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lovebecomeshim · 3 years

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hello! your zutara posting today has finally motivated me to ask this question because I came to atla very late(last year, to be specific) and I Love It Very Much but am 1000% out of the loop as far as why what remains of fandom (at least that I've seen among my friends) is so very strongly zutara. I'm not opposed to it per se I just don't really know what has driven it to apparently be such a popular ship? can you help me understand and maybe convert me a little bit?

Hey!! Your ICON! :D I can try but I’m not sure how coherent I’ll be; however I AM sure someone a lot more competent will be willing to add to this. Either way, I’m glad you asked because my plan was to drag down as many people as possible with me.

*smacks the hood of zutara* this baby can fit so much mutual love and support!

This got so long, I’m so sorry. I don’t know how to put it under a cut on mobile and it already got deleted once so I’m scared to mess with it lol. Moving on.

I’m gonna start this with a disclaimer that im on mobile so formatting is tricky and I’m also really new to atla in that I only completed my first watch through in like 2019??? So some of my info is all just based on what I’ve picked up from Discourse 👀 so anyway the sparknotes version: zutara was wildly popular from the beginning. To the point where the atla crew internally disagreed on which ship should be endgame. (Ex. Bryke [showrunners] asked the writers to rewrite The Southern Raiders to make Zuko seem less ideal for Katara than Aang [which failed, depending on who you ask]; the animation team purposefully created a visual parrallel between Oma and Shu in the Cave of Two Lovers and Zuko and Katara in the catacombs under Ba Sing Se in the Crossroads of Destiny; etc.)

The ship was popular enough that Bryke actually chose to display zk fanart at a con for the sole purpose of mocking the fans, but that’s neither here nor there. The entire episode Ember Island Players, while a love letter to/parody of the whole show, was an opportunity to address zutara’s viability as a canon pairing (while, again, mocking zutaras for romanticizing that catacombs scene). Point is! It’s always been popular but with it not being endgame, there’s got to be something that’s given it staying power.

And that’s honestly got to do with three things: their dynamic, thematic cohesion, and potential.

(You know what... you know what, it’s four things. The fourth is they’re so aesthetically pleasing together and individually. Like, they’re just good looking people [specifically when they’re grown but they’re also cute kids] and that absolutely doesn’t hurt) (but it’s not the Point, it’s just nice to point out sometimes)

The dynamic is hard to get into without also looking at the canon pairings, but I think I can do that without unnecessary bashing. It’s just that part of the magic of zutara is really highlighted by what they give to each other that their other relationships don’t.

First off, it’s classic enemies to (would be) lovers. The absolute truest form of it. It’s not too different from how CS started out: a rogue antagonist with a job to do—but no personal vendetta against the future love interest—who is deeply and emotionally invested in his personal storyline (revenge/redemption) with little regard for how it effects other people after his entire life and genuine good nature are marred by suffering, and a fierce warrior girl with a strong moral compass and her own personal investment in stopping him (protect her family and save the world doing it). Obviously frustration and animosity grew between them by the nature of them being on opposing sides, but that just lends itself to the sweetness of their later reconciliation.

The thing is that while they’re wildly different on the surface (he’s a hot-headed prince of a fascist regime who is trying to capture the Avatar to please his father; she’s a nurturing daughter of the chief who is trying to protect and train the Avatar in order to topple his father’s throne) they find out that they have so much more in common both in their experiences and their personalities.

(What follows is an excessive use of the word “both” and I’m sorry about that)(I can edit it. I can do that. That IS an option............)

They both have an innate sense of justice that they are determined to see done (zuko, at the war meeting, sticking up for the Earth Kingdom kid when the guards torment his family, choosing not to steal from the pregnant couple despite his circumstances, abiding by his word to leave the SWT should Aang come willingly, etc.; katara, literally.... at any point). They both have pretty one-track minds at accomplishing certain goals once they’ve put their mind to it, regardless of a lack of support in that endeavor (it goes without saying I guess, but zuko’s entire hunt; katara’s determination to get the earth benders to fight back, her determination to absolutely destroy Pakku until he agrees to teach her, etc.). They both lost their mothers at young ages. Their worlds are war-torn and traumatizing to them both, if in different ways, but that ultimately forces them to grow up too quickly to be wholly independent individuals. They both have issues with their fathers (for WILDLY different reasons, but). They both hold extreme prejudices that they need to learn to overcome (which ties into thematic cohesion)(bit like Lizzie and Darcy in that way but magnified by a million). They’re both extremely emotional and empathetic—which can and often does result in loud outbursts. Katara’s a bit better adjusted and can temper her anger for longer than S1 Zuko can, but they both feel that anger deeply and have no compunctions expressing it (Katara is, usually, more justified, particularly in S1. Again, S1 Zuko is severely maladjusted but at the point when they could’ve feasibly become a couple, he’s so much better off with the way he carries himself). They both struggle with feelings of inferiority in their bending abilities when confronted with prodigal benders like Aang and Azula, but have the work ethic required to double down and become two of the most powerful benders in the three remaining nations. This is a little more minor but it is a parrallel that appeals to some shippers that they both have these alter egos in the Painted Lady (notably fire nation coded) and the Blue Spirit (water tribe coded) that are pretty different from who they are day-to-day and are useful in accomplishing a purpose that they as themselves cannot.

(I’m.... I just realized that this could potentially get very long. Should I have made a slide show with bullet points??????)

Anyway, similar. I know there’s more but there’s literally so much to love about zutara that I’ll drive myself a little crazy trying to compile all the ways they’re similar. (Just gonna say that at this exact moment I went back to add more similarities.... so okay then)

Once they’ve reconciled, we see how all of these things only lend themselves to a deeper intimacy together than they share with literally anyone else. There’s a steady partnership that positions them as the mom/dad of the gaang, while also providing the support necessary to allow the other to not have to carry so much responsibility. A lot of zutaras will point out how zuko is actually depicted doing the more domestic chores that are normally relegated to Katara once he joins the gaang, since the others in the group are two 12-year-olds and sokka. The one that sticks out the most is how he makes tea for the group and then serves them, while Katara is able to just relax with her friends around the fire. Fanon expands upon this a lot to Zuko helping with the laundry or the cooking or whatever else needs doing since he, as a once-refugee, is used to doing his own domestic tasks. Before Zuko joined, Katara was the one mothering everyone, sewing for them, cooking for them, etc. She’s always tending to the needs of the group, and that includes emotionally. She does the emotional labor for the gaang 99% of the time, but when she’s the one falling apart, she’s usually doing it alone and without the comfort that she normally provides for others. Until Zuko. And that’s before they’re even friends.

Which is WHY people romanticize the catacombs of Ba Sing Se so much. Katara is verbally attacking Zuko out of her own righteous anger but also her own prejudice when Zuko, surprisingly, chooses to be vulnerable with her. He’s been on a journey that’s opened his eyes a bit, but he’s never actively chosen to expose the rawest parts of his past to anyone. But for some reason he chooses to do that with Katara of all people. While she’s yelling at him. He sees her humanity, and for once can look past his prejudice and empathize with her. And this time, when she breaks down, she gets to be comforted. Katara normally talks about her mother when she’s trying to explain to someone else that she sees and understands they’re pain, as a form of comfort to them. Here, Zuko uses the exact same tactic. He sees her and he understands. And for zuko? He’s not being shut down. He’s allowed to articulate his pain regarding his mother without being ignored and made to internalize it, and he’s allowed to process how he feels about his scar out loud without being told that he deserved it. And then he lets her touch his scar, something we’ve seen him actively avoid before. He’s completely open to her and she’s completely open to him and all it took was one five minute conversation. She was about to use the little bit of Spirit water that she had, that she was saving for something Important, to heal the scar that still daily causes him pain just because they had, somehow, connected.

Plus there’s the whole parallel to the star-crossed lovers forbidden from one another, a war divides their people—

And then zuko messes up, he regresses, he gets what he wants and he HATES it. And the sense of justice he had as a child has been restored to him against his will and he can’t think of anything he wants to do more than the Right Thing, so he joins team avatar. Before he does that though, we get to see his relationship with Mai, which is where comparison really comes in. And what we see is Zuko, fresh off of his encounter with Katara in the catacombs, trying to be emotionally honest with Mai... and getting shut down and dismissed. Which is just how Mai is and it’s fine, but not for Zuko. Still, he keeps trying, and he keeps getting ignored or scoffed at or yelled at. Which is really a larger symbol for how he doesn’t fit in his old life anymore, but again that’s about thematic cohesion. He tries to articulate his anxieties about returning home, he tries to make romantic gestures, he tries to explain how morally conflicted he’s feeling—and Mai diverts to some kind of physical affection to shut him up and a parting comment that is pretty much always, in essence, “I don’t wanna talk about this.” So they don’t. On the other hand, once zuko and Katara are friends, we see him again emotionally distraught and caught up in his anxieties about facing Iroh, and it’s Katara who comes to him and listens to him and comforts and encourages him.

Similarly, we have Aang clamming up and getting uncomfortable whenever Katara shows any negative emotion, usually resulting in him making excuses or running away. Or, in the case of the Southern Raiders, lecturing her on how she needs to just let go of her anger about her mother’s murder. People have talked this episode to death and usually better than I ever could, so imma... keep it brief. There’s a serious disconnect between Aang and Katara in his ability to empathize with Katara and her needs that has her tamping down her vulnerability and amping up her anger. He tells her that he was able to forgive his people’s genocide and appa’s kidnapping (petnapping? Theft??), which is blatantly not true but also not an entirely equal parrallel to Katara’s situation, and continues making these little remarks throughout the episode. But it’s Zuko that Katara opens up to. It’s with him that she’s able to talk about the most traumatic day of her life, and it’s with him that she’s able to get the closure she needs, cementing their bond as friends and partners. This disagreement between Aang and Katara is then... never resolved. They just never bring it up and hear what the other is saying.

There’s a fic called The Portraits of Ember Island that has a line that so completely sums up the heart of the matter for why people love their dynamic. For context, zuko has woken up early to help Katara with the cooking and they spend the whole time just letting one another talk, and zuko stops to ask why she always just lets him talk. And so she stops to ask why he’s always helping, and it goes as follows:

There’s just... so much mutual support! Trust! Intimacy!! And it just continues like that from the Southern Raiders on, listening to each other, advising each other, watching each other’s backs! And then! Literally saving each other’s lives!! I will never be over the last Agni kai. Not ever. Zuko may have been willing to jump in front of lightning for anyone, but he actually did it for Katara. And in a show, that’s the thing that really matters. It’s a fulfilled trope usually exclusively applied to romantic pairings, and it ended up applying to Zuko and Katara. And then she ran out into the middle of a fight with tunnel vision just to get to him.

Also!! Also Zuko pushing Katara out of the way of the falling rocks at the Western Air Temple!! And Katara catching him as he fell from the war balloon that he fought Azula on!! Before they’re even getting along, they’re the ones reaching for each other. They come to this place of equal ground, as partners, who watch each other’s backs, call each other out but still listen attentively and understand, and provide the support that the other has been sorely lacking up until they knew each other (whether that be from lack of effort or lack of understanding from others, or an unwillingness to accept it for themselves).

Then, trailing along under the surface of this, we see the themes of the show totally embodied by Zuko and Katara as individuals and in their relationship to one another. There’s a YouTuber, sneezyreviews, who has a, like, 2-hour explanation on why she not only loves zutara but also believes that their endgame would’ve actually elevated the writing of atla to new levels particularly because of thematic cohesion and resolved character arcs. It’s the zutara dissertation I never knew I needed, and it’s funny and eloquent and effective, so I’m just going to sum up her section on thematic cohesion to the best of my abilities and then link it for whenever you have the time. And I HIGHLY recommend it, especially if you want a full understanding of what makes zutara so great and gives it such longevity.

Guru pathik has a line that goes something like this: separation is an illusion; things that seem different are just two parts of the same whole. Iroh also tells Zuko something similar: balance and strength are achieved when the different nations come together and influence one another and celebrate what makes them each unique. And this lesson is a massive central arc that both Zuko and Katara go through, moving past a black-and-white, good guys-vs-bad guys, us-vs-them mentality and into a greyer, more nuanced view of the world. Zuko sees the fire nation from an entirely new perspective and while he still loves and hopes for his nations future, he surrenders his blind loyalty to them in exchange for an unflinching loyalty to peace and love. Katara too had to come to terms with the fact that cruel people exist in the earth kingdom and water tribes, while some fire nation citizens are just regular, kind people who also need and deserve to have someone speak on their behalf. And this is honed in directly on how they view each other. They grow in their individual journeys to be open to the humanity in the other and then, once they’ve found that, they’re able to grow more in compassion for others in a beautiful feedback loop. And this is all matched in the symbolism repeatedly and intentionally associated with them in canon: sun and moon, fire and water, yin and yang, Oma and Shu who found love despite their warring nations. Their individual arcs are completed in each other and complement the themes of atla beautifully.

The canon pairs... just don’t. Which, again, is fine. But the very things that give atla longevity and popularity are anchored in zutara. Kat@ang doesn’t accomplish this. They’re... nice. Sweet. Especially when you erase a good portion of their interactions in S3. It could’ve been just a sweet love story. (Personally, the dynamic between toph and aang accomplish the same thing that zutara does, with complementary personalities that fulfill the theme of opposites blending in harmony) M@iko, on the other hand, is less sweet but I think wasn’t even supposed to last. Zuko’s relationship with Mai seems to represent his relationship with his old life as a whole. He can’t be emotionally vulnerable, he’s goaded into abusing his privileges, his agency and opinions aren’t respected. They just don’t have common ground with which to discuss anything that matters, so they don’t. As far as themes, the relationship doesn’t fit with atla. It’s zuko returning to and sticking with what is (on the surface) like him, what’s expected. Fire nation with fire nation. Fluid water bender with the flexible air bender. Like with like, separated from what is different and challenging and complementary.

And all of these things combined of course lead to the potential for the ship. I don’t know how familiar you are with the post-atla canon but... well, miss “I will never turn my back on people who need me”, miss “I don’t want to heal! I want to fight!” ends up living quietly in the SWT as a designated healer who turns a blind eye to the water tribe civil war happening right outside her front door. Which can be fine! People change! Some people just wanna stay inside. I just wanna stay inside! But the potential future for zutara is so much more satisfying, with Katara becoming the most unconventional Fire Lady the uppity old cads who are stuck on the old ways have ever seen. Fanon has her serving as a voice for the other nations within a kingdom at the point of its biggest political upheaval, as a confidante to Zuko who can actually help him while he’s trying to figure out how to move forward and make reparations. They have the opportunity, together, to accomplish what they both have set on their hearts to fight for: positive change that lends itself to harmony and balance. And the steambabies! A popular headcanon is that their firstborn daughter, the crown princess, is actually a waterbender, which causes such an uproar among the people who are adamantly clinging to the old ways. It’s just a future full of potential to be forces for good together, full of trust, intimacy, joy. The exact era of peace and love and balance that zuko announces that he intends to ring in with the start of his reign as Fire Lord is, again, magnified by the very personal zutara relationship. And we love to see it.

tl;dr zutara isn’t for everyone. Some people just don’t vibe with it. Some are nostalgic. Some love the canon they grew up with. Some have been disappointed for years. Some just see themselves in other characters and want their happiness instead. Whatever the reason, that’s fine. But for me, I love the way these two, from the moment they give each other a fair chance, are able to lower their walls and prejudices to see the other for the kindred spirits they are. They see each other’s humanity, and their response is to pour out love and support and compassion. I love that they’re a power couple in battle. I love the symbolism and, honestly, soulmatism that colors their every interaction. I love that they embody the whole storyline of atla in their relationship and how it develops, which is notably why their seasonal arcs always culminate in each finale with how they relate to one another. I love that zuko adopting a waterbending move is what actually saves his life and then katara’s. I love the chemistry! And I love the future they could’ve had, instead of the ones they were given.

So, in conclusion: I just think they’re neat and I hope you do too, at least a little bit. Even if it’s just respectfully from a disinterested distance cause you do you. And now here is the video I mentioned. I’m sorry this post got so long and then I gave you an even longer homework assignment, but I can’t recommend it enough. She says it all better than I can.

