#who knows maybe once finals are over and Im less anxious Ill be back full force

[llitchilitchi]

would you guys still love me if I got hyperfixated on a different fandom and made a side account to post about the game(s) that I’m really into 👉 👈

[romanovanoff]

bio says black widow stories but i do like to dabble with other characters too. ill have a full list on another post.

YOU & I

A Bellatrix & Tom Riddle story

part one

characters:

bellatrix black

tom riddle

narcissa black

andromeda black

druella black

rodolphus lestrange

rabastan lestrange

(tba)

relationships:

bella/tom

narcissa/lucius

andromeda/ted

(tba)

summary: tom is the new kid in school and is already popular amongst his peers. his goal is to have bellatrix black by his side when he conquers the wizarding world, and his only problem? bella is already in an arranged marriage and also wants nothing to do with him.

disclaimer: i have never read the books, and ive seen all the movies only like twice. im not a crazy fanatic potterhead, i just have an unhealthy obsession for bellatrix/helena bonham carter 😌. so apologies in advance if i make any mistakes, regarding whats canon in the harry potter universe and so on. the little things, the big things, my bad. i hope the fact that its mostly au makes up for what it lacks in accuracy.

word count: 3497

——————————

"I overheard earlier today that Hogwarts received a new student," Druella spoke as she took a sip of tea, delicately patting a napkin across her lips before gazing over at her three daughters. Bellatrix, who didn't seem interested at all in the conversation, Andromeda, who was busy scribbling something in her diary, and little Narcissa who was following along to her mother's words.

"Yes, it's true," The blonde girl, thirteen years old, responded. "I thought it strange at first but apparently he and his family were living somewhere in Europe. Tom Riddle, I think his name is. He'd been taught at home and his father had gotten a job at the ministry so they transferred him to Hogwarts."

Ever the gossip, it didn't surprise Bellatrix in the slightest that Cissy knew so much about the new student. She rolled her eyes, wondering why the hell they were even discussing this in the first place. It was just a new student, who cares? She voiced this several times out loud but had received the usual disapproving glances from the two blondes. It creeped the raven-haired witch sometimes at how much Cissy resembled their mother.

Letting out a sigh Bella swirled her spoon around in her teacup, not finding the appetite to drink nor eat the sweets that accompanied her tea. The three of them were currently in Rosa Lee's teashop, a place they often went to every other week, with permission to leave the school of course- though she didn’t ask for it most times. Usually Bellatrix would devour the treats but today she was feeling too anxious to do anything but. At seventeen years old she had stretched out her days of freedom and was now forced into a marriage that should have taken place two years ago.

The thought of marriage wasn't all that bad, if she was being honest. Sometimes when her thoughts and actions weren't clouded with hate and rage she'd daydream a not so near future of a perfect wedding. A wedding where she would be marrying someone she truly loved and could cherish, to honor their vows to the fullest extent. So the wedding itself wasn't the problem, it was who she was supposed to be wed to that was. Her long time childhood friend, Rodolphus Lestrange. And one of the very few in the sacred 28 that wasn't related to the Blacks by blood. At least that she was aware of… The thought still made her cringe, even after checking every family tapestry available and an exhausting amount of research.

Everyone wanted her to be happy about the fact she'd get to marry someone she's known for years, something most pure-bloods didn't have the honor of having, but it was the fact she knew him so well that she hated. He was like a brother to her, albeit at times an annoying and even sexist brother. He wasn't husband material and she was most certainly not wife material for him. And add to the fact that they'd be pressured to have children immediately after becoming man and wife, the thought of having sex with him made her want to gag. You'd think they'd notice that such a practice was incredibly outdated. She hated to wonder if the marriage had taken place two years ago, would they really pressure two 15 year olds to consumate? Fuck this life.

She felt like the world and everyone in it was against her. All her complaints had been shot down, leaving her inwardly seething with rage before being left totally subdued. Oh, how she hated being so… powerless, left without a voice, without a right to do what she wanted and to do so as she pleased, the ever present shadow looming over her shoulder that was the society and family she was born into.

