know you love me, I truly do.

So here I sit writing to tell you that I messed up badly, but I’m asking for a second chance. A second chance to be the support system you need, a second chance to love you. If you’re not ready to say you love me that is okay because you are worth every single second I will wait to hear those words come out of your mouth.

Love Always,

Luke

You stood there in stunned silence for a moment while your brain processed the words you just read. Could it really be true? After all that had happened could he really want you back?

It was the last words, the last words that got to you the most.

“You are worth every single second I will wait”

When you read the words, you could feel every wall your heart had built up shatter into a million pieces. The tears streaming down your face turned from those of sadness to those of joy.

Without even a second thought, you quickly ran to your phone and dialed the number you knew by heart.

Ring, ring

“Hey! I’ve been waiting for you to call.”

“Luke I-“

“Did you get my letter? I’m guessing you got my letter, or you wouldn’t have called me. Anyway, I’m so, so sorry and I-“

“Luke…”

You take a deep breath before uttering the next words, it’s time, you’re ready.

“I love you”

#5sos #luke hemmings #want you back #youngblood #fanfic

3 notes · View notes

inawickedlittletown · 6 years ago

Text

Walking The Wire (105/?)

Summary: Tony Stark always knew about Peter Parker. He didn’t know that Peter was going to get superpowers and become Spider-Man, but he always knew about Peter because Peter was his son.

This will span from pre-Iron Man up through the rest of the MCU (eventually including Infinity War) and will be for the most part canon compliant except where I’ve taken some liberties and interpreted canon a certain way.

Pairings: Pepper/Tony, Tony/Steve (endgame), Tony/Mary (past)

A/N: If you want me to tag you when I post new chapters let me know. This fic is also on AO3

I used Collider’s MCU timeline to stay canon and the title of this fic is an Imagine Dragons song that is just so fitting for Peter and Tony

@findmeinthestarss

Masterpost

Chapter One Hundred Four

“Ned told me you knew,” Peter said. He was still in his Spider-Man suit sans mask. He’d taken Michelle up to the roof of the tower which had felt like the right place to go because he knew bringing her inside to the penthouse would bring up more questions. It was kind of cold up there, but Michelle didn’t seem to mind.

“I was going to use that knowledge eventually,” Michelle admitted. “Not sure what for but I guess i was waiting for the right situation. So, you’re Spider-Man.”

Peter nodded and Michelle just stared at him for a while which made Peter feel weird. As if she was trying to figure it all out.

“You know, you could say that Spider-Man is your fursona,” she deadpanned.

Peter shook his head at once. “Nope. Nope. That is not what this is at all. You can shake that thought right now.”

Michelle just smirked at him. “I’m joking. Kind of.”

He gave her a look and she smiled at him. “But seriously, how did that happen?”

Michelle was so calm and just pragmatic in how she asked him anything that Peter didn’t feel the stress that he’d felt when Ned found out. Then again, Michelle had also had time to think on it before.

“Spider bit me,” Peter said.

“Okay and the whole web thing -- is that coming out of you?” Michelle said. “I’ve been wondering.”

Peter shook his head, “No, no. That would be ridiculous.”

“You’re a teenage superhero we’re past ridiculous.”

Peter nodded his head and looked down at his suit. “Yeah, I guess. Ned freaked out when he found out.”

“I bet,” Michelle said and then she reached out to touch the suit. “Whatever it’s made from — seems really durable I guess? I’m guessing Tony Stark made it for you?”

“Yeah.”

“I...this is kind of crazy,” Michelle said. “I mean, The Avengers themselves always felt a bit fantastical but you’re -- you’re Peter and I’ve known you forever and you’re sort of one of them. Anyway, I really just wanted to thank you. All of my books and my phone are in this bag and my mom would have been really mad if I got it stolen.”

“I’m glad I was there,” Peter said.

The sun was going down which cast the sky in a nice orange-yellow, but it also meant that it was getting a bit colder out. Peter wouldn’t really feel it with the suit, but Michelle would.

“So, Tony Stark knows and Ned knows. Does your aunt know? Does anyone else? Did you tell Liz?”

“The rest of the Avengers know too,” Peter said. “May knows and I don’t think she’ll ever be happy about it. I didn’t tell Liz. Turned out her dad was the bad guy in the end so that was probably a good call. That’s it, really.”

