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sakuatsu · 4 years ago

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YELL 2 ME ABT SAKUATSU FIC RECS PLS

oh boy. oh boy do i have much to talk about

here’s a list of my sakuatsu must-reads under the cut! complete with links, word count, ratings, and occasional commentary because i’m incapable of shutting up. this isn’t in any particular order either

(keeping this sfw and organized into canonverse/AUs. a * means i am on my hands and knees begging for you to read this)

i’ll try to update this somewhat regularly :]

most recently updated august 25, 2020!

canonverse:

*your highs and lows (series) by astroeulogy

a post-time skip canonverse series born from these two questions:

1. what if sakusa kiyoomi, known too-blunt jerk, is equally straightforward about his soft, tender feelings?

2. what if miya atsumu, resident big fat jerk who doesn't care if his teammates hate him, is too emotionally stunted to notice when his one of his teammates actually likes him?

this is like the sakuatsu series but it’s blasphemous to not recommend. the first fic in the series is all that you were (4.6k, T). mind the ratings on a few of the fics, but my personal favorite is #3: a masterpiece of domesticity called you have tamed me (5.7k, T). these make me ACHE

*sakuatsu domesticity simulator by pseudoanalytics (T)

a vaguely interactive mixture of fic, art, and html, where you too can experience the inherent romance of a big fat jerk and a too-blunt jerk attempting intimacy

this fic...this fic...op is literally one of my favorite artists of all time but Did You Know that their writing is also off the charts. what a wonderful use of second person and the pacing is so good. too much skill in one person

*The MSBY Black Jackals Read Thirst Tweets by isaksara (11.4k, M)

Sakusa’s eyes are very dark naturally, sucking in all surrounding rays of light and crushing them in his pupils. For an athlete, he is rather pale. His lips look very pink in comparison. Atsumu is suddenly catastrophically aware that in this instance, ‘accent’ is a euphemism. “Good enough for your Olympic-size ego, Miya?”

(In which Atsumu realizes that he is attracted to Sakusa Kiyoomi in the most inconvenient way possible.)

i think this is the fic that got me into sakuatsu in the first place lol i was looking very specifically for msby socmed fics and now here we are. this fic is unbelievably funny

*liminal spaces by hhatsuna (25.9k, T)

Fuck you, Atsumu thinks, pointing at the pixelated Sakusa in the grainy team photo on his bedside table.

It’s easier than you’d think to ignore loving your teammate.

*Better For Us Both by abrandnewheart (15.7k, M)

Where “You already make me the happiest guy alive, babe," gives way to, “I’ve not been happy for a while now.”

Alternatively known as the ‘mug fic’.

yes this is a breakup fic. yes im going to recommend it anyway. breakup fics usually scare me a lot but this one is too good for me to not say anything about. nuanced and delicious. i look at the mug on my desk and feel pain

dog eat dog eat dog world by perennials (8.4k, T)

You are your first and only line of defense against the universe.

Koi no Yokan; 恋の予感 by ymra (15.3k, unrated)

Wherein Sakusa dreams of his future selves and discovers a little something along the way.

autumn ends, but we remain by wolfsbvne (5.3k, T)

atsumu stares at his ceiling at 2am. he stares until he can make out designs in his popcorn ceiling. a cat there, an onigiri here, and then something that suspiciously looks like a mop of hair, triangle eyebrows, and oh those two bumps are moles right above what atsumu just mapped out as an eye.

(or, atsumu is in kind of in love. sakusa is maybe in like.)

your fingertips, branding irons by Ceryna (5.8k, T)

Between the accidental touches he's reconciled, the deliberate ones he's endured, and, from those he's built years of trust with, obliged– Kiyoomi has never wanted to let someone indulge.

Never, until Atsumu.

take what’s yours and make it mine by claudusdiei (5.9k, T)

atsumu falls in love four times in his life

(or: in which atsumu gets his heart broken twice, has the self-awareness of a sober mule and really likes yellow tulips)

every action has an equal and opposite reaction by akanemnida (10.4k, T)

Miya Atsumu gets a modeling contract with Calvin Klein, which sets Kiyoomi's heart in motion.

(Or: Sakusa Kiyoomi realizes that the rules governing the universe are absolute rubbish at explaining matters of the heart.)

*where i want to be by tookumade (8.8k, G)

In the time they’ve been teammates at the MSBY Black Jackals, Sakusa has never been to Atsumu’s place, and Atsumu has only been to Sakusa’s a few times. There’s an unspoken understanding here: that Atsumu knows him well enough to know that nobody’s house or apartment would ever really meet his ridiculously high standards, and he is most comfortable in the home he’s made for himself.

That, and, Atsumu being over at Sakusa’s means that he has to host him and do the cleaning afterwards, while Atsumu can just flit off back to his own place. So. There’s that.

Tonight. Tonight is not business as usual. Tonight is not familiar.

*san'yō expressway, 6:17 pm by yamabato (8.1k, T)

Atsumu tilts his head to watch a slice of orange light bend over the impassive planes of Sakusa’s face. He is absolutely, ruthlessly beautiful. It makes Atsumu want to punch something—put his foot through the windshield—scream, maybe.

Kiss him again, maybe.

They have 344 kilometers to figure this one out.

parallax error: angle of inclination by min_mintobe (10.8k, T)

But now there's the one person Atsumu'd promised himself never to touch. His eyes leave Atsumu breathless with guilt at seventeen, and he spends the next six years safe in the satisfaction of making things right.

Feelings, of the physical kind, and one kiss.

ft. competitive spirit, childishness, and late night conversations.

Atsumu POV.

four leaf clover by vicari_us (5.9k, T)

Once, Ushijima claimed that they ‘got lucky’. If properly honed, their body types could become near invincible weapons.

However, unlike Ushijima, Kiyoomi’s weapon required a bit more care over the years to reach the condition it had become. He was born iron, not yet forged into steel.

Exploring what it might have taken to turn a genetic mistake into an athletic miracle.

*the 28 postcards you left me by wheelspokes (8.3k, T)

Atsumu takes texting your ex to a new level by sending Sakusa postcards in Animal Crossing instead.

such a unique premise & this is so beautifully structured. stunning flow and who knew animal crossing could convey so much longing...

AUs:

Pas De Deux by hhatsuna (dancer!sakusa au: 19.0k, T)

The mystery athlete gives Kiyoomi a once over in the mirror. “Yer pretty tall,” he observes, and the twang of an accent rasps low in his throat. His brazen eyes drift to Kiyoomi’s legs, and something like exhilaration glints gold in his gaze. “Good quads, too. Ya ever played volleyball?” Ah. So it’s volleyball.

“I’m a dancer. Ballet and contemporary, mostly.”

*my love, take your time by bastigod (archaeologist!sakusa au: 9.0k, T)

There was something sublime about wandering around an empty museum. Nothing could compare to the sound of his shoes clacking against the marble floor, the morning sunlight gently streaming through the lofty windows and the peaceful solitude of ancient stone kings overseeing their silent kingdoms.

A day in the life of Doctor Kiyoomi Sakusa, Archaeologist.

i’ve literally been thinking about this fic every day since it came out. you will not find a story like this anywhere else, i guarantee you. what a clear labor of love this fic is it’s truly something so special

three roses and a smile by strawberrycitrus (surgeon!sakusa & microbiologist!atsumu au: 19.7k, T)

“I just got this job, I’m not givin’ it up for some moral boost ‘cause I actually need to pay my rent, ya insensitive -” Atsumu waves his hands around, trying and failing to come up with the right word to convey the amount of injustice that this gaunt motherfucker has brought into his relatively simple life thus far.

“If you can’t pay your rent, go get a job at the McDonald’s over by 8th Street,” Sakusa growls, “it’ll pay more than your researcher position.”

If you even attempt assault on a coworker, forget teaching about cells - you’ll fucking be in one, Atsumu.

*Dance of the Parallax by astroeulogy (ogre spirit!sakusa au: 6.7k, T)

For the last twenty years, Atsumu’s done all that he can to break his betrothal to the ogre spirit Sakusa. If he can just make it through one more night, he’ll be free.

honestly, just read everything by astroeulogy. i’m recommending this fic in particular because it has such an ethereal voice to it. magical

across oceans, across centuries by starstrikes (pacific rim au: 20.0k, T)

Six days ago, Osamu died and left Atsumu with this: Atsumu, you have to—

(Namikira rises with the tides and rips Osamu and Vulpis Empress away in one fell swoop. Six days later, Atsumu wakes up alone in a hospital bed and learns how to swim.)

you don’t actually need to know pacrim to appreciate this. a wonderful exploration of grief and recovery. also it’s exactly 20k words which is both satisfying and terrifying

*Notte Stellata by awkwardedgeworth (ice skating/dancing au: 20.8k, T)

"Your partner doesn't need to hold anyone's hand other than yours," Sakusa's father crouches, "And you can wear gloves."

Sakusa ponders. He hears the other skaters of rink two whiz past as they launch themselves into lifts.

"Alright," He looks up from the ice, not knowing how he'll dedicate the next couple of decades to this sport, this partnership, this boy.

what a stunning fic. a beautiful progression of sakusa & atsumu’s relationship, rife with references to real skating programs, beautifully written and structured. so full of longing i’m in mild physical pain

#if anyone else has recs feel free to drop them in the replies mwah #sakuatsu fic is SO high quality you can literally just look at the tag and blindly press and find something stunning #these are just my personal favorites #basically just my ao3 bookmarks and then some #sakuatsu #sakusa kiyoomi #miya atsumu #sakuatsu fic #haikyuu fic #ask #reynegades #thank you for asking.....ive been dying to make a fic rec post i just needed a push lol #fic

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klaus-is-the-real-number-1 · 4 years ago

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She moves in her own way (Number 5 x reader)

Ask: Could you do a Five x reader where the reader is sarcastic like him, but polar opposites at the same time? Like they are scared to talk in public and prefer tea with milk and sugar, they try to be very kind and sweet to others. They bonded over a book they were reading in a coffee shop and starting talking there, they were super shy, but after a few minutes of conversation Five got them to open up?

A/N: Hope you enjoy this! I changed it up a bit to being in a library first like getting the book then into a coffee shop. i uh posted this then deleted it so this is like version two that might be better but now im just stressin,, this could also be made into a pt 2 tbh

Words: 1559

Books towered high in the dimly lit building, the smell of paper resonating throughout with history dripping from every page. Aimlessly, your fingers skimmed over the spines of the many books, the worn down fabric feeling like a secret code telling all their secrets of every reader. As you walked you waited for a book to call out to you, for you to read every word as if it was the last time you would ever see a book again. Then a calling came, causing you to stop dead in your tracks. Pulling the book from its tightly packed shelf, you peer at the familiar cover; a book that you could recite every word without flaw yet every time you read it you felt like a child opening a toy on christmas. Gently, your thumb ran over the endented title of the book, The Odyssey by Homer.

Book in hand you walked down the stairs, hand running down the wooden banister that leads to the desk, it was a familiar walk down the spiral steps. Your gentle steps echoed throughout the library as you descended, preparing your library card to sign the book out for what must be the near 20th time. Smiling at the familiar receptionist, you slid the book along with your card towards her and watched her scan your card before taking the slip out of the front of the book, just before she scanned it she looked at it to be met with line after line filled with your name from checking it out.

“Hun,” She says as she just puts the slip back into the book. “I’m going to let you keep this book.” Before you could even open your mouth to protest she cut you off. “I insist, hunny, you seem to be the only one who ever signs it out and we can always order another.”

“Thank you so much.” You smile at her, slipping the book, your book, into your bag. She slides your card back over the counter towards you and winked as you picked it up, smiling again, you head towards the doors and onto the busy road. The streets were bursting with life, cars beeping and whizzing past and people loudly talking. It was a contrast to your slow quiet life, keeping out of the way and too yourself as much as possible. Most would see it as a tragedy but the ability to lose yourself into another world is something magical, to shut away all your problems and become someone else.

One drop of rain fell from the ever darkening sky, only to turn into two, to three to be an increasingly heavy stream, your pace quickened as you saw the neon light for the town diner coming into view, offering itself as a safe haven from the ever worsening weather. The bell chimed as you walked in, warm air hitting your face as it snuck out the door behind you before you could close it.

Once you were in you spot an empty table in the corner, out of the way of everyone and pull out The Odyssey, eyes reading the words that you had read over and over again. Your finger danced over the page as you read, getting ready to turn the page.

“Tell me, O Muse,” A boy said as he slid into the seat opposite you. “of the man of many devices-”

“Who wandered full many ways after he had sacked the sacred citadel of troy.” You finish the sentence and lock eyes with him, only to look back down to your book when his eyes started to linger for too long, making your face turn red. You knew all too well the opening lines to the Odyssey, not even having to think about what came next.

“What can I get you guys today?” The waitress smiled at you both, yet the boys calculating eyes never left yours.

“Please can I get a tea?” You asked softly.

“With sugar and milk?” You just nod at her and smile, watching her return the gesture.

“Coffee,” He says still looking at you before sharply flicking his eyes to the waitress. “black.” Then his eyes landed right back on you.

“Thank you.” You say to the waitress before she walked away, your eyes trail down to your book but become distracted as holes were being burnt into your soul. “You know it’s rude to stare.” A smirk broke across his face at your words, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest.

“I didn’t realise people causally read Homer.” His eyes continued to burn into yours, clearly enjoying your ever reddening cheeks.

“Can one not enjoy a classic piece of literature?” You posed, placing your bookmark into the worn book before setting it down onto the table. Breaking his gaze to look at the waitress as she placed your drinks on the table, you smile at her before gripping your hot mug, letting the warmth seep into your fingers.

“Do you know it in ancient Greek?” He sipped his coffee, seemingly challenging you.

“Not yet but I’m learning, it’s hard to teach yourself a dead language.” You look down at your book, unable to match his stare without making yourself too uncomfortable. He clearly didn’t get the hint from your fidgeting and now crimson face how uncomfortable you had become, or maybe he simply didn’t care.

“I’m fluent,” He shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe I could teach you sometime-”

“Yeah, let me just clear my schedule for a stranger who has been staring at me non-stop and being kind of creepy, seems like a solid plan.” You sarcastically say to him, taking a sip of your tea. For the first time he looked away from you and smiled to himself, being shocked at you sudden sarcastic outburst.

“I’m Five.” He stuck his hand out for you, your eyes flicked from his face to his hand before reaching over and taking it.

“Y/n.”

Five seemed to relax, talking in a softer tone and easing off the staring. He started asking questions about you, mainly your reading and opinions on Homer, as well as opening up about how his father made him learn it in ancient greek from a young age. Five was a very peculiar boy who hid behind a mask, he was a closed book with a lock around it but you were determined to find the key.

Somehow, you had cracked and agreed to his offer to teach you the dead language of ancient greek but the way his face broke out into a genuine smile made it worth it, as much as you didn’t want to admit it it, Five was growing on you.

The next day you found yourself sat in the library, legs swinging freely under the chair you were sat in, eyes following Five as he walked up and down the aisle looking for books. Just when you thought he found the right one, he’d sigh and place it back to then walk to the next set of shelves. Eventually he gave up his search, sighing in defeat as he returned to your table. “Come on, I’ve got the books we need at my house.” He pulled you up by your hand and began a fast paced walk with you trailing behind him like a lost puppy.

Not paying attention to where you were walking, you bump into Five who had stopped dead in his tracks, now facing a large building. Hand still in yours, he stepped forward and pushed the gate open and made his way to the door.

“You live here?” He just smiled at your question before continuing up to the door. His house was like a mansion, it was a mansion, taking up nearly a full block. Silence filled the air once Five closed the door behind you, the large building having no signs of any other life. He gently took your hand again and started walking through the mansion. Dust particles were floating like fairies in the streams of sunlight that beamed through the windows, illuminating the wooden furniture and portraits that looked as if they hadn’t been seen in years, stuck in time until someone would come along and free them.

Suddenly you found yourself in a brightly lit room, your eyes took a second to adjust before being able to get a good look. You were met with shelves on shelves of books, definitely being able to qualify as a library on its own. Dust caked the books, like it was a room frozen still. “Wow.”

“No one really comes in here anymore.” He says leaning against a large wooden table.

“If I lived here, I’d be in here all the time.” His eyes followed you as you walked over to one of the shelves, running your finger over all the pristine condition books, each one woven in fabric with a hardback cover. “You’re staring again.” You say as you turn to Five, his eyes locking with yours.

“I just haven’t met anyone like you before.” You smile at his words before walking over to the table and placing your bag down. His eyes lingered for another few seconds before he jumped into life, confidently pulling out books from the shelves like he knew where they were from memory. “Alright, let’s do this.”

#number 5 #number 5 x reader #number 5 fluff #number 5 imagine #number five #number five x reader #number five imagine #number five fluff #five hargreeves #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves fluff #five hargreeves imagine

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ijustwant2write · 5 years ago

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Not A Secret-Bonnie Gold x Shelby!Reader

(GIF credit to @paquim)

Tags: @jenepleurepasbaby @amirahiddleston @bloodorangemoonlight

Requested by anonymous: 'I literally check the bonnie gold tag everyday and was so HAPPYYYY when I saw your fic, I absolutely love the idea of finns twin sister being with bonnie or even just the youngest shelby sis being with him so wondering if I could get a fic with that premise please :)'

Summary: Although (Y/N) is terrified about what her brothers may do when they find out she is in a relationship, she doesn't want to be the dirty little secret Bonnie has to keep.

Characters: Bonnie Gold x Shelby!Reader, Finn Shelby x Shelby!Reader (siblings), Polly Gray x Shelby!Reader (family), Isaiah Jesus x Shelby!Reader (platonic), Tommy Shelby x Shelby!Reader (siblings)

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

Warnings: Swearing, arguing, angst, slight violence, lotta fluff

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Who are you dressed up for?" Finn asked as I walked into the kitchen.

"Myself." I snapped.

"I'm not an idiot-"

"Says the one who didn't finish school."

He scoffed."Come up with a better insult if you're so clever."

I retaliated by grabbing a slice of toast off his plate.

"I'll tell Tommy."

"Tell him what?" I slumped into the chair opposite him."That I knicked your toast?"

"No! That you're sneaking around."

"Do you have any evidence?"

He hesitated."No."

"Exactly, because nothing is going on."

"We're twins, I can sense it."

"Oh, fuck off Finn."

"I'm gonna find out-"

"Why would it be so bad if I was seeing someone? What if we're just fucking?"

"That's even worse!" he raised his voice.

"You do it all the time!" I shouted back.

"What the fuck is all this racket?" Polly yelled over us both, hands on her hips as she stood in the doorway.

"Sorry Pol, someone's just being a complete arse hole." I sneered, brushing past her and grabbing my coat from the hallway.

"What is she on about?" I heard her say, but I escaped out the front door before I could be questioned further.

Finn was on the right track, and I was scared that I hadn't been careful enough. Finn and I used to tell each other everything, but like the rest of our family, we started keeping our own secrets; but Finn would rat me out almost every time just to get on Tommy's good side. It pissed me off to no end.

The truth was, I was seeing someone. He had just become a Blinder himself, it must have been around two months, which was how long I had known him for. Bonnie Gold, the boy with a dream for boxing, had boldly asked me out, and I confidently accepted. He was handsome and charming, it had nothing to do with pissing off my brothers (which is what they would say if they knew about us). Of course I didn't want to tell everyone about us straight away, we had to see if it worked. But when I realised how much I would think about this man day in and day out, it became all too real, and I knew my feelings were strong.

However, because I was a fucking Shelby, that meant everything had to be a secret. And I hated it! It felt wrong, like I was in trouble with something. It was as if I was doing a job for my brothers, something illegal and dangerous. But it wasn't. It was the exact opposite. It was care free, loving and I felt immensely happy. However, Bonnie didn't think the same as I, believing that we should remain hidden until my brothers were in a good place, wait for a time where they weren't being threatened by anyone or had trouble within the business...like that was ever going to happen.

I waited beside the country road we always met on. Hardly anyone drove down here because they were scared of the gypsies that lived nearby, including my gypsy boy. Perching on a fallen tree, I sighed, fiddling with the skirt of my dress, thinking of all the ways this conversation could go wrong. Should I even bring it up? Should I even state my feelings about all of this? What if he didn't agree and we fell out? Or worse...

I was startled when I felt a pair of lips kiss my cheek, and I jumped away, only to have Bonnie grab me.

"For fucks sake Bonnie," I laughed as he kept kissing me all over my face,"you can't sneak up on me like that."

"You just looked so pretty sitting there." he grinned, helping me to my feet.

Our hands were intertwined as we gazed into each others eyes. Fuck, this was going to be hard.

"So, what brings you all the way down here?" he asked, guiding me towards the forest.

"Well, besides wanting to see you, I need to talk to you about something."

His smiled faltered."That doesn't sound good."

"It's about us being a secret-"

"We've gone over this (Y/N)."

"Yes, I know. But I hate it Bonnie! It's like you're ashamed to tell anyone about us-"

"I'm not ashamed." he stopped walking, turning me to face him."Im worried what your brothers will do."

"I won't let them hurt you."

He scoffed."They could beat me till I was black and blue and I wouldn't care. But they're powerful enough to keep you away from me. And if I retaliated, they could keep us apart for...well forever."

"Then I'll stay with you. We can leave a letter behind, a note to say that we're in love and we've run away and-"

"You'll really leave your family?"

"I..." I sighed, looking down at my feet."No, not like that. But Finn is becoming suspicious, and I know that if he finds out he'll tell Tommy. I'd rather it be us."

“(Y/N), I don’t want to sneak around either, but I’m only just making a name for myself in boxing. And your brother has helped me with that.”