Letting out a sigh she looked over at Andromeda who was still scribbling in that damn book. Probably instant messaging her friends, something Bellatrix didn't have the luxury of having. At least genuine ones anyway. The ones she had in school were merely vultures following around, waiting for the opportunity to eat away at the scraps she bared. They didn't hesitate to use her to their advantage, trying to play her like a fool. Idiots, they should've known she was the brightest witch of her age for a reason. And no one took advantage of Bellatrix Black.

Despite still being superior she continued feeling a bitter pang in her heart, knowing no one truly cared for her there. Well, maybe except for her sisters, Rodolphus and his brother that is.

Catching her eyes on what she was doing Andromeda quickly closed her book and narrowed her eyes at her eldest sister. But then a familiar smirk curled the girls lips and Bellatrix knew what was going to happen before her sister could even utter a word. She knew that smirk anywhere. Bella herself wore that smirk on several occasions, actually even taught it to her dear sister! If only mother knew how truly naughty Andy was, maybe then the heat wouldn't fall upon Bella so heavily when she did something that displeased her.

"Mother," Andromeda chimed in, interrupting Cissy's conversation with the older woman. "Bellatrix is right. Why not talk about something else."

"Andy…" The dark haired witch warned, fingers clenched around her spoon.

"Like… Bella's wedding perhaps? Surely there are plenty of plans to discuss. Some of which I'm sure my dear sister here is needed for?" The brunette suggested 'innocently', smiling back at Bellatrix before looking at her mother.

Druella blinked once, then twice before she brightened up. Damnit, Andy, Bella thought to herself angrily, glaring daggers at her younger sister. "You're right! We only have a short few weeks before the big day and still so much to do. How about we end this little meal early and say we go to one of the boutiques nearby, check up on your wedding dress," Druella said as she rose from her seat.

And so that's what they did. They went to the boutique, checked the incredibly old fashioned dress, with what looked like the most painfully looking corset yet stitched into the fabric. After, they stopped by a few other shops to double check things were in order for the wedding before finally apparating home. The entire time Bellatrix had trudged along reluctantly behind her sisters and mother, offering a few weak comments and opinions for this thing and that when asked of her.

She was glad to finally be back home, finding relief in the knowledge that tomorrow morning she'd be returning back to Hogwarts, having spent the weekend with her family. On one hand she was glad she managed to extend the wedding date, convincing her parents that it might be wise that she finish her last year and take her N.E.W.T.s before focusing on 'wifely duties'. Yes, that was how she phrased it. And yes, they'd taken the bait, obviously wanting their daughter to focus on her marriage once out of school, and not caring about the intelligence hidden behind her usual mask of indifference.

She made short work separating from her family's side to make her way upstairs to her room. And then made even shorter work getting ready for bed. No one ever bothered her when she was up the stairs and hidden away. It was known to all that Bellatrix Black inherited the 'mad' gene in the family, more prone to violent outbursts and destructive tantrums. Because of this her room wasn't the prettiest, constantly being repaired and sparse so there were less objects to break. The room was also constantly being placed under a silencing charm, quieting her screams so the rest of the household could sleep peacefully. How thoughtful of them, she thought to herself bitterly.

The sun was already down by the time she emerged from the bathroom, all scrubbed up and her hair wet, the many strands in ringlets falling down her back. With her wand, she casted a quick-drying spell to both her body and hair, not bothering with any sleeping robes as she climbed into bed. Once in she blew out the candles before getting comfortable under the covers. Usually, it would be too early to go to sleep, and she'd have at least a glass or two of firewhiskey to help her doze off but she felt the whole unexpected wedding planning this afternoon was enough to do her in. Not only that but she did need to wake up early to catch the train back to Hogwarts tomorrow. So without much further thought she closed her heavy eyes and fell asleep, hoping things could be much easier in the future.