Michelle nodded and then, “I’m glad it’s you. I mean, anyone else our age wouldn’t be a hero. Could you imagine if it was Flash? He would be lording it over everyone. He’d be even more insufferable.”

“Oh, god,” Peter said because he could just imagine it. “You’re right. And Ned would just use it to get popular or something. He hated that it was a secret when he first found out. It was hard to keep him from giving me away.”

Michelle laughed at that. “The two of you are such dorks.”

“You’re friends with us,” Peter pointed out.

She smiled. “Guess I am. But, okay, if the web doesn’t come out of you, what is it? I’ve seen you swing on it which means it’s strong and it’s sticky too? Did Stark make it?”

“I made it,” Peter said and he was happy to see how impressed she was because he could tell that Michelle had expected it to have come from Tony. “Took me awhile to get it right and Tony -- he helped to improve it a bit. I built the original web shooters too but the ones on the suit were made by Tony.”

Michelle gave him a long look. “You call him Tony,” she said. “I guess you’re close, then? I sort of figured considering the ferry thing and the night of the dance.”

“He’s my mentor,” Peter said and he was glad that it didn’t come out like too much of a lie. Peter just -- he didn’t want her to know about Tony being his dad quite yet. It was enough that Ned knew.

“The internship,” Michelle said.

“I’m glad you know,” Peter said. “Ned gets a little too excited. He doesn’t realize what this is all about sometimes and maybe it might be good for him to have someone else to discuss it with.”

“Or you,” Michelle said. “I mean, who else do you have to talk to other than Ned and a bunch of superheroes if your aunt isn’t actually supportive of your activities?”

“I have Karen,” Peter said.

“Who is Karen?”

“My AI. Well, she’s in the suit and in my phone.”

Michelle hummed in response, but she shook head. “Right, so another of Tony Stark’s creations.”

She shivered as a gust of wind hit them and Peter motioned for her to go inside, lightly touching her arm to lead her in and Michelle turned back to look at him and smiled at him.

Wakanda was the same as the last time that Tony had seen it. T’Challa was unavailable to greet them since he was in some kind of meeting, so Shuri did instead and she immediately began to ask Tony questions about his work on Steve’s shield.

“He can show you himself. We brought it with us,” Tony told her and then with a grin shot at Steve: “He can also show you the ring.”

At that, Shuri made an excited noise and she swung her attention towards Steve. She demanded to see it and Tony laughed at the surprise on Steve’s face except that he also seemed quite pleased about it.

“In fact,” Tony added, “why don’t you and Steve look at the shield while I go find Barnes.”

Steve knew better than to ask to go with him since Tony had made it clear that he wanted to do this on his own. It was important. Tony had never been one to go forth and face his demons -- not when he could find a reason to avoid them -- but this one was one that he needed to. For one thing, the man was his future husband’s best friend and for another he was an innocent man that had been tortured and used and Tony needed to forgive him. But for that, they had to talk. Tony needed to see him with his own eyes and finally meet James Buchanan Barnes.

“Okay,” Steve said.

Shuri grabbed him someone to lead him to Barnes and then dragged Steve away probably towards her lab. Tony had known he could count on Shuri.

Barnes was apparently staying in a hut a small walk away from the palace and he seemed to be happily assimilating to life in Wakanda. When Tony and his guide came upon him he was actually in the middle of playing with some boys and girls.

“Thanks,” Tony said to his guide. “I’ll head over on my own.”

Tony didn’t move forward at once and instead just watched for a while. It was kind of surprising that Barnes hadn’t realized he was being watched for one and for another -- well, he seemed different from the man that Tony had seen in that bunker in Siberia. He was more like the man that Steve had described to him from back in the 40s. Barnes was smiling and laughing and he seemed to be at peace. Barnes was still down to one arm and Tony felt a modicum of guilt because he’d been the one to blow the other one off and because he had also never offered to get him a replacement. Granted, despite his prosthetic division, Steve had never asked. Maybe he thought that Tony wouldn’t want to give Barnes an arm. Or maybe Shuri was already making him one.

After a moment, Tony moved closer and he coughed in order to give Barnes some warning, but as he had moved closer, Tony had noticed that Barnes tensed up some and he’d realized someone was approaching. Barnes looked up and the kids paused in the middle of their game and then after a nod from Barnes just left with quick goodbyes. One little girl hugged Barnes before she scampered off.