I rolled my eyes, snatching my hands away as I crossed them over my chest.“I know boxing is your dream, but you’ve also said that I was part of those dreams.”

“You are! But if I don’t make enough money for us, how are we supposed to buy a house together? How are we supposed to get married?”

“How are we supposed to do any of those things if we don’t tell my family?”

His fists were clenching, but I knew this was his way of controlling his anger so he wouldn’t shout at me.

“I’m sorry that I even bothered to bring this up. Let’s just forget about it.”

“No, you’re right.”

“Are you sure?”

“It’s just that...what if they don’t accept it?”

“Obviously it matters what they think, I do love my family. But you’ve been there for me more than they have, you haven’t changed, even when you became a Blinder. Even Finn changed, he’s horrible now, I don’t feel like he’s my twin anymore.”

“I don’t want to split up your family.”

“Are we even that much of a family anymore? It's so difficult because I love them, and whenever we argue it feels horrible, but at the same time I can easily hate them. They've done bad things, they always say it's for the good of the family and the business in the end, but still, they go about it the wrong way."

Bonnie held my hands again, bringing one of them to his lips, gently kissing my knuckles."I don't want you to be torn from your family. It isn't fair."

"We can do this Bon," I squeezed his hands,"we'll tell them together. I know that if Finn opens his big mouth, he'll ruin everything."

"I've got a meeting tomorrow with them, about my next match. Come with me and we'll tell them then."

"We'll do it after you've fixed the match, I won't destroy your dream."

Although I left feeling more anxious than I ever felt, there was some feeling in me that was optimistic. Perhaps my brothers would see that Bonnie had a steady future. He was boxing and working for them, so he was under their control, and they knew all about his family; Bonnie was able to keep me safe, and the love between us was obvious.

Once back in town, I headed to aunt Pol's, but was stopped by Finn, with Isaiah stood behind him. He had that fucking cocky smirk of his, hands in pockets as he started speaking.

"Where have you been off to today then?" he asked.

"Hello Isaiah, it's been a while."

"You alright (Y/N)?" Isaiah smiled.

"You gonna answer my question?" Finn interrupted.

"I had to get out of the house and away from you. I've been wandering aimlessly seeing as I'm always being watched, apparently."

"What happened to you (Y/N)?"

"Oh, don't start." I moaned."Stop acting all high and minty just because your balls have finally dropped."

I started to walk away, but he harshly grabbed my arm, yanking me back to him."What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Get off me you prick!"

"Guys," Isaiah ripped us apart,"not now not here."

As soon as I was free from his grip, I marched away, ducking my head to avoid the nosy stares from people in the street. As I got to Polly's house, I let out a small, frustrated scream, pulling off my shoes and throwing them on the floor.

"Oi! What have my floors ever done to you?" Polly tutted.

I didn't answer, storming upstairs to my room and slamming the door. Finn made me so angry, and what made me more upset was the fact that I no longer felt close to him. He was the stereotypical, protective older brother (by five minutes), teaching me how to defend myself and keeping me away from the family business. But as we grew older, becoming young adults, being more aware of the world around us, we changed. Finn changed completely, no longer the sweet, young boy I knew, but now a ruthless, slimy, conniving businessman.

"(Y/N) what's..." Polly's voice trailed off as the sound of the door opening again interrupted her."Finn, what's going on with your sister? What have you done?"

"She's hiding something Pol! I don't know what it is, but she's keeping a secret from us all, she's being cruel."

My eyes shot wide open at his words, and I almost sprinted back downstairs. Polly stood on the first step, holding me back as I ran down the stairs, ready to attack Finn.

"You're a fucking horrible brother, Finn!" I screamed with tears streaming down my face."Why can't you just leave me alone? Leave me out of the business!"

"Right!" Polly raised her voice over mine."Get in the kitchen, both of you. We're going to sit down, and talk about what's happening here."

Finn left first, Isaiah hesitantly following. Poly didn't let go of me until he was gone, slowly releasing me. I wanted to keep screaming, shout at the top of my lungs so much that it hurt. However, I silently made my way into the other room, feeling Polly's eyes on the back of my head. I sat opposite from Finn, just as we had that morning, keeping my eyes down as Polly and Isaiah adjudicated the match that was about to begin. Perhaps Bonnie should have shown me more boxing moves...

"So, Finn, what started all of this?" Polly asked.

"Why does he get to go first?" I scoffed, furiously wiping away my tears.

Polly just had to look at me to shut me up.

"All (Y/N) ever does is sneak off everyday and she never tells me where she's going. And whenever I ask her about it she snaps at me and gets all defensive. All I'm trying to do is help her."

"Help me?!"

"(Y/N) I suggest you calm down before you speak." Polly said.

I took a moment to breathe, but couldn't help blurt everything out."How on earth are you helping me? You pry into everything I do, wanting to find anything wrong with me just so you can report back to Tommy. And then whilst he's having a go at me, you're down at the Garrison, being praised like you've actually done something useful. But you haven't. You've never been able to do anything to live up to John, so you've gone against your sister just for a pat on the back."

Finn's nostrils were flaring, his breathing deep as I saw his anger building up. I didn't feel great about what I had said, but it also felt good to hurt him. He always spoke down to me, why couldn't I do it to him?

"I understand that you're trying to move up in the business, actually be taken serious by someone like Tommy. But how are they meant to treat you like an adult, when all you do is tell tales about your little sister as if we were five again?"

He shot up from this chair, and I quickly copied, watching as he rounded the table to stand in front of me; we would have been nose to nose if not for the height difference. Polly and Isaiah almost jumped to separate us, but I held out my hand. This had been a long time coming.

"You don't understand what I'm doing for you." Finn said through gritted teeth.

"No, I don't. So enlighten me, explain yourself."

"You're going to end up hurt if you keep going off with that gypsy boy."

"Gyspy boy?" Polly gasped."What fucking gypsy boy?"

"He's lying Polly."

"I'm not though, am I (Y/N)? You say I'm the one who can't do anything right in this family, but let me ask you this-what have you ever done? You don't get the respect you crave from anyone else, so you start seeing someone beneath you in order to feel something."

"He is not lower than anyone, how dare you!"

"Who isn't? (Y/N) have you been gallivanting off with some gypsy boy behind our backs?" Polly said, but I didn't break eye contact.

"Come on (Y/N), just admit it. Let then all know about your little secret."

He was smirking. The damn bastard was smirking, he was enjoying every second of this. Yelling out, I lunged at him, slapping him across the face before shoving him away from me, repeatedly hitting his chest over and over. Isaiah rushed over, pulling me away from him, but kicked him in the shin, going for Finn again when Polly stood between us, slapping me across the face. I stumbled back in shock, clutching onto my cheek.

"I have never seen you two argue like this, and it is useless! But more importantly, what do you think you're doing young lady?" Polly snapped.

"It's always my fault, just because I'm the youngest-"

"Just tell me who it is!"

"It's Bonnie!"

It was finally silent in the room. Everyone was taking in what had been said. I took in a shaky breath before speaking again.

"I promise, I was going to tell you all tomorrow, after Bonnie's meeting with Tommy. I was the one who wanted to stop keeping it a secret."

"So how come he doesn't want to say anything?" Finn said.

"He was hesitant because of his boxing. You all know it's his dream. Which is why I wanted it to be in a calm environment, tell you all one at a time. Please, none of you can say anything, not until tomorrow."

"How long has this been going on for?" Polly asked, not looking so angry.

"Two months, maybe three."

"And you're serious?"

"Yes! Look, we're not rushing into marriage or anything. I mean, we've talked about it, but he's focusing on his career first. I told him to do that."

"Pol, come on, it's Bonnie we're talking about." Finn groaned.

"What's your point?" she argued back."Finn, I know you want to look out for your sister, but she's not stupid. She wouldn't put herself in a relationship of the boy was going to fuck her over."

"It could be worse Finn." Isaiah piped up."At least we know the guy, Bonnie is a good lad."

"Finn," I grabbed his attention back,"you have to promise me you won't tell Tommy. I have to do this myself."

Finn nodded, then huffed, looking at us all before leaving. Isaiah was quick to follow, throwing a small smile my way.

Polly placed her hands on my shoulder, guiding me into a chair."Right, sit down you. You're going to tell me everything, from the beginning."

It had been a huge relief to finally tell someone. And it wasn't as if I was being Punoshed and forced to tell the truth. I could gush about how amazing he was, the lovely things he said to me, the thought out dates he had taken me on when he didn't have the money, and what he would buy me after he saved up especially. Polly was smiling throughout, which gave me a sense that she was there for me. Now all I had to do was tell Tommy.

Finn kept his promise, or at least I thought he had because my door hadn't been kicked down with my older brother yelling at me. It had been a restless night, tossing and turning, wondering whether I should risk telling everyone else right now. Bonnie hadn't done that many matches, enough for people to recognise him though. What if Tommy ruined everything for him? What if they cut all ties with their family and their protection, making us more vulnerable? However, Polly, Finn and Isaiah already knew, and it would only be a matter of time before they told everyone else.

No one was in the house when I woke. The silence was annoying. Usually I longed for the peacefulness, but today I was alone with my annoyingly loud thoughts. I had checked my appearance multiple times before leaving, as if that would make any difference. Paranoia set in as I walked through the streets. Somehow I thought that they all knew my secret, and were all staring at me. What a drama queen.

As I got closer to Charlie's yard, I went over my rehearsed speech, ready to defend my love. Tommy was stood with Bonnie and his dad, Aberama, of course he was smoking as they discussed their business. I wasn't expecting Aberama, the embarrassment was already setting in. They all noticed me as I approached, falling silent as they watched me; Bonnie instinctively smiled.

"(Y/N)? What's wrong?" Tommy asked, slight concern in his voice.

"Nothing is wrong." I replied, standing beside him.

"Then why are you here? We're discussing business."

"Oh, I can wait till you're finished."

"No, no, say your peace now. We're basically finished."

"Right...um..." my words disappeared, the prepared speech suddenly gone.

"(Y/N) and I have secretly been seeing each other." Bonnie casually stated.

Aberama and Tommy glanced between us, watching as Bonnie boldly took my hand, tugging me towards him.

"You what?" Tommy stamped out his cigarette.

"It's true. It's been going on for two months." I mumbled.

Tommy pointed at Aberama."Did you know about this?"

Aberama was smirking."No, and I'm impressed that they hid it so well."

"He's fucking impressed."

"Tommy, we weren't doing this to aggravate anyone. We didn't mean to sneak around, but we wanted to make sure this relationship was working before we told you." I explained.

"(Y/N) was the one who told me we should tell you all. I'm sorry Mr Shelby, I didn't mean to go behind your back." Bonnie sincerely said.

"We were also hesitant because of his boxing. He is so loyal to you after all you've done. Please don't stop all of this because of me-"

Tommy held his hand up, shutting me up. Bonnie squeezed my hand for reassurance.

"Mr Shelby, may I butt in for a moment?" Aberama asked."You say this has been going on for two months?"

I nodded."Uh, yes, three months at the most."

"And in that time, Bonnie has attended all his matches, and followed your instructions, and has also completed all of his Blinder duties he was assigned. Not once has he faltered. And he did all of this whilst secretly meeting with your sister."

Aberama was on our side. Perhaps this would help ease Tommy into the idea.

"Fine, they are but a few good points." Tommy coughed."You two sure you're serious?"

We both nodded, cuddling closer together.

He let out a long sigh."If Bonnie can continue staying on track with boxing and business, then I'll allow it. But this can't effect any of our work."

"It won't Mr Shelby, I promise." Bonnie smiled.

"Thank you Tommy." I said, catching the second his eyes softened before he and Aberama turned to leave.

Aberama looked over his shoulder, winking at us before turning to speak with Tommy again. I faced Bonnie, squealing with delight before throwing my arms around him. He grabbed my cheeks, cheekily kissing me with his hands travelling down to my waist. He almost went lower until I stopped it, and I heard him whine as I pulled away.

"Bonnie, do you know what this means?" I breathed out.

"My place or yours?" he grinned.

"What? No! I'm not on about that." I laughed."We get to walk around holding hands, we get to kiss in public, we get to not so subtly sneak away from parties, and everyone knows we're having sex."

"(Y/N), I'm serious now, otherwise I might just have to take you here."

"I'd prefer if you didn't mate." Finn startled us appearing from seemingly nowhere.

Bonnie and I pulled apart, our hands still intertwined, our cheeks flushing red.

"Finn, I-"

"Don't worry Bonnie. I'll get used to it. I think."

"So you didn't end up telling him." I said.

"No. You were really upset the other day and I haven't seen you like that before, not that angry anyway. I'm actually here to apologise."

"Oh."

"I am truly sorry (Y/N). I've been a shit brother for the past year, and I was too proud to recognise that."

"I forgive you. I'm sorry for yesterday as well, you didn't deserve all of those horrible words or the slap."

"I did deserve it. But, how about a truce?" he held his hand out.

I smiled, grabbing it and pulling him towards me. We hugged each other tightly, and the memories came flooding back. This was my brother, such a familiar feeling, a loving feeling.

"Right, go on, fuck off with your boyfriend." he joked.

"I love you Finn. Don't worry, we'll see if Bonnie has any friends for you."

"Fuck off. But I love you too." he chuckled.

Bonnie wrapped his arm around my shoulders as we walked away. Neither of us could stop smiling. And now that Finn and I were building our relationship back to the way it was, everything felt like it was moving in the right direction.

"I repeat my question from earlier, mine or yours?" Bonnie needily said.

"Is that all you can think about right now?" I dramatically gasped."Yours, we haven't been there in ages."

"Well you better start walking faster, love."

"Come on, I'll race ya'."

"What's the prize?"

"Winner gets the other person to do whatever they want to them."

"I'll give you a head start. I'm going to win either way."

"Alright, but just know I have about ten things in my mind."

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free-pool-trash · 4 years ago

Text

folklore - isaac lahey {5/?}

hey! this part is honestly mostly angst? like i think the start of it is ok but the rest is angsty as hell, because pre-bite isaac <333

mostly isaac/reader in this chapter and a little Derek towards the end, also peter but mans can’t talk yet so idk if he counts?

PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!!! reblogs and comments are so appreciated <3

word count: 4k

warnings: blood, sad thoughts, reader being sad, isaac being sad, mentions of abuse, swearing

FOLKLORE MASTERLIST

Taglist: @makeusfreefromthisfandom, @cece-lives-here, @chocolate-raspberries, @belsandthings, @dancing-tacos-23, @truly-dionysus, @britty443, @tanyaherondale, @furiouspockettoad, @yunsh-17, @random-thoughts-003, @gloomybrieyxb, @futuristicslimemongerbanana, @linkpk88, @big-galaxy-chaos, @im-a-stranger-thing, @riaisnotcool let me know if you’d like to be added <3

The lights in his room were dim as they always were when you walked in. It’d been nearly two weeks since you’d last visited Peter, between becoming a vampire and trying not to get in a fist fight with Derek every five minutes you hadn’t had the time or energy to visit your favourite Hale.

When your eyes fell on him a strange feeling settled over your chest, you couldn’t quite put your finger on the sensation but if you had to describe it in one word; unsettling. It didn’t deter you from sitting in front of the man the feeling was coming from, though. If you were trapped in your own body you’d probably feel a little unsettled too.

Not wanting to waste anymore time you sat down in your usual seat across from Peter, shaking the feeling off as best you could before giving him a pleased smile, “Long time no see. I’ve got so much to tell you…” You trailed off, shaking your head when you caught yourself waiting for him to reply.

“First of all I got attacked by a werewolf which sucked and now I’m a vampire which, coincidentally, also requires a lot of sucking.” Silence.

“And I made some new friends, which is cool- Isaac got a little jealous but it’s fine, I handled it. I feel bad keeping him in the dark about all of this but I just want to keep him safe y’know?” Of course you received no answer, opting to continue filling Peter in despite his usual lack of response.

“Your nephew has been driving me crazy, by the way.” You informed him, letting out a grunt at the thought of how annoying Derek had been over the last few days, “He’s got this tough guy thing going on, I think it’s just to psych Scott out honestly, which is fine! But it’s the fact that he’s keeping it up with me as if I haven’t known him for seventeen years!”

If Peter had control over his body you knew he would’ve laughed at your annoyance towards his nephew, he always had. Whenever Derek teased you growing up, it was always Peter that you’d go running to.

“Uncle Peter!” The man sighed at the sound of your shrill voice, closing the book he’d been reading out on the porch as you ran up to him with an angry pout on your face.

“What’s up, kiddo?” He asked, opening his arms as you threw yourself into them. You let out a puff of air, settling yourself on Peter’s knee as he sat on the porch steps. “Derek said that because I’m only six I can’t play basketball with him and his friends!” You whined.

Peter only scoffed, his arms pulling you close as he raised an eyebrow, “Don’t worry, sweetheart. They’re idiots, each and every one of them.”

There was always something about uncle Peter, he had a certain tone of voice that made anything he spoke sound like gospel. If Peter said it, you believed it. That was just how it was, thinking about it now you figured that your attachment and high level of trust in Peter probably had something to do with the fact that he’d practically initiated you into his pack when you were so young. Truth be told, he was the hardest loss of the Hale’s for you to come to terms with because even though he hadn’t died he’d still been lost.

You twiddled with your fingers as your thoughts began to wander, getting the hang of heightened emotions wasn’t so easy now that you were sat in front of Peter, or what was left of him. You hadn’t noticed the tears that had built up in your eyes until they began to sneak down your cheeks, slipping down your chin and coating your neck with their salty stream.

All you could do was imagine that he was more than an empty shell, that he was himself and listening intently, that he was just waiting for you to finish before he offered his sage advice.

“I really wish you could tell me how to handle all of this.” You sniffled out, pressure in your chest growing as, for once, it was the weight of your own emotions weighing it down.

Since being turned you hadn’t gotten a chance to stop and breathe or really even think about what was happening to you, living in a constant state of confusion, fear and loss.

“I just feel… so lonely that I can hardly breathe sometimes-“ Your breath hitching stopped your confession in its tracks while your tears continued to fall freely down your face, there was no point in trying to wipe them away- you’d broken the dam.

Your watering eyes focused on the ceiling as you poured your heart out to the man who was essentially your second father, despite the fact he was more or less completely unresponsive you still couldn’t bring yourself to meet his empty gaze.

“Nobody knows what I am, really. And it’s like I’m all on my own and nobody knows how to help me or- or anything!” Eventually you met his eyes and it was then that your feeling of sorrow grew considerably bigger, the pang in your heart sinking all the way down to the pit of your stomach as a new layer of tears replaced the ones that had just fallen down your cheeks.

“I’ve upset you.” You stated, heart racing at the fact you’d managed to upset Peter Hale himself.

Quickly you wiped your tears away, your face was still wet as you took a deep breath, shaking away the feeling that was eating you up. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be crying I just- I really need someone to talk to, you know? Usually I’d go and rant to Isaac but I can’t tell him anything and it’s killing me but everyone told me not to and I also told myself not to… it’s a mess. I’m just so lost.”

Peter, as usual remained quiet, but there was something in his eyes- it was quick and barely there but you’d seen it. They’d flashed red.

After you composed yourself, you left Peter’s room and made your way to school, you’d woken up early to visit Peter.

As soon as you entered the building your feet moved quickly towards your locker, you sorted your books out as fast as you could before making your way to Isaac’s locker. Your meeting with Peter had shaken you up and honestly, in the moment, you just needed your best friend.

As usual when you arrived by Isaac’s side you alerted him by gently tugging on his sleeve, you didn’t know why but he was extremely nervous, to the point where you felt your own stomach beginning to turn. Even though you’d sought him out for your own comfort you discarded that plan as soon as you met his eyes, he needed to be comforted more than you did right now.

“What’s wrong?” You immediately blurted out, grabbing his free hand that hung by his side unlike the other that held his locker door open, knuckles turning white from how tightly he clung to the metal door.

Isaac only shook his head, he gave you the smile that he always gave you, the one that screamed “please don’t worry about me” but you knew better than to believe that smile because as gorgeous as it is, it’s fake.

“I’m okay, don’t worry.” He squeezed your hand in an effort to deter you, but yet again, you knew better.

Letting your eyes roll, you furrowed your brows, “Seriously, tell me what’s bothering you.” You demand not missing the defeated look that fell on his face when he hung his head, brown curls falling over his eyes, “Nothing, (Y/n). Just the parent teacher conferences are happening tonight…” He trailed off as he shuffled his feet.

The realization of why he was so nervous about it hit you like a ton of bricks and you didn’t care who was watching when you threw your arms around his shoulders, pulling him into you with a sigh. “How is it gonna go?” You asked, already knowing the answer would be: not well.

Isaac’s arms held you against him tightly, stabilizing you as you had to stand on your tiptoes to get a good grip around his shoulders, ever since he’d had his growth spurt when you were both thirteen if you wanted to hug him properly you’d always need to get on your tiptoes. He wouldn’t lie though, he thought it was the cutest thing.

“I’ve got a C minus in Chem.” He muttered against your neck, tightening his grip on you for dear life, you both knew Mr Lahey wouldn’t be pleased.

With a little grin, in an attempt to lighten the mood you pulled your head back to look your best friend in the eyes, “Should we dip? Run away? Move to France?” The question was made with humor but you were really considering the thought of just dragging him out of the school’s double doors and flying away to somewhere sunny where the pair of you wouldn’t have to deal with any of the shit you have to deal with in Beacon Hills.

Isaac gave you a sad smile, connecting his lips to your forehead quickly with rosy cheeks before disconnecting from you, “I think that would probably make things worse.”