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#zutara #atla #zutara rant #like really the way the canon relationships were written throughout s3 #it would’ve been more believable for zutara to happen #or at least be hinted at #all of the major issues presented in those relationship were dug up extensively and then... never resolved #and then they just slapped some kisses on a screen and said ‘there all better’#and we just kinda had to say ‘oh ok guess it’s all better then’#this got long I’m sorry #I wrote it all out and then tumblr ate 2/3 of it #which is why it took so long #and what I’ve written now doesn’t even match what I had before #because there’s too much to say about why I love zutara #and the stuff I left out the first time is what came out this time #rip to my original thoughts but this post is different #anyway that’s why this took so long #and I should’ve just made a PowerPoint...#I can do that too if you’d rather not read all of this lol #I won’t be offended #this is incoherent #Alia rambles uselessly #also hoping this doesn’t end up in any wrong tags because I don’t wanna step on toes lol #it’s not anti!! it’s just critical #in a compare/contrast way #I can pinpoint the moment when I started trying to rewrite my points from memory #because everything gets shorter and more succinct #like... I really said all that??? sounds fake and I don’t remember it anyway so here’s the condensed version #with no!! smooth!!! transitions!!!!#also why am I so lazy with proper grammar over text

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ace-of-spaders · 3 years

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@my-robot-heart once upon a time sent me a prompt "I'm here. I never left." for Lizzington.

It was the kind of prompt I fell in love with from first glance but couldn't decide which direction to take right away, so I left it for a while.

I must admit, I'm rather glad that I did, because the idea I eventually went with came to me only after the season finale (because, like everyone else, I had to fix it somehow), but I'm also sorry, Robot, that it took me so long and can only hope that the end product is worth the waiting)

That is, considering your attitude towards the 8x22, I feel it's fair to warn you that this ficlet is set post-8x22 and is angsty - because Red is suffering and Liz is suffering because Red is suffering - but also hopeful because, guess what, Liz lives, so I really hope you'll like it!

(Also, it was supposed to be just a tiny ficlet but my fingers slipped... a lot, so it's now 2,000 words long))

Last but not the least, I think I need to tag @thetwistedargent, too, because her ghost!Lizzie stories low-key inspired this one. Even though I'm not brave nor strong enough to write dead!Lizzy.

Well, now enough with my rambling and on with the ficlet itself, I guess?)

---

She comes to him every night. Wearing loose sweaters that don’t constrict her chest, Liz slips past Dembe and into Red’s bedroom and invariably scrunches her nose up from the suffocating smell of cigar smoke that hangs heavily in the air.

Red hasn’t left his room in days – ever since Dembe brought him home on that fateful night he lost ( or thought he lost ) the meaning of his life in the form of his beloved Lizzy – wallowing in his grief, choking on his own guilt more than the smoke of cigars he smokes more than ever these days and drowning ( or, at least, trying to drown ) his sorrow in immeasurable quantities of alcohol. Liz is acutely aware of this newly established routine of his and what it does to his health and wishes with all her heart she could do something more about it other than visit him nightly while he sleeps, wishes she could reassure him that she’s alive and well and he doesn’t have to mourn her. But she can’t, not yet. So she crosses the room to the window and opens it wide in ultimately vain attempts to chase the choking odor of cigar smoke away. Taking a deep breath of fresh air to try and quell the storm of emotions raging inside of her, Liz turns her gaze to the loaded gun lying discarded on the desk ( she knows that Dembe tried to take that gun away from Red out of fear he might do something… unreasonable in his grief but Red didn’t let him, speaking up for the first time in quite a while just to reassure his old friend that he doesn’t have any intention of ending his own life… it will end soon enough anyway, even without such act of cowardice ) and runs her hand over the cool metal, feeling her heart clench at the thought of how apathetic, how utterly hopeless Red has become in – because of – her absence. Then, her gaze usually shifts towards the always empty decanter of whiskey, which – she knows – is refilled a couple of times a day by Reddington, the equally empty glass discarded on his nightstand, and only then she finally turns to look at the man himself. He looks awful, to put it mildly, worse with each passing day. The clothes he sleeps in don’t quite fit him in the same snug way they used to, reminding Liz of the fact that it takes a lot of convincing on Dembe’s part ( that man must truly be a saint ) to make him eat every single day and that he does so without any enthusiasm or appetite and continues to waste away despite his old friend’s best efforts. Tears brim in her eyes as Liz moves towards the bed and carefully sits down on its very edge, her eyes roaming over Red’s slack face and taking note of the ever-growing stubble, the deepening dark circles under his eyes, the gauntness of his cheeks, and the sickly pallor of his skin. “Oh, Red,” she whispers hoarsely, unable to keep all the despair and helplessness she feels when she realizes that he’s dying without her and yet she can’t do much about it inside, and reaches out to cup his cheek with her warm palm, to trace the sharpened outline of his cheekbone with her thumb or stroke his head, the smile that stretches her lips at the feeling of his hair – now longer than usual – tickling her palm too wobbly and weak. Sometimes, he sleeps peacefully… or, rather, dreamlessly in his drunken beyond measure state, never once waking or even stirring, and on those rare occasions Liz just sits by his side, holding his hand or stroking his shoulder or head, till the first rays of sunlight come streaming through the window. Most of the nights, though, he suffers, thrashing around, tangling the sheets and throwing off blankets, panting and whimpering and crying, his mind tormenting him with vivid reconstructions of some of the worst moments of his life, and Liz hesitates, unsure of whether she should try to wake him or not, unsure of what he’s dreaming about… until her name – her seemingly long-forgotten nickname – spills from his lips and she knows exactly what he’s dreaming about. She doesn’t hesitate any longer. “Shh, Red, it’s alright,” she hushes him gently, leaning in close and settling her hands on his shoulders firmly but gently or cupping his cheeks with her warm, very much alive hands, “I’m here. I’m here, I never left.” Tears finally spill from her own eyes as Liz whispers quiet reassurances and sweet nothings to the suffering man, willing him to feel her

presence and wishing she could take the memories of that awful night away from him ( even though initially, she thought that it would be a good lesson for him, putting him in what could be her place if she pulled the trigger… but she didn’t think it would affect him that much, to the point where he isn’t really living anymore, just struggling to exist ), until she gets too choked up to speak… until Red jerks one more time under her hands and either finally settles into deep, exhausted, dreamless slumber with a heavy sigh ( in which case Liz picks the blankets he’s thrown off up from the floor, covers him with them again, tucking him in and making sure he’s warm and comfortable, and goes back to keeping her silent vigil, wiping her tears away and fighting the desire to climb into bed with him, wrap him up in her arms and never let go ) or wakes up. She always freezes when he does, when his eyes slowly open and he squints up at her in the dark, because she’s not sure how he’s going to react, even though his reaction is the same each and every time. He frowns up at her at first, his heavy with sleep and hazy from alcohol mind struggling to comprehend what is happening in front of him, but even though he doesn’t recognize her, even though in his eyes she might look like an intruder, he doesn’t even try to protect himself from any possible danger – as if he doesn’t care about what happens to him, if he lives to see another day or not – and Liz’s heart breaks at the thought. ( How did she manage to break him – the strongest man she’s ever known – so hard, so possibly irreparably? ) But then recognition dawns on his face and his lips part softly and he stares up at her with utter disbelief and very tentative hope, slowly reaching his hand up, as if in trance, to touch her cheek. She lets him, leaning slightly into his touch. “Lizzy,” Red breathes, so pained and intensely relieved at the same time that Liz hates herself for doing this to him in the first place and for not being able to go out of hiding ( but it’s not only her life that’s on the line, it’s also her daughter’s and, to a degree, his, so she has to wait out until her fame in the upper and under worlds quiets down ), to console him, to make him understand that she’s not just a figment of his imagination ( she learned pretty quickly that he doesn’t let himself even consider the possibility that she might be real and not just his hallucination or a surprisingly pleasant dream ) just yet, “Lizzy.” And every night when he wakes up to such a vivid, realistic image of his lost love, he begs her for forgiveness – for absolution – and kisses her hands, the scar on her wrist with such tangible, blatant devotion it makes her heart ache. And every night when he apologizes to her, she tells him that she’s already forgiven him for everything but never takes advantage of his fragile, weak, unguarded state to get the long overdue answers out of him ( after all, she had enough time on her hands while she recovered to understand that, at the end of the day, it doesn’t really matter who they were in the past… what matters is who they are now – Red and Lizzy – and that he loves her with as much ardor as she loves him ). They always end up in each other's arms, with Red pressing messy, fervent, desperate kisses to her cheeks and forehead and the soft cascade of her shiny mahogany hair and Liz rubbing his back in what she hopes is a soothing manner, their tears mixing and staining his shirt and her sweater. “Lizzy, Lizzy, Lizzy,” Red repeats in between kisses in his low, cracking from the lack of use voice, again and again and again, like a mantra, a prayer that sounds to her ears too much like Don't go, don't go, don't go... She knows she can't promise him that now. But she can promise to stay until the morning, which is why when he whispers softly, brokenly "Stay?" in her hair, his weight settling heavier against her after the emotional turmoil of the past few minutes? hours? – Liz doesn't know how much time they spend sitting there on his bed in the mess of tangled limbs,

the mix of apologies and reassurances and each other's names that sound for all the world like declarations of love, like I'm sorry and I miss you and I don't want to ever let you go spilling from their lips – leaves him even more exhausted than the pain and the grief of the day do, she simply nods and gently pushes him away and onto his back. Red doesn't take his eyes off her as she picks the blankets up and settles beside him and tucks the blankets around them both ( Liz is acutely aware of his gaze, burning with adoration and desperation in equal measure, on her back and the side of her face ). Even as she opens her arms for him in a silent invitation to move closer and he does just that, snuggling up to her side, resting his head on her shoulder and wrapping his arms around her waist tightly but not enough to hurt, he doesn't close his eyes. Liz can tell by the way he's breathing and his body goes practically rigid with tension that he's fighting the undeniably strong pull of sleep long after they've settled in for the night. That confused her on the first day but then she understood. He knows that in the morning she won't be there, that this illusion, hallucination, dream he's having will shatter once he closes his eyes and succumbs to exhaustion. And he doesn't want to lose her again. Not for the third, fourth, fifth, umpteenth time ( when she thinks about it, Liz is not even sure if her visits help him or hurt him more... but she can't stop, she can't go about her days without knowing first-hand how Red is doing ). So Liz does the only thing she can do to soothe him: she cups the back of his head, presses a light kiss to his forehead and lies. "Sleep, Red. I will be here when you wake up." "No, you won't," he whispers back flatly – just pointing out the obvious – with an undertone of finality that haunts her long after he obediently closes his eyes and his body finally relaxes in her arms. Because he's right: she always leaves long before he wakes up, giving Dembe a hug goodbye and asking him – rather unnecessarily but she can't help herself – to take care of Red, with only one thought keeping her going through the day: That one day – and hopefully, not in such a distant future – she will be there in the morning when Red wakes up.

#the blacklist #the blacklist fic #lizzington #lizzington fic #post-8x22 fix-it #my-robot-heart #thetwistedargent #I wrote this yesterday but wanted to edit a bit through mobile app so I saved your ask a draft #and Tumblr ate it (😤)#so I had to make a new post #but I fell asleep before I did it so I'm posting this today)

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lifeofkaze · 3 years

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An Art of Balance #33

Orion Amari x MC

Warning: Mention on injuries and a teeny tiny bit of blood

A/N: Ira Janda and Julian Bennett belong to @slytherindisaster, Azariah Steele belongs to @cursebreakerfarrier, Henry McClarnon to @thatravenpuffwitch and, of course, Judith Harris to @judediangelo75

Word Count: ~ 5.900 (I sincerely apologise for this. I am so sorry.)

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Chapter 33: Leap of Faith

Both teams were already waiting at the entrance of the pitch, when the three Hufflepuff Chasers joined them. The shadow of the stands overhead was concealing them from most of the crowd while they waited for Murphy to make the usual introductions. The atmosphere was so strained it could have been cut with a knife as Orion made his way to the front to stand next to Charlie. Lizzie and Skye were filing into their position in the line according to their squad numbers; out of the corner of his eyes, Orion could see how tightly Lizzie was gripping the hilt of her broomstick. She would usually have a little banter with her friends on the Gryffindor team, but today, none of the fourteen players spoke a single word.

Orion could catch a glimpse of the bright blue sky spanning the stadium. The sun was glaring down on them, its burning heat lessened by the light breeze that had picked up; the conditions were perfect for the match of the year.

“Are you ready for the last match of this year’s season, the final of all finals?” Murphy’s magically enhanced voice sounded through the air over the excited rumblings of the crowd.

“Going against all odds, which are standing at a remarkable 7.6 % to 92.4 %, both teams are starting into today’s game with the same amount of points scored throughout the year,” Murphy elaborated on the starting situation. “That means, the winner of this match will claim the House Cup and be crowned Hogwarts’s new Quidditch champion! Without further ado, I present to you the first of the contenders: fast as lightning, brave as lions and daring as they come; a massive applause for Gryffindor!”

Charlie and Orion shared a short look before the Gryffindors mounted their broomsticks and entered the roaring arena in flashes of gold and crimson. Orion could feel his heart beating in his chest as they circled the perimeter of the pitch once.

When it was their turn, he felt a sudden and familiar sense of calm wash over him as he mounted his broom and led his team out into the blazing sunlight. This was it, the moment they had all been working towards was here; there was no going back now.

The teams gathered around Madam Hooch in the middle of the pitch. As she recounted the rules for them, like she would always do, Orion let his eyes wander over his team members one last time to check if they were ready to spring into action as soon as the balls were released. He and Lizzie locked eyes for a moment, his slight nod of encouragement answered by a barely visible smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“We’ve had a clean season so far and none of you is going to change that, do you all get me?” Madam Hooch barked, her piercingly yellow eyes sweeping the circle of players around her. “I want a good, fair game, alright? Captains, shake hands.”

Orion and Charlie did as they were told, clasping their hands together with a resounding smack.

“Good luck everyone.”

With the sound of her whistle, the Bludgers and the Snitch were released and Madam Hooch threw the Quaffle high up into the air; the game was on.

Skye lost no time whatsoever; shooting upwards on her Comet, she immediately claimed the Quaffle and headed for the Gryffindor goalposts. Lizzie and Orion were flying by her side before they veered off to their own assigned positions.

Just as Orion had anticipated, with the beginning of the match all his nerves had made way for an absolute clarity of mind. For the first in what felt like forever, he knew exactly what to do.

As it turned out, Hufflepuff and Gryffindor being the teams fighting for the Cup was a more than warranted pairing. Even from the beginning, the match was pretty balanced, albeit incredibly tough to play.

The Gryffindor Beaters Julian Bennett and Henry McClarnon - a tall, broad shouldered boy from Lizzie’s and Skye’s year with a long, black ponytail - were in unbelievably good form. Orion and the other Chasers had to constantly dodge the Bludgers they were sending at them; somehow, however, they still managed to function as a unit.

Skye’s and Lizzie’s individual training was paying off splendidly; they were interacting in a completely new way no one except their own team members had seen before. Until the Gryffindors had adapted to the new style, they were able to score quite a few goals.

It wasn’t long before Orion and his team had carved out a hard-earned lead. After a failed pass, Skye lost the Quaffle to one of the opposing Chasers near their own goalposts who didn’t lose any time. He made short work of his attack and cheered as the Hufflepuff rings flared up.

“Another goal for Gryffindor,” Murphy’s voice could be heard echoing across the pitch. “That means another ten points adding onto the lion’s score. But I’m afraid the goal scorer won’t have much longer to celebrate.”

As Murphy was speaking, Judith had sent a Bludger flying towards the unheeding Chaser. He tried to dodge the spinning iron sphere, but he had seen it too late; making contact with the handle of his broom, it broke the hilt into an assortment of varnish and splinters. The sheer force of the impact sent the Chaser spiralling towards the ground, where he hopped off his dysfunctional broomstick moments later.

“Ouch, that one might be in need of a new broom, I think,” Murphy commented, sounding way more excited at the situation than he had any right to be. “According to Which Broomstick?, the leading magazine on Quidditch gear, the standard model of the Cleansweep 6 would be a good shot, with only 14.5 % less speed compared to the reigning market champion, but I digress. This particular broom, in any case, is 98.3 % not flyable anymore and that means, as of now, Gryffindor is short a Chaser!”

The crowd groaned at his words; the Gryffindor supporters because they were missing a player and the rest because now the tides of the game were undoubtedly bound to shift.