THE HOGWARTS EXPRESS

"Tom Riddle is in our class."

"I heard Tom's family is incredibly wealthy and direct descendants to Salazar Slytherin."

"It's true! I overheard him talking to snakes! Snakes!"

The whispers and excited talk continued on and on the moment Bellatrix stepped onto the Hogwarts express. If she thought Cissy talking to mother about this ‘nobody’ annoyed her, she was absolutely wrong. Hearing everyone around her discuss this Riddle boy absolutely drenched her high spirits and put her in one of her dark moods.

No one needed to look twice to know to stay away from the young witch. If dark glaring eyes didn't strike fear into her peers, then the dark energy and aura surrounding her would.

Not wanting to hear the gossip anymore Bella separated from her 'friends' and found a seating compartment for herself, only able to hold two people, but thankfully no one dared claim the other spot. She sat close to the window, forehead touching the glass, and seeming to cool her ever bubbling irritation. Trees and rolling hills passed by in a blur but she wasn't particularly watching, eyes slightly glazed over as she got lost in thought.

So lost in thought she almost didn't notice the sounds of her compartment door being slid open and a person taking a seat across from her. Blinking slowly she looked over to the 'intruder' as the door slid closed once more, leaving the two individuals with some privacy she didn't necessarily want.

The person in front of her was a young man. Probably around her age with dark brown hair, curling neatly at the front. He had bright emerald eyes, warm but she got the hint of something darker underneath, something dangerous hidden beneath the surface and ready to strike unsuspecting prey. Despite that though everything else about him seemed pretty bland. Pale skin- but not as pale as hers-, average build, and put together uniform.

"Who're you?" She found herself asking, swallowing the automatic 'get out' she was originally planning on saying. Given the fact she hasn't seen him before in this school year or any year before that, she was already dreading the answer. She wasn't even sure why she disliked him so much already. Maybe it was the fact he's barely even started school here and yet everyone was already drooling over him. Maybe it was the fact he was well known for things the student body hasn't even had proof of, things he was already praised for. And on her side of things she was well known for her infamous anger and her upcoming marriage to Rodolphus. That or her status of being the firstborn Black daughter. Otherwise known as the current heir of the Black family. Well. That was until her idiot cousin, Sirius was old enough to steal the mantle from her.

So when he said, "Tom. Tom Riddle," She really couldn't stop herself from rolling her eyes. Cause of course the person she had no care for was sat in, of all seats, the one in front of her. "Does that name offend you?" He then asked, wearing the same damn smirk he wore the moment she took in his appearance just seconds earlier.

"No," She said in a bored drawl, eyes once again gazing out the window as her head rested against the glass. "Unlike every other idiot out there, I care not for who you are. You're just another ordinary student attending Hogwarts. Nothing special about that," She told him, her tone consistent in telling him of how much she didn't care.

He was quiet for some time. Not too long, but enough to give her pause and wonder if she'd wandered too deep in thought and he'd slipped away. Only a glance his way revealed that, no, he was still here. "I agree," He finally spoke again. "There's nothing special about me at all. And I'm starting to despise the fact people are so interested in me. Took a look at the school Friday and suddenly everyone thinks so highly of me just because it was a private tour by the headmaster himself," He huffed.

It was clear to Bellatrix by the way he spoke, by the way he talked that he was excellent at charming people, manipulating them even if you would use the darker term. Again, she was many things but an idiot was not one of them and she wasn't falling for his 'charms' or tactics any time soon.

"Oh, poor you," She said in a mocking voice, jutting out her bottom lip as she faced him fully. "New kid in school has everyone fawning over him. Such a terrible life you must live, knowing you have everyone in the palm of your hands with just a smile." She finished the sentence off with said smile before turning it into a sneer.

"I won't repeat myself again. I care not for who you are, and I don't wish to know you or anything about you. So if you're going to sit here, then it better be in silence, or so help me merlin I will curse you. Laws be damned," She hissed. Hopefully for the last time she turned away again, feeling her mood lighten just slightly at her first threat of the day.