Before you could respond Isaac shut his locker and spoke again, “Anyway, what had you so upset a few minutes ago?”

Deciding that today wasn’t the best day to confide in him you simply offered him a sad smile and weak explanation.

“Just woke up on the wrong side of the bed. Wanted a hug.” Isaac let out an airy laugh, tilting his head to the side with a smile.

He beckoned you in for a side hug, “Get in here.” Immediately you obliged, attaching yourself to the boy’s side as the pair of you walked towards your first class of the day.

All you hoped was that his anxiety didn’t get the better of him today or later on when his father confronted him, so, as any good friend with supernatural abilities would, before you parted ways you made sure to transfer some much needed relaxation onto the boy who was positively teeming with fear. For now, it was all you could do for him without exposing yourself, you prayed it was enough.

As the day drew on your mind drifted from your conversation with Peter to your conversation with Isaac constantly. Understandably. You needed to get on top of your heightened emotions and you needed to do it fast, because to put it simply; you were drowning.

But like you mentioned to Peter, nobody knew anything about anything, not even Deaton could tell you how to gain control or even tell you the full extent of your capabilities. The loneliness was what hit the most. It was that empty, distant, ever-sinking feeling that was slowly but surely swallowing you whole. Scott had Derek, not to mention Stiles, to help him figure out everything he needed to know, an experienced wolf and a loyal best friend to walk him through everything, to support him, to keep him grounded, to tell him the dos and don’ts of being a wolf.

What did you have? An unwavering loyalty to a member of a pack who was barely even alive? Half baked theories from books of lore that your parents managed to dig up from some dusty corner of the attic? Derek who spent all of his time focused on Scott despite a member of his own pack being in obvious distress? A best friend you can’t confide in because he’s just as broken as you are? It didn’t seem fair.

The bite turned you to a vampire instead of a wolf, every night you wondered why you’d taken this form when seemingly nobody else had ever been turned by wolf bite, the conclusion you’d come to was that it was just some sick karmic joke. A test of endurance that you weren’t sure if you were going to pass. The universe spotted you- hand picked you as it’s favourite love-sick, hopeless romantic with a heart too big for her body and with a soul that felt emotions as vast and deep as the ocean. It chose you, but the gag was you never wanted it to be you. For once, you wished someone else had won the prize that felt more like a curse.

It was all too much. You felt too deeply. Every emotion consumed you, every sound vibrated like bass from a speaker, every touch sparked like static and every beating heart made you hungry. But every time you even so much as pondered simply giving in to the feelings, of letting go of that rope that seemed to be holding your empathy close and letting it fall away, every time you entertained those thoughts that voice, from the first night, would ring through your skull and echo until you agreed to the words being spoken by the oh so familiar voice. Don’t let it kill you.

Scott had been nowhere to be seen all day, nor had Allison, it was only when you’d spotted Stiles sitting alone at lunch that you’d realized that the wolf and his girlfriend probably ditched.

The final bell eventually signaled the end of the school day, solemnly you walked alongside Isaac towards the doors of the school, stomach twisting with anxiety knowing that the next time you’d be seeing him he’d more than likely be barring a new bruise or emotional scar.

“Can I drive you home?” You asked, hoping he’d say yes but understanding when he shook his head no, “I cycled here, I’ll take my bike. Thank you though.”

You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, looking at him with worry clear on your face, it was all you could focus on and you were half sure he could feel it too, your efforts of masking it failing.

Isaac could feel the worry seeping off you, but even before you’d turned he always had a knack from knowing when something was on your mind. He knew all your tells, when you were worrying about something you’d bite your lip and furrow your eyebrows, when you were upset you’d wring your hands together or play with your fingers, he knew how you were feeling whenever you were feeling it purely because of the mannerisms you used when you were around him. It’s how he knew that you’ve been hiding something from him since you’d been attacked, the boy didn’t know what it was but he saw it weighing you down, he was determined to get to the bottom of it so he could be there for you. He let out a heavy sigh when he realized in the moment that the roles were reversed and with the way you gazed at him he knew you wanted to be there for him, like you always were.

“I’m gonna be okay, nothing that hasn’t happened before.” He finally spoke in an attempt to reassure you that there was nothing to worry about but his statement only served to upset you more and he silently cursed himself as he watched the corners of your lips sink downward. “It shouldn’t happen ever.” You told him softly, trying your very best to keep your composure when you heard your voice crack.

Glancing around quickly, Isaac grabbed your wrist and tugged you towards your car, knowing how much you hated getting upset in front of people he took the initiative to carry on the conversation in the confines of your car away from the rest of the prying students.

Once you were both situated in the front seats, Isaac spoke up, “I know that you hate seeing me hurt, I know it shouldn’t be like this but it is. I’ll survive, you need to stop worrying about me so much, (N/n).”

“You don’t deserve this.” You muttered, sorrow dripping from each word.

“(Y/n)-“

“No Isaac! You don’t deserve to be treated like this! Every time I see you hurt it makes me so fucking angry because when you tell me what happened you say it as though you had it coming! But you never do, you never have it coming!” The words left your mouth in a high pitched string of cries as Isaac simply lowered his gaze to his lap, hating how your voice shook in agony for him.

With every word you spoke you became more and more worked up, tears trickling down your face freely now that all the cars in the parking lot were more or less gone. “And every single time I wish I could do more for you- I wish that I could make you see what I see.” Your confession was fragile, the words barely audible as they passed your lips.

Isaac lifted his head, his own eyes welling up, “You have no idea how much you do for me so don’t think like that.” He demanded, his tone far more assertive than you’d ever known it to be.

His hand met your face, gently but quickly, his palm cupping your cheek while his thumb brushed away your tears. For a second, you closed your eyes, imagining the feeling of his hand cupping your cheek happening under better circumstances before reconnecting your eyes with his.

“I’m gonna go home.” He told you, sad smile on his lips as you shook your head, gripping the wrist of the hand he still had placed on your cheek desperately. “Stay.”

“I’ll come over to yours tonight ok? But you have to let me leave.” When you didn’t move, he sighed and pulled his hand away from you himself, trying not to wince at the hurt look on your face.

Your best friend opened the car door and stepped out, leaning in with an arm resting against the top of the door with a look on his face that you couldn’t pinpoint, that feeling had returned to your chest though, the light and flowy one. “Love you, kid.” His lips formed a cheeky grin when the nickname caused you to smile, he hadn’t rubbed the fact he was two months older than you in your face recently, you should’ve seen it coming. Finally allowing yourself to give him a weak smile you gave him an equally as weak, but still meaningful, “Love you too, idiot.” Before he shut the car door and made his way towards his bike.

To put the cherry on top of an already stressful day when you got home Derek was waiting at your dining table expectantly. The first words leaving his mouth being, “Where’s Scott?”

You rolled your eyes at him, walking into the kitchen and grabbing a blood bag out of your fridge, Stiles had been sweet enough to fill some bags for you since you were both still trying to work out the whole euphoric feeding situation, feeding on Stiles on a school night usually meant Stiles being completely away with the fairies the next morning and obviously you needed to feed during the week. Blood wasn’t as tasty cold but as weird as it was to admit, it still slapped.

Taking a sip from the small straw sticking out of the bag you raised an eyebrow at the wolf in front of you, “I dunno, Derek. Where’s my hello?”

“This is serious.” He growled, “So am I.” You rebutted, taking another sip as the man grew more irritable.

He didn’t answer, only growled at you, he was probably hoping you’d buy into his ridiculous power play. You didn’t, obviously.

Nonchalantly, you lifted yourself up onto the counter of the kitchen island, facing Derek and sipping your blood happily.

“Growl at me all you want, D. Scott might buy into your big bad wolf act but I remember when you used to watch Barbie movies with me every single day.” You told him matter of factly, “Things are different now. Scott needs my help.” At his statement your carefree demeanor faltered. You needed his help, but not once since you’d been bitten had the man you considered a brother offered you even a morsel of support but yet here he was in your home, asking for a beta he barely knows.

“If Scott was around today would you have come to see me?” You asked him, keeping your voice as steady as you could.

Derek shook his head as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, “No, because I’m looking for Scott.”

Slowly you nodded your head, allowing his words to sink in. Today had been emotionally draining, sure, but you couldn’t find the strength within yourself to leave this alone.

“So where exactly am I on your supernatural list of priorities? Or am I even on it at all?” The question was harsher than you intended but Derek had a fairly hard head, if you wanted to get a point across you sometimes had to be a little less than gentle with the delivery.

The wolf groaned, head falling back in exhaustion, “Can we not do this right now?”

Slapping the now empty blood bag down beside you and crossing your arms, you glared, “Answer my question.”

He gave you a hard look, standing up from his seat in what you assumed was an attempt to intimidate you, “I’ll admit you’re not my top priority right now, alright? Scott needs me, you’ll be fine.” A humorless laugh left your lips as you jumped down from the counter, squaring up to the taller man before you with absolutely no fear.

“Are you sure about that, D? Cuz last time I checked, Scott has Allison and Stiles and Deaton and you telling him exactly what to do and when to do it. I have no one.” Derek bit his tongue, his jaw clenched and lips pursed before he gave you a response, “He needs all the help he can get. Your abilities aren’t as difficult to get the hang of as his are.”

“Oh yeah?” It was a challenge, not only had he managed to piss you off and upset you at the same time, he’d also managed to erase the pain of your own transition in favour of defending Scott.

Derek sighed, the voice in his head telling him to step down when he noticed your fists clenched tightly into balls against your side, “Look (Y/n)-“ He started before a gasp ripped from his throat when you arm gripped his.

The anger, the fear, the pain, the loneliness, the confusion, the weight that came from feeling everything all at once, you made him feel it all, not releasing your tight grip on his bicep until he’d looked down at you with tears glazing his eyes.

Roughly, you ripped you hand from his arm, purple eyes glowing as you stood chest to chest with him, “Maybe if you bothered to check up on me you’d know that my shift wasn’t easy, I don’t have the hang of my abilities and every single morning I wake up and think about how much easier my life would be if I just let them destroy me.” You were seething, Derek’s face was painted in shock as he stood at a loss for words.

“But hey! By all means go help Scott. What’s pack loyalty anyway?” Your words were seeped in venom and as soon as they left your mouth you took advantage of your enhanced speed, running from the room only leaving a gust of wind and an emotionally overwhelmed Derek in your wake.

#isaac lahey x reader #isaac lahey #teen wolf x reader #derek hale x reader #peter hale x reader #folklore i.l

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the-sympathetic-villain · 4 years ago

Text

Choking in the Dark

AO3 | Next | Masterpost

Description: The prompt for this one-shot is this animatic, "Wires" by Anna Midnight, which I highly recommend you watch before reading.

Characters: Logan, Remus Word Count: 2769 Chapter Warnings: Heavy Angst, Choking, Self-Esteem Issues/Self-Deprecation, Injuries, Dark but Not Necessarily Unsympathetic sides, Abandonment, Self-Harm, Angst with an okay(?) ending (Let me know if I need to add anything!)

General Taglist:

@somehow-i-got-an-account @justanotherhumanstuff @im-an-anxious-wreck

I can’t breathe.

Hours.

How many hours?

I've been here for so long.

Logan's lungs ached. On his knees, he hung his head. The weight of his head pulling against the thick rubber cable around his neck, making it even harder to breath. He stayed there for a moment, swaying as he ignored the voice in the back of his mind screamed for air.The voice became increasingly persistent until he was forced to raise his head as the edges of his vision blurred.

It doesn't matter.

Thick wires cut deep into his wrists, a solemn comfort that he was even alive. The fading had started hours ago, starteing in the tips of his fingers and slowly claiming his body. He held up his hand. The translucent appearance of his digits a metaphorical punch to the gut as he jerked his head, the wire around his neck tightening like a noose.

I'll do you all a favor and spare you my company.

If he'd known the words would be some of his last, he would have chosen a subject more interesting to lecture on than Peter Singer's take one Effective Altruism. He could have talked about anything. Astronomy, chemistry—The others barely acknowledged his contributions as it stood. The topics may not have been relevant, but at least he would have been able to choose the lesson.

His last lesson.

Logan whimpered as the thick wire tightened around his neck, cutting into the already raw skin. He wheezed a stiff breath against the heavy piece of rubber threatening to crush his windpipe.

Not that it would have had an impact on any of them.

The piles of dust scattered across the floor around him remained a stark reminder that his words fell flat on the ears of those he most needed to hear them. Thomas—His friends—

If that's even what they consider me at this point.

After all, he was here. No one had noted his absence in the hours he'd been gone.

Why would they?

Clearly, his words were so unnecessary they should simply be skipped. He growled breathlessly in frustration as the binds around his wrists pulled taut. His arms were stretched out, pulled upward like some sort of sick marionette hanging limply on his knees. He glared into the empty space around him. His ‘room' as the others loved to refer to their personal corners of Thomas' mind. His room. The awe-inspiring place had once been full of chemistry books and stars and all the little things that made Thomas curious. Logan had been collecting them since Thomas was a child, but it was gone, turned to piles of dust around his room as Thomas' search for knowledge fall further and further out of his mind.

Unimportant.

Just like him.

He couldn’t help the sick smirk on his face as the wires tightened once more around his throat, jerking his head upright. He swallowed a shallow breath, barely drawing oxygen as his airway strained to remain open.

Unwanted.

Logan snarled bitterly as memories surfaced forcefully in his mind.

Not that any of you care, but I am unharmed—

I'll do you all a favor and spare you my company—

His own words from this video echoed in his mind as he choked on his own breath. Only Patton had objected, but his protests were weak and quickly forgotten. If one thing was clear, it was that his contributions were neither wanted, nor needed anymore.

They'll finally get what they've wanted all along—

Logan groaned as the wires pulled on his wrists and his shoulders ached, barely holding place in the sockets against the strain of the heavy cords threatening to pull him to pieces.

His life was a small price for them to pay for him to finally be silenced.

Roman wouldn't have to shut him up when he started rambling anymore. Virgil wouldn't have the added stress of convincing him that Thomas' fears were valid. Patton wouldn't have to feign the moral obligation of treating him like an equal, like he actually had a seat at the table. Thomas—Logan choked back a sob—Thomas wouldn't have to feel guilty about pursuing what actually made him happy.

This is for the best.

After all, I already see how worthless my life had become—

Logan’s head jerked up at the sound of a sinister snicker. “Well, well, well—Look who's wandered a little too far from the light. I didn't take you for the bondage type, teach.”

He watched as Remus stepped out of the shadows, a menacing grin on his face as he approached. Logan scowled as Remus kicked through the piles of dust, scatter the last remnants of the things he once loved. “What are you doing here, Remus?”

“What am I doing here?” Remus cackled maniacally. “Oh, no, no, no. The better question is what are you doing on the dark side?”

“The dark—” A cry past Logan’s lips as the wires around his wrist jerked once more, dislocating his right shoulder. He groaned, daggers in his eyes as he glared at Remus. “You know what?”

Remus tilted his head at Logan, a show of mock concern as he brushed through yet another pile of dust.

“Fuck your questions.” Logan spat. “Leave me alone. The least the rest of you owe me is to let me fade away in peace.”

“You ought to watch that mouth of yours or you're going to disappoint the cardigan-clad killjoy. Besides, what are you going to do about it?” Remus giggled as Logan glared, stepping forward and waving his hand through Logan’s phantom limb. “Ghost me?”

Fire burned in Logan’s eyes as he stared at Remus, knowing he was helpless. Trapped, as Remus walked free to do as he pleased.

“So, nerdy wolverine,” Logan looked up as Remus leaned close to his face. “What happened to my invite to the pity party?”

“This isn't my doing,” Logan hissed, losing steam. “Thomas’ subconscious is pulling me back. I—I've outlived my purpose.”

“Pulling you back seems like an understatement. It looks to me like you’re about to be pulled to shreds—” Remus smirked, leaning against the wall behind him nonchalantly. “—and don’t get me wrong. I’m all about watching Thomas' mind tear you into little pieces, but you’re supposed to be pretty important for the big guy, right? Seems to me like Thomas is supposed to need you more than those other dorks on the light side.”

Logan gritted his teeth. “Clearly, you’re mistaken. They are managing perfectly well without me.”

“Oh, now I do sense a little bitterness.” Remus purred. “Maybe he's not so resigned as he looks.”

“Your point is null, Remus. My existence is of little consequence to anyone and the subconscious has made its decision.” Logan wheezed numbly, tears in his eyes as he tried to move his fingers, desperately hoping they were still there. “This is happening, whether I want it to or not.”

"Oh, I don't know." Remus mused absently. "I don't think all of that is true."

“What?” Logan strained painfully against the thick cord around his neck to turn his head to catch a glance at Remus.

“I wouldn’t say no one wants you around.”

Logan swallowed painfully, dropping his gaze in shame as tears brimmed in his eyes. “The others—”

“Screw the others.” Remus smirked as Logan stared a him. “I meant me.”

Logan froze, temporarily stunned as his limbs went limp in their binds. “You—you want me around?”

“Now, don't get all sappy on me, teach, but the others aren't as much fun to play with. They roll over to easy.” Remus wiggled his eyebrows at him and giggled as Logan stared blankly at him. “Not you though. You gave me a run for my money last time, and—and we made a good team. Didn't we?”

“What?” Logan winced as Remus raised a hand to his neck, staring at the wires digging into his skin. His fingertips brushed the edge of the wire's tight grip and the red, raw skin burned painfully at his touch, but the contact—the contact felt nice.Tears streaked down his face as emotions welled in his chest. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been touched so gently.

“We may have opposed each other, but really that was the only way to get through to Thomas and it worked.” Remus sighed, and Logan could see the sadness in his eyes as he pulled his hand back, looking into Logan's eyes. “I couldn't have done that without you. The rest of them would never have seen past the darkness in me.”

Logan stared blankly down at Remus for a long moment, before his purpose kicked in. “The others are unnecessary blinded by their narrow view of moral. The concepts of light and dark are arguably meaningless. Assigning actions as good or evil only serves our biases and our internal need for affirmation of our own moral value—” Logan nearly bit down on his tongue as Remus raised an eyebrow at him. “—I'm sorry. I'm rambling.”

“I didn’t stop you, teach." Remus smirked. "I would gladly listen to you ramble about light and dark for hours.”

Logan blinked in surprise. For the first time in a long time, he actually believed someone was genuinely interested in his thoughts. He stared blankly at Remus until another tight squeeze of the wires caused his vision to blur. His head swayed, the lack of oxygen contributing to his fading consciousness.

“Unfortunately, I don't think we have the time right now.” Remus glanced at him nervously. “The subconscious has nearly claimed you."

“It's too late.” Logan wheezed, tears streaming down his face as he prepared for the mysterious edge of Thomas' mind to pull him apart.

“The subconscious could have just taken you.”

“What?”Logan cracked his eyes open at Remus' solemn whisper, nearly hyper ventilating from the strain to pull in enough oxygen to keep him conscious.

“You could have disappeared on the light side, but it brought you here.” Remus looked up at the wires trailing infinitely into the mind palace above them.

Logan wearily stared up at him, black oblivion tugging at his vision as his head swayed. “So?”

“So, do you want to live, Logan?” Logan barely felt as Remus grabbed his collar.

Logan wheezed, exhaustion hanging onto his body as the pain intensified.

“I need an answer, Logan.”

Logan closed his eyes, oblivion pulling at him as he whispered breathlessly. “Yes.”

“Alright,” Logan felt Remus drop his collar as he took a step back. “Forgive me for this.”

“Wha—” Logan’s statement was cut off as Remus' knuckles connected with his temple. His head was jerked to the side and the welts on his neck burned like fire from the sudden movement.

"Time to taste what you’re made of, Lo!”

Logan’s head jerked up as he lurched forward furiously. White hot rage surged through his veins as he bit bit his lip hard enough to draw blood.

What kind of sick bastard punches someone as they're dying.

His hands hung loosely at his sides as he screamed at Remus. “You piece of—What are you trying to do to—”

Wait. Loosely?

The realization lasted only a moment before a second fist connected with his cheekbone. All rational thought left his mind as fury filled his being and he lunged forward at Remus. He cried out as his dislocated shoulder connected with Remus' chest, toppling him over. He gasped as he hit the ground and pain lit up across his body as his bruises and welts all connected with the ground with a loud thud.

“Shit, Lo. You knocked the breath right out of me.” Logan could hear the sounds of Remus shuffling next to him. “Hold on. I've got you.”

Logan felt Remus roll him over and he moaned in pain at the forced movement as his back settled on the cold ground.

“I know, Lo, but I've got to set your arm before you do some permanent damage.” Remus whispered gently. “Are you ready? On 3. 1—2—”

Logan's vision went white as pain shot through his body and his consciousness faded briefly. No times seemed to pass, but as he opened his eyes a moment, he found himself curled in Remus' arms. A quick glance down revealed that creative side had used his signature green sash to fashion a makeshift sling for his arm. He stared down at the gentle attention Remus had shown him and he couldn’t help but smile.

Brilliant—

Logan cut off his thought with a sudden gasp. His uninjured hand shot to his neck, feeling—nothing. Tears streamed down his face as he looked up to Remus. “ The wires. Th-they’re gone.”

I'm free.

“Sorry about the black eye I gave you to get you out of there.” Remus smirked as Logan looked up from his shaking hands, running his free hand through his hair as he looked away evasively as Logan stared at him. “I normally try to get permission before I get rough, but—”

“You did that for me.” Logan's mouth hung open as he traced the deep indents in his arms where the wires had constricted his wrists.