“It seems as if Hufflepuff is losing no time in using the new situation to their advantage,” Murphy continued as he watched the rapidly moving scene in front of him.

“Amari claims the Quaffle and heads towards the Gryffindor goalposts at lightning speed; he dodges the Bludgers sent after him by McClarnon and Bennett but will he be able to score, ladies and gentlemen? Of course!” Murphy jubilated maybe a bit too enthusiastically. “Amari sends the Quaffle past Gryffindor’s Keeper Steele with deadly precision and secures another ten points for Hufflepuff!”

Orion usually wasn’t keen on cheering excessively, preferring to keep his mind focused on the next move. But he couldn’t help a grin as Lizzie and Skye flew to his side and clapped him on the back, both cheering all the louder for his lack thereof. Skye raised her arms towards the Hufflepuff stands, firing them up to give it their all with their support.

Without their third Chaser, Gryffindor was slowly but surely starting to get into a fix. Being short a player, they had trouble getting hold of their opponents and were outflown or scattered by Judith’s and Everett’s Bludgers more than once.

A powerless Charlie was trying to rearrange his team but it didn’t help; he was forced to stay on the sidelines of the game. He could do nothing until the Golden Snitch was spotted and his time to take an active part in the game had come.

Due to the new situation, Orion was able to pass the Quaffle back and forth with Skye and Lizzie to their hearts’ content; it was showing yet again, if there was one thing holding the power to unite them like nothing else, it was their shared passion for the game they loved.

With their decimated numbers, not even the above average speed of the lions was enough to stop them once Hufflepuff had adapted their strategy. They were able to score many times in a rapid succession, giving them a more than comfortable lead.

The effect the change in balance had on Gryffindor was palpable; as the Hufflepuff score was increasing, the Gryffindor Chasers were starting to play more roughly, bumping into whoever held the Quaffle more often than not. When Madam Hooch had seen enough of it, the shrill sound of her whistle cut through the air, awarding Hufflepuff a free shot.

Skye took the responsibility on herself and expertly threw the Quaffle past Azariah, much to the chagrin of the Chasers who saw their foul play backfiring on them. After Skye flew past them with a smug look on her face, they shared a look between them before they set after her. One coming up on each side of her, they suddenly yanked their broomsticks inwards and wedged her in. One of them leaned over and let the handle of his broom collide with Skye’s, throwing her off course.

Guessing what Skye’s reaction to being fouled would be like, Orion was quick to fly towards the scene, finding himself to be correct. By the time he arrived, all three players were arguing fiercely; only moments after Charlie joined the scene.

“T’was a bloody foul and you know it,” Skye snarled at the other Chaser with flashing eyes. Orion didn’t know what had been said earlier, but judging by the angry spots on Skye’s face, they had been working themselves into quite a state already.

“No idea what you’re on about, Parkin. Must be seeing things, I guess,” the Gryffindor Chaser sneered; it was the one who had crashed into her.

Skye leaned forward and opened her mouth to shoot back but Orion was quicker. He got hold of her shoulder and pulled her back. While he tried to insert a calm energy into the heated situation, there was unwavering determination underlying his touch; he would not let this escalate.

“It’s enough Skye,” he told her firmly. “Let it go and concentrate on what matters.”

“But Captain,“ Skye started protesting, but Orion shook his head.

“No, don’t waste your energy on a needless fight; these are not our methods.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” the Gryffindor Chaser from before chimed in angrily. “You have a problem with our methods, Amari?”

“Easy now,” Charlie interrupted before tempers could flare up again. “He is right; let’s just play, all this bickering is leading nowhere.”

His Chasers faltered under the withering look Charlie gave them. While he was always ready to put up a fight on the Quidditch pitch, Charlie was known to disapprove of foul play; he wasn’t happy with either of the turns the match had taken.

Thankfully, Charlie’s sharp words had the desired effect and their little gathering was dissolving quickly.

Sure enough, the move on Skye had not gone unnoticed by Madam Hooch and she awarded yet another free shot to Hufflepuff. Skye shot it brazenly past Azariah with all the force she could muster. He was diving for the right hoop, but wasn’t quick enough to prevent her from scoring again; his angry outcry could even be heard from where Orion was hovering in the air.

Cheering at her goal, Skye raised her fist into the air and flew by the Gryffindor stands on purpose. Orion furrowed his brow in dismay; he didn’t approve of her deliberate provocation at all.

“Hufflepuff scores another goal with Parkin’s free shot, raising the score into dizzying heights,” Murphy summarised the events for their onlookers. “Even if Weasley were to catch the Snitch right now, the additional 150 points wouldn’t be enough for Gryffindor to win. What a fantastic goal fest we are allowed to witness here today!”

When he heard Murphy announce the current score, Orion allowed himself to let a hint of relief touch his mind. He had felt confident about their chances at success from the beginning, but now, the end of their journey was becoming clearer as they approached the finish line.

Nevertheless, he remained apprehensive about the Gryffindors’ reactions. After all, if not even Charlie could secure their win right now, their situation was getting desperate and Orion knew a lion was most dangerous when it was wounded.

Contrary to him, however, his team didn’t seem to be sharing his concerns. Lucy was the only one still fully focused on the task of finding and securing the Snitch, but the others were visibly relieved at the high lead they had managed to attain.

He saw Lizzie and Skye passing the Quaffle between them a lot more recklessly than they had to; both their Beaters seemed to be more relaxed than in the beginning of the match as well. Orion felt the need to remind them to pay attention, but the sudden sound of Judith violently cursing stopped him dead in his tracks.

“The comfortable lead seems to have made the Hufflepuff team a little bit more careless than they should be,” Murphy exclaimed. “A Bludger from Bennett makes it past Harris and Everett and is headed straight for the Hufflepuff Keeper. I’m afraid this has a 72.3 % chance of ending badly.”

Neither of the Beaters was close enough to reach the attacking Bludger in time; Judith was trying to, but she was too far away to catch up with it. Orion could only watch with gritted teeth how Brian was trying to move out of the way, but he wasn’t fast enough. The impact of the Bludger against his shoulder probably wasn’t so bad in itself; he had been hovering close to his goalposts, however, and was now smacked into the middle one with force. Orion went pale as he saw his teammate collapse onto his broom and sink slowly to the ground.

He gripped the handle of his broom tighter and went off to go and check on him immediately; his movement got cut off by yet another Bludger whizzing over his head, straight into the direction of Lizzie and Skye.

Both girls had been watching Brian crash from somewhere close to the Ravenclaw tower; they were so distracted by their Keeper’s demise that they didn’t see the Bludger shooting towards them. A surprised looking Skye was able to dive out of its way just in time, but Lizzie wasn’t as lucky.

The crowd gave a collective gasp as Lizzie was hit square in the chest, her audible cry of pain ripping at Orion’s heart. He felt his breath hitching as he watched Lizzie getting knocked off her broom and into the wooden Ravenclaw Tower. She clung onto the blue banner hanging from it on pure instinct to keep herself from falling; her Comet, useless without its rider, was tumbling to the ground.

“McClarnon’s Bludger hits Jameson and leaves her without her broomstick, hanging from a height that will 87.4 % crush her bones if she doesn’t manage to hold on. Someone better do something right now!” Murphy’s voice was shaking with distress at Lizzie’s predicament.

Shrieks erupted from the stands as the Ravenclaw banners suddenly gave way before stopping again; they weren't intended to support the weight of someone clinging to them after all. Lizzie was screaming loudest of them all as she desperately tried to hold on to the piece of fabric that stood between her and more than several broken bones.

All of it had happened incredibly quickly, but the sound of her screaming had Orion snap out of his state of shock. He raced his broom over to the Ravenclaw tower as fast as it would allow, his heart thumping painfully in his chest. Lizzie’s eyes were wide with fear and relief as he reached her and helped her up on his broom. He saw how her ashy face twisted in pain as she held onto him with one arm, cradling her ribcage with the other. Her breath left her lips in a strained hiss and Orion could tell that she was hurt.

With Lizzie and Brian being attacked simultaneously, the match had all but stopped, everyone on the stands and the pitch anxiously watching the events unfold. A sigh of relief rippled through the crowd after Lizzie had been saved. Wanting her to get examined and needing to check on their Keeper as well, Orion signalled to Madam Hooch for a time out.

As soon as their feet hit the ground, Orion could feel Lizzie’s grip on him tightening as she struggled to support her own weight. After she had adjusted to standing again, she let go of him, clambered off his broom and gingerly sat down on the grass.

Her breathing was shallow and she dipped her head back into her neck. Orion could see that her eyes were shut tightly and her lips pressed together in pain. When she relaxed them, a distinct red sheen formed on them, growing into a ruby bead of blood that slowly started trickling over her lower lip.

He knelt down beside her immediately and gently took hold of her chin, turning her face ever so slightly to see how badly she was hurt. Lizzie winced at his initial touch but didn’t draw away. Instead, her eyes found his and the corner of her mouth twitched into a wry smile as she spoke.

“Don’t worry, Captain,” she reassured him, “I only bit my lip when falling, nothing too major.”

The strain in her voice did nothing to ease his worries, but before he could say anything, Ira appeared at their side, her brow furrowed in concern. She was acting as Madam Pomfrey’s extended hand during Quidditch matches, taking care of minor injuries. She brushed her blond curls out of her face before she gently but firmly pushed Orion to the side to examine the damage the Bludger had done.

Ira quickly checked Lizzie’s eyes for any sign of a concussion; when she was satisfied with the result, she moved on towards her bleeding lip. She took her wand out and muttered “Episkey”, making short work of the small wound. When she started scanning Lizzie’s ribcage, however, Lizzie grit her teeth, trying hard not to cry out at her touch.

“You’re lucky,” Ira stated as she straightened up again. “As far as I can tell, nothing’s broken but your ribs are badly bruised. This is going to hurt tomorrow.”

“Only tomorrow? What’s this now then?” Lizzie pressed out with a wry grin, trying to mask the pain that flooded her with every breath she was taking. “Can you give me something for the pain?”

Ira handed her a small, stoppered vial from her bag. The turquoise liquid inside was gleaming brightly in the sunlight as Lizzie unceremoniously upended it into her mouth.

The sound of angry voices approaching drew their attention; Charlie and Henry were headed over from where the Gryffindors had gathered; Skye was following in their wake, both Lizzie’s and her broomsticks resting on her shoulders. She was arguing loudly with Henry; a hint of annoyance at their bickering was visible on Charlie’s face. All of them knew that Henry hadn’t hit the Bludger out of ill intent; as brutal as it was, it was part of the game.

He immediately forgot his fight with Skye, however, as soon as they were within earshot. His usually cheerful face was pale and his brows drawn together with worry.

“Lizzie, thank Godric you’re alright!” he exclaimed. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hit you so hard. I thought you’d dive or something!”

“Well, thanks to Julian knocking out our Keeper I was a tad distracted,” Lizzie replied sardonically. “I’ll give you that, Henry, you have a brutal swing.”

The tall Beater hung his head; it was palpable how bad he felt, although he had only done his job. “I’m really, really sorry.”

Charlie crouched down next to her, his brown eyes looking her up and down. “You alright, kiddo?” he asked her quietly.

Lizzie nodded and got to her feet again. “I’ll survive it; the potion’s working already.”

“That’s good to hear,” the voice of Madam Hooch could be heard behind them. She had been over at the Hufflepuff goalposts to check on Brian and had now come over to see in what state Lizzie was in.

“Your Keeper is out cold, I’m afraid,” she told Orion, who grimaced at his fear being confirmed. “He won’t be playing another second today, I’ll have him sent straight to the Hospital Wing.”

Her yellow eyes rested on Lizzie, trying to determine whether she should follow Brian or not. “What about you, Jameson? Can you play again?”

“Yes,” Lizzie answered immediately, simultaneously with Orion’s determined “No.”

Lizzie gave him a stubborn look. “Of course I can play; I have to. You heard Madam Hooch, we’re short one player already.”

Orion crossed his arms in front of his chest and shook his head. “Absolutely not,” he declared firmly. “I applaud your dedication to our team, but right now it is thoroughly misplaced. You’ll go to the Hospital Wing and get yourself examined properly.”

Lizzie couldn’t believe her ears; it was very unlike Orion to not trust her judgement. “Are you serious? No matter how far we’re in the lead, with two players missing, we might as well give up straight away!”

Madam Hooch had watched their discussion silently; there was no way to tell her opinion from her unreadable face, so Lizzie was surprised when she spoke up.

“I’m afraid she’s right, Amari,” she said matter-of-factly. “With only five players your team will be in a rough place before you can say Bludger Backbeat.” She shrugged. “But in the end, that’s your decision.”

Orion knew they were right; the only way they could win this match with Lizzie and Brian missing was by Lucy catching the Snitch as quickly as possible, but there was no way to tell when or where the evasive golden ball would make its next appearance.

Injuries were a regular part of Quidditch and they all had been at the receiving end of a Bludger one time or the other; but Orion was still deeply shaken by the thought of Lizzie hanging from the side of that tower. He didn’t want to risk her getting hurt again.

He ran his hand through his hair and closed his eyes, uncertain what to do. “I don’t know,” he sighed doubtfully before turning to Ira. “You examined her, what do you think?”

Ira was looking uncomfortable at being dragged into the discussion. “Well, the potion I gave Lizzie should last for a bit, so she won’t be in pain for now; it will hurt like hell once it’s wearing off, though.”

She could only shrug helplessly as Lizzie and Orion both stared at her intensely, both wanting her to say the complete opposite. “But from a medical perspective, there’s nothing really speaking against it. If you promise me to get straight to Madam Pomfrey afterwards,” she added with a sharp look at Lizzie.

While he was glad that Lizzie really didn’t seem to be injured too badly, Orion still wasn’t convinced. “I don’t have a good feeling about this.”

His restless gaze met Lizzie’s for a moment. She locked eyes with him, unwavering resolve burning in them. Despite being the one who had fallen off her broom, she radiated a calm determination that slowly spread over to Orion as everything else around them seemed to fade for a moment.

“If you don’t want me to get back into the game, I will accept your decision,” Lizzie told him quietly. “But please, think about it. You know it just as well as I do, without a Keeper and three Chasers there is no way we can win.”

Orion bit his lip. He knew that she was right and he wanted to believe her, but there was no way of telling if the odds were really worth the risk.

Sensing his resolve wavering, Lizzie put her hand on his forearm, just where his captain’s armband was tied over his yellow robes. “Orion, please, let me play. You can trust me.”

His dark eyes flickered over her face, taking in the faint trace of blood still clinging to the corner of her mouth. “Are you absolutely sure?”

She only smiled at him for an answer and nodded.

Breaking the contact with her, Orion closed his eyes for a moment. He could feel her words were ringing true and he could see how badly she wanted to finish the match. What was more, he knew that she understood how much achieving their goal with this team meant to him.

And yet, she was ready to accept his decision, regardless of her own wishes. She trusted him to do what was best for all of them.

He took a deep breath and opened his eyes. If Lizzie was so sure about it, he had to give her the benefit of the doubt and take a leap of faith; he just hoped it wouldn’t be misplaced.

“Alright, you heard her,” he declared loudly and clapped into his hands. “Let’s get back into the game. It’s time to finish this”

***

After both teams had returned into the air the match resumed, albeit it was palpable that everyone was still shaken by what had happened.

It became increasingly difficult, if not downright impossible, for the Hufflepuff Chasers to score. Orion had withdrawn Judith and Everett from the main events of the game; they couldn’t leave their goalposts at the mercy of the remaining Gryffindor Chasers, so the two Beaters were now circling the hoops and setting Bludgers on every crimson-clad player that dared venture too close to them.

As a result, however, Orion, Lizzie and Skye were left without any sort of protection themselves. They were too busy dodging Bludgers and taking the Quaffle off their attacking opponents to even come anywhere near the Gryffindor posts.

Lizzie had just lost the Quaffle again and had turned around to chase after it, when her attention was caught by a flesh of red robes shooting upwards at a steep angle.

It was Charlie, his eyes trained on a spot high above them where a golden gleam was visible against the blue sky. Lizzie held her breath as she watched him ascent, her hunt for the Quaffle all but forgotten. Gryffindor had been able to score a few times and Hufflepuff was exactly 150 points in the lead; if Charlie caught the Snitch now, they would find themselves in a tie.