“I didn’t expect to see you,” Barnes said and he sounded careful. “I saw the jet come in but I didn’t think it was--”

“Yeah,” Tony said, “I’m kind of the last person you probably expected to come looking for you.”

“Well not the last but yeah,” Barnes said. He tilted his head and Tony could tell that he was trying to get a read on the situation. After a moment he said, “Congratulations, by the way. I heard you put a ring on it.”

Tony laughed. “So you listen to Beyonce.”

“Sometimes. I think between me and Steve I was always going to be the one more suited to the future. I bet he still doesn’t really listen to anything current.”

Now that Tony thought about it, despite how much Steve read and watched and had caught up on about the world, music was one of those things that he never really spoke about. Tony knew he’d checked out famous and important parts of music history but modern music didn’t give him much interest.

“I guess he doesn’t,” Tony said.

It was surprising, how it actually wasn’t all that hard to talk to Barnes. Maybe it was the easy topics and that they were talking about Steve and not all the hard stuff that Tony had actually gone to the trouble of flying to Wakanda for.

“That’ll make it easier to pick a song to dance to at the wedding,” Barnes said.

Tony laughed, a little surprised at the comment. “I hadn’t even considered that we’d have to dance,” he said.

“He doesn’t know how,” Barnes said. “It was one of those stubborn Steve things. He wanted the right dance partner and no one was ever interested. Not until Peggy and with the war they never really got anywhere.”

“Sounds like him,” Tony said and then, “I came to clear the air. In light of the engagement and mostly everything else. Steve filled you in, right? Ross and everything he’s doing. I want -- I’ve tried my best to move past it all and I have. I really have. You didn’t have a choice and everything that happened to you was terrible. And still, I won’t ever forget that video and what The Winter Soldier did even if it wasn’t really you.”

Bucky looked taken aback at Tony’s words. “I -- I feel guilty all the same. Not as much as I used to but it’s there and I can’t change anything that I did when I was the Winter Soldier but I want to. I wish I could.”

“Steve doesn’t get that.The guilt, I mean” Tony said. “I do. They called me The Merchant of Death for a long time but I didn’t care because my focus was on the engineering and on the construction of newer and faster and it wasn’t just the double dealing because that was one thing that was done without my knowing -- I still made weapons and created bombs and missiles and so much else with the knowledge that all of it would be used to kill people. I allowed my creations to kill people and it shouldn’t have mattered that we were at war. Of course, it was all made worse when I found out everything I built was being used on both sides. So, I get it, Barnes, I really do. You know, I’ve just been making up for it since I stopped weapon manufacturing in a way and it was a long time before I truly felt like I could move past it. I think the start for you is to get better and live your life and make your own choices now that you can and you’re not in danger of becoming The Winter Soldier anymore.”

Tony hadn’t realized how alike they were. He hadn’t thought about it much because it had been easier to not consider those parts of Barnes and realize that they had both been held and tortured and that they had both done horrible things. Barnes had had it worse. Tortured and brainwashed for decades. Kept frozen when he wasn’t needed. It was horrible.

“I want to clear your name,” Tony said. “Ross has been trying to make it impossible for you to ever come back. He wants to hold you accountable for everything Hydra ever made you do. Probably his attempts at getting you and study the serum.”

“Yeah. I’ve seen the news,” Barnes said.

“Well, I’m going to clear your name, Barnes,” Tony said and then because he had to he reached out his hand and Barnes didn’t hesitate to take it. “We’re good, okay? I -- I didn’t react well in Siberia which we can both blame on Steve’s attempts at protecting me. Backfired on all of us.”

Barnes took back his hand and he grinned. “Nobody said Steve was smart.”

Tony shook his head. “He’s not smart when it comes to protecting those he loves. And you’re the last piece of his family left. I do get it -- I’ve been alone for most of my life and I don’t think that I could ever get in the way of your friendship. You’re going to be his best man and I’ll need to find a way to get you to New York for the wedding. Steve also told me that you really supported me and Steve. So, it’s only right that the two of us be on good terms.”

Barnes grinned and Tony knew that he would still need to get to know the man to really get over everything -- so that every time he looked at him he could purge “killed mom” from his brain and associate him with something else, but it was already becoming easier because this man was nothing like The Winter Soldier and Tony truly did believe he was good and Tony intended to help him.

Chapter One Hundred Six

#peter and tony #peter and tony fic #mcuwriting #mcu fic #iron dad #iron dad and spider son #stony #stony fic #marvel

1 note · View note