Remus shrugged. “It wasn't noth—"

Logan sucked in a breath, going limp with the realization that someone cared enough to intervene. “It most certainly is something, Remus. Those wires—they've bound me for years. I don't think I even remember a time when they weren't—” Logan clenched his teeth, feeling the wet streaks mix with the blood from his lip running down his face. The realization of what just happened hit him all at once and he choked back a sob. “You saved my life.”

“Nah,” Remus brushed him off. “You did all the real work. Everyone’s got a little light and dark in ‘em, right? I just antagonized that little spark of anger in you until you went full Mr. Hyde to your usual Dr. Jekyll. A little push and the dark side accepted you.”

Logan blinked in shock as realization struck him. He dropped his gaze to the ground as he considered the days' events. "I'm a dark side now. Aren't I?"

"What happened to the idea that light and dark are arguably meaningless, nutty professor?" Remus giggled before turning serious. “Don't worry. You're not stuck with me. The subconscious’ grip on you is gone if you want to go back—”

“Don't make me go back, Re.”

Remus stared at Logan pleaded up at him. “Lo, you can stay, if you want, but Virgil’s gone. I'm pretty sure Janus checked out after the last vid. It's just me down here and I snore—”

“Remus, in the last ten minutes, you've shown me more humanity than any of the others have in years,” Anger flashed in Logan's eyes as he slowly straightened to his feet, glancing around the room. The piles of dust were gone, revealing a polished concrete floor, a blank canvas. “It all makes sense now.”

“What does” Remus paused and watched as Logan stood. With a devilish smirk, he brushed off the the dust of his shirt. The last remnants of the his empathy fading into oblivion.

Emotions. I always knew they were simply a nuisance.

“I couldn’t help Thomas from the light side. The rules, the niceties…They were preventing me from fulfilling my purpose. I need to be more forceful. More persistent. More angry” Logan looked up to see the night sky above them, an illusion of the mind palace and the beginning of a new chapter. A bitter smile spread across Logan's face as the dark clouds swirled above them, allowing only a sprinkling of stars to show through. “Don't you see, Remus? I need to make them listen. I need to make Thomas listen.”

Remus raised an eyebrow at him suspiciously. “You’re actually staying?”

A mischievous smile spread across Logan’s face as he watched items creep slowly up out of the floor, his room now feeling much like he'd had before. A desk, a globe. The room filled to the brim with bookshelves. Everything returned to his room just like before was except—a little darker, a little colder and about as welcoming as the sinister smile spreading across his face. “Yes, I think I'm going to get comfortable here, Remus.”

Remus matches his smile, giggling manically. “Ah yes, Lo. Let's burn this place to the ground!”

Free. He was free at last.

Logan chuckled, smiling at the wonderful man beside him. “Yes, Re, let's do just that.”

#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #sanders sides fanfic #sanders sides fanfiction #ts logan #ts remus #questionable logan #questionable remus #angst #tw choking #tw self harm #tw self deprecation #choking in the dark #villain writes

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 5 years ago

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But You Can Never Leave [Chapter 13: Paper And Ink]

A/N: Can I just take a second to say how happy I am to see all of your reactions to my little fic?! I have never been a super popular writer on Tumblr but I like to think that I have some of the cleverest, kindest, most thoughtful readers around. Your support for and emotional investment in my stories makes me so, so, so happy. Please enjoy this latest chapter...it’s the longest one yet! 💜

Also, MAJOR shout out to @writerxinthedark and her constant insanely astute observations!! Girl, I’m shook. Do you have ESP or what...? 👀

Chapter summary: Roger tries to reach a compromise, John tries to offer solace, Chrissie tries out some retro science, Y/N tries to process some alarming new information.

This series is a work of fiction, and is (very) loosely inspired by real people and events. Absolutely no offense is meant to actual Queen or their families.

Song inspiration: Hotel California by The Eagles.

Chapter warnings: Language! Discussion of substance abuse! Babies! Drama! Angst!!!

Chapter list (and all my writing) available HERE

Taglist: @queen-turtle-boiii @loveandbeloved29 @maggieroseevans @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark @im-an-adult-ish @queenlover05 @someforeigntragedy @imtheinvisiblequeen @joemazzmatazz @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhye @namelesslosers @inthegardensofourminds @deacyblues @youngpastafanmug @sleepretreat @hardyshoe @bramblesforbreakfast @sevenseasofcats @tensecondvacation @queen-crue @jennyggggrrr @madeinheavxn @whatgoeson-itslate @brianssixpence @simonedk @herewegoagainniall @stardust-killer-queen @anotheronewritesthedust1 @pomjompish @writerxinthedark

Please yell at me if I forget to tag you! :)

“You can’t leave,” John pleads. One of his hands—strong, nimble, a gold band on his wedding finger—is clutching the wooden bedpost. Chrissie paces back and forth beside him, gnawing her thumbnail until it bleeds, silent tears streaking down her ruddy cheeks.

You throw your open suitcase onto the bed and start yanking things out of drawers: panties and bras—the practical ones, not the sexy ones, I won’t be needing those in the immediate future—jeans, velvet dresses, sweaters, socks, mittens, scarves. It’ll be cold in Boston. “I’m going home.”

“Love, please...” Chrissie sobs.

“I’m not staying here.” Your voice is surprisingly steady, resolved even. “I’m not going to stay in this house with him. I’m not going to follow him around the world watching him fuck other women and humiliate me in tabloids. I’m done, I’m going home.”

“You have a contract with the record company, you’re the tour nurse!” Chrissie protests. “Jesus christ, they could sue you for non-performance! When does the band leave, a week from now?!”

“Six days,” John says softly.

“Six days!” Chrissie shouts at you.

“I’m not going. They can sue me, that’s fine.” I don’t have any money anyway. None that’s actually mine.

“You can’t leave,” John says again. His greyish eyes are wide and restless, desperate; you didn’t know it was possible for him to be this agitated. He’s not Queen’s unflappable bassist today.

“Yeah? Observe.” You pick the pink conch shell up off the dresser—the one John found for you on the beach in Ostia, during a tour that feels like a lifetime ago—and tuck it gently into a corner of your suitcase where it will be cushioned by knit sweaters. “John, I have a bunch of your sketches downstairs. There’re some on the refrigerator, some framed in the living room, a couple on the dining room walls...will you go get those for me, please? I can’t leave without them.”

John just stares at you, blinking and thunderstruck.

Next to the empty space on the dresser where the conch shell once lived is the Canon F-1. You consider the camera for a moment, then snatch it up and move to hurl it out of the second-story window.

John jolts out of his paralysis. “No no no no, I think you’ll regret that.” He gently pries the Canon out of your grasp and places it back on the dresser.

“What the hell are you going to do in Boston?!” Chrissie wails. “All your friends are here now! Your life is here!”

“I’m going to get a job at the hospital and marry some boring, predictable man and get a house with a white picket fence and fill it with two exceptionally average children”—if I can have them, and that’s a big if as it turns out—“and a golden retriever and live out the rest of my days in blissful, prosaic anonymity. Thanks for asking.”

“Oh come on, you don’t want that!” Chrissie snaps. “You’ve never wanted that, that’s why you came to London with the band to begin with!”

“I don’t want to feel like this!” you scream, and all those tears you didn’t know you were biting back start spilling out in hot, torrential streams. Your breath hitches; your throat burns. Like wildfire. John pulls you to his chest, murmurs that everything will be okay, cradles the back of your head with his palm. You know he’s exchanging a glance with Chrissie over your shoulder. That’s why she brought him here, after all; to help talk you off the ledge, to help convince you to stay.

“What a fucking mess,” Chrissie says in despair.

“It’s my fault,” you choke out.

“It’s not,” John whispers.

“It is,” you insist bitterly, sobbing into him. “Everyone warned me and I ignored it because I’m a complete idiot and now I’ve gone and ruined my life.”

“You don’t have to go!” Chrissie implores. “You can stay here. With us, with me and John and Mary and Freddie and Brian. You have British citizenship, you can get a job at a hospital in London if you really want to leave the band. You can stay with me and Bri for as long as you need to until you’re back on your feet, or with Freddie...they’d give you any amount of money you needed to get started...they’d be heartbroken if you left, love, you’ve been there for them through everything, since Queen was just a bunch of nobodies, since we were all flat broke...they’re never going to forget that loyalty you showed them, that faith. They’d do anything to repay you.”

You sigh shakily as you untangle yourself from John and wipe your eyes. “If I stay here, I’ll spend the rest of my life dodging Roger at birthday parties and holidays and restaurants. And being known as the wife he fucked around on. I’ll be a pitiful mess of a person. They had a photo of me in the News Of The World, did you know that? A tiny little circular photo under a huge, glamorous one of Dominique. ‘Look everyone, check out the dashing rock star’s sad, pathetic, unremarkable, soon-to-be-ex-wife. Surely you can appreciate why he’d shop around.’”

“Yes, I saw that part,” Chrissie says softly. She understands some of what you’re feeling, surely, and yet she must also have a sensation of gratefulness; plenty of musicians wander like tornadoes, touching down and sowing chaos wherever their compulsions take them, but few wives have the misfortune of seeing their names and faces paraded through the tabloids. Suddenly, Chrissie isn’t the most-wronged wife in Queen anymore.

You bury your face in your hands. “Oh god. My parents might even hear about this. They could be buying wine and Cheetos at the grocery store and see my husband and his girlfriend on the cover of a magazine in the checkout line.”

“I’m so sorry,” Chrissie replies, her voice hoarse. John crosses his arms over his chest and says nothing; but he kicks the wooden bedframe hard enough to send a crack down the center of the footboard.

Downstairs, you hear the front door open. Chrissie and John whirl to you, panicked.

“Hey, love of my life!” Roger’s chipper voice vaults up the staircase. Someone hasn’t checked the headlines yet. “Baby? You home?”

“Do you want me to stay?” John asks you.

“No, I can handle it.”

“Are you sure? Because I’ll stay for as long as you want me to. I’ll hide in the goddamn bushes outside the window if that would be helpful.”

“No, John.” You smile and climb onto your toes to wrap your arms around the back of his neck, to hug him goodbye. He’s warm and comfortable and sheltering. He feels more like home than this house ever has, isn’t that strange? And for a second, just one, you wonder what your life would look like if there had been no Veronica, no Roger.

You’d still be in Boston, you idiot, you chastise yourself. You never would have come to London with Queen if it wasn’t for Roger. And You’re My Best Friend wasn’t about you.

“Thank you,” you tell John. “But I have to do this part myself.”

“Okay. Don’t you dare go cart yourself off to Heathrow without telling me first, alright?”

“Sure,” you say, not meaning it. I can’t let him stop me.

“Good luck,” Chrissie frets, wringing her hands, twirling her wedding ring. “Call me, okay? I’m going to be a nervous wreck until I hear from you. I’ll chew my poor fingers to the bone.”

“I’ll call. I promise.”

“Hey baby!” Roger materializes in the bedroom doorway, pushes his prescription sunglasses up into his windswept blond hair, peers around the room at you and John and Chrissie. And you’re suddenly reminded of how a room changes when Roger walks into it, how everything shifts somehow, becomes brighter, more alive, brimming with magnificent potential; how cavernously empty the world would feel without him in it. Chrissie glares at him with her arms crossed, nostrils flaring, tapping one fashionable riding boot against the hardwood floor. “Uhhhh...am I interrupting something?”

“Bye, love.” Chrissie kisses you quickly on each cheek and breezes out of the room. You hear her boots clopping as she descends down the staircase. After a moment, John follows her.

“You despicable prick,” John hisses as he passes Roger in the doorway.

Roger is mystified. “Baby, what’s going on?” His eyes flick to the hastily packed suitcase, to the cracked footboard. “What the fuck happened to the bed?”

There are so many ways to ask the same question. When did you decide that you needed to have her? Who is she to you? How could you do this to me? What did she give you that I couldn’t? Instead, what you ask him this: “Have you seen the News Of The World today?”

His brow furrows into deep grooves. “No...” But something primal flashes in his vivid blue eyes, just briefly. Something like fear. He knows he’s done things that would hurt me. And I don’t think I’ll ever be able to unearth them all.

You grab the magazine off the bed and hurl it at him. Roger picks it up off the floor and flips to the front page. His shoulders slump, one hand comes up to cover his mouth, he exhales in a deep sigh; his whole body shifts the same way a room does when he walks out of it: dims, deflates, goes bloodless. He calmly lays the News Of The World on the dresser, folds his sunglasses and sets them down as well, rubs his eyes with the heels of his calloused hands. Then he turns to you.

He’s going to deny it, you think, revolted. He’s going to deny it just like Brian did, try to patch things up in some weak and gutless way, placate me so he can drift off to sleep at night imagining he’s a good husband.

But Roger isn’t Brian. He never has been.

He asks you quietly, in surrender: “What do you want to know?”

Your stomach plunges into freefall, because this is real. Maybe there was some part of me that was hoping this was a mistake, some naïve and hopeful sliver of idealism left over from childhood, from a time when everything in the world was either good or evil and nothing lived in the treacherous shadows in between. “How long?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes, Roger, it matters.”

“Not long.” He waves a hand glibly. “She...ah...well she thought I was pretty maddening at first. It took her a while to come around to the idea.”

You flinch like you’ve been slapped. “Jesus christ, Roger. Thank you, that’s great, thank you for that information.”

“I’m not trying to hurt you,” he protests, exasperated. “I’m really not, I don’t...I just don’t...bloody hell, I don’t know how to do this.”

“To do what? To fuck around?! Obviously that’s inaccurate—”

“No, to confess!” he shouts. “I never confess, I never admit it, I just avoid or deflect or deny it, and when that doesn’t work anymore I just walk out because usually I don’t care enough to have the conversation. But now I do so I’m really, really trying to give you what you want. I thought you wanted answers. So ask me whatever you want to and I’ll tell you the truth.”

Everyone lies. Everyone disappoints you. I knew that, I really did...but somehow I let him convince me that I didn’t. That he was built of nothing but light. “Do you love her?”

“No,” he replies instantly. “It’s a fling, that’s all.”

“So you didn’t corner her somewhere and tell her that you’re planning on breaking up with me.”

Roger winces. I wasn’t going to end up like Josephine, that was the first promise I made to myself on British soil. And look where I am now. “No. Never.”

“Why, Roger?”

He looks away, runs his hands through his hair; he genuinely doesn’t know how to answer.

You stare at him in disbelief. “Are you even sorry...?”

He speaks carefully, purposefully. “I’m sorry you had to find out, that you were hurt by it. And I’m really fucking sorry about that headline. Discretion is extremely important to me. I never would have let that happen, but you know...” He shrugs, smirking guiltily in that disarmingly bewitching way that he does. Stop, you warn yourself, feeling something in you grasping for reasons to stay. “I haven’t been thinking especially clearly lately.”

“Yes, between the coke and the drinking and the pills you’re quite the disaster, aren’t you?” Scalding tears slither down your face. “So you’re not sorry you did it. You’re not sorry that you’re an addict or a cheater.”

“It’s not about that. It’s...” He searches for the words like premonitions in tea leaves. “Yes, there are drugs and parties and women. There are a lot of those things. But I’m not addicted to any of them. I’m addicted to being Roger Taylor, drummer of one of the best bands in the world. It’s everything I am, it’s everything I’ve ever wanted to be. I never want to live in a world where that’s not who I am anymore. You understand that, what it’s like to feel caged and miserable, you know what it’s like to want to experience things. And so if it takes coke and pills to get up on that stage every night and drum under those blinding lights until it feels like my arm is split open again, okay, no problem, I’ll do it. If women are a part of the lifestyle, a part of being free, then I’ll take advantage of that. And why the fuck does it matter? Why do so many people think that fidelity is the ultimate manifestation of love? Plenty of faithful people hate each other. Plenty of people who screw around are irretrievably in love with one person, are fucking owned by them. I love you. I want to come home to you. I want to raise my children with you if that’s a possibility, and if it’s not then fine, whatever, I’m gonna love you all the same. You’re still on my list, Boston babe. You’re always going to be on my list. Why isn’t that enough?”

“John doesn’t cheat,” you object helplessly. Even if he has all the reasons in the world to.

“No, he doesn’t. But he’s a very different kind of man. A better one, probably. But you’ve always known who I was. And I never promised you an ordinary life.”

You shake your head, hide your face in your hands, can’t force the words to leave your trembling lips. It’s not enough for me. Maybe I thought it could be, but it’s just not.

Roger says, gently: “I know we said the marriage didn’t mean anything”—yes, that was your condition, wasn’t it?—“but that’s not completely true. It’s not just paper and ink. It does mean something. It means that you’re the person I want to take care of, the person I can rely on to provide for my family and friends if something ever happened to me. It means that I love and trust you in a way that is unconditional. That you’re my best friend.”

“I don’t want to live like this, Roger,” you whisper.

“So what’s next?” he demands. “So you’re going to take that suitcase and run back to the States and...what, get a job at the same hospital you were so desperate to escape from? Back out of the tour? Abandon the band and the friends you have here?”

“If that’s what it takes to get away from you.”

For the first time, you hurt him; you really hurt him. You see it ripple across his face like cold, swirling ocean waves. “Please don’t leave.”

“I’ve already decided, Roger.”

“Come on, baby, please, we can work this out—”

“I’m not interested.” You zip the suitcase closed, heave it off the bed, and drag it towards the door.

“So even if we can’t work it out,” Roger erupts, bolting to the doorway, to stand between you and whatever a life after him looks like. “Don’t leave the band. Leave me, just me, but not the band. I know you don’t want to leave them. I know they’ll be devastated if you disappear, not to mention they might legitimately murder me over it. Bri can be a twat, sure, but he’s convinced you saved his life. You and I might be the only people on the whole fucking planet who can see how brilliant John is, who understand him. Freddie’s convinced you’re some kind of good luck charm, you know how superstitious he is, he’ll start having those meltdowns again where he insists he can’t sing five minutes before a show and that the band is doomed, the tour will be a complete disaster. We need you. And I want you to keep the job you love, the travel, the mansion, the money, I want you to have all of it. You’ve earned it. You shouldn’t lose it because of me.”

And as you clutch the handle of your suitcase, your mind dashing from one logistical step to the next—grab my passport and some cash out of the safe, collect all of John’s sketches, call a cab to take me to Heathrow—you start remembering things. But you don’t see them like flashes, like misty reveries, no; you feel them like heat from a roaring fireplace, like Mediterranean pebbles digging into the wrinkled soles of your feet, like the deafening screams of crowds filling the Rainbow Theater, the Hammersmith Odeon, the Apollo, the Budokan, Madison Square Garden. Memories of excavating shards of glass from John’s hand in a New Orleans mansion crawling with fantasies and nightmares, of toasting pink champagne in the lobby of the Chelsea Register Office, of museums and parks and beaches and apartments filled with threadbare couches and extravagant dreams, of Christmases and New Year’s Eves, of Roger convincing you to come to London with Queen on a June morning in 1974, cradling your face in his rough hands, promising you everything you’ve ever wanted: ‘Love...Accept. The fucking. Offer.’ And you could run to the other side of the world, sure; but you’re never going to be able to carve those memories out of your bones.

You let go of the suitcase, and Roger’s smile lights up his face like the sun.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Careful...careful, love...” Roger contorts himself to keep the umbrella over you and the Boston cream pie you’re carrying as rain pours out of a sinister grey sky. You both hurry beneath the roof that covers the front porch and ring the doorbell. Freddie answers wearing a tight green shirt, jeans, and an enormous toothy grin.

“Oh, for me?” he squeals, eyeing the pie.

You step inside as Roger stays out on the porch to shake off the umbrella and finish his cigarette; Chrissie hates people smoking in her house, and one should get what they want on their birthday. “Obviously, it’s for Chris. But I suspect she’ll share.”

Chrissie appears in a blue dress, her wide-set pale eyes alight as she gazes at the pie. “At last! I finally get to try one of these! And yes, Freddie, I’m only going to have the teeniest tiniest piece, so there will be more than enough to go around.” She embraces you and takes the pie. “Is this homemade?! It is, isn’t it?”

“Happy birthday, Chrissie,” you announce with a tired smile. Queen leaves for the News Of The World Tour in two days. You’re leaving with them, to everyone’s palpable relief; Freddie and Brian have never mentioned the headline to you, but they know about it of course. Everybody knows. It’s an elephant in every room, an ancient beast that quakes the floor when it walks.

“I’m going to miss you like crazy,” Chrissie tells you. “I always do.” But she’s a little thankful, too; because spending months away on tour is undoubtedly preferable to a permanent absence, a visibly missing piece like a chip in a tooth.

“I know. I’ll call.”

Roger steps inside the massive Chelsea home. “Happy birthday, Chris!”

She promptly spins away, ignoring him, and ferries the pie off to the kitchen. Freddie wraps an arm around Roger’s shoulder and steers him into the living room where Mary, John, a perpetually pregnant Veronica, and a host of assorted Mullens and Mays are passing the twins around like footballs and chatting over appetizers and tea and cookies. Biscuits, you correct yourself. And the shrimp cocktail are called prawns.

“What did you say your name was?” a middle-aged, rotund, bearded man asks John disinterestedly. “Josh? James?”

“John, actually. I’m the bassist.”

The man frowns as he gobbles down a shrimp. “Oh, how odd, I’ve never even heard of you.”

“Yeah?” Roger pipes as he sails over and claps the man aggressively on the shoulder. “Well let me introduce you. This is John Richard Deacon and he wrote You’re My Best Friend, you’ve heard of that one, right? He learned the electric piano to compose it. Yes, he doesn’t just play bass, he has all sorts of gifts. He’s massively talented. He builds amps and manages finances and can sketch pictures that look like freaking photographs...”