Luckily, the Snitch was hovering at a point in the air that had Charlie fly directly into the glaring sunlight. He tried to follow through for a few seconds longer before he couldn’t take the brightness anymore. Closing his eyes, he turned around and the Snitch vanished from sight once more. Relieved, Lizzie let out the breath she didn’t realise she had been holding.

She could hear Charlie’s outcry of frustration as he flew past her. A tie would play into Gryffindor’s hands; if two opposing teams had scored the same amount of points when the Snitch was caught, the winner was determined by a shoot-out and Hufflepuff was short a Keeper.

Much to everyone’s surprise, Charlie gestured to Madam Hooch, who blew her whistle moments later. Gryffindor was calling for a timeout.

Orion was looking as concerned as Lizzie felt herself when he gathered his team around him. His dark eyes swept over them as he spoke. “That was a close call; from what I could see, he very nearly caught the Snitch.”

Lucy’s shoulders slumped. “I know, I’m sorry; I should have seen it before him.”

“Don’t worry,” Orion shook his head, “Charlie is a gifted Seeker and he was in a better position to spot it. But the moment to call for a timeout is a peculiar one; I assume Gryffindor is about to change their strategy. They will probably switch to a full offensive while Charlie will go after the Snitch even more determined than before.”

He turned his attention to Lucy again. “Don’t let him catch it. We have to end this game on our terms and do it fast. As of now, we are exactly 150 points in the lead; if Charlie can secure the Snitch for his team, the winner will be determined through a one on one duel between the Chasers and the Keepers; and from where we stand, we are acutely short of one.”

“I could substitute as Keeper,” Skye offered. “I know how to play every position.”

Orion shook his head. “I appreciate your willingness to step up for the sake of the team, but I need you in the field to make sure the Quaffle stays with us and we manage to score at least one additional goal. And should it really come to a shootout, there is no one that could replace your precise aim.”

Skye nodded in agreement and Orion turned to Everett and Judith. “Make sure our goalposts are protected, should Gryffindor try for a counterattack. Chasers, try to keep the Quaffle in our ranks and score if you get the chance. We must not let it come to a one on one fight. Any questions?”

When all of them shook their heads, Orion nodded determinedly and mounted his broom again. “Let’s go and bring this Cup back home.”

Even though the Hufflepuff team had changed their tactics according to Orion’s plan, it proved incredibly tough to withstand the repeated assaults from the Gryffindor team.

Whatever Charlie had told them had reignited their desire to win and they set about their task with a grim determination. The Beaters were barely able to protect the goalposts from the continued attacks anymore, but somehow they managed.

They had been playing for several hours now and Lizzie wasn’t the only one who was starting to feel the exertion of the exceeding duration of the game. Everyone’s concentration was beginning to slip and the manoeuvres gradually becoming sloppier.

After another attempt on the Hufflepuff posts, Everett kicked the Quaffle back into the field; but even his brutish strength was fading and he didn’t have the experience that their Keeper did, so the Quaffle flew past Orion and began descending right in the middle between him and one of the opposing Chasers.

Orion immediately set after it and managed to catch it only moments before his opponent reached it. They almost collided in mid-air but Orion ducked under the other’s feet and sped up his broom on his way to the other side of the pitch, Lizzie and Skye falling in formation beside him. They only needed to score this one goal to make them breathe more easily.

The crowd had fallen increasingly silent as the match had dragged on, when suddenly a rumble went through the stands and Murphy’s voice drew Lizzie’s attention.

“Once again, Weasley seems to have spotted the Golden Snitch,” he exclaimed in excitement. “With O’Connell on the other side of the pitch, we might be witnessing the last moments of this year’s season right here and now! But I strongly suggest taking a good look at the Hufflepuff Chasers as well, as they are positioning themselves in their favourite formation to prepare for a last desperate attack.”

Lizzie gripped the handle of her broomstick tighter as she heard Murphy’s commentary; she knew the chances of Charlie letting the Snitch escape a second time were minimal. Out of the corner of her eye she could see both Julian and Henry aiming Bludgers in Orion’s direction, so she didn’t lose any time; lying as flat as she could on her broom, she sped up and broke free of their arrowhead formation. She shouted Orion’s name as she overtook him and he passed the Quaffle to her without a moment’s hesitation.

She could see Charlie extending his arm to reach for the Snitch and knew she had only moments left to score. The Gryffindor Chasers appeared at her side, trying to close in on her, but Lizzie pulled every last bit of speed her Comet could muster from it and left them behind. She had reached her favourite scoring distance and was absolutely sure she could bring the Quaffle past Azariah if she aimed for his least preferred hoop; the only question was if she still had the time to do so.

Lizzie was already preparing to throw when she suddenly saw Skye veering in from the side ahead of her. Employing one of their signature manoeuvres, she had used the focused attention on Lizzie to round behind the Gryffindor defence and reappear unexpectedly.

Lizzie was in a prime position to score and it was only seconds until Charlie would close his fist around the Snitch. Her eyes flickered to the commentary box and for a fraction of a second she could see Ethan Parkin standing in the first row next to Murphy, leaning dangerously far over the railing in excitement and anticipation.

Lizzie decided to go all in.

Screaming Skye’s name, she threw the Quaffle in her direction with all the strength left in her, praying to every God she had ever heard of that this wouldn’t turn out to be the worst decision of her life.

Skye caught the Quaffle expertly and with Azariah not expecting the most borderline reckless move Lizzie had ever pulled off, he had no chance to dive for the right hoop in time as Skye shot the Quaffle towards him with brutal force.

The goalposts behind him were flashing up in the same moment that Charlie pulled out of his dive, the tiny wings of the Golden Snitch beating furiously against the palm of his raised hand.

The stands exploded into screams and cheers but all of the players were holding their breaths. No one knew what had happened first, Skye scoring or Charlie ending the match. All fourteen pairs of eyes were trained on the commentary box where Murphy tried working out the events.

“Parkin scores an incredible last minute goal as Weasley catches the Golden Snitch almost simultaneously!” Murphy almost stuttered in excitement, something close to no one had ever heard him do. “The chances of both moves happening at the exact same time lie way below 0.5 %, so let me check the scores.”

The moment seemed to stretch into forever; Lizzie held her breath and Skye, who had flown to her side, gripped her arm so tightly it hurt when Murphy bent down to his megaphone again.

“Parkin scored first!” Murphy screamed so loudly his usually steady voice cracked. “That means, the final match of the season ends with 90 to 390 points for Hufflepuff! Hufflepuff is this year’s reigning Quidditch champion!”

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #quidditch #orion amari #murphy mcnully #skye parkin #charlie weasley #lizzie jameson #aob #art of balance #the quidditch squad #longest quidditch chapter ever #sorry got carried away #ONLY TWO CHAPTERS LEFT NOW #OMFG #the end is nigh #I'm getting emotional over here

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mrslilyrogers · 4 years

Text

Betrayal Part 1

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Summary: (AU) Set in New York. You and Bucky have been married for 5 years. He’s the love of your life and you are his. At least, you thought you were until he started slipping away from you, coming home late and smelling of another woman’s perfume? You are in denial. Are you just losing your mind or are you really losing him?

A/N: Hi! I’m new here and still figuring out tumblr. I have no idea how all this goes! This is the first ever story I’m posting online. I just couldn’t get the idea out of my head and would like to share it with all of you! Quarantine’s finally given me time to get over posting online, lol. Please comment away whatever you think of the story! This is a very angsty fic! hope you enjoy :)

Warnings: ANGST, CHEATING

She turned in bed flinging her arm out expecting Bucky to be beside her as her groggy mind pulled her back into sleep, only to have her hand bounce back on the empty mattress. Her arm fished farther out, trying to find him in the dark but still, it was empty. Confused, she slowly opened her eyes to blink the sleep away, he wasn’t home. She shot up as the realization hit her and glanced at the clock, its red glaring lights mocking her. 4:25 AM.

Bucky didn’t come home.

She swallowed as a lump formed in her throat. The first few nights he kept coming home late, she waited for him, asked how his day was, what took him so long at work and he’d usually dismiss her with a kiss and her favorite crooked smile as he cuddled up to her in bed making her forget all her worries. Even up until now, after five years of being married, he still had that effect on her. One glance her way with his smirk and she’d still feel her heart flip inside her chest. Whenever he hoisted Lizzie up in the air making her giggle, Y/N was sure her heart was shining in her eyes as she watched them.

And now this.

She knew the first time he told her not to wait up, something was off. He kept coming home later than usual and when he did come home, he smelled of alcohol and as much as Y/N would like to deny it, perfume. A perfume that distinctly wasn’t hers. Instead of confronting him about it, she denied it to herself, closing herself off to the truth that was becoming more and more obvious as the days went on. Instead, she took extra efforts to please him, waking up early to cook his favorite breakfast, preparing his favorite dishes for dinner even though he barely came home for it, trying to pass by his office at lunch so they could spend time together. All the while hoping he would stay and come back to her, come back to being her Bucky.

She wiped the tears that started to drip down her eyes. “Where did it all go wrong? What have I done to deserve this?” A sob came out as soon as she allowed herself to accept the truth. She brought her knees up to her chest and buried her face in between, hugging herself, trying to make herself as small as possible as sobs wracked her body. She cried for Bucky, cried for their family, cried for herself because somewhere in the process, she lost her pride and accepted whatever affection he could afford to give her, like a dog trying to please its owner, and never demanding what she deserved. She might have stayed like that for an hour or more but she knew that if she continued on, Lizzie would wake up and find her mother crying her eyes out and that’s the last thing she wanted. Lizzie, oh god, Lizzie what was she going to do with her sweet daughter? She could accept Bucky cheating on her, neglecting her even but for their daughter, it was unacceptable, she was only four, she did not deserve this. Yet, she was the collateral damage to the shambles of their marriage. The thought made her head hurt, she scrambled out of bed, needing to do something or she’d wallow in self pity and she needed to be strong for her daughter, always for her daughter, even if it meant living in a delusion to keep her family together. She heard footsteps at the stairs of their apartment and quickly grabbed her phone by the bedside table and ran to the bathroom. She leaned against the door, sighing, listening to him shuffling in the bedroom.

“Y/N, you in there? Sorry, fell asleep on Steve’s couch.” Bucky called from the door, no trace of guilt in his voice. Y/N just closed her eyes and sighed.

“About to take a bath!” She replied and checked her phone. No messages from him whatsoever that he’d be at Steve’s apartment. She quickly tried to hide her hurt to take on the day. For her sanity, for Lizzie, the mantra kept repeating itself in her head.

_______________________________________________________________________

“Mommy, why can’t I have cereal?” Lizzie whined from her seat at the counter as Y/N poured her orange juice.

“Yeah, why can’t she have cereal?” Bucky strode in playfully, the scent of his after shave filling Y/N’s senses, making tears prick at her eyes. She quickly turned around and faced the coffee pot, pouring more into her mug. She couldn’t stand to be near him after accepting the truth. She couldn’t face their situation, not yet.

“Daddy!” Lizzie chirped, already lifting her arms for a hug from her self-proclaimed superhero dad.

“How’s my little girl this morning?” He said lifting her up and kissing her cheek which only made her giggle.

“Eat your vegetables, squirt.” Bucky reminded her a little more seriously but with a charming smile nonetheless, and Lizzie, who worships the ground he walks on, eagerly nibbled on the beans from her plate trying to please him. Just like her mother, Y/N thought sarcastically.

She was still turned away from the counter when she felt Bucky sidling up behind her, his arms snaking around her waist, pulling her in to kiss her hair.

“Morning, babe,”

“Morning Buck,” She cleared her throat and moved away from him, standing in front of her daughter who was eating her breakfast far more enthusiastically than when her dad wasn’t around. God, this was a mess, what was she going to do? Lizzie clearly adored her father and if she were being honest with herself, she didn’t know how to live without Bucky.

Bucky saw the glassy look in Y/N’s eyes as she stared at their daughter, her hands fiddling in front of her and he instantly knew it was on him. He brought that look on her face, guilt and remorse punched him in the gut.

“Hey,” he said soothingly putting his hand on her back as he was about to apologize about last night.

“Lizzie, drink your juice, daddy will bring you to school,” Y/N flinched away from him, starting to flee the room.

“I gotta go,” She told him, grabbing her bag from the counter, and kissing their daughter on the cheek before heading out. She didn’t glance at him or give him his kiss goodbye like she usually did and instead, avoided looking at him. He froze, feeling the fear creep up on him. She didn’t know, did she?

“Bye Mommy!” Lizzie waved from her chair as Y/N got to the door. She turned around with a genuine smile on her face. God, she was beautiful when she smiled like that, and he missed it, he missed her and he hadn’t even realized it.

“Bye baby,” she said as she blew her a kiss. She cleared her throat and her expression blanked when she turned to him.

“Buck, don’t forget to pick her up today,”

“Today?” She usually picked Lizzie up from school, being the owner of a quaint little cafe, Winter Bakery, giving her the flexibility in schedule to do so. He had work to do and he was gonna meet up with Celeste around that time. The immediate thought of the woman he was seeing brought shame and guilt to his conscience, making him lash out at her.

“I can’t, you know I have work,” he said a little too accusingly.

Y/N just closed her eyes and exhaled harshly, trying to reign in her control.

“Daddy, don’t you want to pick me up?” Lizzie asked sadly and Bucky felt all his anger vanish as he saw his little girl’s fallen face.

“Of course not, sweetie, I just--”

“Bucky, we’ve been through this, I’m trying to land this catering gig for Stark, remember?” Y/N’s defeated voice rose above his and he immediately felt sorry, god, he was the worst husband.

Sure, it was just a little get together for the birthday of Tony Stark’s daughter but it was a big deal to Y/N. She had met Pepper in Lizzie’s school as they waited for their pre-schoolers to be dismissed and instantly became friends. At first, Y/N was starstruck with Pepper especially when she discovered that she was a hands-on mom, while running Stark Industries at the same time but she was such a down-to-earth woman matched with a witty sense of humor that it was hard to lose any topic of conversation with her. Of course, it helped that Lizzie and Morgan had become the best of friends even on just the first day of school. Next thing they knew, they were spending play dates at the bakery when the girls insisted on hanging out. That’s when Pepper discovered Y/N’s cupcakes and raved to Tony that, “they were absolutely the best she’s ever had”. Of course with Tony being Tony, wanting only the best for his daughter, set up a taste test meeting for his daughter’s birthday, insisting on trying every single flavor of cake and cupcake she could make, and not just a take-out of the best sellers, like Pepper had suggested. They weren’t just going to settle for the best sellers like some sheep following the herd. “His words, not mine” Pepper had said and having the Tony Stark to be Y/N’s first customer for her first ever catering gig would mean a lot for her business. Only recently has she decided to expand it and she felt like she’s talked Bucky’s ears off with her plans and here he was, seemingly having forgotten the day she’s most talked about. She wasn’t even angry with him, she was just disappointed and not even a little bit surprised.

“Oh shit, babe, I’m sorry I forgot,” Bucky immediately went to her and enveloped her in a hug and she hated herself for loving the feel of his arms around her.

“Promise, I’ll make it up to you,” he whispered but she didn’t believe him, she was over his empty promises.

“Just pick Lizzie up,” She said before she left the door with not a glance back.

Part 2

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes #marvel angst #marvel x reader #bucky angst #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel imagines #steve rogers x reader #betrayal

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elysiashelby · 3 years

Text

In Another World - T. Shelby Imagine Ch. 13

Paring: (Eventual) Thomas Shelby x Aliena Welsh (OC)

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Word Count: 5,851

WARNINGS: ANGST, HEAVY ANGST, Alcohol Consumption, Cursing, Recreational Drug Use, SUICIDE ATTEMPT, Mentions of SMUT (doesn’t concern any of the main characters)

Summary: Aliena Welsh hasn’t gotten any better. Her mental health is in the dumps and she’s coping with alcohol and drugs. How will she recover?

MASTERLIST CHAPTER 12 CHAPTER 14

A/N: THERE IS A SCENE OF ATTEMPTED SUICIDE. YOU READ ALL OF HER THOUGHTS LEADING UP TO THIS POINT & I DO BELIEVE IT TO BE VERY TRIGGERING!! THERE WILL BE BLACK LINE BREAKS TO START THE SCENE. Not a whole lot of Tommy in this one.