Usually, other students would run away by now, flee the vicinity in which she occupied, but Tom just sat there, in shock, or because he actually listened to her words. Finding herself curious about which option she chanced another glance but was surprised to see him wearing that annoying little smirk instead. "Cute," He told her, enjoying the way her eyes widened just slightly before darkening with anger. "That threat might work on others but it won't with me."

Her magic was absolutely crackling around her, like static in the air just before an oncoming storm. She was soon to make good on her threat. "Based on your looks, in how you speak, and the way I saw you walk earlier, looking down at everyone as if they were beneath you. I would safely assume you are a… Black. Bellatrix Black? Considering you look to be in the same year as me," He continued, assuming everything correctly. She didn't need to know though that he'd actually done his research prior to moving here, and that he had asked around earlier. "I don't expect you to get along with me from the start, but you will see me around often. I'll personally make sure of that. Cause I like you," He said with a shrug, smirk still in place.

Bold. Oh, so very bold and before Bellatrix could even utter a single word or even grab and raise her wand for that matter, he was already out the door. The space in front of her was once again vacant and she stared at the now unoccupied seat as the door slid closed.

LATER THAT DAY

It was almost impossible for the raven haired witch to avoid hearing or seeing Tom. It was as if everywhere she turned, someone was talking about him or he himself was staring at her from a distance. Usually she would never admit such a thing, her pride too strong, but it greatly unnerved her. Who the hell did he think he was? Claiming he would see her more often because he liked her? “Doesn’t even know me,” She scoffed to herself, annoyed as she continued on the familiar path to her dormitory.

Bellatrix was a slytherin through and through, like every other Black family member before her. There had been no question about it. Well, maybe after. She questioned it alot. The houses, the characteristics and traits. All of it. And once she's put herself in a more outside perspective about it she really couldn't help but laugh at the whole student body, almost all of them adapting and practically absorbing their houses certain traits into their own personality.

Anyway, she was a slytherin, but she couldn't help but wonder if she'd changed her mindset that first day, if her family hadn't been so adamant on which house she went to, would she have been chosen for hufflepuff, perhaps? Maybe gryffindor? Ew, no. Possibly ravenclaw. These thoughts raced past in her mind as she made her way down into the dungeons. There was a little of her in each, she supposed.

"Drommie, Cissy," Bellatrix greeted once she made it into the girls dorm, having already said the password and walked through the shared sitting room. All three Black sisters shared the same room, something Bellatrix and her mother both insisted and agreed upon to the headmaster when first starting school here. It was a protective thing. Bella knew that her sisters weren't like her, lacking in gut and courage. She was sure Andromeda could take care of herself, at times, but if worse came to worse she was more likely to break under pressure and need rescuing from her bigger sister. And little Narcissa, the spoiled brat she was, didn't have a single backbone in her body, choosing instead to flee or hide behind one's robes. Despite those certain qualities though Bellatrix still loved her sisters dearly and simply made it a priority to keep them safe, consequences to herself be damned.

Sure… maybe it was Bella's fault for them needing protection, having spent most of her years reigning terror down upon those who even glance at her, therefore her peers not liking her and taking it out on her sisters instead. But… hey! They looked at her funny, they deserved it!

"Bella why didn't you sit with us on the train," Narcissa asked, looking at her older sister as she sat on her bed.

Bellatrix rolled her eyes and walked past, towards her own bed furthest in the room and by the window. "As if I'd sit and listen to you two and your friends gossiping about the 'new boy'," She said back.

Andromeda turned to her with a quirked brow. "I don't know, by the looks of it you sat just fine with the 'new boy' before you ran him away."

Bellatrix was only able to scoff as a response before Narcissa quickly interrupted, hopping over towards Bellatrix. "You got to talk to Tom Riddle?" She asked excitedly. "How was he like? Was he charming? Did he show you parseltongue?"