You wander into the kitchen where Chrissie is slicing herself a miniscule portion of Boston cream pie. “Oh fuck it, it’s my birthday. I’m having a proper piece of pie, thighs be damned.” She goes in for a second attempt. “You want any?”

“No, I’m alright. I haven’t been feeling well.”

Her brows knit together in concern. “Not compulsively consuming your own weight in snacks to avoid socializing with strangers? That’s unlike you.”

Well, since you asked, I was feeling even more piggish than usual until I found out my husband was fucking somebody else, and also that the entire country knows about it. “Yeah, weird.”

Brian enters the kitchen. “Oh, pie!”

“You want a piece?” Chrissie asks cheerfully. So they’ve made up somehow. Like they always do, like they always will.

“Yes, absolutely, but I’ll get it myself, love. You go enjoy yourself. It’s your day.”

She beams up at him and journeys out to the living room. You are in no rush to join her. Watching Roger charm the crowd, allowing him to dazzle you, to lull you back into his orbit like the subsidiary moon of a vast, ringed planet...no, you have no stomach for that at all. You pour yourself a glass of red wine and try to swallow without tasting it.

Brian’s doting demeanor evaporates like he’s taken off a mask. He sighs, mixes himself a Vesper, sips it as he leans against the kitchen counter and studies you warily. “How are things?”

“Paradisiacal.” Each night you sleep in the guest room with the blue-grey walls and the seahorse-patterned blankets. Roger tried to give you the main bedroom, still sleeps in a spare room in case you ever decide you want it; but you like that the blue room is smaller, more humble, that it smells like John’s brand of cigarettes, that there is no gaping emptiness where Roger usually is. Roger doesn’t try to talk to you about Dominique. He is attentive, optimistic, easygoing, affectionate; he lights the fireplace in the living room and brings you hot chocolate, he wears the red hat you once knit him every time he leaves the house. But he left the paperwork showing he’d sold the apartment—the ‘London Love Nest,’ isn’t that what the headline called it?—out on the kitchen table where you would see it. You know he’s waiting for you to forgive him, as if that’s an inevitability. And every once in a while you feel a guttural stab of fear that he might be right. Someone puts Hotel California on the record player out in the living room. “Every time I hear this goddamn song I get acid trip flashbacks. I start thinking of sharks for some reason.”

“It reminds me of...” Brian’s gaze goes murky. “Well, of a girl from New Orleans.”

The one from the hot tub. The one with a peach tattooed on her shoulder blade.

“We have a stop there,” you say. “You know, on the tour. We’ll be there for a few nights.”

“Oh, I haven’t forgotten.”

No, perhaps that’s all he’s been thinking about.

“How are you these days, Bri? Two beautiful children, adoring wife, We Will Rock You becoming a fantastically successful single...your world must seem pretty golden.”

“You’d think so.” He peers out the window where raindrops are clinging to fogged glass and the November skies are illuminated with episodic flashes of lightning like Morse code. At last he says, very softly: “I think I married the wrong person.”

“I think I did too.”

Bri raises his eyebrows and clinks his Vesper against your wine glass. “So we were both right. Fantastic. Cheers.”

You gulp down the rest of your wine, feeling your stomach roil in protest. You pour another glass. Brian drains his Vesper.

“You want me to escort you out there?” Brian asks, gesturing towards the living room. “I’ll happily redirect everyone’s attention towards the twins if you’d like. They’re very convenient conversation starters.”

“No, thanks Bri. You go ahead.”

“Alright. If you insist.” A smile ghosts his lips. “I’m really glad you’re coming with us, love. I’m sure it wasn’t an easy decision. And I’m sure things won’t feel easy for a long time. But Queen wouldn’t be the same without you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Now get out there before I punch you in your fragile liver.”

Brian laughs, sets his glass in the sink, and disappears into the living room. You stall in the kitchen by yourself. You sip wine, browse through the family photos displayed on the refrigerator, listen to the polite chatter of the guests from a distance. Eventually you venture towards the living room before losing your nerve and veering down the hallway towards the back porch. Outside the rain is falling torrentially, the sky rumbling with thunder. John is sitting on a wooden bench under the roof and smoking as he gazes out into the storm.

“Hey,” he says, sliding over to make room for you on the bench.

You sit down beside him and hold out your hand. He stares at you for a moment, puzzled, before passing you his cigarette. You take one long drag and give it back to him. John blinks at you, stunned.

“That’s extremely bad for you,” he teases.

“So is getting hammered and driving into cop cars.”

He clutches his chest. “Ouch. I felt that in my soul.”

You shove him, chuckling. He points down at your boots. You swing your feet up to rest in his lap, and he lays his left hand on them while he smokes with his right.

“Go ahead,” he says. “I know you might not want to talk about it. That’s fine. But if there’s any baggage you’d like to unburden yourself of, I’m listening.”

I’ve got baggage, all right. I’ve got enough to fill a Boeing 747. “Everyone warned me. Everyone told me it was a terrible idea to fall in love with him. Everyone except you, John. Why is that?”

He’s slow and deliberate when he answers. “I never wanted you to be with someone because...you know...because you thought you should be with them. Because they were the ‘smart’ choice or the ‘safe’ choice or whatever. I wanted you to make your own decisions, whatever those were. I wanted you to be with someone...whoever that was...only because you wanted to be. Because you loved them.”

You nod. “That makes sense, I suppose.”

“I told you once that it didn’t mean anything to someone like Roger when he...you know. When he does what he does. I was telling the truth then, and I’m telling the truth now. I don’t think it meant anything to him. And I don’t know if that kills any of the pain I know you’re feeling, but I hope it does. Because you being in pain is the absolute last thing I’ve ever wanted. Are you angry with me for not trying to change your mind?”

“No,” you say immediately, and you mean it. “Not at all.”

“Good. Because they took away my driver’s license for a year and I’m probably going to need a lot of rides from you.”

You laugh, a brash authentic laugh, and John grins over at you.

Chrissie hauls the sliding glass door open and steps out onto the porch with a frustrated huff. “I know this party is technically for me, but when you’re the mother of infant twins sometimes all you really want is a smoke, a nap, and a bottle of vodka.” She lights a cigarette and plops down into a chair facing the bench.

“How are you, Chris?” What you mean is: Have you screamed much at your husband lately?

“I’m doing pretty well today, actually.”

“Is that because you’re genuinely happy or because you’ve trained yourself not to be sad?”

Chrissie smirks. “You’ll find those feel like the same thing after a while.”

“No, I won’t find out. Because I’m not staying with him.”

“Love...” Chrissie begins.

“I’ll stay in London. I’ll even stay with the band. But I’m not going to stay married to him.”

“Y/N, please, maybe you should think about this,” Chrissie presses. “I know you love him. And I know he makes you wonderfully happy when times are good. Maybe that’s all we can ask for, you know? Wives in our predicament. Maybe we can learn to cherish them when they’re with us, bottle up the magic, store it on a shelf to tide us over until they come back home. No one else is going to light you up the way he does. There’s only one Roger Taylor. Withdrawal from that is going to be hell.”

You glower out into the wind and rain and say nothing.

“And that woman, Dominique Beyrand? I’ve asked around about her, she’s got some husband back in France that she goes home to when she’s not working here. It’s just a fling for her too, it’s nothing serious. I don’t think there was any chance he would have ever considered actually leaving you for her.”

“He bought her an apartment, Chris.”

“Men do stupid things that don’t mean anything all the time. Isn’t that right, John?”

“Sure,” he offers ungenerously.

You stop yourself before the words tumble recklessly from your lips: Maybe you’re trying to convince yourself more than me, Chrissie. “I’m divorcing him,” you vow quietly.

“Okay,” Chrissie capitulates. “Okay. I’m sorry, love, please forgive me. I only got two hours of sleep, Teddy was crying all night.” She puffs on her cigarette and sighs mournfully. “I hate to say it, and I don’t mean to be insensitive, but I guess it was sort of lucky you never got pregnant. Can you imagine trying to split up when you have children together? Working out custody and finances and holidays, having to pretend like you don’t want to disembowel each other all the bloody time...it would be torture.”

John glares at her, his left hand still on your boots.

“Yeah,” you respond; but now you’re distracted, because you remember the reason why you had been so determined to ignore the phone when Chrissie called to warn you about the News Of The World headline. Because the kitchen phone was right next to the calendar, and the calendar would report in no uncertain terms that your period was due.

When was that? A week ago?

You can’t be late. You’ve never been late.

“Oh god,” you breathe.

“What?” John asks, concerned.

In reply, you lurch off the bench, stumble to the edge of the porch, and vomit red wine into the wet grass like a gush of blood. Chrissie soars to you and rubs your back as you retch into her lawn. “Oh no, you poor thing!”

“John, go away,” you choke out as he approaches. “I’m humiliated, I don’t want you to see me like this.”

“You saw me in a jail cell. I’m staying.”

You turn to look up at them. They read the raw horror and shock in your eyes. John’s jaw falls open and he shakes his head, firmly in denial. You could relate.

Chrissie gasps. “Oh, bloody hell.”

“No fucking way,” you wheeze. “After all this time, after all those months of nothing...”

“You better take a test,” Chrissie says. “Come on, I have a kit upstairs.”

She pulls you to your feet and leads you to her bathroom, deftly avoiding the increasingly intoxicated crowd downstairs. John waits just outside the door as Chrissie rummages around in the closet for the test kit. It’s a contraption that looks like a chemistry set, with a dropper and a test tube and a stand with a mirror. You piss into a paper cup—successfully although not with flying colors—and wash your trembling hands in the sink with a piece of pink soap shaped like a seashell. Then you lay on the cold linoleum floor with a folded towel for a pillow and a bucket within reach. Chrissie trickles a few droplets of urine into the test tube, mixes in the contents of a small plastic vial, and places the test tube in the holder that suspends it above the mirror.

Chrissie explains to John: “If she’s pregnant, the chemicals will form a brown ring in the tube. If there’s no ring, we’re in the clear.”

“How fitting,” you chuckle from the floor, dazedly, cynically. “That would be the only ring I’ve ever gotten.”

It takes two hours. The three of you loiter in the bathroom, Chrissie and John perched on the rim of the enormous garden tub, fidgeting and chitchatting anxiously. They alternate popping downstairs, mingling just long enough to not arouse suspicions, bringing back biscuits and bits of toast that they futility try to coerce you into eating. Chrissie doesn’t like the smell of cigarettes in the house, she never has; but now both she and John are chain smoking as they wait and periodically get up to check the test tube.

“This isn’t real,” you whimper. “This can’t be real, right? There’s no way the universe has this ironic a sense of humor.”

“Wait, something’s happening.” John waves Chrissie over to the test kit. She examines it.

“Love...” Chrissie begins, her voice tentative, her eyes glossy.

“No,” you insist. “No way, no fucking way, I don’t believe this...”

Chrissie turns the kit so you can view it, so you can see what she does reflected in the tiny mirror: a single dark ring that informs you you’re carrying Roger’s child.

98 notes · View notes

janeyre · 5 years ago

Text

i could never look away: 1/2

otp: ten x rose

word count: 6229

summary: rose survived doomsday. this close call only brings her and the doctor closer together.

AO3

Rose Tyler’s knuckles grasped desperately to the lever in her hand. She’s outsmarted every challenge she’s ever faced, and this time would be no different, she told herself.

But her mind was filling with an overwhelming sense of dread. Over her shoulder, the Void pulled at her with all its might, a might almost stronger than hers. Every muscle in her body ached. Every fiber of her being was crying out in desperate pain.

She turned back to look at the Doctor. He was so far away, she could barely make him out, but she saw the fear on his face and felt her own fear spill through her veins like poison. She could hardly breathe.

The wind whipped against her, which was not helping. With every passing second she felt more and more dread surrounding her. The white of the walls seemed to be growing dark and closing in.

Her finger slipped.

“Doctor!” she cried out, but her mouth didn’t make a sound. She let out a shriek, silent.

Her hands were ripped suddenly from the clamp, the pull of the Void too strong.

“Doctor!” She seemed to fall in slow motion.

Very distantly, she heard, “Rose.”

There was a weight on her shoulder. She felt like she couldn't breathe deep enough.

“Rose.” Clearer now.

It was like something was pulling her up, up…..

“Rose, you’re okay.”

Rose’s eyes flew open. Her heart pounded in her chest like a prisoner trying to break free of its cage. She gasped for air as her eyes flew around the room wildly.

She was in her room, on the TARDIS. She took another deep breath. She had been so scared, of losing the Doctor, and her life among the stars and…..

“You alright?”

She looked to her right. The Doctor. Thank God. She tackled him in a hug as she willed her heart to stop hammering.

“Yeah, jus’ a bad dream.” She let out a low sigh. “It was about today, an’.... What else could have happened, if…”

“I know,” the Doctor said. He really did know -- he’d seen all the timelines twisting in that very moment, and if he wouldn’t have thought to tie her to the clamp…. He shivered. Looking at the timelines now scared him just as much as it did then, even though the danger had already passed. The thought of losing Rose was sickening, and the idea that it could have become a reality so easily was even worse.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

He pulled away a little to look at her. “I wasn’t really sleeping. It’s okay. Do you want to talk about it?”

She shrugged. Rose had a shy look on her face that the Doctor knew wasn’t usual. What had happened today (or rather, what could have happened) had really shaken her. It broke his hearts to see her like this.

“I just…” she paused, “I can’t stop thinking ‘bout it. I close my eyes, and I can't keep my mind from drifting there and worrying, until I’m all worked up again.” She let out a heavy sigh. “It’s silly, I know, I know that it’s all okay now. But I can’t stop…” she shook her head. “I can’t get it out of my mind. I can’t sleep.”

The Doctor studied her for a moment.

He knew exactly what would help, but he didn’t know if Rose would like it.

“I think the emotional centers of your brain need a break, hm? They were pushed to their limits today, and are now working themselves into overdrive trying to process everything, it’s why those memories keep resurfacing no matter how much you try to push them down.” He steeled himself. “I could, uhm, well, I could help, with that, if you wanted? I’d have to go into your mind of course, and I know how that makes you feel, so if that makes you uncomfortable, that’s okay.”

“Makes me uncomfortable?”

“Well, on our first adventure, the TARDIS was translating in your head for you and you said you didn’t like it,” he said, a bit confused.

Rose let out a small laugh. “I just didn’t like that it all happened without my consent, Doctor. I’m thankful that I’ve got the old girl in my head.” She watched him for a moment. She made sure she locked eyes with him as she said, “I trust you,” and brought his hands up to her temples.

The Doctor knew he would never stop being amazed by Rose, but he still couldn’t help being…. well, amazed. That she trusted him like that was beyond words.

“You’ll feel me at the edge of your mind,” he said. “Just let me in.”

Sure enough, Rose felt a tingle at the edge of her conscience, as if someone were knocking on a door only she knew about. She imagined the Doctor on the other side, and threw it open.

She could tell the moment he stepped into her thoughts.

Is this alright? he asked.

Yeah.

Rose watched (or rather, felt) as he moved through her mind, looking around. The minute he found what he was looking for she knew, because all her unease and anxiety about the past day was suddenly abating behind a wave of reassurance and comfort. It was like crawling into bed and cuddling up beneath fluffy blankets after an exhausting day. She couldn’t help but bask for a moment in how good it felt.

Then, she realized something. If the Doctor could do this for her, surely she could do this for him, too.

Rose observed him a bit more, then turned to go the way he’d come from, back to his mind. Since the connection between the two of them was already open, she stepped through, delicately as she could. She didn’t know exactly what she was doing, so she moved as lightly as possible.

She looked around just as he had, for anything that seemed…. Hurt. In pain. Today’s events weren’t that hard to spot, because they were at the forefront of his mind. She moved a little closer, and contemplated what to do for a moment before taking action.

Rose focused hard on the pain she felt in him, and the fear, and drew it as close to her as she could. She wasn’t exactly sure how this worked, but she projected the same sort of reassurance and comfort that she had felt from him. She imagined that his thoughts were a big group of somethingand she was drawing it in for a hug as tight as she could.

Out of the corner of her eye, something else caught her attention. The fear of loss from today seemed to stem from something else, something bigger, like a weed that had found a place to grow in the crack in the sidewalk. She followed the thread to its source, to a memory she hadn’t been a part of.

Suddenly, she was overwhelmed with grief and hurt like nothing she had ever seen. Scenes of people screaming and crying, and flames, and unbelievable pain, like nothing she had ever seen flashed before her. Surrounding it all was shame so powerful Rose felt like she was drowning.

And she knew exactly what this memory must be.

The Time War.

The one thing the Doctor never talked about.

Finally, she really, really understood why. If it was this painful of a memory, she couldn’t blame him for pushing it away as far as it would go.

His memories from today lead her here because he had already lost everything, and he couldn’t stand to lose her too.

Her heart felt like it was about to shatter in her very chest. If she were still in the physical world, she would have had tears streaming down her face. She couldn’t imagine carrying this much sadness. She couldn’t believe the Doctor had so much contempt for himself.

Her Doctor, who had saved her life on numerous occasions. Her Doctor, who had given her some of the best days of her life. Who had shown her true joy and complete happiness. Who had given her the stars and the most wonderful things she had ever seen. Who would give everything to keep her safe. Who had accompanied her through some of the lowest and scariest parts of her life like there was no place he’d rather be.

Her favorite person in the universe.

There was the sorrow she felt from his memories, but on top of that there was the pain she felt for him.

With all her might, Rose tried to gather up any pain or sadness or shame and draw it as close to her as possible. She was on her knees, giving as much love as she possibly could. She’d do anything to fix this for him.

Rose felt the Doctor’s conscience startle.

Rose? He sounded alarmed almost.

She’d been so lost in sympathy for the Doctor, she’d completely forgotten how far she’d wandered into his mind. With a hurried final burst of comfort, she retreated as fast as she could out and into the physical world.

When she opened her eyes, she found the Doctor staring at her in disbelief.

“I’m so sorry Doctor, I know I got carried away, I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry.”

“No, Rose, it’s okay, I was just surprised. What were you up to?”

She bit her lip and looked away. ‘Well, you were helping me, and it felt so good, and I thought, surely I can do the same for you. So I went back the way you came, and found your memories of today, and I tried to heal it, but then there was…. Something else, attached to it, and it was so much deeper, and sadder, and I…. I knew what it was, the one thing you never talk about, and I just…” She could feel her throat closing up.

“It’s okay.” The Doctor smiled softly at her. “You just what?”

She let out a shaky breath. “I just wanted to make it better.” Her voice wavered and cracked on the last syllable, her lip trembling.

“I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t have ventured that deep, I know that’s private. I’m so sorry, Doctor. I just…” She remembered the pain and the grief and felt her heart breaking all over again. “I… I never knew…. I would do anything to make you feel better, Doctor, there’s so much you don’t know about yourself, about how good you are, I wish I could take some of that sadness from you.”

Finally, she ventured a glance back at him. His eyes were wide. She watched him for a moment, before --

He sat up abruptly, turning and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed so he was facing away from her.

Oh, no , she thought. I should have known not to mention it, it’s his greatest insecurity and I’ve just gone wandering right through it like it’s nothing, dredging it all back up again. She wished she could take it back. She couldn’t imagine how hard this was for him.

“Doctor?” she tried softly. Nothing.

Carefully, she sat up and scooted next to him, and waited a moment to see if he would move away. He didn’t.

She chanced a look at his face to see, was he angry? Was he scared?

No, he was crying.

Rose had never seen the Doctor cry.

Oh, god, I’ve really mucked it up. He tries to do one nice thing for me, and I go bringing up his trauma. Scenes of the Doctor shying away from Rose amidst anything sensitive came rushing into her mind. He’s gonna send me away , she thought. There’s no way I can come back from this.

“Doctor,” she took an uneven breath. “I’m so sorry. If I would have thought better for even a second, I wouldn’t have done that. I know how hard it is for you, and I never should have gone just traipsing through your mind. I’m so sorry.”

The Doctor said nothing for a moment, and scrubbed the palms of his hands into his eyes. Then, ever so subtly, he shook his head.

What?

“That’s not it,” he said, ever so quietly.

“Then what is?”

The Doctor swallowed thickly. He thought of turning to look at Rose, but he didn’t know how he could meet her gaze. She had seen the whole of him, who he really was, and yet…

He felt her place a hand on his back, and his breath shuddered in his lungs in reply. He didn’t deserve her.

“I’m here for you, just take your time.”

At that, another cry built up in his chest, and he tried to swallow it back. He could feel his whole body shaking.

How could he tell her? How could he even begin to process that, after seeing his darkest, most terrible moments, she wanted nothing but to help him heal? To draw him closer? He couldn’t think of how he’d ever look her in the eyes again. She knew who was, now. Knew that he was a murderer. Knew all his deepest shame, and all the grief that he carried with him like clothes on his back.

She saw him.

And somehow, she didn’t want to look away.

The Doctor drew in a shuddering breath. “I never…. Thought that anyone could see what I’ve done…. Who I am… and want to get closer, not farther away.”

Rose’s mind took a second to catch up.

So, he wasn’t mad then.

The air whooshed out of her lungs.

“Doctor, of course I do.” She scooted closer to him. “I made my choice that I am gonna stay with you, and that didn’t mean I wanted to spend my forever with someone I was going to get only sort of close with.”

She looked at him again, the man who had seen the rise and fall of civilizations, saved lives, felt the turn of the Earth and made time bend to his will. The man who lived the loneliest life in the universe. The man she’d do anything for, who she wanted to spend every day for the rest of her life with. The man who she….

Rose took a deep breath. She had to tell him. He had to know. After everything they had been through at Canary Wharf, and all they could have lost.