That night on me birthday, I blacked out. Couldn’t remember a thing, but I do remember feeling like shit the next morning. Not just from the raging hangover, but emotionally as well. I’ve never truly understood how fuckin’ shitty it is to wake up with no fuckin’ memories of the night before.

But now I did!

The days after I attempted to cut down me drinking as suggested by Polly. I kept to it as much as I could, but I just turned to other vices when we went out. Instead of drinking, I was getting high. Same effect really except I was more affectionate than ever and wasn’t getting weepy.

Problem with weed? It made me sexually aroused a.k.a. horny. I started dancing with strangers. Men and women. I was truly not giving one flying fuck.

And it was scaring me.

I managed to get past the whole debacle of me assaulting that woman at the Garrison. Talked to Polly abar it, ya know, some of me troubles. Really made some headway. She started wanting me to work in the shop more.

Couldn’t tell ya why, though.

I didn’t mind, it kept me busy for a while. That was ‘til Polly told me she didn’t need me in the shop for sometime. So, now— I was stuck collecting money every fortnight, cleaning the house, cooking, and be an all-round delivery girl.

Have you ever heard of the saying, “High highs are followed by low lows.” Let me tell you abar the low blow I was dealt. I caught Tommy banging Lizzie.

Drop the mic!

Yeah! I caught the first love of me life having sex with a prostitute. Not knocking her down, a girl has to earn her coin somehow. It was the fact that Tom was paying for sex that got me. He would rather pay than use me.

Let me tell you the number that did on me self-esteem. I didn't want to make it matter, but it did. It was irrational, in a way. I knew that. It was just that I was so hung up on him and I couldn't find it in meself to let go of him, yet. It was absolutely pathetic. I realize that, but I was also used to it. Used to the ones that I want not wanting me.

Oh well! I mean I wasn’t obsessing over it, but it did hurt me heart, is all. It also served as a turning point for me. Now, I wasn’t just dancing with random fellas— I was making out with them too.

Kissing didn’t matter to me anymore. Ever since me first kiss was stolen by that bastard two years ago, or so.

I didn’t let it go any further. I was just making out with them. Men and women. Anyone who would have me.

I was laying in me bed. I didn’t feel like leaving it. So, I didn’t. I kept me eyes shut and was getting lost in me own world. I fantasized abar being back with me family. That I had woken up in de’ ozzy from a coma ‘n I made all of this up.

“Aliena, love. You need to get up now.” Polly whispered as she shook me gently.

I opened me eyes and blinked. I faked waking up for the first time today. I hummed.

“Come on, love.” She urged while uncovering me and taking me hand.

With our hands joined, I turned ‘round and rose to me feet. She took me head in her grasp before using the back of the head to check me temperature.

She tutted. “You don’t have a fever. Do you feel sick, Ali?”

I nodded, lying. She sighed and pulled me into her chest. I hugged her tightly while whimpering. It was better this way.

We stayed that way for a while before she pulled away. Me face in her hands again. “How ‘bout I make ya some soup? You go on back to bed and I call you when it’s done. Yeah?”

I nodded with a small smile. She led me back to me bed and tucked me in. I said nothing as the tears streamed down me face. When she left, I closed me eyes again.

I’m so tired.

When the soup was ready, she got me up as promised and helped me down. I was acting and not at the same time. I was just showing how I really felt. I knew tomorrow I would have to bottle it all up again.

It was just that I already used up all me rest days just laying around, so this was a better cover.

She sat with me as I slowly nibbled away at the soup she made me. I didn’t care for it. I wanted me ma’s chicken soup. We made small chat ‘til I was done and I was sent back to bed afterward.

I laid there doing nothing ‘til I felt like I was going stir crazy. I leaped from me bed and pulled out me journal that was full of me writings. Only once I had the pen in me hand, I couldn’t think of anything.

I threw it down and ran me hands over me face. I began doin’ some heavy breathing before I took a deep breath and just suppressed it. I just suppressed it ‘cause I felt like I was being overdramatic.

I do so much complaining. I should be grateful. I should be grateful for what I have. Why was I so miserable?

Because I wasn’t in a relationship with Tommy, don’t make me laugh! He’s just one man.

Is it because I’m not with me family? Come on, after all that wishing to experience something more exciting in me life!

Fucking kinel! I was lucky enough to be found by Jeremiah and not be chucked into some mental asylum or in a prison cell for being suspicious. For not having to sell me own body in order to make ends meet. No, nothing has changed. I’m still that sheltered little girl who is just so ungrateful.

I inhaled sharply and gripped me hair tightly.

Just so greedy. Just so lustful. So fuckin’ ungrateful.

“No!” I shouted before I slapped meself. The stinging sensation overwhelmed me and balanced me. I swallowed harshly before racking me head for a song.

I sang ‘Empty’ by Olivia O’Brien to meself. I sang a million of other depressing songs ‘til me head ached. Then, I sat there. Just sat there. Letting the stories that ran through me mind play out there since I couldn’t write them.

But even they weren’t bringing me joy. Awful scenarios triumphed the love stories I was trying to conjure. They would just turn sour with infidelity, broken promises, and death.

I placed me bent elbows on me desk and used me hands to support me head. I closed me eyes as a way to fight the burning in me eyes.

As soon as I woke up, I choked down a sigh. I just turned on me back and ran a hand threw me hair. After a second or two, I got up and began getting ready for the day. For the past couple of days, I’ve been waking up with anxiety. I haven’t felt this way since being in school.

College was different. I had more freedoms, but years six through eleven— they were absolute hell for me. It just triggered me anxiety disorders, especially me agoraphobia.

I looked at meself in the mirror and saw a dead woman. I placed me fingers under me eyes, tugged down, and then let go. I took a sharp breath before I opened the door and walked out.

I was finding it harder to breathe these days. Like if me asthma was back, or gotten worse. Which would be totally plausible since I have been smoking ciggies now. Still pace meself, though.

I had me hair in a bun, some hairs framing me face. I was wearing a light purple button up shirt with a darker purple, high-waisted midi skirt.

I walked down and cut me two slices of bread. I was gonna eat me regular bread and jam. I sat down ‘n ate it. When I was done, I began to clean up again. The same old routine. Sweep, dust, fold, sew, shine, or wash.

I was in the middle of fixing one of Finn’s shirts when he walked in, panting. His lips smacked before he spoke. “Tom-Tommy wants to see you.”

“What is it, Finn?” I asked while rising to me feet. What the fuck’s happened? “What’s happened?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I was out with Isaiah, came in and he told me he wanted me to get you.”

I let out a sigh of relief before annoyance took over me. I shoved his head away from me. “Dear lord, Finn. I thought something bad happened! Ugh!” I walked past him and into the shop.

The chatter of men overwhelmed me senses. I marched over to Tommy’s office and knocked before going in.

“Finn said you needed me.” I stood up straight with me shoulder rolled back. Me fingers were interlocked and resting at me waist.

Thomas nodded as he took a drag from his ciggie. “I need you to deliver this to Moss.” He looked up as he held up the package for me to take.

It was probably hush money to distribute, or his own allowance to keep him quiet, or something else.

I blinked furiously as I stepped forward and attempted to take the package from his hand.

Okay, the fuck is happening?

Tommy kept looking at me up and down and wouldn’t let go of the package. I cleared me throat and he let go instantly.

“Right. I need you to give that to him as soon as possible. So, it’s best if you go now.” He looked away from me and back down at his paperwork.

“Right.” I repeated softly before turning ‘round. As I stood in the doorway, I held onto the wall and snapped me head to Tommy.

“Tommy.”

He looked up, his eyes wide. “Yeah?”

I thought abar it. I wanted to ask what that was all abar. I cleared me throat before gulping and shake me head. “Nevermind. Have a good rest of your day, Tom.”

I didn’t wait to hear a response. I practically ran out of there. I got me coat and then out the door. The cold air stung me face, but I welcomed it. After all, that interaction got me all warm inside.

I didn’t want to think abar it too hard. I had negative and positive thoughts. Maybe he thought I looked nice, but at the same time— maybe he saw what I’ve been hiding too. I remembered abar that promise we made on December 3rd. Abar how I would go to him if me depression was getting bad, but—! I didn’t sit right with me. How could I complain abar all of me problems when he was unknowingly one of them?

I sighed and clutched the package tighter. Men and women alike greeted me as I passed. After the bar “fight,” some stares and greetings changed. I didn’t care.

Why should I? They probably bunched me in with the rest of the Blinders, now. Might call me a devil too, now.

I huffed. Well, as long as they kept their thoughts to themselves. A bizzy held open the door for me, so I flashed them a nod ‘n smile. I walked through the building ‘n ignored the stares. I walked over to Moss’s office and knocked.

“Come in.” He shouted.

I opened the door and walked in. Moss, instantly, sat up straight.

“Ms. Welsh.” He began. “What can I do for ya?”

With the package still in one hand, I thrusted it forward, bouncing it a little. “Mr. Shelby has a delivery for you.”

He ah-ed, rose from his seat, and took it. “Thank you. Miss. My wife was just saying the other day how she missed your company. She’d be very pleased if you visited her soon.”

I smiled and nodded. “Oh, well, I’ll make sure to stop by soon. Good afternoon, Sergeant Moss.” I nodded again and turned ‘round.

I felt the stares and heard the whispers as I walked. As walked out of the station, as I walked home.

I shook me head as I raised me fingers to me head. Whispers, gossip, chisme. It was all so fucking annoying. Me days were blending together. Day in and day out, I was just lethargic. Having to force meself to do all this stuff was so tiring.

But what else am I going to do? I’m so useless.

I was letting the music in me head envelope me. With me hands, I moved me hair to the side as I danced. I was hot. Like feverishly hot, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t thinking abar anything but dancing.

I felt someone take their hands in mine, so I opened me eyes. Cassie was in front of me.

“Dance with me.” She yelled before she started doing the Charleston.

I giggled and then began to do it with her. For this type of dancing, I had to tune in on the club music. The club we were at right now was owned by Sabini. Luckily, no one knew me face. Otherwise, we might have been kicked out or worse.

Well, actually, since there was no bad blood yet… I might’ve just been used as a tool for some sort of deal. Ya know, a messenger or something.

When I felt tired, I gulped for air and stopped dancing. As did Cassie. We walked into each other. Why do we fucking wear heels all the damn time? I want me trainers back!

“Let’s go back to the table, yeah.” I announced more than asked. I led Cassie back to the table where Angie and Tina were sitting with men.

I rolled me eyes. Here we fuckin’ go. “Angie!” I shouted. “We’re back. You can hit the floor if ya want.” Angie’s eyes snapped to Tina, excitement all over her face. Tina’s facial expression spoke volumes, “She didn’t want to leave the table.” But she gave a sheepish smile, and nodded instead.

“Thanks, Ali.” She said to me before looking down at her new friend. “You want to dance with me?” She asked him to which he happily took her hand. Then, the four of them were gone.

I let out a sigh of relief and sat down with me legs open.

Cassie snorted. “You’re so ungraceful.”

I tsked while waving her off. “Do one. I’m tired.” I reached for me glass of water. I wasn’t gonna be drinking alcohol for a while. However, I did reach into me bag and took out a rolled joint along with me lighter.

I lit it up and took a puff. I held it for as long as I could before exhaling. This wasn’t wise. I’ve already smoke so much, but I didn’t want to come down from me high— so, I was lightin’ up again.

“You got cards?” I asked before exhaling another puff.

Cassie shook two fingers as she replied. “Yeah, in my purse.”

I passed her the joint. Probably shouldn’t have since she was drinking too, but fuck it! She was a grown woman.

I sniffed and wiped me nose. Cassie took out the cards with one hand before getting frustrated since she couldn’t get them open. She passed me back the joint before taking one last puff. I took it as a chance to take another drag.

Cassie got the cards out and began to shuffle them. “So, what game are we playing?”

I shrugged. “Want to play Go Fish?”

Cassie chuckled while meeting me gaze. “That’s your favorite game, isn’t it.”

I shrugged again, exhaling while stubbing out the joint. “Easiest to play. That’s all.” So, that’s what we did ‘til I found meself getting more ‘n more sluggish. I felt the imaginary hand squeeze me heart as much as it was racing. That sense of dread better known as a cold sweat.

Before I knew it, I passed out.

When I came too, I felt a cold towel on me forehead. Slowly, I reached for it and dragged it off me face. I moaned as I sat up straight in me chair. I looked to me right to see Cassie chatting up some guy.

My moan caught her attention.

“Oh, good, you woke up, Ali. You smoked too much weed again. I got you a towel from the bar while you were passed out. Just stay there for a while. This is Henry.” Cassie motioned to Harry who greeted me.

Through squinted eyes, I nodded at him and gave him a little wave. I turned me attention back on the wet towel. I placed it back on me forehead and just looked ‘round. People were dancing, sitting and having a chat, and others were just drinking. Well, okay. I didn’t want to pay attention to it, but there were people having sex ‘n doing a whole bunch of exhibitionist acts.

I stifled a laugh at meself while covering me mouth. I swear this place is always a madhouse, but it was very freeing too. People were just free here. It made me feel like I fit in.

The bad thing abar sitting down by yourself when you’re high, for me, is that I start thinking. Thinking while high isn’t good. ‘Cause what you find out is that you don’t feel pain all that much. If you catch my drift.

I sighed. The same thoughts that’s been haunting me kept repeating in me head. The same stuff as always.

Why was I here? What was my purpose? What was I going to do with my life now? ‘Cause honestly, I was a 22-year-old Hispanic English-American, who was working on her first book as well as beginning the process of having a baby. I was going to have a baby.

And now, I’m here. Getting high and drinking meself ‘til I blacked out. I was having anxiety attacks under the same roof of the man I’ve been obsessing over since 2013!

My whole life plan was fucked. I’m stuck in the 1920s where Women’s rights are not the highest priority. Fuck, my children are probably gonna be put through the second world war.

I sighed loudly as I pinched me nose and started bouncing me leg. I let the towel fall off me head and onto the table. I picked up back up and started wiping me neck with it.

I miss my family and friends. I want the comfort of being in my own home back. The feeling of security. I knew that no matter what my family would be there for me always. But here, here everything was conditional. Everything came at a price.

Doesn’t it?

I mean, yeah, it does.

I stopped wiping and got up. Me chair scraped loudly against the floor. I got up too quickly. Me vision went black and I had to sit down again. I stifled the moans that wanted to escape me mouth out of embarrassment and pride.

When me vision cleared, I got up again. Slower this time. Then, I began to make my way over to the bar.

“Oi!” I shouted. The bartender looked toward my direction. I raised the towel and he walked over to me. “I wanted to give this back. Don’t need it anymore. Thanks.”

He took it from me hand while nodding. “No problem, miss.”

I nodded while taping the bar top rhythmically before turning ‘round and walked back to the table.

I have no idea what time it is. I don’t care. I fucked up. I groaned and doubled over.

“Get the fuck up, Ali.” Cassie slurred.

“Do one, slag.” I replied while trying to push her away.

She tsked. “You fuckin’ first. We’re almost at your stupid house.”

“You’re stupid.”

“Bitch.”

“No you.”

We glared at each other before busting out laughing. I started kicking me feet.

“I’m gonna piss meself!” I shouted. “I’m gonna-! I’m gonna piss meself!”

Cassie cackled even harder while clutching me arm with a death grip. I said “ow,” very childishly as I tried to pry her grip off me.

Anyway, I drank. I stupidly drank and was also high. I can’t describe the feeling except that I am extremely tired and numb.

I slumped to the side and tried holding me head up, but failed. I groaned loudly as me head slipped from me hand. I shot back up and held my stomach. I felt like I was gonna be sick.

I pried open the window and stuck out me head.

“Get in, you dummy.” Cassie shouted as she tried to claw me back inside. Her nails only leaving a little bit of sting. It was enough for me to register that she was doing it.

I breathed slowly and deeply. I tried making the cold wind sober me up. But then the clawing got annoying, so I shook off the heel of my left foot and used it to push her away.

I could faintly hear her groan. Should’ve known that wouldn’t have stopped her. She started pulling on me leg. I rolled me eyes and got back into the car.

“I was trying to feel better, Cass!” I shouted in face.

She pouted angrily, like a child, before burying her face in me breasts. I sighed and started stroking her hair. I did it for so long that I didn’t even realize we had made it to me house.