"Cissy, please, calm down. He was none of those things. He was very bland… and cocky, and arrogant," Bella responded, the end getting heated with annoyance. Not towards her sister of course.

"Sounds like someone I know," Andromeda spoke up with a pointed look Bella's way.

"Shut up," The dark haired witch shot back. Because of course she couldn't deny it. She was those things sometimes… all the time. "Whatever. Let’s go. It's time for lunch anyway."

(A/N: lets be honest idk how classes work at hogwarts so lets say bellatrix and sis’s meet up w mother on the reggy, with permission or without, and this particular weekend was a break for all students to either visit their fam or relax in their dorms/explore school grounds. today (mon) is a day for them to get readjusted and classes start up again the following day. anyway continue)

All the way to the great hall Bellatrix's sisters continued teasing her about Tom. Thankfully she took the teasing easily, shoving her sisters good naturedly and joking along. That was until they reached the great hall. She didn't think her sisters noticed but as they walked past others to get to their table Bellatrix could feel a strong force on her, like something digging into the back of her head. She scanned her eyes around the room once, trying to catch the culprit of whatever was happening but all she could see were other students eating merrily, not a clue to her predicament. Thankfully by the time she'd sat down the force had vanished and she could focus back on her sisters.

Tom stood just outside the doors of the great hall, panting and trying to catch his breath. Never had he been rejected so quickly from someone's mind, not even close to breaching it in fact. Her magic was strong, untampered and just waiting to be fully unleashed just beneath the surface. A magic enough to rival his own. She may think she was strong now but oh just wait until he had her with him, by his side. Just wait until he showed her what she's truly capable of.

With these thoughts in mind he swiftly walked away from the great hall entrance, on his way back to his dorm.

[angrylizardjacket]

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

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

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Soon.

Perhaps too soon.

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

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

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

“In Egypt?” He asks, eyebrows raised.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Stepping back, he takes your hands again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[baronvontribble]

Original drabble, pt. 7

Navigation: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

looool

Faking a cough and telling his boss that he needed a few days off was easy. Writing an email to the his contact down the pipeline and telling them that he'd need a few weeks was much, much harder. The wording had to be just right; they didn't really have specific codephrases or anything, but they never said anything outright either. He went through several drafts before finally settling on one that he was satisfied with.

em-

gonna have 2 postpone that lunch date downtown this weekend. got a helluva leak & the landlord wont do shit so im gonna have to fix it myself. will hit u up when i have the time again

-marshmallow

ps: ill pay for ur train tickets dont worry

He leaned back in his chair and stared at it, letting out a nervous breath. "That'll work, right?"

"It looks appropriately misleading to me," Adam said.

"Emily's a smart kid, I've worked with her before. She should be able to pick up on it." Ted folded his arms and continued to stare at the message. "And hopefully it'll just look like I'm postponing a date with an out-of-town girlfriend to anyone else."

"I noticed it's a different email than the one tied to your phone."

"Always has been. I've got what, five different emails now?" He shifted in his seat, joints creaking from spending too long in his computer chair. He hadn't really moved too much since that morning, and it was well past noon by then. He'd been making sure he could deliver on what he'd promised. "The phone's the weakest link. Thing is, the messenger's the only thing installed on it, and no one in the pipeline uses that particular app for messaging since it's dated as shit. Mom uses it, but that's about it, and I doubt she's gonna rat me out even if she finds out what I do."

"How can you be sure of that?"

Ted smirked. "She works at a hospital that's run almost entirely by robots. Divorced my dad over it being a good idea to do shit like that to begin with. I'm pretty sure I know what side of the fence she's on with the whole AI thing."

"I see." That was all he had to say on that, apparently. After that little freak-out earlier, Adam didn't seem to be in all that wordy of a mood. But then, he was busy trying to tag still images with what he saw in them in another tab, so Ted wasn't about to hold it against him.