“I… I know this isn’t really your thing, but… I love you, Doctor. And I mean it, because loving someone means loving every part of them, no matter what. How could I ever look at a part of you that’s wounded and resent you for it?” She took another breath to steady herself. “Loving you means I'm going to always try and help you get better. Always. When... when I said I wanted to stay with you forever, this is what I meant. I’m not about to let you be stuck with all this sadness if I can help shoulder some of it.”

The weight of her words hit the Doctor like a train and he couldn’t help himself from looking up immediately to watch her face.

Shit , Rose thought, that was way too much. He’s gonna be so overwhelmed, and he doesn’t think of me like that, and --

The Doctor tackled her in a hug.

She could tell that he was crying, and he was holding her so, so tight.

Relief bloomed in her chest.

“Shh… you’re okay, Doctor, it’s okay. I’m here for you. It’s all gonna be okay.”

They sat like that for a while, clinging to each other. Rose rubbed the Doctor’s back while he tried to pull himself together, which was admittedly difficult. He was so overwhelmed by everything Rose had said and done in the past few minutes, and he didn’t deserve an ounce of it. But that didn’t mean that he didn’t think she was the best thing that ever happened to him. And that certainly didn’t mean he would ever let her go.

Finally, the Doctor pulled away slowly, sitting up and turning his head away to wipe his eyes, more than a little ashamed of what a mess he was. But before he could stay that way for too long, Rose’s hand was on his shoulder, turning him back to face her. He looked at her shyly as she began to speak.

“If there’s ever something I can do to help you feel better, I want you to tell me.” Rose took his hand in hers, and he squeezed it. “If that means going into your mind every night to give you, I don't know, good vibes or whatever, I'll do it. I care about you, Doctor.” Despite her heart pounding a beat like a thunderstorm, she still gave him a gentle, reassuring smile. “We’re gonna get through this together, you ‘n me, no matter what.”

For perhaps the thousandth time that evening, the Doctor felt the air leave his lungs. He squeezed her hand again and closed what little space there was between them.

“Rose… I love you, too. I’m so sorry you didn’t know sooner.”

All she could hear was static.

He loved her.

Their eyes met and they shared watery smiles, looking at each other through their eyelashes and blushing like there was fire in their cheeks.

Rose leaned in, just a little, and wasn’t mistaken if she thought the Doctor might have been leaning in too. He stopped just before her lips, as if waiting for a sign.

She squeezed his hands, as if to say, I want this too.

Delicately, with all the reverence of a man about to enter the gates of heaven, he kissed her.

It was unlike any kiss Rose had ever had. Never had she felt so much love radiating off such a small gesture. Never had she wanted so desperately to return that love in full force.

When they pulled away, they were grinning at each other like idiots. The Doctor couldn’t keep from looking at Rose in complete awe. She was the answer to all his prayers. He would do anything for her.

They sat for a while, hugging and kissing and smiling before they finally crawled back under the covers. Rose snuggled up right against the Doctor’s chest, wrapping her arms around him and placing a kiss to whatever part of his body was nearest. He drew her as close to him as he could.

“Good night, Doctor. I love you,” she murmured. He could hear the smile in her voice.

‘Good night, sweet Rose.” He kissed her on the head. “I love you too.”

#ficandchips #rose tyler #tenth doctor #otp: if i believe in one thing i believe in her #doctor x rose #tenth doctor x rose #my fic

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thestarwrites · 4 years ago

Text

All Right, All Might: Ch. 7

Word Count: 3,128

Rating: PG

Painting: Toshinori Yagi X FemOC

The UA Guidance Counselor, a quirk user with Pathokenesis, is shocked to find out her personal hero All Might is coming to be a teacher. The road they walk as a parallel starts to merge and there’s no telling what could happen. With the attack at the USJ over, what becomes of the friendship between Patho and All Might?

CHAPTER SEVEN: Don’t push your limits, Toshinori

“Hello miss, I’m Naomasa Tsukauchi,” he held out his hand to the woman, “its nice to meet you in person, Patho, but I wish it were under better circumstances.”

The woman shook his hand, “You… know of me?”

“Well of course I do, you’re a pro hero - not to mention Toshinori is my best friend.”

She blinked a few times, “Best friend— ah- listen, I don’t mean to be… but what about the kids?”

He nodded, “The rest of the force is heading over to the USJ now, but I wanted to ask you to accompany me to the USJ, I know you’re the guidance counselor. And I have some questions since you’re here.”

“Sure- sure of course Detective,” She blinked a few times again, walking with him to his cruiser and getting into the passenger seat - how could Toshinori have a best friend on the police force and not tell her?

He smiled warmly, trying to put her at ease, holding a hand to her arm, “Please, call me Tsukauchi.”

She nodded again, “What do you need to know, Tsukauchi?”

They started speeding toward the USJ campus, “How much do you know about what happened?”

“Not much, I was with Toshinori this morning- he was late to work, he — ah, he was…”

Tsukauchi gave a small smile, “I know about him, and One for All - you can talk freely with me, Keri.”

“O-oh,” she wet her lips and blushed, “He used too much of his strength, and Nezu had come into my office to give him a lecture. He was supposed to be at the USJ earlier… when I went wandering around wasting time I went out for a walk and that’s when young Tenya Ida ran up and alerted me to the situation. I didn’t get much out of him it all happened too fast.” Turning her head she saw a few ambulances rush by, eyebrows knitting together in panic.

“I wanted you to accompany me to bring some comfort to the kids.”

“Of course,” She watched as another ambulance sped by, “Do you know anything yet?”

“Not yet.”

She nodded, wringing her hands together, trying to compose herself.

The car skidded up to the USJ and both adults got out of the car. Keri ran over to where the kids had been gathered, her forehead and body already glowing, “Are you all alright!?” She called out.

“Miss Chairo!” Ochaco gasped, “Y-yeah we’re mostly all okay—“

“Where’s Tenya?” She said softly. Ochaco pointed, he looked to be fine, he was talking to Tsukauchi at the moment she sighed, “I’m the one who found Tenya first, I wanted to know he made it back here alright with the teachers.”

Keri made her rounds with the students, giving them all supportive touches and kind words — well, all except to Katsuki who she told he did a great job instead. But she could tell even he was shaken up, he didn’t use his usual insults.

Tsukauchi finally came over with the list of students, going over each one, “Everyone seems to be here, and uninjured.”

“What about Mister Aizawa?!” The girl named Tsu jumped forward.

“And Thirteen!?” Mina, stood forward to ask as well.

“And Deku!?”

“Yes— Midoriya—“ Ida chimed in.

Keri looked up at Tsukauchi, wanting to know the answers as well.

“Aizawa is in the hospital now, no brain damage apparent, but his bones in his arms are splintered and one of his eye-sockets is also shattered… we don’t know how his vision will heal in his recovery. As for Thirteen - apart from some lacerations on her back, she’ll make a full recovery,” the detective paused a moment, “Oh— Izuku, he is in Recovery Girl’s office, that should be all the care he needs, and he’ll be good as new.”

“What about All Might?” Keri’s voice cooed gently.

Tsukauchi smiled a little, “He’s in the nurses office as well, he’ll be fine.” The kids all breathed a sigh of relief, “Now, I’m going to head to the main campus, I want to speak with All Might — Patho, can you handle everything here?”

She nodded, “Of course, Tsukauchi.” Turning to all of the kids she gave a small smile, “Come on, lets all get back on the bus and head back to the school, I’m sure you’re all exhausted and ready to call it a day…”

—————

Toshinori clutched his fist and smiled, “Mark my words, these kids are going to be GREAT heroes...”

Deku beamed, wiping his eyes on his arm, he was about to say something else to the detective, until…

“Toshi!?” A woman’s voice, full of concern rang through the doorway as it almost burst open. Tears streamed down her face as she stood there looking in at her coworker covered in bandages, she was finally able at the end of this long day to come and see him. She had been so worried- even though she knew he was alright. She had been distracted with taking charge of the kids and the end of the school day to seek him out yet.

Recovery Girl looked up, “Keri—! Come now- there’s no need to burst in here like that! Keep your voice down please,” She sighed, shaking her head. She knew she would be seeing Patho sooner or later, All Might was here, and injured after all.

There was no stopping her, she rushed to his bedside and under the surprised glances of the three others in the room, Keri sobbed as she collapsed by the side of him, crying in his lap, “Oh Toshinori— thank god you’re okay!! I was so worried!”

For a moment he was floored- no one had ever acted like this for him before. He felt the familiar nagging feeling bubble up in his chest as he gently pulled up her chin, ‘Hey.. hey… come here,” He helped her to her feet and wrapped his arms around her crying form. She was so warm, so kind, so concerned- just for him. With her, he could always find a reason to smile, “Hey now...” he lifted her chin once more and wiped tears from her cheek with his other hand, “What’s with the waterworks now, Ree? This old man’s just fine...”

She looked at him with a trembling lip, “I-I’m sorry I— Tsukauchi said you were here and you were injured... I got here as soon as I possibly could!”

“It’s okay, it’s okay Keri I promise.” He pulled her into another hug, “I’m alright, I’m right here. You can’t get rid of me that easy.”

Recovery Girl cleared her throat, Tsukauchi turned to speak to her in the other room, but Deku, who was bed-bound for the time being, watched as the two people he trusted most, embraced. His eyebrows knitted for a moment as he realized that All Might was gingerly stroking her hair and whispering in her ear. As the two adults shared in this intimate moment, he realized that their bond was more than friendship.

All Might, his mentor, whether he knew it or not- loved the woman in his arms.

Izuku’s highly logical skills of observation had finally put the pieces together. All Might kept insisting they were friends. Yet, he always had his hands on her, or his body tilted toward her. She knew everything about him, they were often together. They ate lunch together during break. Whenever his phone rang, and it was her, he grinned. He always remembered to bring her little snacks she liked to school. These were all the behaviors of a devoted boyfriend in Izuku’s mind.

The boy stared at Patho and All Might as they continued to embrace. He hummed gently and looked out the window, had they been secretly together all this time?

“Ree... I know you’re worried, but shouldn’t you be consoling the kids? They need it more than I do—“

She shook her head, “I’ve been substituting for Aizawa for the rest of the day, helping the kids and getting them set to change and get some food and get home. I told Nezu I’m going to start their counseling tomorrow, besides I— I couldn’t focus anymore on anything without seeing you Toshi.”

All Might blushed fiercely and he pushed her hair back, “I don’t deserve how much you care...”

Keri frowned, “You deserve it more than most. Besides... you’re my— best friend.” Izuku noticed there was a hesitation in her voice— she had to love All Might.

Sighing he smiled in defeat and wiped her cheeks again, “You’re my best friend too, but I’m gonna need you to pull it together okay? Young Midoriya shouldn’t see his guidance counselor crying.” He smirked, deflecting.

Blushing she swatted All Might’s hands away as she wiped her face and went over to Deku’s bed, “How are you doing, Izuku?? I’m so so happy you’re alright.” She smiled and Deku immediately felt a calming warmth over him.

“Im okay Miss Chairo, promise.” He gave a sleepy smile, “Don’t worry about us, we’re heroes! Right, All Might??”

“That’s right, young Midoriya!” He grinned.

Patho let out an exasperated sigh and stroked Deku’s hair back, “You two are going to give me a nervous breakdown, you know that? You’ve been doing it for months now, and with your track record, it will probably get worse.”

The three of them laughed and carried on for a while longer before Patho was told she needed to let Deku get some rest so he could go home in a bit. She kissed Izuku on the top of his head and as she left, he saw her and All Might brush fingers.

Patho spoke quietly to Recovery Girl and then left with Tsukauchi.

All might watched her leave before laying back down with a grunt.

——

Tsukauchi looked over to her once they were outside, and he took a deep breath, “So… how long have you been in love with Toshinori?”

Her cheeks flushed a bright red, her body glowing pink instantly as she looked up, “Tsukauchi—! W-we just met— That’s a really forward question!”

He shrugged, “He’s my best friend, and he’s never talked to me to a woman before you. I see the way you look at him and tend after him. He even talks about how you make sure he eats and sleeps regularly - and how you are trying to make him realize his weaker form is beautiful as it is…” He wet his lips, “Something is going on.”

“So what is this conversation exactly…? A dissuasion?”

He chuckled, “No of course not… Toshinori needs someone to make him take care of himself, and to care for him the way he cares for others… no matter what comes of you two, I’m thankful you’ve been looking out for our number one hero, Keri.”

She nodded and smiled, “I’ve been in love with him since the day I first saw him when I was six years old… but a lot of people love him.”

“You know… I didn’t expect such deflection from a therapist.” Tsukauchi smirked.

Keri rolled her eyes, blushing, “Fine. He asked me to dinner the second day we met, and he’s just… he’s so much more than All Might. Not that All Might isn’t amazing! But… Toshinori… he’s so,” she paused for a second and felt her throat tighten, “He’s warm, and he’s generous, and he believes in a better future. Even when he’s melancholy he still has a childlike wonder! I even think it’s funny how much he loves American movies and TV…”

Tsukauchi smiled brighter, “Yep. He needs someone like you.”

Keri looked up and just smiled a little, “Don’t say anything to Toshi?”

“Don’t worry, I’m not a tattletale.” He laughed and sighed, “He’ll probably be coming down soon, maybe he’ll need a calming presence when he does.” He winked and walked off toward his car with a wave, “Take care Keri.”

“Bye, Tsukauchi! Take care!” She waved and took a deep breath, pushing her long hair back, looking up to where the recovery office was before taking a seat on the front steps of the school.

——

Deku looked over and bit his lip, “All Might?” When he looked over, Deku cleared his throat, “Um... are you and.... Miss Chairo- dating?”

“Huh?!” The pro shot back up, “No— no? No! No...” he exhausted tones of voice before blushing and coughing up some blood, “She’s my friend! That’s all, young Modoriya. She’s a really, really good friend.”

He swallowed, “Oh… well okay, it’s just, you two are always together, and when you aren’t you’re always in contact. And you... introduced me to her before the entry exam…”

“BECAUSE SHE’S A GREAT ALLY IZUKU.” His cheeks were redder.

“No I know she is! She’s a great person! When we talk she’s always kind and helpful. I just.... the way you are together, and how she knows your secret, and about me… I just thought maybe it was a secret relationship?”

He pushed his hair back, “A-ah yes, well— No- no we’re friends! Besides I’m old enough to be her father so that’s just… ridiculous.” He laughed it off.

“All Might?” Recovery Girl came back into the room, “You should be healed enough to head home and rest- Izuku, it’ll be a couple more hours for your legs, dear.”

Toshinori nodded and slowly got out of bed, giving a manly thumbs up to Deku before he returned it with a smile. He took a deep breath, all the students should be gone by now.

Walking out of the front door in his small might form, he looked up at the sunset in the sky, the echo of Midoriya’s words in his ears; are you and Miss Chairo dating? He had not been the first to ask him a question like that. Maybe… maybe there could be something.

“Hey,” A familiar female voice called out softly, “Taking a risk walking out here looking like that, huh?”

Toshinori turned abruptly and then smiled in surprise, “Hey, Ree. Can’t be helped, I got an empty tank… What are you doing here?”

“I stuck around in case you got released,” she blushed, “I needed to be with you.”

Without thinking, he crossed to her and pulled her close, a sigh of relief leaving his lips, “I need to be with you right now, too.” He whispered.

“Come home with me tonight, you need to sleep in a real bed instead of that horrible futon you own for some God forsaken reason. Besides, then I can make sure you’re actually taking care of yourself instead of eating junk food and overdoing it.” She huffed.

Grinning he took a moment to cherish this. Maybe... maybe he did sort of love her. Not sort of. He did. He loved her.

Keri buried her face into his small but firm chest. Her heart ached to be like this always. The strangest thing was that, after today, she was even more attracted to him when he was small might. His heroic qualities shined through his blue eyes, his voice was like rough silk, so unsure of himself and sure about everything at once, “Gonna answer me?”

Toshinori smiled, “I accept.”

——

The walk back to her apartment near campus was a quiet one. After a few blocks she cleared her throat, “Toshi… you know that you— can’t keep going like this.”

He knit his brows together and looked over, there was a pit in his stomach, “What? Going like what?”

“You’re not strong enough to keep jumping in front of everyone like this anymore! First this morning draining all your energy - then, God, Toshi, this afternoon?”

“Keri, come on now,” His tone was soft and he turned his body to face her.

“No! You have to listen to me!” She stopped on the sidewalk and her hands flew up to her eyes, she was desperately trying to hide her tears from him, rub them away, she’d already cried too much today, “Your heart has never faltered, never, not once! You are good, and kind, and honest, and true- but your body, Toshi, your body is faltering!” She let out a choked sob, “I can’t lose you!” She blurted out.

“Hey, hey—“ he swiftly came to her and wrapped his bandaged limbs around her, holding her close, he felt terribly that he was causing her so much pain. This reminded him exactly why he never got married or into a committed relationship. Stroking her hair she cried into his baggy shirt, his own eyes pricked with tears as she began to glow pink. He could feel her sorrow, “Please- please, baby, don’t cry...” he cooed softly. The pet name failing to reach either person’s brain, “I’m just fine... I promise..”

“THIS time,” she looked up at him, cheeks red, long hair sticking to her tear stained face, “THIS time you’re fine! What about next time! Or, or the time after that!”

All Might took a deep breath, “Listen to me Keri. Please? I need to do what I’m meant to do. You need to understand that, you need to. To /know/ that I /need/ to be this,” Pushing her hair aside he caught her chin to tilt her to look at him, “I was like Midoriya,” he admitted, “I was born without a quirk. And eventually the power I passed down /will/ leave me. And I /will/ be a quirkless, scrawny, old man. You gotta understand, I /gotta/ be All Might for as long as I’m able to be. I have to protect those kids, I have to protect Japan, I have to protect you, Keri. Until Izuku is ready,” He took a shaky breath, “Do you understand?”

The light of the setting sun danced across his features. He looked like a towering sunflower in the wind. She thought about what she had admitted to his friend Tsukauchi. She couldn’t be selfish enough to try to derail his life’s passion for her feelings. Taking her own shaking breath she nodded, “I understand.”

“Things will be different one day,” he started, “And when they are— when they are we can talk about it then.” He picked up her hand and kissed the back of it tenderly.

Keri wasn’t sure what that meant, but it was enough. She gave him a nod and took his large hand in her own, holding it to her cheek, a thumb came to brush a tear from her cheek. Turning into his touch she kissed his palm, “Come on, let’s go home, I’ll cook something for you.”

“Home. That sounds, really nice.” When she pulled his hand from her face, he held firm to her hand as they continued the final few blocks to her apartment, lacing their fingers together.

#toshinori yagi x oc #all might x oc #my hero academia #mha fanfiction #yagi toshinori #all might

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geniedocroe · 5 years ago

Note

I was wondering if you could a do a request for me. A BoB request? Just a fluff for Joe Toye. Kind of like how Gene met Renee in Bastogne. But Toye met the reader by saving the reader from becoming a POW. The reader is a french allie sent to help and has trouble with English at times, but is sticking to the platoon and Toye follows her around, trying to protect and get to know her more.

WHAT A WONDERFUL WORLD

(joe toye X reader)

fluff & angst

wc: 2256

you were absolutely terrified. first you were brought to normandy, then you became a prisoner of war. the americans really took no pity on you. they had interrogated you for hours before bringing you outside and handcuffing you to some random pole. soldiers stared at the you as they walked past. one even offered you a cigarette.

“non, merci. je ne fume pas.” you politely declined, shifting away. he must’ve understood that you said no because he backed off.

no, thank you. i don’t smoke.

the other american soldiers seemed afraid of the man that offered cigarettes. you overheard them talking about how he killed 20 POWs after offering cigarettes to them. suddenly you was glad that you could understand some english.

eventually, you aloud yourself to sit on the floor. your legs were aching but the soldiers drifting past you seemed to suffer more. a couple soldiers approached you, but one stood out from the rest.

“where are you from?” the soldier asked.

it took a minute for your brain to translate his words. “france. you?”

“pennsylvania. i’m american.” he eyed you, taking all of you in and you looked back wearily.

“yes.” you motioned to his uniform. you seemed very out of place. you wore a floral buttoned up dress with mary jane shoes. the shoes were heeled and very uncomfortable. something in you wished that you had one of the outfits the american soldiers war. it seemed ten times more comfortable than what you had on at the moment.

the soldiers cheeks flushed as he gave you one last look before turning to walk away. your gaze fell to the floor. you wished that you could be back home in france with your family. you had been hoping to fall in love with some foreign trooper but it was clear that wouldn’t happen. you didn’t even know anything about the war and now you were a prisoner! it was unfair.

right now your life depended on your persuasion and english skills. the american soldiers probably had plans you and you definitely weren’t excited to see what they were. you were tired of being catcalled. even though you couldn’t understand the men, you knew their intentions.

it had been hours and you were still handcuffed to the same pole. it was snowing and you were sure you were in the beginning stages of hypothermia. you had been constantly shivering. all of your movements were incredibly slow. at one point you even lost consciousness. luckily a few officers were near by and they alerted a medic. you didn’t know why they cared about you but you were glad they did.

when you awoke you were in a building, handcuffed to a table. it was clear that you had been laid on the floor with blankets piled around her. there were a couple other people in the room. they all stared at you as you pushed herself up slightly. one of them rushed to your side.

“vous devez vouz allonger. vouz souffrez d’hypothermie.” the man had a stark white band on his upper arm with a red cross sewn on. you assumed he was a medic because of how he spoke to you.

you must lie down. you have hypothermia.

you groaned but didn’t move. your mind wandered to places that asked important questions. those questions yearned for answers. most importantly you wanted to know why these men would want to help you.