“Ms. Welsh, we’ve arrived.” Simmons repeated.

“Huh? Oh, okay.” I looked ‘round the car ‘n saw that everyone was passed out. I loudly stifled me laughter. “Simmons, they, uh.”

“I know, Ms. Welsh. I can take care of it.” He smiled at me through the rear-view mirror.

I trusted him as much as Cassie trusted him. He came with her and her father from America. He’s been with their family for a long time.

So, I nodded and slipped out from under Cassie slowly. I opened the car door with the same pace and then stumbled out. I was flailing abar like fucking Bambi! I gasped when I was able to balance meself. I took a deep breath and then tapped on the hood of the car.

“Thank you, Simmons.”

“You’re welcome, Ms. Welsh. Goodnight.”

“You too.” I said before giving him a salute and turning ‘round. I trudged over to the door and shifted through me purse for the keys. I groaned impatiently when I couldn’t find them right away.

Once I did, I cheered and unlocked the door. I stumbled through, me heels clacking against the floor. As I was taking off me coat, I noticed a coat that’s not often there. Along with a very familiar shoulder holster.

A whisper escaped my lips as me fingertips carefully touched the items. “Tommy.”

I slowly walked into the living room and saw that there was a fire lit along with a glass on the table. I walked even slower toward the couch, me heart in me throat. I looked over it and sure enough, he was sleeping on the couch.

I smiled with scoff. I, immediately, turned ‘round and slowly went upstairs. I didn’t want to disturb his sleep. Hardly gets any as it is.

As I closed my door, I let out a sigh of relief. I looked down and cured. “Fuck! I forgot to hang up me coat.” I tsked and ripped it off me. I threw it on me chair. I crossed me arms and took off my dress. I had to fight with it a little, though. I left it on the floor and walked to my closet.

I took out my matching white nightgown and robe. I put them both on. I tied the robe tightly around me stomach and then began taking the pins out of me hair. I trudged over to my desk and threw them on there.

I shook out me hair and finally looked at meself in the mirror. I smiled at meself softly. If there was something I was absolutely confident abar meself, it was me hair. I smiled again before looking down and getting the stuff I needed to take off all this makeup.

Once I was done, I walked over to me bed and sat down on it. I wasn’t tired anymore. So, I just sat there. I shuffled over the window and just looked. I would strain me eyes so much that black dots would appear and I would frighten meself.

What am I doing here? Why am I here? How is ma and papa doing? Are they grieving over me? How abar me friends? Did they know I was gone? Did anyone? Was this real? This is real, right?

Calm down, Aliena. That’s not your name. I took a deep breath. That’s not your name! You are not 18-years-old. Why is your body like this? Why can I do things that I couldn’t do before?

I raised me hand to me head.

What am I doing? How long am I going to wait for Tommy to look at me? How long am I going to stay with this family? Should I just move in with Cassie? No, no that’s wrong.

No, this is wrong.

Stop being so irrational. You’re just feeling depressed, right now. You’ll get over this soon. You’re overreacting.

But what if I’m not?

When Grace comes back, will Tommy still sleep with her? Does he love her as intensely as he did on the show?

Why would you think anything else? Well, we used to be close. Used to be! He made it clear many nights ago that you were to be married to someone else. He doesn’t like you like that!

I whimpered and gripped me head tighter. Me feet going back and forth on the bed, messing up my blankets.

Even if he did, you’re too insecure. You can lie to yourself all you want, but you’d be worried. Worried every time he left that door. Every time he had a far off thought. “Are you thinking of her?” You’d think. “Did you cheat on me?” You ask. “If you ever cheat on me, I’ll kill you.” You’d threaten.

Toxic, toxic, toxic.

Should I try to go back?

My eyes shot open and I gasped.

Should I try to go back? Maybe this is all a very complicated dream. If I die, then maybe I’ll wake up in my room at home. I see me ma’ sitting in the living room with her dogs. Papa would be in his room working or with her in the living room. I’d see my baby niece.

I gulped. I put down me hands and noticed they were shaking.

Things here aren’t that great. I’m not close to Tommy anymore. I’m depressed and I can’t recall most days. I’m drinking meself half to death. I should just…

I looked at the door with wide eyes. I felt tears sting me eyes. I took a shuddering breath and slowly, me feet touched the floor. I gasped and a tear fell from me eye. I walked toward me door and slowly opened it.

I savored every creak of the door. When I deemed that I opened it enough to slip through, I stopped and did just that. I twirled ‘round and closed it with just as much care. I walked past Tommy’s door with ease since he was downstairs.

I was at the top of the stairs when it hit me.

Should I leave a note?

I raised me hand to my mouth and nibbled on my fingernail. I shook me head, deciding against it.

I went down the stairs, one step at a time. Each more daunting than the last. I didn’t want to risk waking up Thomas. When I got to the last step, I let out a shuddering sigh of relief.

I tiptoed across the room all the way to the door. I went to get me coat and mentally cursed meself.

I left it upstairs.

I looked back at the stairs. My face contorted in discomfort. I looked back at the rack and stared at Tommy’s coat and shoulder holster. I then shifted my gaze to the couch where he laid.

I took a deep breathe and raised me hands at a snail’s pace. I took the holster into me hands and carefully lifted it up. I put it on with little difficulty. I thought I would have trouble since I saw Tommy having some from time to time.

The holster was empty. I knew it would be. I took a deep breath and tip-toed over to where Tommy laid. There on the little table was the gun. I held me breath as I walked closer.

I was in front of him now. I couldn’t stare. He would feel it. ‘Cause of the war. I reach down and quickly snatched the gun. I didn’t waste a second as I quickly walked back to his coat. With the gun clenched tightly in me hand, I exhaled as silently as I could. Me mouth opened wide as I slowly let the breath out.

When I didn’t see his head pop up, I swallowed me worries. I placed the gun in the holster and then hurriedly put on the coat.

It was so big on me. Me hands were lost in the sleeves and it reached me mid-thigh.

I could admire it later. I blinked and made my way to the door. I gripped the handle with a strength I didn’t know I had. Me hands shook as I slowly unlocked the door. Then, I opened it with just as much care.

Just like I’d done earlier, I slipped through the sliver. Once the door was shut, I let go an audible exhale. I looked ‘round me and instantly felt paranoid. I walked fast and looked at no one.

I brought the sleeves to me face. I took in the scent.

Cigarettes. It smelt of cigarettes and his cologne. I used to associate the smell of ciggie with me gran, but now— I was surrounded by smokers. The scent, I would think, would evade my nose since it was so common. I just adapted to it.

I took in the sights as I walked past them.

This maybe the very last time I walk these cobblestone steps. This last time I set eyes on these houses. No more gossips, no more whispers.

I took another gasp for air and quickened my pace.

I kept feeling like someone was chasing me.

There was this burn in me legs. They were begging for me to stop, but I was used to it. It reminded me of the times I would feel this burn in me legs when I walked to and from school.

So, I marched on all the way ‘til I reached my special place. When my parents’ headstones were in sight, it got very real. I was going to attempt committing suicide again. It was like white noise filled me head as I walked up to them.

I dropped to me knees when I stood in front of their headstones. Me hands instinctively began to trace their names.

Memories of them began to flash in me head. From when I was little to just, what, two years ago now. I have a feeling the childhood memories were fabricated, though. I hardly have any positive memories of that time. I lost them to my depression.

I sucked in breath and exhaled, shakily with my cheeks puffed.

I just kept thinking abar their faces. How much I missed them. That brought on longing for me friends. I met them in high school ‘n they meant everything to me. I thought they would see my babies. They wanted to be there for me ‘n now…

I let out a curt laugh to meself as I bent me head, in shame. Slowly, I got off me knees and sat on me bum. I brought me trembling hand to where the gun was. It was cold in me grasp.

I took it out. The holster made a noise as I did so. I held it with both hands.

My breathing got quicker and I felt more and more fear.

I was going to die. What if I die? What if I die and don’t wake up? What if I don’t see my parents’ again after all and I just threw away my life?

Isn’t that what you wanted! I mean you’re depressed, aren’t you!

Yes, but no. I had things I wanted to do before I died.

So, why are you doing this?

“Because I’m so fucking tired.” I sobbed as I raised my forearms to hide me face. I brought my knees to me chest as well.

I let out an “oooh” before blowing the rest of the exhale out.

Well, then what abar the Shelbys’? How will they react when they find my body? Will they weep? Will they hold a funeral? Will I change things?

I choked on a sob. Then, it hit me. Like a fucking revelation an idea struck me.

Let’s leave this to a high power. I don’t care who. God, Fortuna, Tyche, or just the laws that controlled fucking chance.

I opened up the cylinder, spread me legs, and emptied out the chamber. I let the bullets fall on me dress. I took the bullets and set them aside one by one. I held that sixth bullet in me palm. I rolled it ‘round in me palm.

This very bullet will decide my fate. It completely holds the fate of my life. This little thing.

I slid it back into a chamber, closed me eyes, spun the cylinder, and then snapped it closed. I opened me eyes ‘n a tear fell out.

When debating suicide, I only accepted two ways. Overdosing on sleeping pills and a bullet to the head, no pain. Peaceful.

I laid down between the headstones of my parents and looked up at the sky. Tree branches were slightly in the way, but it made for a beautiful picture. Tears were falling out of me eyes more now. Blurred me vision, but I didn’t care. I liked the way me tears rolled down me face.

Slowly, I raised the gun to me temple. I inhaled sharply and held it as cocked the gun. A sob wracked my body.

I placed me finger on the trigger gently. Thoughts in me head were racing a hundred miles per hour.

I kept apologizing to everyone that ever mattered to me. The Shelbys, my friends here, my family, and my friends there.

I licked my lips, threw my head back against the ground, and gasped. I closed my eyes.

“I’m sorry.” I whispered. “Tommy,” was left unsaid.

Then, I pulled the trigger.

TAG LIST: @amirahiddleston @nemesis729 @salvatoreitmeanssaviour @tlfshelby1 @halepea @lilymurphy03 @marsfireeyes @masumiyetimziyanoldu @i-love-superhero @thatweirddaydreamer

#thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby #thomas shelby fanfic #thomas shelby angst #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby x oc #in another world #Peaky Blinders #peaky blinders imagine

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drawlfoy · 4 years

Text

The Wonders of Ohio P.5

masterlist (check here for parts 1-4!) request guidelines

pairing: draco x reader

request: from 14 year old me babey

warnings: cringe, mentions of drug use, mentions of sex, language, and just bad writing

summary: y/n is in her senior year of high school when she is asked to take on an exchange student from britain that’s a little...different. this is NOT a nonmagic AU. draco is still a wizard and this will become and integral part of the story shortly.

a/n: heyyyy everyone. i graduated from high school this week and i’m posting this as my happy-one-year-to-me. as some of you may know, i posted my very first fic on this day a year ago. i’m really happy to see how i’ve grown since and i’m so lucky to have shared this with all of you. anyways, nittygritty--

this part is really the last slow exposition chapter. chapters 6 on will be a whole whirlwind beginning with homecoming and i hope that you guys are willing to stick around. i promise itll be worth the wait. y/n is going to get the story arc of a lifetime and also please do not hate heather she is just going through it ok

anywayssssssss

tags tags tags @gruffle1 @missmulti @cleopatera @hahaboop @accio-rogers @geeksareunique @eltanin-malfoy @war-sword @cams-lynn @itsivyberry @ayo-cowbelly @nerd-domland @erisdogwood @loveissupernatural

word count: 4.6k (;))

song recs:

strawberry blonde -- mitski

in your neighbors garden -- mimi bay

wishes -- beach house

ode to artifice -- samia

pink in the night -- mitski

enjoy <3

The seatbelt buckle scorched the side of Y/N’s exposed neck as she turned to face the disheveled blonde in the passenger seat.

“Do I need to teach you to set an alarm?”

Draco let out a huff. “Stop. Do you have a….a comb, or a brush, or something here?” His hands looked abnormally fidgety. Their actions were shaky, varying from patting his pockets to running through his hair. He seemed more and more frustrated each time his hands left his pockets empty.

How curious Y/N thought as she racked her brain for any remembrance of putting a brush in her car. It was always a mess, and she honestly couldn’t blame Draco for assuming that anything could be in there.

“I don’t think there’s one here,” said Y/N, trying to sound at least a little sympathetic despite the fact that his tardiness had them 10 minutes late. “You can look around if you want, king.”

“What’d you call me?” His voice was suddenly sharp and awake.

Y/N rolled her eyes so hard that she thought they’d get stuck in the back of her head. “You don’t--ok. It’s a joke. You can call guys here that.”

“And it means that I’m…?”

“It means I’m acknowledging that you exist, I guess. It’s not like it has a strict negative or positive connotation. Like, I can say ‘Ok king’ to any man telling me something and it can either be sarcastic, or it can be because I don’t know what else to say and just want to let him know I heard him.”

Draco’s eyes looked a tad glazed over when Y/N dared a glance in his direction.

“I know it’s confusing. I’m sorry. I’ll try and ease you into the world of American slang.”

He granted her a little “uh-huh” before opening up the glovebox with great difficulty and rummaging through the mess. Y/N would’ve felt more embarrassed about the tampon that fell on the ground in the process if he seemed like he actually knew what it was.

Her attention turned back to the road as Draco continued to sift through things. Y/N couldn’t help but wonder if there was anything embarrassing hidden away in the corners of her car--after all, it hadn’t been organized since the beginning of summer--and decided that it was better to pretend it wasn’t happening.

It wasn’t the eerie silence that eventually prompted her to turn to look his direction--no, it was the weird energy in the car, like the feeling right before a thunderstorm. All the hair raised on her arms, and she shivered...but it was stifling hot in the car.

“Oh, did you find a brush?” she asked. His hair laid as perfectly as always, but his hands were lying shaking in his lap, palms to the sky. No hairbrush was in sight.

“Er... “ He was paler than usual, which was quite the feat for someone who looked like a ream of paper. “No. Just remembered a trick my father taught me.”

She tensed at the mention of his father--the very first time Draco had done so. “Oh. Okay. Glad you got it figured out, king.”

Her voice lightened on the last word, hoping she could coax a little smile out of him.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Ok.”

oOo

There were many things Y/N thought she understood, but Draco Malfoy being in her Physics C class was not one of them. She took pity and sat next to him as he fumbled his way through the first lecture. His notes, while neat, were littered with crossed out portions and question marks.

You do know there’s an eraser on your pencil, right? she jotted on a note that she sent his way. His brow furrowed and he seemed to tap at the end of the eraser for just a few moments before deciding otherwise and xing out another practice problem he’d done incorrectly. Symbols that she’d never seen before were scattered all throughout his notes.

Maybe the UK kids just learn stuff differently.

By the time that Physics came to an end, Y/N was eager to get away from the storm cloud that was brewing over Draco’s perfectly smoothed and infuriatingly pretty moonbeam colored hair. The amount of attention he was getting from all the other girls made Y/N want to jump off a cliff--suddenly everyone was her “best friend” “just wanting to check up on what happened over summer”. She was grateful to see the face of Lizzy, grinning and looking mischievous during their break period.

“You must be Draco,” said the redhead, a glint in her eyes. He looked a little scared.

“Er...yeah.”

“Mind giving us some privacy? Y/N and I have some urgent matters to discuss,” she continued, looking him up and down. Y/N attempted to ignore the twist in her gut as she watched him swallow and nod, turning away to go brood elsewhere. Once he was out of sight, Lizzy grabbed her arm and yanked her into the girl’s bathroom.

“It’s so funny how he’s following you around like a lost puppy,” Lizzy said. “Also, he’s gorgeous. If you don’t at least try to get some of that, then I’m never trusting your judgement again.”

“But, Li-”

“The boy’s a fucking walking Wattpad story cover. Dark, tragic past, unbelievably sharp jawline, rich parents, exotic accent....honestly, Y/N, I don’t know what else you could want.”

“Mom literally called him my host brother,” said Y/N. The bathroom was starting to smell suspiciously like cotton candy. “That’s wrong. On so many levels.”

“But you’re not related!”

“But it’s gross! And predatory! The kid doesn’t even know how to do basic algebra! I’m all he has!”

Lizzy’s eyebrow found its new home in the middle of her forehead. “You’ve gone absolutely batty if you think that every girl cursed with attraction to men in Cincinnati wouldn’t jump his skin at the chance. Use your head, queenie. He’s not alone. Shoot your shot.”