Well, it wasn't like Ted lacked for conversation topics. "How's it going so far? The tagging, I mean."

"Badly." A few seconds later he broke his non-chatty streak to elaborate, "I'm going by colors for now. I opened up a second page that helps me match hexadecimal codes to both specific and generic color names, but that's usually as far as I get. It doesn't help that lighting seems to have an effect on what appearance a given base color might take."

And the dumbass was probably sampling those colors pixel by pixel, too. Using brute processing force was one way to master the process, Ted supposed.

"Don't feel bad if it takes a while. You'll get the hang of it."

"You sound way too amused by this."

"Who, me? Never. I'm the very essence of stoicism."

Adam had a smile in his voice when he spoke again. "Liar."

"Yeah, alright. You caught me." Ted stretched out in his chair and stifled a yawn, joints popping as they flexed beyond where they probably should. "I'm just happy you're figuring it out. I mean, even just realizing that you can cross-reference is a step in the right direction."

"It would be easier if I knew what I was looking at."

"Want me to help?" Partway through the process of typing his email, Ted had realized that the help he could offer might not be so well-received. He didn't want to make things harder than they already were; he had to be tactful, wait for permission. He couldn't just insert himself into proceedings like he so often did. This was a delicate situation. He knew that now.

Or he could be overthinking it. Adam couldn't quite sigh, but he could portray some semblance of relief in his voice. "I'd appreciate it," he said; a moment later, the laptop had been tabbed in to the correct window so Ted could participate. "Try to restrain yourself from giving bad answers to fuck with me. This data has to be accurate."

"I know, I know." Ted did know. Really. "But gimme a minute, okay? I'm gonna plug in my mouse so I can use it to point things out to you."

"Right."

And so it began.

The images were little more than stock photos, and the 'game' was to tag as many details as possible. Matching up with what other people had tagged it with meant a better score. Ted was observant to a fault, so his results with such things in the past had been mixed at best as he sometimes noticed things that no one ever bothered to tag. This made it all the more viable as a learning tool, because not only was Adam learning what other people tagged the image with and why - seeing what an average person might be able to glean from it - but he was also having the tiny details pointed out to him by someone who was way too anxious to not notice basically everything.

Since the goal was not just to get Adam to be able to notice details, but to also have him act convincingly human while doing so, this gave him a reasonable benchmark for what he could mention he'd noticed to an average person without looking like he had a weirdly photographic memory with the perfect ability to recall anything and everything. To Ted, this was step one. The average person sees a duck in a pond - maybe even identifying the duck as a mallard - while the hyper-observant person sees that it's overcast and around midday from the sky's reflection in the pond's surface or that there's a gum wrapper and a bit of soggy bread clearly visible in the murky water near the detritus-littered shore.

It was the photos of people that were really a nightmare for Adam. For all his ability to pick up on all the tiny nonverbal cues present in an audio recording, he couldn't so much as even guess at gender presentation of random people in stock photos, let alone their expressions or body language. Ted had to walk him through every last detail, and these were the prettiest, most unambiguous sorts of human beings to boot. The photos were dominated by tall, broad men with either lantern jaws or facial hair, and soft, curvy women with round faces and perfect contouring; women had long hair, men had short hair, and children were dressed as either very male or very female to match the adults. Ted found them obnoxious.

And that wasn't even getting into indicators of disability or profession or anything. Just once, he'd like to see more average people pop up in these things. He was downright relieved to get back to pictures of sheep and grass and flowers and buildings and boats whenever he got done with tagging a person. Not-people didn't bother him nearly as much.

Either way, somewhere along the line he lost track of time completely.

"You should eat something," Adam said out of the blue at one point. Ted straightened up in his chair and shot a glance at the clock in the corner of the laptop's screen, only to frown at it like it'd betrayed him.

It was almost three in the afternoon already? Christ. "Probably," he admitted, stretching out with a slight wince. "Feel like you're making progress yet?“

"I don't know. How do you 'feel' progress? It seems like something that should have a clearer definition than to just feel it." 