“pourqoui?”

why?

“hm?”

“pourquoi m'aider?”

why help me?

“vous avez un admirateur. celui qui ne vous laissera pas mourir. en plus, je suis censé vous aider.”

you've got an admirer. one that just won't let you die. besides, im supposed to help you.

———

as time passed you had decided to stick around the americans. one of the officers declared that you were no longer as prisoner of war after your admirer had a word with him. the identity of admirer hadn’t been revealed but you were very grateful for that soldier.

your closest friend had been eugene roe because he too spoke french. he was the easiest to converse with. he made your life 10 times easier. he had also been checking up on you daily after he determined that you had a bad case of hypothermia. no matter how much you insisted that you were fine, eugene was always there to tell you otherwise.

you had also become very close with one other soldier. it was the one soldier that stuck out to you. he was the one you remembered out of the hundreds you saw every single day. you were glad to have him around because he was such a genuine guy. he was named joe toye.

joe toye had changed your life. he introduced you to all the other soldiers when he saw that you had no one else to talk to. when you had no food he would give you some of his own. you weren’t good with english so he had tried giving you lessons. however, you were nearly a lost cause but persisted anyways.

“come on, y/n. say it again. my name is y/n and i am from france.

“my name is . . . y/n. am . . . i am from . . . fran - france.”

“that was better. now, can you say this is my friend joe?”

“this is joe. joe is . . . joe is my . . . friend?”

“yes. that was good. good job!” joe reached forward to give you a bone crushing hug. you were grinning from ear to ear. hopefully these lessons would help you out in the long run. joe was glad to be able to help you. it was a great way to pass time.

“good!” you smiled back brightly. english was a difficult language and you didn’t think you’d ever understand it but with joe’s help you were doing better than you had in years.

the two of you sat back and just stared at one another. it was a while before either of you looked away. both of your cheeks were burning. something was there. something neither of you could see.

after that moment, your relationship was never the same. joe was constantly around you. you couldn’t turn a corner without him being right there. he wanted to protect you and honestly you didn’t mind him being around all the time. it was like you always had someone to talk to. it was comfortable being around him. his presence never bothered you.

all of the other men noticed joe’s absence when they sat in groups as they waited like sitting ducks. to find him they had to look for you. the two of you were connected at the hip. when one wasn’t with the other, it had an affect on the other mentally. without joe you felt as if a part of you was missing. you weren’t complete.

even eugene knew something was up. you were never one to talk about boys but you were one to talk about joe. eugene didn’t need to ask joe how he was when he could just ask you. you went to eugene when you didn’t know how to feel.

“gene? j'espère que je ne vous attrape pas au mauvais moment.” you approached the medic during mealtime.

i hope i’m not catching you at a bad time.

“bien sûr que non.” he motioned for you to sit.

of course not.

you smiled and sat on the ground beside you. this was one of the times when joe had decided to leave you. you were extremely bored so you went to find your second best friend. eugene roe.

“que penses-tu de joe?”

what do you think of joe?

“toye?”

“non, liebgott.” you rolled your eyes.

“joe est un homme bon.”

joe is a good man.

“je le pense aussi.”

i think so too.

———

when you found out that joe had been hit you lost all feeling in your body. time stopped. you collapsed to the floor. you felt like you were the one that had been hit. lewis nixon was really regretting telling you the news.

once you calmed down you demanded to leave with joe. you couldn’t stay in such a place without him. nixon told you that he would have a talk with the other officers and get back to you as soon as possible. however, you wouldn’t take no for an answer. you marched up to dick winters and told him that you were going to joe no matter what. you didn’t belong to the u.s. army and you weren’t a prisoner of war. you could do as you pleased.

dick told you that you could leave immediately. he told you to take care of yourself and to take care of joe. you still had tears streaming down your face as you said your goodbyes to the other men. you didn’t think it was going to be the last time you ever saw them but you couldn’t take any risks. the hardest to say goodbye to was eugene. you spent the most time with him. the two of you embraced for what felt like hours but couldn’t have been more than two minutes. you promised to meet up as soon as the war was over. he wished you luck and told you to make sure joe lived a good life.

you spent everyday at joe’s bedside when you returned to a hospital in the states. you had learned the unfortunate fate of your family and you knew joe was all you had left. you owed the world to him and he owed everything to you. over the time you knew him your english had gotten ten times better. he was on so much medicine that he didn’t even realize you were by his side until his second week of being in the hospital.

you had returned from lunch when he was sitting up fully for the first time since he got hit. losing a limb was never an easy thing to comprehend. you could tell he was different. this wasn’t the man you met in normandy. this man was broken and you knew it. he was very shocked to see you enter the room.

“y/n?”

“joe!”

you ran to him immediately. he pushed himself up as much as he could and threw his arms around you. once again time stopped. you could’ve stayed in that moment forever. both of you were crying but didn’t notice it until you pulled away. you stared at one another before joe pulled you in and kissed you.

your entire stomach felt like it was an olympic gymnast. you entire body felt like it was on fire. you didn’t think you were on earth anymore. you must have ascended to some other wave length. your lips moved in sync and they fit together like a puzzle that took ages to be put together. however, some things just took time and eventually you knew you would end up with your soulmate. your soulmate just happened to be joe.

you were the first to pull away. it might’ve been your first kiss but there was many more to come. joe was reluctant to pull away from you. his hand rested on the back of your shoulder and you had no intentions of moving away. you did what you had to do. you hugged him tightly. joe cried into your shoulder and you cried with him. neither of you could believe that you made it out of the war alive.

if you thought you and joe were inseparable before you returned to the states then you had another thing coming. you couldn’t leave a room without joe asking you where you were going. he could just feel your presence missing. some people would say he was clingy but you knew he was too afraid to be alone. last time he was alone he lost a limb. you couldn’t leave him alone in that state. so you decided to immediately move in together. you and joe bought a house in pennsylvania. it was down the street from bill guarnere (who had also lost a leg at the same time as joe).

some days he couldn’t talk. most days he would cry for hours. it was difficult to adjust to life. but you were always there. he could always count on you. some days you felt like you were back in normandy. you could feel the chilling air and you could see the shattered soldiers. sometimes time would slow and you would have to sit down and look at what you had. you had to sit down and appreciate the fact that you made it home even thought so many didn’t. most days everything felt like a dream but somehow you knew it was reality.

you knew you had made it the moment you stepped foot into your new house with joe beside you. you knew you had made it when joe sat you down on the couch and told you that he was in love with you. you knew you had every single thing you needed when you looked at the man that would throw everything away for you.

when the news of the war being over spread to your house you nearly threw up. you and joe had gotten married two months before. it was a small wedding. it was all you needed. you were three months pregnant when the war ended. you were the happiest you could be when the war ended. you were content.

what a wonderful world.

#joe toye #joe toye imagine #band of brothers imagine #band of brothers #hbo war

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shawnpetermuffins · 5 years ago

Text

Misery Business (decode 2)

A/n: and the much requested part 2. Part 1 is in my masterlist under my song based fics. This will be the final part.

Summary: Shawn's finally starting to realize what this relationship has done to him.

Warnings: angst, swearing, the usual

Word count: 2.2k

***

I should be happy. My career has never been better, my singles are doing pretty great on the charts, I'm in the top 5 most listened to artists on spotify, and I'm getting loads of publicity hanging with Camila. And don't get me wrong, she's beautiful, hourglass figure that every guy wants, I guess. There's just something wrong and it's this, she's not y/n. I thought our relationship would withstand anything my career threw at us, I really did. But I should have known that she wasn't okay with this. I knew that there was always some kind of underlying territorial battle between her and the girl that's currently holding my arm while we walk down the street, but I ignored it for the sake of a few extra views on a music video, for a few extra streams.

This publicity thing has taken y/n away from me and no one seems to notice, or care, because the songs are doing so good. Since she walked away that night no one has talked about it. No one asked what was the final straw, it was just never brought up. And all that's going around Twitter and Instagram are these God awful, staged photos of me and Camila acting like we're so in love when in reality I am heartbroken and on the verge of a nervous breakdown in most of them.

"They're looking," she says into my arm. "Kiss me now." She's been telling me to do that a lot more often recently and I'm starting to feel just how wrong it is for us to be doing this. She knows about the breakup, but it seems like she couldn't care less. She parades me around town and follows me on tour, adding a little too much tension between me, Brian and Connor who have barely spoken to me since y/n left. It's clear that they weren't on my side in this situation, but that didn't matter to Camila. She was eating the attention up. She loved knowing that people were talking and that they were talking about her, it apparently didn't matter in what context.

"Andrew," I grab my manager's attention one night before he goes into his hotel room.

"Yeah, bud?"

I clear my throat, glancing over my shoulder to make sure no one was still out wandering the hall, listening. I lower my voice anyway, "How much longer do Camila and I have to keep up this PR game? The fans are starting to notice it's fake."

"We have to keep it up at least until the stadium show."

"What? What happened to it ending after the VMAs?"

He shrugs, "Sorry. We need to sell more."

"The stadium's already sold out, what do you mean we need to sell more?!"

"Shawn, you said you were okay with this. What's going on?"

I lost the best thing that's ever happened to me because of this stupid game. That's what's going on. But I just sigh, "Nothing. Nothing, guess I'm just worried. I don't want the fans to lose interest. I can't keep ignoring the question."

"Well you can't talk about it. We're under contract. Now it'll be over before you know it. So for now, just enjoy it. Enjoy the publicity. You need it. Gets people excited for new music."

You know what else gets people excited for new music? Promotion.

---

I'm scrolling through Instagram, seeing all the photos fan accounts are posting of me and Camila, becoming more and more emotionally drained with each passing second. But then I see something that catches my eye. It's a photo of me and y/n, one of the only photos she allowed me to post of us. Except it's split right down the middle. I hurriedly look at the caption.

Fanaccount Is no one going to talk about the fact that we don't know how, why, or WHEN y/n and Shawn broke up??? Did we all just forget that they were together for 2 years?? What happened to our girl?

Then I start reading the comments, which I shouldn't do, but I can't stop myself.

Fanaccount2 Idk if it's true but someone said she was still on tour with him up until like 2 weeks ago…

Fanaccount2 Do y'all think Camila had something to do with it?

She had everything to do with it.

fanaccount3 Who cares? He's with Camila and she's better.

Fucking liar.

fanaccount4 I know we don't know what happened, but if it's because of C that's fucked up. Y/n deserves better. Shitty PR to sell a song that's already been at #1 for weeks?? If he lost her to this I feel bad for him.

Fanaccount5 But what about her? She had to watch all this go down? It was a really dick move for him to even think it was okay to do this.

fanaccount6 Okay but look how happy he is with Camila. He clearly doesn't feel bad, so why do you???

Fanaccount4 THEY WERE TOGETHER FOR 2 YEARS! and now he's sucking face with his "best friend" come on. That's shitty and you know it.

I don't even realize that I'm crying until I can hardly catch my breath. I'm panicking. I haven't had to deal with a panic attack alone since y/n came around, but this is the third one I've talked myself out of since she left, and I've had to go back on my medication. I never realized that she was the main thing helping me through.

My phone buzzes with a notification - a message from Andrew.

It's a screenshot of my spotify account and it reads: #2 baby!!

I want to hurl - my phone or the contents of my stomach, I'm not sure. Maybe both. But I guess, we've got the fans where we want them.

But like we always do, in true Hollywood bragging, we post the screenshot to our Instagram stories. And Andrew to his feed and twitter. It's all working so well. They're buying it - the relationship, the song, everything. But when I look at my follower count and see I'm down at least 100,000… maybe not everyone is buying it.

---

We're in her hometown and every part of me wants to go see her, wants to make sure she's okay. Because I have the day off and it would be so easy to just drive out to her and make things right. But Camila won't leave my side and I'm going insane.

"Shawn, pay attention to me!"

And I snap. "What do you think I've been doing these past two months, Camila?! I've been paying attention! Jesus, fuck, give me just two minutes of alone time."

"Whoa! What's up your ass?" She crosses her arms over her chest.

"You!" I scoff, throwing my hands up.

"You've been moody all week. Do you want to talk?"

"Not to you," I mumble, but she hears me.

"You're serious? This is about y/n? It's been a month, Shawn. It's time to move on."

"Move on? How am I supposed to move on when she was the literal best thing to happen to me? When I lost her because of this stupid PR move that is in no way helping me anymore, Miss number two!"

"Now I don't deserve to be number two? Really?"

I don't say anything else, I just take my phone and wallet from the coffee table and leave without another word. I don't know where I'm going until I'm there at her doorstep, breathing heavily and running my clammy hands through my already ruffled hair. Before I can talk myself out of it, I knock on the door and wait, my hands in my pocket.

"Can you get that?" I hear her say to someone inside, but I'm not expecting it to be my own best friend.

"Brian?" I say, confused.

"What are you-?"

"Bri, did you? Shawn?"

"Connor?"

"Guys, who's at the…" she stops cold in her tracks when she sees me.

"Y/n," I sigh. I can't read her face. She could be any number of things, but shocked is probably the most accurate.

"Babes, can y'all give us a second?" Her arms cross defensively over her chest while the guys retreat to the kitchen. When she walks further into the living room, I let myself in, closing the door behind me. "What the hell are you doing here, Shawn?"

"I miss you," I say desperately. "I - I know I fucked up. Severely fucked up. I put my career ahead of you and I said I'd never do that. The numbers became more important and it shouldn't have been that way. I'm so sorry. Just… please give me a second chance. Let me prove to you that you're first. Always."

"A second chance isn't going to do anything for you, Shawn."

"How do you-?"

"Because you're still pretending with her! If you're even pretending at this point! I can't be with you like this because if the numbers were all that mattered two months ago, who's to say they're still not going to matter three years from now? Your entire career revolves around them and I'm not going to be your number two. That isn't what I signed myself up for. Not to mention my Twitter mentions right now are your fans calling me a whore for standing in the way of 'Shawmila's true love!'"

I flinch, "I'll fix it."

"You can't!" She screams and I see the guys slowly make their way into the room. "Jesus, don't you get it? It doesn't matter what you think you can fix because I can't forgive you! I'm done. I'm over it. I don't want this!" She gestures between our bodies. "You don't want me, you want the familiarity. Well, why don't you teach her how to calm down your anxiety attacks. And tell her how you like your eggs in the morning, and how you'll only get out of bed after at least ten minutes of silent cuddling.

"And you go around town acting so fucking innocent, which no one believes, by the way. Teach her how to be your girlfriend, and how to do it right because clearly I wasn't doing it right," her voice cracks at the last part of her sentence and it breaks me in half. When the first year falls, I want nothing more than to take her in my arms, but I hold back, knowing damn well she doesn't want me near her.

"Y/n, it's not the same without you. The concerts aren't as fun, the days between drag on forever. I thought that being seen out would make the numbers rise, and yeah it has, but I'm losing more than im getting."

"That's not my fault. You did that." She wraps her arms around her, holding herself together. Just like I've always known her to. I notice that the tears aren't falling anymore either. She stopped then just as quickly as they started.

"This isn't how I thought we would turn out."

She bites the inside of her cheek, her clear sign that she's distraught. "You know, it's funny. It took me so long to realize that I was watching your dreams come true. Selling out arenas and winning awards and putting out awesome music. I watched all of those dreams come true. Not once did you say I was a reason for it. You always avoided the questions about if the songs were about me. I was - I was never part of your dream, Shawn. And I put mine on hold to watch you live yours. It's my turn," she looks at me with some type of fire in her eyes. "Its time for me to go for my dreams and watch them come true. I thought it was you. You were my dream for so long, but that's just not it anymore."

I suck in a shuddery breath, "no. Y/n, baby. Please."

"You need to go."

"Y/n," I reach out for her but I'm stopped quickly by my best friend.

"She told you to go, Shawn."

"I'm not leaving until we fix this."

"Just let it go, man. She doesn't want you anymore." Connor says from his same spot, only this time with y/n in his arms, her head buried deep in his chest. Seeing her in the arms of another makes me crazy and I lunge for him, but Brian pushes me back again.

"You need to go. I'm not saying it again," he's practically dragging me out the house.

I point an angry finger at Connor, "You're fired."

"That's fine," he says. "Good luck with the rest of the tour." He shoots me a glare and then his attention is back to my sad ex-girlfriend. And I'm out the door before I realize it.

"What am I supposed to do?" I ask aloud because I feel Brian standing behind me, making sure I don't get any ideas to go back inside.

"Sounds to me like you need to reevaluate your priorities. You chose this career, and up until recently you were able to balance love and music. Find that again. Now go back to the hotel. I'll see you for soundcheck tomorrow." The door closes once again. But this time it's closing on everything that was and everything that could've been. I know I'm not getting her back. I chose the music business, but now it's the misery business and there's no way to get out of it.

***

Tags: @curlyshawny @anamariel2301 @shawns-badreputation @bbellbagel @turtoix @ivegotparticulartaste @tomshufflepuff @dino-16-avocado @sleepybesson @lifeoftheparty74 @shawnssongs @luvluvxx

I hope you enjoyed it. I'm sorry for the angst. Like, reblog, and leave feedback!! 💙💙

#shawn mendes #shawn peter raul #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes one shot #shawn mendes angst #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes smut #smfsource

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onceuponadetectivedemigod · 5 years ago

Note

hmm well i don’t wanna bother you but maybe you could do two endings to the fic? one very angsty and one smutty (like threesome). The fic could start angsty too

Drunken Mistake

Smutty ending

Pairing: Ben Hardy x Reader, Tigerlily Taylor x Reader, Ben Hardy x Tigerlily Taylor x Reader.

Warnings: Smut, cheating, serious LANGUAGE, alcohol,

An: HOLY SHIT I HAVE SINNED. im probably going to hell for this one. This is probably the best smut I’ve written so far and it is steamy. sorry this took so long but here it is. Life just keeps throwing shit my way every time I’m like “yeah” so you know. ALSO I DONT CONDONE CHEATING. And WOW THIS IS LIKE my dream fantasy but I still don’t think cheating is the way to go about that. (Also sidenote im inexperience so some of this may not be accurate therefore I’m sorry)

Ben walked in the door. You were sitting on the couch ready to confess your drunken mistake from the night before. He set down his gym bag and came over and kissed your cheek.

“Hey babe. I’m gonna get in the shower. Then you can tell me all about girls night.” He smiled. God his smile made you melt. Which made you feel more guilty.

“Ben we need to talk. Now.”

“What’s wrong?” His face grew concerned. He looked at you and sat down on the couch. Tears started streaming down your face.

“Ben...”

“Y/N? What’s wrong?” He sounded more adamant.

“Me and Tigerlily went out last night and got shitfaced right?”

“Yeah so? You didn’t bring home another guy did you?” He half joked but you could tell he was slightly serious based on his breathing. His breathing became shaky, he isn’t quite sure what will happen next.

“No. But I told you last night I was gonna stay at her place cause I didn’t want to drive or risk taking an Uber alone. Well when we got back to her place we decided to watch Netflix. But her only tv is in her room so we cuddled up on her bed. And next thing I knew... Ben, I fucked her. I fucked Tigerlily. I cheated. I feel so horrible. God. I don’t even know what happened. I am so sorry Ben. I understand if you don’t trust me anymore or if you want me gone-“

“Who said anything about you leaving?” Ben looked at you. You were balling your eyes out and you couldn’t read his expressions.

“Ben I cheated on you! Why wouldn’t you want me gone?” You said wiping your tears.

“Y/N... listen, yeah I’m hurt. But if I’m being quite honest with you I still trust you, I mean it was with your friend, someone I know, you had the decency to tell me first thing, it’s not like you picked up some random chick or dude from the club. It’s not someone you’ve been fucking behind my back. Also you were drunk. Honestly Y/N the thought of you and Tigerlily fucking kinda gives me a boner.” His voice was calm and collected the entire time he spoke. You gathered your thoughts and tried to grasp everything he had said. When you finally spoke again, the tension subsided.

“So if I were to invite her over right now..?” He laughed.

“Well right now you kinda look like shit. Maybe once you get yourself together?” He laughed.

“Fuck you.” You shouted and playfully hit his arm.

“But having two girls at once is like a fantasy of mine and I can’t even begin to tell you how horny that makes me feel right now.” His eyes darkened as they set on you. “But I bet I can show you a helluva better time than she can.”

“Oh really? Prove it.”

And he did.

You made arrangements for the three of you. You explained the situation to Tigerlily. Although she felt just as guilty as you did. But she said she’d be happy to oblige with ben’s fantasy. And you’d definitely be lying if you didn’t think about it every day until the next Friday.

“You two get started. I’m just gonna sit over here for a minute. Also remember: safeword is pineapple.” Ben said as he sat in the chair across from the bed, where you and Tigerlily both sat in nice new lingerie.

“Well maybe you could tell us what to do? It’s your fantasy and I don’t remember much of what happened last time?” Tigerlily spoke up.

“You know if you’re going to sass me all night it might just get you in trouble.” He replied.

“Oh I count on it. But still.” She said.

“Why don’t you try making out? Foreplay it.” He recommended.

“Who you want on top?” She asked.

“I don’t give a fuck. Just do something!”

“Ben baby. It’s alright don’t get pissed off, we just want to do this in a way that will please you.” You piped in. But instead of letting him answer you immediately attacked Tigerlily’s face with your own. You climbed on top of her and started viscously making out. Her hands found your hips. She let her hands slide down to your ass and gave your bum a little squeeze.