Y/N opened her mouth to serve back a retort--that was definitely there, thank you very much--but decided against it once she realized that the bathroom had become dead silent. “Um...maybe we can go over this later.” She flickered her eyes over to the line behind them that was now intently hanging on their every word. “I forgot I had to talk to the counselor.”

Lizzy was smirking as they exited the bathroom and began the search for Draco. It didn’t take long--the circle comprised of Heather and her friends was more than enough of a giveaway that he was about.

“Draco, sorry to make you wait,” Y/N called out. It took all her effort to abstain from cringing as her voice rang out across the group. Heather turned to send her a big smile.

“Hey Y/N! You didn’t tell me that Draco was from London!”

“He’s not,” she responded. “He’s from Wiltshire.”

“Wiltshire. Of course. That’s what I meant.”

Draco’s smile was tense as he looked down at Heather--who stood roughly 4 inches below him--but he was smiling, and that wasn’t something that Y/N was on the receiving end of frequently. She didn’t know whether to be offended or relieved.

“I’m sure. Break’s almost over, Draco. I can show you where the English department is before the time is up.”

He paused, looking down at the blonde grinning up at him. “Er, actually, Heather already offered to show me around for the rest of the day.”

“Yeah, for sure. I’ll see you in French.”

Y/N was shocked at the sheer amount of jealousy that rose up in her throat as she turned away and made her way to Art History---the only class Y/N and Draco didn’t share. The walk was strange. Being in solitude after having a gloomy British boy attached to her hip was understandably eerie. Because that’s all it was. Adjustment. Nothing else.

She settled in at a table full of her friends, namely Sylvia. The tall girl was always a bit whimsical, but Y/N found that she was a breath of fresh air compared to everyone else. It made sense that Sylvia would take Art History--her dark academic inspired aura and the perpetually hot mug of black coffee just screamed history nut.

“How’s your new brother?” she asked after the teacher had taken attendance. “I say that because I haven’t heard his name yet.”

“Ick, it’s gross to think of him as my brother,” Y/N responded. “And I know! We need to catch up. I’m sorry about not talking to you for a bit. The time difference was a bit weird during your trip.”

“It’s ok, I get it. I was away on family business, anyways. I didn’t expect you to spend your days staying up until the wee hours of the night to tell me all about your exchange student. Anyways. His name?”

“You’re gonna scream when you hear it, Vie,” she said. “Draco Malfoy. It’s so posh. You have no idea. It definitely suits him, though. He’s very...You good?”

Sylvia’s olive toned face looked a bit paler than usual. “Yeah. Yeah, I just remembered that I forgot to take the trash out this morning. I’ll have to text my mom about it.” She adjusted the wool cardigan that hung around her shoulders and came up looking composed. “Draco, huh? His parents must hate him.”

“At the very least! He’s so rude. And uptight. I can’t tell if it’s just a Brit thing or if it’s because he’s an asshole.”

Sylvia laughed. “I mean, when I was there over the summer, it was a different culture for sure. We’re by far louder. But I didn’t meet many mean ones. You must’ve just got a bad apple, then.”

“I guess so. He is pret--”

“Ladies, is there something you’d like to share with the rest of the class?”

“No, Mrs. Jensen,” Sylvia and Y/N said in unison.

oOo

“Thoughts, king?”

“I told you not to call me that.” Draco glared at her as he tried to open the passenger side door to find that it was locked tight. “Unlock? Please?”

“And I told you not to get cozy with ASB kids, yet here we are,” said Y/N as she slotted the key into the lock and turned.

“What’s it to you?”

“Nothing. I’m just looking out for you.” She slammed the door shut and threw her bag in the bag. The line of traffic to get out of the school was long and stuffy, and she was eager to just get it over with.

The wait was so hot that Draco peeled off his stupid formalish jacket that was on thin ice of being called a blazer and probably worth more than her car. Y/N tried to look away as his hair became slightly ruffled, but she couldn’t pry her eyes away. It was endearing, almost, how someone who could look so posh and serious could have ruffly hair--and hair that naturally light, too. She had asked him one night if it was dyed, and he scowled at her and told her the grammatically correct term was dead, and that his hair was alive, just like the rest of him, thank you very much. She dropped it.

Y/N finally rolled down her window after the AC simply refused to satisfy her, and the wind was a nice reminder to keep in her own lane. Draco was beautiful. There was no other way to put it. He had a feel of power to him, like he was capable of anything but just held it back. But he was just as inaccessible as he was pretty, and there was nothing she could do about that.

“Y/N?” He asked after a few moments of sitting in silence. “What’s Homecoming?”

“Who told you about that?”

“Heather. She asked if I had a date. Is that like a ball here?”

“She asked you if you had a date on the first day?”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck. ASB kids never do sleep, huh.”

“What?”

“Homecoming isn’t a ball. It’s like a...an…” Y/N paused as she saw Draco raise his eyebrows. “It’s, like, uh….Well I guess it is like a ball. An American one, though. Way less extravagant. It’s an excuse to get dressed up and run around the city. There technically is a dance, and all the ASB kids have to go, but literally no one else does but the underclassmen. Normally I go out with my friends and a date to somewhere fun and take pictures. And then get trashed afterwards.”

“Classy,” said Draco. “I think you can go now.”

A honk behind her emphasized his point as the space in between her and the car in front widened substantially.

“Thanks. Anyways, it’s not really a big deal. I’d suggest not going with Heather so you can skip out on the dance portion. Or if you want to go with her, get her to come with us into Cincinnati because I am not going to spend my last homecoming watching a grind circle.”

“A...what circle? And I don’t want to go with her.”

The relief Y/N felt was embarrassing. “Um...better if you don’t worry about it. You have a long time to figure it out anyways.”

He seemed satisfied with that answer, propping his elbow up on the center console. The pristine button up he was wearing had ridden up, exposing the pale skin and the bottom of the tattoo she had seen a hint of earlier. “Do you have a date?”

“Um. No, not yet. I don’t think anyone except for couples do yet. We have until the end of this month to figure it out, so I’m not too worried about it.”

He nodded as Y/N’s car finally left the school parking lot and began picking up speed.

“I’m assuming you had balls? At your posh boarding school?”

“Er…” Draco ran his hand through his hair, ruffling it further. “We only had one. It was when I was 14. We called it the Yule Ball.”

“Why only one?”

“It was for a special occasion. We had two other schools join us as well. It was quite a good time.”

“So every student only has one ball in their lifetime?”

“Of course not. Some of us--the ones from old families--have events like that regularly.”

“I’m sorry if this is overstepping my bounds,” began Y/N, noticing how he tensed up, “So you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. But, I’m just wondering, what is your family like?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like are they nice?”

“Oh.” The line in his forehead relaxed. “No. They wouldn’t like you.”

“Glad to hear it,” she said. “Do you like them?”

She heard the breath hitch in his throat. “I don’t know anymore.”

“I’m sure it’s hard to think about it when you feel like they’ve just shipped you off without anyone,” she added. “I’m really sorry, Draco. I know I’ve been a bit mean to you. I know that I’ll never be able to understand what you’re going through right now.”

The slight smile that spread across his face would’ve knocked her to her knees if she wasn’t already sitting down. “It’s okay. I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

The silence that awaited them for the rest of the journey was comfortable.

oOo

School began to pick up the pace after the first few days. Y/N got into the swing of homework and her extracurricular workload. Draco was having a bit more difficulty, she presumed, but he’d never admit to it. She took pity one evening and gave him her laptop opened to a Khan Academy tab for Physics and was pleased to see that he showed up to class the next day with completed homework. He asked to borrow her laptop on a much more frequent basis after that.

The routine they settled into had her heart leaping into her chest almost constantly--they’d eat breakfast together at the table, Y/N would try to ignore how pretty he looked across the table as they shared a pot of black tea (earl grey, which Y/N was thrilled to learn was his favorite as well), they’d get in the car, she’d write him notes in physics to help him (even though he never asked, he always smile and give a little shake of his head before unfolding them and intently staring at her writing), they’d drive home together and bitch about their French teacher, he’d retire to his room and do whatever pretty blonde Brits do in the afternoon, they’d meet unexpectedly at the same time in the late evening to have a final cup of tea, and then they’d go to bed and do it all over again.

It was difficult for her to admit, but Y/N was falling very quickly for Draco. It was gross, and wrong, and manipulative, and completely against the code of conduct for exchange families, but she couldn’t help but spend her days fantasizing about how his gold-spun hair would feel as she ran her fingers through it or how gently she’d trace her fingers around the tattoo on the soft flesh of his forearm…

But Y/N knew those thoughts weren’t right. And they would go away. Eventually.

“How’s it going?” Sylvia asked, effectively snapping her out of her thoughts. The Art History sub told them to go into independent study, whatever that meant. Y/N was not very good at either of those words.

“Pretty good. I can’t believe it’s been 3 weeks already,” she said. “It’s gonna be Halloween before we know it.”

“I can’t fucking waitttt,” said Sylvia. “I’m gonna be Wednesday Addams.”

“Again?”

“What else would I be? I get a new high collared black dress every year. It’d be a shame if it were going to go to waste. What are you gonna be?”

“One of the thousands of students finishing their UChicago ED app hours before the deadline.”

“You’re kidding. Can’t you just finish it the day before?”

“Where’s the fun in that? And, plus, I don’t have an idea as cool as Wednesday.”

Sylvia smirked as she opened up her planner and began to jot down something. “How’s Draco doing? I haven’t seen much of him lately. It seems like he never hangs out with us at break anymore.”

“Yeah, I ended up getting him connected with the Physics teacher. He’s getting tutored now. He thinks it’s all bullshit, but I don’t want to be the reason he doesn’t get into a good school.”

“Is that all you care about?” She smiled at Y/N. “Lizzy was telling me that you’re interested in him.”

“First of all, keep your voice down. Second of all, I’m not supposed to be, so I’m not.” Y/N hoped that the edge in her voice was convincing enough.

Her friend raised her eyebrows so dramatically that her glasses nearly slipped off her nose. “Y/N, who’s gonna hear about it. You guys are both going away at the end of the year anyways, and I’m sure he’s not going to be writing to his dear mum about his love life. If it’s consensual, there’s nothing wrong with it. I think it’d be good for both of you.”

“I see that, but let’s put me in his shoes right now.” Y/N shuffled in her seat and clasped her hands. “I’m rich. I’m British. I’m very hot. My parents throw extravagant balls for me and I kiss pretty girls that say water like ‘wota’. I’ve spent my life in silk and I only drink the finest teas. My family is so important that I had to be shipped off halfway across the world just to be safe. And now my incredibly expensive life has reached a peak because I’m sleeping with a random girl in Ohio that has run approximately 4 stop signs since I’ve met her.”

“You’re sleeping with Draco?”

Y/N turned to see Lauren, a wide-eyed, obnoxious, but well meaning girl staring at her. She heard Sylvia stifle a laugh behind her. “No. I was kidding.” The smile that she followed with was awkward and showed way too many teeth.

“Oh, okay,” said Lauren. “Do you know if he likes anyone?”

Sylvia’s smirk widened.

“No, actually, he’s a pretty private guy.” Y/N sent her another tense smile, and Lauren finally turned away.

“Jealous, huh?”

“Shut up, Vie. You know I wouldn’t go for him. Even if I had the chance.”

She just raised an eyebrow and smiled.

The afternoon brought its own set of struggles. Their French teacher had blown up at another student who had been caught cheating on their last test, and it was all Y/N could do but hold back her snickers until they were out in the parking lot.

“I can’t believe they still managed to conjugate their cheat sheet wrong.” Y/N was gasping for breath as she unlocked the car door and threw her stuff inside. Draco was watching from the passenger seat, his lips in a soft upturn. “Can you imagine? Oh my god.”

He just shook his head and turned to look out the window, but she could see the smile slowly stretching across his face. “Ridiculous. You could totally tell Monsieur enjoyed it, too. I bet he gets off on making kids like Joey cry.”

“I had a teacher like that,” he started. “He was a Poti-a chemistry teacher.”

“Oh? Did he ever attack you?”

“No. He liked me. Family friends and all.”

“Ah. I almost forgot that your family was rich and influential. Thanks for the reminder.” She reached across and lightly punched his shoulder. His smile, though still remaining, seemed to shrink. “Hey, what’s that in your bag?”

Y/N motioned to the cardstock peeking out of his nondescript black backpack that always seemed to fit more than it was meant to. She could make out a few words written in what looked like a bright red sharpie--something that did not exactly scream Draco Malfoy aesthetic.

He froze up. “Er. It’s from Heather. I think she called it a Homecoming ask?”

Y/N’s throat dried up to the point that no words would willingly make the climb from her diaphragm to her tongue; instead, she settled for giving him a little nod and what she hoped was a convincing smile.

“I told her I’d think about it,” he continued. “I remember you saying that the school dances sucked. So I let her know that I wasn’t sure yet.”

She nodded again. “Super cool. You can do whatever you want, though. You can come with my group if you’d like, but you’re welcome to go with Heather’s.”

“What? So you aren’t coming with me if I go with Heather?”

“Fuck no, dude. I don’t hate her, but I would way prefer to spend a night with my friends than some girl from my French class that only talks to me because she thinks you’re hot.”

The expression Draco made reminded Y/N that he would never get comfortable with American girls calling him hot. “Ok. Have you found a date yet?”

“Chad from Econ asked me yesterday.”

“Is that why my seat was covered in glitter?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you going with him?” Draco’s hand was clenched tight in a fist in his lap.

“I think so,” said Y/N, steeling herself and deciding to just go for it. “But, of course, if you asked me I would say no to Chad. Just out of principle. I am supposed to be your tour guide, after all.”

The only parts of him moving were the few stray wisps of his hair being pushed around by the AC going.

“But that’d be weird. I’d only expect you to take that up if you really didn’t want to go to the dance itself.” She swallowed and pulled out onto the main street, putting distance between them and the school. He was silent for a few moments. The quiet, normally comfortable between them, was stifling and strange. She pretended to ignore the way he was fiddling with his cuffs.

“Yeah, it could be,” was all he said before slumping against the window and closing his eyes.

Mrs. Y/L/N was sitting at the head of the coffee table when the two arrived home, carding between a stack of letters in front of her. The mug of something--probably that new decaf blend she hadn’t stopped raving about--was sitting lopsided on a coaster, just barely about to topple off the edge. She looked like she hadn’t moved for hours, the novel she had been previously reading sat face down to preserve the spot next to her no doubt lukewarm drink.

“Hey Mom,” Y/N said as she set her keys down. “Anything good?”

She looked up, her expression morphing from startled to happy. “Other than the college brochures? Nothing, except...hm, what’s this?”

Her well manicured hand pulled at a crimson envelope, with sloping writing that seemed to shimmer in the light.

To the Y/L/N Family, it read. The loopiness of the writing looked like it wiggled at the ends, but that had to be a trick of the light. It was dim in the kitchen during afternoons, after all.

“It looks cool, open it u--”

“No!”

Draco’s voice had never sounded so loud as it did then as he lunged across the kitchen, snatching it out of her mother’s hand and clutching it to his chest. “Er, it’s for me. I recognize the handwriting.”

“Cool, see you later,” said Y/N. She was up the stairs and slamming her door before either of her housemates could say another word. After the horrible embarrassment that was technically Draco’s rejection, she needed to be alone.

Even burying her face into her pillow and squeezing her eyes shut didn’t keep the scenes from their car ride at bay. She had been so stupid, so stupid. Why did she even think he wanted that? He was her brother, after all. Oh god, does he think we’re all from Alabama or something?

She wallowed for a few more mournful minutes before deciding that she had to pick herself up and handle it like an adult. After all, she was going to be 18 in just a few months. There was no excuse for her to act like a child anymore. And, plus, it wasn’t like she couldn’t just play this off as a pity invite. Yes,that’s what she’d frame this as if he ever asked her about it again. She felt bad for him was all it was.

Once satisfied with her internal dialogue, she rolled out of bed and made for the foyer where her bag was still on the table. She’d first walk on Legos barefoot before she had to let a stupid boy--especially one that didn’t know how to turn on their shower and had to ask for her help every time--come between her and her 4.0. Never.

Her thoughts were cut short, however, when she heard a new sound from his side of the hallway. She froze, listening closely.