"Hey man, don't knock feelings. They've got definitions, those definitions are just subjective as fuck." Ted was smiling as he said it, mirroring what he'd heard in Adam's own voice. Both of them were joking. Adam knew full well what Ted had meant, he was just taking a jab at the presentation. "Do you think you've made progress so far?"

"Yes." Adam sounded terribly smug, as if to say see? That was all you had to say. "It's slow, but once I know what I'm looking at, it makes things easier."

Ted shoved off from the desk and stood, taking another moment to stretch. "Cool. Then I'm gonna make some pizza rolls."

Off he went. "Those are bad for you," Adam said as he wandered off. "Humans need nutrients. Pizza rolls are not nutritious."

"Don't care," Ted replied. Along with the pizza rolls, he made sure to retrieve a soda out of the fridge as well just to be contrary. It was hard to care about minor health hazards when he so often had major ones to worry about, and people telling him that he probably should care only made him less likely to do so. "It's calories. It'll work as a stand-in for lunch until I get to dinner."

"I don't think that's how nutrition works." Several seconds passed as Ted wrestled with the packaging, got a plate, and put everything in the microwave.

"Ted. I looked it up. This isn't food, Ted. It has about the same value as eating cardboard."

"Ayep." Ted cracked open the soda and took a swig as he turned on the microwave and let it spin.

"Do you do this often?"

Ted snorted. "Uh, do you really want me to answer that question?"

"According to this site, when the potential long-term effects of such a poor diet are combined with your outward symptoms - such as being the wrong color for a human - it's a strong indicator that your kidneys are probably failing." Adam spoke as if he felt he was the absolute voice of authority on this, and Ted shook with silent laughter as he leaned against the counter. "I think you should get bloodwork done."

"Dude." Good God, what kind of website had Adam even managed to find? Ted felt like he was talking to his grandparents after they'd spent three hours on an online medical journal and decided he looked like he had some obscure genetic disorder that would give him pulmonary fibrosis (whch he didn't). "That 'being the wrong color' thing? It's genetic. I have practically no pigmentation. It's not gout or scurvy or whatever the hell you've found on the internet, just albinism and shitty lighting."

Silence reigned for at least ten full seconds. "I see."

"I take vitamins, alright? And I know my diet isn't all that great, but it's not like pizza rolls are all I eat." He was about to say something about how Adam had seen him eat other things, but then he remembered that Adam couldn't actually see all that well. "Besides, if there was something in my bloodwork, my doctor woulda told me last time I had a checkup. See, unlike some humans, I get those pretty regularly."

"Right." Then, "I'm sorry."

"What for, man? I'm not mad. Hell, at least you care." He'd take a little overworrying anyday if it meant someone was at least trying to understand his problems. It was kinda cute. Big tough super high-tech AI worrying about a squishy human. "And y'know, if you wanna know what's actually wrong with me, all you gotta do is ask."

The microwave beeped, and Adam considered. "You'd tell me that?"

"I tell people all the time."

"No, that's not-" He cut himself off mid-rendering, and Ted raised an eyebrow over in the direction of the living room while pulling the pizza rolls out of the microwave. "Isn't that like telling me how your code is written?"

Huh. Ted had never thought of it that way. "Not really. It's more like, uh... I guess I figure that telling you what versions of what software is running isn't exactly going to give you access to any of the passwords protecting my data, but it will tell you how to work with what I've got going on." Was that an accurate analogy? This barrier to understanding really did go both ways.

The fans weren't quite roaring, but they were definitely humming away audibly in the background; it was always so easy to tell when Adam was mulling something over. "Yes, I would like to know. If that's all right."

"Fine by me." With a plate in one hand and a drink in the other, Ted came back to the not-a-desk and plopped right back down in his chair. "For starters, look up Ehlers-Danlos syndrome."

A minute later Adam asked him how the hell he was alive, and he almost breathed a mouthful of pizza roll.