You moved you lips from her mouth to her neck and collar bone. She moaned and moved her head back to give you more access. Her hands started to wander and feel around your body. You started sucking hickeys on her neck as one of your hands found her boobs and your legs became entangled.

You heard Ben mutter a low “fuck.” And you were almost sure he had started working his cock.

You started moving your lips farther down her body and found her other boob. And decided to move your hand down, rubbing her leg and low abdomen. Her back arched toward your mouth and her hand found its way into your hair. You snapped off her bra with your other hand and helped her out of it, throwing it on the floor next to Ben. She moved to do the same to yours.

Now you were absolutely sure that he was working his cock as you could here his moans becoming more audible.

You started kissing lower and lower until you got to her underwear that had become visibly wet, but so had yours. You moved her panties down her legs as you quickly licked a stripe up her wet core. Her hands had found their way back into your hair.

Suddenly Ben shouted for you to stop.

“Y/N hop off.” You did as you were told.

“Tigerlily go over to the edge of the bed.” He pointed standing up. She let her legs fall off the bed granting you easier access. She sat up. He was already naked from jerking off before. He walked over to her and hovered over her. He stroked her cheek. “Suck my dick.” Was the order he gave her. And you knew that he was about to face fuck the shit out of her for talking back to him earlier. Yet you still felt a slight tinge of jealousy. She leaned back on her hands as his fists found clumps of her hair. She put her mouth around his cock and started working on it, but he immediately took charge. He looked at you.

“Finish what you started.”

“Yes sir.” This made him groan. He loved it when you called him sir. And frankly you loved the way it affected him.

You went to the edge of the bed and started eating her out. Making sure to completely encompass her clit. Ben started fucking her face faster and faster. She was moaning so much at the sensation of both of you. Suddenly you could tell she was reaching her high as well as him. You were jealous of not getting any friction as they were. When she finally came in your mouth, you did your best to clean up every bit of it. Ben would like that.

When Ben finally came in her mouth, she fell back on the bed and he rolled over next to her.

They were both breathing incredibly hard and despite fear of punishment you really just wanted to cum. You straddled ben’s thigh and started riding.

“Ben baby. I’ve been good. Can you please make me come?”

“Fuck baby. Take off your underwear.” You stood up and did as you were told. “I will take care of you. As for you...” he looked over at Tigerlily. Go sit in the chair and finger yourself. She did as was told. Every now and then you would top Ben, but tonight was all for him and his dominance was definitely showing. He laid his head and back against the head board. “Come ride me.”

You went over to him and sunk onto his cock. And started to ride. His hands found your ass and his lips found your tits. You started chasing your own high and it would have been long before you’d come.

“You see this Tigerlily, don’t ever fuck her without my permission again. This cunt is mine. I want you to know I will always fuck her better than you.” His words rang through your ears and turned you on more.

“C’mon baby. Come on my cock.” He whispered in your ear, pulling you closer to him to hit just a little deeper and reach your g spot. He guided your hips for you.

Suddenly you were seeing stars but he helped you ride out your high as come started spilling out of you onto him.

“Good girl. You did great baby.” He said encouragingly. “Tigerlily you can stop. Go take a shower. We set up the guest bedroom for you.”

She gave an awkward goodnight as she left the room. You had finally come down from your high as you rolled over next to Ben. He got up and went to the bathroom to bring you a wet rag to clean you up with. Once you two had actually gotten in bed, he leaned over and kissed you on the forehead as you entangled in each other’s arms.

“That was a lot of fun.” He spoke up. “But please don’t cheat on me again.”

“Never. But I’m not opposed to that ever again.”

Ben taglist: @sevenseasofrog

#ben hardy #tigerlily taylor #ben hardy smut

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askvenomandthekids · 6 years ago

Text

those brilliant eyes (harry osborn!venom x reader)

author’s note: man oh man...spiderman ps4 is WILD isn’t it? i’m excited to see that harry osborn is going to be the host for venom...it’s gonna be so ANGSTY and DRAMATIC, and im SUCH A FAN. warning, this will be a LONG fanfic, so sorry for people on mobile. hope y’all enjoy though!

pairing: harry osborn!venom x reader

genre: romance/drama/angst

The first time you saw him, he had brilliant eyes.

Though, that was probably an overstatement. You had seen him around before. You’ve certainly heard of him around your school. Afterall, it wasn’t everyday a rich and handsome teenaged boy attends your high school. Everyone talked about him. Despite his popularity, you’ve never seen him in person, let alone talked to him. You only saw brief flashes of him in the hallways and cafeteria - a tall and lean young man, with smooth brunette hair.

Up until that point, that’s all you’ve seen of the enigmatic Harry Osborn. He didn’t go to clubs, do sports, or shared any classes with you. If you didn’t know any better, you might’ve thought he was a myth.

Who would’ve thought someone like Harry Osborn would’ve wandered into your crappy part time job?

It was a little later into the evening, after the dinner rush hour. Just one more hour until your shift was up. You decided to kill time by finishing up some English reading - Lord of the Flies. You rolled your eyes, when you remembered you had to read thirty pages for that night’s homework. Such a delightful school read.

You spent some time like that, plowing through dense paragraphs and flowery prose. You were so absorbed, you haven’t noticed him enter the diner.

“You must be in the advanced classes.” Said a familiar and soft voice.

You sharply glanced up, to see Harry looking at the book in your lap.

“O-oh? Really?” You stupidly said, your mind scrambled to recover from the surprise.

“Aren’t you?” He asked with an uncertain smile.

“Er, oh yeah! Right! Silly me! Yeah, I think I’m in the advanced class. It’s uh, not hard though, we just have to read all these novels.” You lifted the book in your hand to illustrate your point.

“Wish I could’ve stayed.” Harry wistfully commented. He leaned into the counter, closer to you. You secretly took note of how strong his jawline was. “Then we could’ve been in the same class together.”

You were taken aback. Harry Osborn was in your English class? You scoured your early school memories. Faintly, you could make out a tall brunette through your hazy memory. So it was him! How could that have slipped your mind?

“Really? I can’t believe it! I kinda forgot you were there!”

You bit your tongue immediately upon saying that. That was a little rude, wasn’t it? But, Harry chuckled at your little comment, and ruffled his hair.

“Yeah, I don’t blame you. I missed so many school days, I was forced to move to a lower level class.”

“How come?”

Harry began to fiddle with his fingers. His eyes are completely averted now. In this light, they looked more blue than the brilliant gray you saw the last time.

“I, uh, get sick easily. It’s mostly because my father frets so much over me.” He said, with a shake of the head. You nodded, thoughtful. That must explain why he wasn’t on a sports team, or appeared in any clubs. “I understand his concern, but I’d like to be a little independent, you know? Do normal teenager stuff.” Harry suddenly confessed.

The novel is closed in your lap now, completely forgotten at this point. When you looked closer at him, you just noticed how...thin he was. His clothes hang off his frame, exposing his bony neck. There is a gaunt look on his face, thanks to the heavy bags under his eyes. You feared if someone so much as shoved Harry over, his body would break into a million pieces.

Before you could say anything else, Harry tried to laugh it off.

“I’m - I’m sorry, I had no idea where that came from.” He glanced over his shoulder. “I just wanted to get out of the house, and I came here, for some reason. Probably because I was hoping - hoping to see you here. Isn’t that funny? We hardly know each other, and I - I just intrude. I’m sorry. I’m talking to some nice looking person I’ve only seen a few times, and I’m already dumping baggage on you. I’m sorry.”

Wait, he came here because you were here? And he thought you were nice looking? You ignored the thrum in your chest, and your hand shot across the counter. You grabbed his shoulder - it was painfully bony.

“Hey, hey now. No worries about that. Now that we’re actually talking to each other, we can be friends now, right? So you don’t need to worry about dumping anything on me.” You reassured him, and gently squeezed his shoulder to prove your point.

Something lit up in his gaze, and they nearly looked gray again.

From that point forward, your shitty part time job, became a past time you actually looked forward to. Harry would come over, and sit at the usual place. You would give him a plate, piled with food - on the house of course, despite his protests. Between shifts or during shifts, you two could just talk about anything.

Harry Osborn was no longer a myth - he became a tangible person, and somehow you both became good friends. You were sure if you two had more time together, you might’ve...might’ve even asked him out. Which, was wishful thinking, but what did you had to lose?

On the day where you finally mustered the courage, he didn’t appear at your job. You didn’t sweat it, of course. You knew about Harry’s medical condition, and how it could make him bedridden from a few days to a few weeks. But then, it turned into a few days. Then a week. Then a month.

You didn’t have to wonder for long about where Harry disappeared to. At some point, Mary Jane and Peter told you that he got sick so badly, his father had to ship him off to a hospital in Europe.

And just like that, when Harry became real in your life, he disappeared like a ghost. You didn’t had a chance to say goodbye.

The memory of Harry Osborn faded with time, and the heartache wore off eventually. You still dreamt of those brilliant eyes, and every now and then, you wondered about what could’ve been. But, there was no point in thinking about that. Life had to move on.

And then, it all came crashing back.

It was a dark and dreary night, and your night shift just ended. You were cold and everything was damp, and you wanted to drink something warm. The last thing you expected was coming across your old highschool job - the diner. Who would’ve thought such a dingy place managed to stay open after all these years?

Out of nostalgia, you entered. This proved to be a fatal mistake.

The moment you stepped foot in the diner, something blunt is hit over your head. You cry out, and stumble onto the floor. Everything becomes blurry, and all you can feel is throbbing pain. Someone grabs a fistful of your hair, and drags across the floor. Tears streaming down your face, you try wriggling away, but your assailant only pulls harder.

You make out a hooded figure wearing a horrid clown’s mask. The painted red smile is practically taunting, and hollow eyes coldly look at you.

“Stay still and shut up if you want to live. You all hear?”

Other people whimper. You weakly twist your head, to see a few other unfortunate hostages, tied up and gagged. Good god, what did you walk into? You bite down your tongue, trying to will away the pain. Try to stay still as possible, when other men begin talking. When you peer from behind the counter, you see a few more hooded and masked men, harshly talking to each other.

“...Damnit, why’d you have to make a scene?”

“Can’t we just kill these bastards and get it over with?”

“No, he said this had to be the place. Now, if some certain jackass didn’t whip out his gun, then we didn’t need to have this hostage situation, huh?!”

“Who you callin’ a jackass?!”

“Shut the fuck up! He’s here!”

The bell jingles softly. Your head snapped towards the door. A single figure enters the doorway. They’re wearing a black hoodie, their face concealed. The masked men immediately surround this figure, weapons brandished in hand.

“About time you fucking showed up.”

“You have the goods?”

There’s a ripe silence. The hooded figure says nothing. This quickly gets the masked gang agitated.

“Hey? You listening to us? Where’s our supplies?” The leader jabs a gun at the hooded figure’s chest. Your heart leaps for this stranger. You can only watch from the side, helpless. “Start talking, or we’ll make you.”

“...We’re ending this partnership.” The stranger finally speaks up. His voice is so soft and raspy, you nearly couldn’t make him out. Whatever he said, made the masked men even angrier.

“You’ve got balls. If you think we’ll let you or anyone in this shithole walk out of here, you gotta another thing coming!” A gun is aimed directly at the stranger’s face. Seeing this, you recoil, and dive back behind the counter. The other hostages look at you with wide and frightened eyes.

Gunshots go off. Your ears ring from the ear grating sounds. You try not to think how that stranger must be dead on the ground, now. Soon that will be you and the others. You shut your eyes, praying for some miracle to happen.

Everything is quiet for a moment.

And then, the masked men start screaming. More gunshots go off. Bullets ricochet everywhere, off the counter, walls, and ceiling. Some lights shatter, leaving half of the diner in the dark. Something growls - it sounded like a lion, but far more deeper and monstrous. You wasted no time panicking. You turn to the other hostages, and begin untying them. Some are asking you what’s happening, while others are crying.

You tell them to go out the back door, and to get help. If escape was possible, they had to flee while those masked men were preoccupied.

Just as you untied and ripped off the tape of the lost hostage, you watch her scramble out the door. Shakingly, you get up to follow her - and then something grabs you from behind.

A gun is pointed at your temple. Arms wrap your neck into a chokehold. A voice begins to scream next to your ear. Your captor sounds hysterical, on the verge of tears.

“Come any fucking closer, and I’ll shoot!”

Weakly you look up to see who the man is talking to - and your heart drops. It’s a monster, a monster that has probably haunted you from your worst nightmares. It’s tall, easily towering you and the man. Inhumane muscles ripple through the creature’s body. Its skin is like solid oil - fluid and shiny, and ebbed with white veins. And it’s surrounded by eviscerated corpses.

Blood has painted the walls and floors. You can even see bits of flesh sticking to the monster’s chest and its mouth. A freakishly long and prehensile tongue, licks the flesh from its skin. It drags its tongue across his draconian teeth. You gagged, horrified. Did that thing single handedly murdered and devoured those men just a few moments ago? If it weren’t for the adrenaline pumping through your body, you would’ve fainted on the spot.

The monster hisses, cocking its head at your captor. Its jaw drops open, only to reveal rows upon rows of serrated teeth. Bloody saliva drips down the sides of its mouth. Its pale and pupilless eyes narrow.

“Stay back!” The man shouts, and his grip on you tightens. You choke out, struggling for air, and begin clawing at the man’s arm.

The creature lets out a terrible scream, and tendrils shoot out from its back. Something wet is punctured. The man freezes up. You glance over, just in time to see blood pouring out his mouth. Looking down, you see that a black tendril has gone through the poor bastard’s chest completely.

Unceremoniously, he lets go of you, and collapses, dead before he even hit the floor. You stand there, frozen. The man’s blood has splattered across your cheek and clothes - it’s so sticky and metallic. And then there’s the monster.

The tendrils retreat into its back. It approaches you, slowly, like a predator. Its teeth glisten in its dark mouth. You’re trembling. Your mouth opens but no scream comes out. You gasp, your mind desperately trying to register this horrible, horrible situation.

If you were going to die right here, you pray it will be quick. The monster stands in front of you, crouched down. It was still so monstrously tall. It can crush you, like a bug. You’d be squashed and bloodied like those other men. You begin to hyperventilate.

“DON’T...” It garbles, reaching down for your face. It can speak?

“Oh god, oh god...” You manage to whisper, covering your face in horror.

“DON’T...BE AFRAID...” What was it saying? What was it saying? It touches your cheek. You try not to see how sharp its claws were. Was this a joke? Tears prick at your eyes.

The monster stills. And then, its skin begins to peel back. It’s jaws open, peeling back to reveal - to reveal -

You couldn’t breathe. It’s those eyes. Those - those eyes, brilliant eyes, but no they’re not the same. They’re now so dull, lifeless, pitch black and cold - it was Harry. Underneath the folds of this monster, it’s Harry. His pallid and bony face is dripping with black liquid. He looks at you, blank faced. If it weren’t for those eyes, you wouldn’t have recognized him. But it was him. Unmistakably, it was him.

“No...” You hoarsely mumble. You couldn’t stand any longer. Your head is throbbing and your heart is beating so fast, it’s just about to give out. You collapse right into the monster’s taloned hands, and everything goes black.

author’s note; WOWZERS, i wrote a lot. sorry this got so long!

#venom #venom 2018 #spiderman ps4 #venom x reader #harry osborn x reader #those brilliant eyes

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olympusintelligence · 6 years ago

Text

Part 3 Chapter 10

Sneak-peek 1

30/11/2018 11:59 (San Francisco Time) Palo Alto Hills, Palo Alto

What a fatal mistake!

Kyle regretted he recklessly entered Andrew’s house five minutes ago. The garden was tranquil, but only hostility was left in the house.

He thought he had prepared for everything, but he would not get anything. In fact, he did not know if he could survive this ‘lunch’.

There was no way he could have foreseen a gunfight in an African wilderness ensued right after he entered the house. He tried to escape, but the door had been automatically locked. He wanted to call for help, but his cell phone did not receive any signal. Immersed in such an authentic virtual environment, he could not find any windows or exits. He had only managed to avoid a bullet, and taken refuge behind a ‘tree’ with a gun in his hand.

“Seems like you haven’t got used to the VR battlefield,” the man behind the plot, Andrew smirked coyly. Wearing all black, he was hiding behind another tree. “I’m a fair opponent. At least the bullets and the gun I passed to you are real.” The specially designed VR hardware that projected this battlefield was still not yet on sale. Users did not have to rely on VR goggles and/or hard disk backpacks to experience its simulated environment.

‘You won’t find any help. Very few people stay in this area at noon. The house is noise-proof, so no one outside can hear what’s going on here.’

Kyle wanted to shoot Andrew down, but his opponent was faster. He fired back another round of shots and one of them almost hit his right hand.

You tried to kill me…..I sensed your enmity against me at that time!

‘Who the heck are you? Why are you doing this?’ questioned Kyle angrily. He never thought this harmless-looking young tycoon would have wanted to kill him with his own hand. Andrew’s public profile was too simple for a tech tycoon - After earning a bachelor's degree in computer sciences from Caltech in 2012, he became an intelligence analyst in the National Security Agency(NSA), but he resigned in less than a year. A reporter once asked what he did during the two-year gap after his resignation, he just explained that he travelled around the world and wrote the source code for VidChat. He only returned to the US and founded Vid in 2015. And at this age he still did not have any spouse or lover. Currently Kyle knew for sure that the two-year gap was not a gap at all.

He was Olympus’ operative, just like Helen.

‘Let me show you my gun.” An image of a remodeled silver blue CZ SP-01 Phantom appeared in the middle. Its slider had the pattern of a silver trident on it.

‘You’re…..’ A glimpse of this gun reminded Kyle of a Greek God. He unconsciously trembled with fear.

‘I’m Poseidon.’ Andrew confirmed his guess - his codename was Poseidon. Coldness seethed within his deep azure eyes.

In Greek mythology, after overthrowing their father Cronus’ tyrannic rule,Poseidon and his brothers Zeus and Hades divided the world by drawing lots. It made him the god of the Sea and other waters. He is as capricious as the ocean- Though he is often calm, when he is in rage he triggers storms, chaotic waves and tsunamis that flood the land, and even shakes the earth with earthquakes. He is also vindictive- According to Homer’s Odyssey, the hero Odysseus escaped from the cyclops Polyphemus’ capture by blinding him with a wooden stick, but the cyclops was Poseidon’s son. When he prayed for Poseidon to avenge for him, the god was angered and cursed the hero to wander around the sea for more than ten years. In the end, it took Odysseus eighteen years just to return to his home Ithaca, though he had the patronage of the other deities.

‘You’ve anticipated my visit to Palo Alto, so you’ve prepared all these!’

‘Yea, I leaked the intelligence on the virus to you.’

Kyle finally realized this man was a terrible schemer- a month ago he deliberately leaked the virus source via INTERPOL to lure him to his trap. Obviously he had plotted to murder him for a long time, but he still feigned hospitality before the hackathon. He only showed his true colors at this moment. Throughout their meeting he spotted nothing strange about him.

He was a strong, patient, calculating rival. No wonder he was chosen as a core member of Olympus and his codename was named after the great god of ocean.

Sneak-peek 2

Blood streams flowed out from their wounds and tainted their clothes. They really smelled bloody.

‘You’d better kill me now!’Poseidon had never experienced such a humiliating defeat. He lost the will to fight back, as he knew too well the fate of an agent captured by an enemy - torture and death.

‘I wanna kill you too, badass!’ Kyle punched his rival’s boyish face hard. His eyes burned with rage. He was very angry at the rival’s well-planned murder plot. ‘But I’m different from murderers like you! I never kill anyone!’ He slapped his face again and shouted, ‘I want you to tell me everything you know. If you don’t say anything, I’ll continue to punch you till you talk!’

Crack!

A bullet had just one through the window bear Kyle. He tried to dodge it when he heard the window crack, but his right arm still received the blow. It was too powerful that it caused him to lose his balance and fall on the ground. Poseidon was saved.

‘Can’t believe you’ve got a sniper on your side!’ complained Kyle loudly . Poseidon just looked at him with disdain and sneered. ‘Not my man, but you better run. Hades should be here now. Before becoming one of us, he was the best sniper in SWAT.’

Hades- the king of the underworld?

‘Bastards!’ Kyle was truly frightened. He hastily moved to escape from the backdoor near the open kitchen. He discovered there was a vast swimming pool outside. There was no place for a sniper to conceal himself, but Kyle decided not to stay there as he did not want to face an attack on two fronts. Therefore he rushed to the parking lot facing the forest and climbed the fence to leave the house, despite the risk of getting another hit by the sniper.

He raced downhill on the road, but he heard another noise on his left - a bullet had just hit his left shoulder. Its impact thrust him onto the ground. More blood spilled out.

I don’t want to die here!

He dared not to walk on the open road. With a strong will to survive, he crawled his way into the forest. Although he would have to climb down the slope, the densely grown trees may shelter him from the sniper’s eyesight. Shortly later he barely got back up and trudged into the forest.

Still it did not work out. The sniper had already arrived with a solid black Desert Eagle Mark 19 in his right hand. He had put his sniper rifle back into his backpack. With a lean and athletic figure, the tall Caucasian man had a flat top-cut black hair. He appeared to be in his early thirties. Like any assassin, he preferred black outfit. When his grey eagle eyes were fixated on his prey, he just pulled the trigger. The gunshot was aiming at Kyle’s heart…..

Kyle knew he was doomed. He could not escape from this close-distance gunfire. Narcissus, the symbol of Hades, was marked on the slider of the sniper’s handgun.

Full fiction blog under construction

@whataremetaphor @pilipalea @ill-write-when-im-dead @requiemesque @adie-dee @thingswaitingtobewritten

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