Draco was crying.

#draco x reader #draco malfoy x reader #draco imagine #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy #draco #draco x you #draco x y/n #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco lucius malfoy #draco x oc #draco malfoy x oc

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alyblacklist · 4 years

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Ressler & Liz and the “light”

There’s been a lot of discussion/debate both here and on Twitter about JB’s recent end-of-season interview where he discussed that final Ressler/Liz scene of “Brothers” and said:

The original break of the story, [Ressler] did call Red and – and that’s what the original move – that’s what the move is, you know, and with where we were going in mind, it felt like maybe we need to – you know, it needs to be her that he calls and that’s actually my favorite scene in the whole episode. I thought she was fantastic and – and, um, their sort of relationship this season has been very unusual and – and as she’s sort of drifting away and - or closer to, you know, whatever is this sort of organic, you know, DNA part of her, he’s this like light that is – represents good and the Boy Scout and all the stuff and, and um, I think that’s why he’s sort of become more interesting to her, uh, more special in a way, because of the contrast, you know, that juxtaposition. I think it’s interesting, their relationship’s interesting.

Below are my thoughts on Jon’s reference to Ressler as a source of “light” for Liz and why I was happy to hear him say it and felt it was consistent both with the evolution of those characters and their relationship over the seasons. I welcome constructive discussion (and criticism), but it’s no secret that I am a Ressler fan, and a Keenler shipper, so if you absolutely hate one or both of those things, you probably won’t like this post (also fair warning - it’s a long post).

The show continually draws on the classic literary themes of light and dark, in which “light” typically represents good, positivity, happiness, hope etc. while “dark” typically represents bad, negativity, sadness, despair, etc. Each of the main characters have struggled internally with balancing the light and dark over the seasons but for purposes of this post, I am focusing on Liz and Ressler.

In Mako Tanida (1x16) when Ressler was hell-bent on revenge for Audrey’s death, Red warned him:

“Agent Ressler. Once you cross over, there are things in the darkness that can keep your heart from ever feeling the light again.”

In the back half of Season 5, when Liz was basically in the same situation that Ressler was in back in S1, Red similarly cautioned her in Ruin (5x09):

Red: I want you to promise me something. Liz: What? Red: That you’ll grieve. Liz: Of course I’ll grieve. What is this that you think I’m doing? Red: I think you’re running away from your problems when you should be facing them. I’m sure it feels like you’re staring into an abyss, but until you mourn, you won’t be able to cross it. Liz: What’s so great about crossing it? What’s on the other side? Peace? Tranquility? Red: Some. Liz: I prefer revenge. Red: That’s what I’m afraid of. Liz: Really? ‘Cause imagining what I’m gonna do to Tom’s killers is the only thing that gets me out of bed in the morning. Red: Don’t just go off and hide in the dark. Wherever you go, look for some light.

Red knows this struggle all too well, because he has already gone down that path. He’s already landed in the darkness, as he explained so eloquently to Liz in Luther Braxton (2x09):

Red: It may be hard for you to imagine, but I once had a relatively normal life– bills to pay, playdates, family, some friends, people to care about. Lost all that. Liz: Lost how? Red: In Mexico, there are these fish that have colonized the freshwater caves along Sierra del Abra.They were lost. They found themselves living in complete darkness. But they didn’t die. Instead, they thrived. They adapted. They lost their pigmentation, their sight, eventually even their eyes. With survival, they became hideous. I’ve rarely thought about what I once was. But I wonder if a ray of light were to make it into the cave, would I be able to see it? Or feel it? Would I gravitate to its warmth? And if I did, would I become less hideous?

These themes of light and dark also intersect with the themes of forgiveness, salvation and redemption. As Red explains to Liz in Tom Connolly (2x22):

I’m a sin eater. I absorb the misdeeds of others, darkening my soul to keep theirs pure.

And in The Kilgannon Corporation (5x07), Red explains to Liz how Dembe tries to save Red’s soul from the darkness:

Red: You ever wonder why Dembe stays with me? Why anyone so decent would spend his days at the side of someone so indecent? Liz: You saved him. He owes you his life. He protects you because you protected him. Red: No, Elizabeth. Dembe didn’t stay with me because he saw me as his savior. He stayed with me because he saw me for the man I really was – a man surrounded by darkness. No friends who could be trusted, no faith that loyalty or love could ever truly exist. I was– Well, I was younger then. Angrier. Dembe connected his life with mine to show me, that day and every day, that the world is not what I fear it to be. He is the light in the darkness. Living proof that there is another way, that life can be good, that people can be kind, that a man like me might one day dream of becoming a man like him. He pledged his life, offered it up as evidence that I was wrong about this world. Dembe guards my life because he’s determined to save my soul.

At the end of Ruin, Liz returns from Alaska and admits to Red that she’s still in a dark place:

Liz: I tried. I really did. I didn’t go looking for trouble. But it found me. And I’m glad it did. Red: What happened? Liz: I killed some men. Doesn’t matter that they were bad. That it was them or me. What matters is that I did it and I was good at it. And I didn’t lose any sleep over it. Red: You will. One of these nights you will. It’s just a matter of when. Liz: Maybe. Later. After I’ve crossed the abyss. But from the side I’m on now, all that matters is that I’m healed and – I’m back. And I’m coming for Tom’s killers. Like I said, I couldn’t keep my promise. Can you forgive me? Red: Yes. Will you be able to forgive yourself?

And in the next episode, The Informant, as Ressler is struggling with how to handle Prescott, Red also discusses forgiveness:

Forgiveness doesn’t mean accepting what you’ve done, Donald. It means understanding that the line dividing good and evil cuts through the hearts of all of us.

This is important for Ressler, who has struggled to accept that mixture of each, both in himself and in others. But by the end of the episode, Ressler is ready to choose the light, to do the right thing, to try to pull himself out of the darkness he’s been living in:

Red: You were preoccupied. Ressler: I was crazed. And convinced I should kill the man who shot her. Do you remember what you told me to do? Red: I told you to go home. You didn’t. Ressler: You said that once you cross over, there are things in the darkness that can keep your heart from ever feeling the light again. I didn’t go home, but I never crossed over. I never thanked you for that. Red: Nor should you. Your circumspection afforded me the opportunity to take care of Audrey’s killer myself. It was a win-win. Ressler: I didn’t want Prescott’s real name so that I could kill him. I wanted it so I could arrest him. Red: He goes to prison, so will you. Ressler: I know, but I’m in the darkness, and doing the right thing is the only way I’ll ever feel the light again.

Against Ressler’s wishes, Red acts as sin eater again (as does Cooper in accepting Ressler’s confession but refusing to pass it through the proper channels). Because in Red’s view:

Sins should be buried like the dead. Not that they may be forgotten, but that we may remember them and find our way forward nonetheless.

In Season 7, in Brothers (7x17), we learn that Ressler has an even larger skeleton in his closet. Once again, he is concerned about doing the “right thing,” because he can’t live with the secret hanging over him any longer. This is his way forward, back into the light.

Ressler: Well, say you agree with me about how we should handle this. I mean, we arrest those bastards who took the car – for theft, for extortion, for all the other poison they pump into the city. And then after that – my brother and I come clean about what we’ve done. Liz: I don’t know that I do agree. After the story you told me, after what you’ve been through – both of you– Ressler: No, we have to do the right thing. It’s important. Liz: Of course, yes, I will help you. I just want to make sure you’re prepared to face the consequences when the FBI gets their hands on that vehicle and that body. Because if we go in and arrest those people, eventually, the FBI’s gonna open up that trunk. Ressler: And find Tommy Markin. I know. Liz: Are you really okay with dealing with the consequences of that? Ressler: I’ve been running from this my whole life. I need it to be done. We both need it to be done.

This time, Liz acts as his sin-eater and makes the body disappear. So how does this all fit together in terms of Ressler and Liz and their relationship?

Liz has always seen Ressler as a good person, as someone on the side of light rather than dark. Even when he was hunting her as a fugitive in Season 3, she still defended him in Eli Matchett (3x03) after Red questioned why she reached out to Ressler for help:

Red: Ressler is a law-enforcement robot. The FBI winds him up– Liz: That’s not true. He’s a person. He’s a good person. Red: Look at me. You need to let that go, Lizzy. I have survived for a very long time now, and I assure you, I didn’t do it by relying on the goodness in people.

At the same time, she’s questioning whether she herself is still a good person.

Liz: I shot a cop. Red: Yes, you did. Liz: And killed the Attorney General of the United States. Red: Yes. And when you did that you crossed a threshold, leaving your world, entering mine. Bad things are gonna find you now, Lizzy. This life has a mind and a momentum of its own. That’s a reality you need to accept. Bad things happen to good people. Liz: Am I a good person? I’m not so sure anymore.

By the time we get to Season 7, and Brothers, Ressler is the one calling Liz the better person as he prepares to turn himself in:

You know, Keen– I didn’t like you when we first met. I was wrong. You’re a good agent. You’re the kind of agent that – people join the FBI to try to become. But you’re also a good person. Much better person than I am. So, whatever happens out there today, the Task Force is gonna be in good hands with you.

But she doesn’t let him - as she explains later, for herself, not for him, because she needs the peace and stability that he provides in her life, she needs that “tiny island of calm,” amidst the dark forces that surround her.

Liz: Have you looked at my life? I’m a widow and a single mom. A marionette – with a high-functioning sociopath pulling my strings. My grandfather tried to murder my mother, and my mother is a legendarily lethal Russian spy – who moved in next door without even telling me who she was. I mean it. Have you looked at my life? I mean, really taken a close look. Because it’s like I’m in the middle of a monsoon that’s constantly threatening to drown me in bad news. And somewhere in the middle of that FEMA disaster of a life– Somewhere is just – a tiny island of calm. And if that weren’t there, I would be swept out to sea. Ressler: No, that’s never gonna happen– Liz: It would if you weren’t here. Ressler: But I am. And it won’t. Come here. It’s never gonna happen. Not on my watch.

Ressler has consistently represented peace and calm and stability to Liz amidst the chaos. It’s there from the very beginning when she clings to him after the Stewmaker ordeal at the end of 1x04, it’s there again when they hug in Mato 4x02 after he shows up at the Summer Palace, it’s there in Dr. Bodgan Krilov (4x19) when she envisions a peaceful future for Ressler watching the sunset from his lake house while Hitchin goes to jail:

Liz: I didn’t do it for you. I did it for him. Hitchin: Fair enough, but you did it, and for that, I’m grateful. Liz: Donald Ressler represents what’s best about this country. He’s loyal and honest, and he believes that no one – no one – is above the law. And I believe that one day, you’ll be the one being dragged off in handcuffs. And he’ll be walking into his lake house to watch the sunset.

It’s there in Season 5, the first episode that they share a meaningful scene together after Ruin, and The Informant, when Ressler is talking about “silver linings,” in the Capricorn Killer (5x16) as he wraps his arm around her.

So for me, Jon calling Ressler a "light that is – represents good and the Boy Scout and all the stuff” is completely consistent with all of that has come before between these two characters and isn’t something Jon just made up out of whole cloth. More importantly, the fact that he characterizes Ressler as “more interesting” to Liz now because of the contrast, and the juxtaposition between her darkness and his “light” is also encouraging to me insofar as I don’t want to see the show end violently - I want to see it end with Red and Liz at peace and with Liz achieving the calm, normal life she’s always wanted (and which Red has promised her for seasons now she will have in the end). So the fact that she’s still interested in light and peace and calm, despite her step further into the darkness at the end of 7.19, is an encouraging sign to me that Liz is not entirely lost.

Back in Season 3, in a midseason interview with The Blacklist Exposed between episodes 3x08 and 3x09, Jon said that Liz “is definitely on a dark path...and I think she will continue to be,” and that “it’s a battle for her soul, it’s a battle for can she survive going through this process.”

There’s a conversation between Ressler and Cooper in the comics (The Arsonist, #6) that illustrates that Ressler’s concern back then wasn’t just preventing Liz from being physically killed, or “beating” Red, but more a fear of losing her to Red’s world - that the darkness would overtake her.

Ressler: I want to bring her in while she’s still...her. Every second she’s out there Reddington’s turning her into someone else. Cooper: That may be, but it’s your job to catch her Donald. It’s not your job to save her.

Four seasons later, I think it’s still a battle for Liz’s soul, but an internal battle that has never really gone away. The battle is not Reddington turning her into someone else, but rather own struggle against her dark impulses, her own struggle to fight for some light, some peace, some calm in her life amidst the chaos. And for that, I think she needs someone to help pull her back from the brink before she takes that step too far, someone to remind her that there is another way.

I hope going forward into next season, that will be Ressler, who will draw on his own experience battling his own demons and help prevent Liz from slipping into the abyss. Does that mean that Keenler will end up a romantic couple in the end? Not necessarily (though personally I hope so). But I take Jon’s comments as a positive sign that Ressler will be a positive force in her life as she steps into yet another battle.

Wine for all those who made it this far!

#the blacklist #donald ressler #elizabeth keen #keenler #jon bokenkamp #theories #long post #really long post #I resisted gifs and images to try to keep it shorter

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gaiapaia · 3 years

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Kermit and Friends: Lizzie with Flesh-n-Bone and Onision

Fun fact about Gaia Paia: I grew up a fan of hip-hop music as far back as I can remember. It started innocently enough at 5 or 6-years-old when MC Hammer and Vanilla Ice were at the top of the charts. Fast forward a few years later, Bone Thugs-N-Harmony would release Crossroads and I was hooked from that point forward. My mom let me get the single on cassette since there were no curse words and the song was about Heaven... I played that thing non-stop.

So when Elisa told me Flesh-N-Bone from Bone Thugs-N-Harmony would be a guest this week, I was pretty excited!

Flesh did not disappoint. He was open and candor about his feelings regarding the current political environment in America. More importantly, Flesh shared about his past troubles with the law and how he lost 10 years of his life to prison due to a false conviction. Despite that and his very rough childhood, Flesh remains a big positive ball of energy just looking to improve the World in the way he personally believes it should be improved. He was very inspiring, honestly.

Flesh has a beautiful recent single/music video out called Dedication, which you can check out for yourself by clicking this sentence. It’s very Crossroads like, so any fan of that song should love this one.

Flesh was absolutely tremendous and it’s awesome to see him become one of Kermit’s new friends. I have a good feeling we’ll be seeing him back on the show very soon. Maybe we can get him to perform a live rendition of Dedication!

Lizzie Harding also joined Kermit and Friends this week. She was featured on Andy Dick’s first KAF appearance back in January (you can read about that here) but it was Elisa’s intention with this episode to allow Lizzie to get into more detail about Lizzie’s unbelievable story.

Lizzie’s story includes her being falsely arrested multiple times, being held in solitary confinement for 5 days despite never once seeing a day in court, having her kids kidnapped from her, her husband allegedly being a pedophile while her kids remain with him, her rental house being burned down this past week after appearing on Infowars, and having all her money stolen by her husband.

If this sounds like an absolutely crazy story.... it is. Most of the chat didn’t believe Lizzie’s tales but I was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt because A) she was so sincere and passionate, and B) her husband is an extremely successful, high profile lawyer in the state of New York. If anyone can get away with truly heinous crimes, it’s people in his powerful position.

However, after dealing with Lizzie first hand... I’m starting to believe she creates delusions about her situation. Don’t get me wrong, Lizzie genuinely believes what she’s saying, but that doesn’t necessarily make it true (if it is all true, I would feel horrible about saying this stuff... this is why #BelieveAllWomen is a thing).

A good while after Lizzie’s interview, Elisa would play an Eric masturbation video as she’s been doing every week. Lizzie flipped her lid and started texting Elisa in a very harsh manner, saying we promised Lizzie that there would be no sexuality on the show. That is 100% a false statement by Lizzie.

I talked to Lizzie after the show and told her had we knew something like that video would offend her, we would have put it off for a week. Lizzie told me to read our past messages to prove she warned us, so I did and there was nothing about that or anything close to it... yet, she still believes we had this conversation that we never had even though she cannot provide a screenshot of the things she claims we discussed.

Regardless of all that, I wish Lizzie well and hope she gets in a better place soon, both mentally and physically. She’s in a lot of pain right now and that’s always sad to see. Plus, Lizzie was an amazing guest before jumping off the rails, sharing her compelling story with unbridled passion. I doubt we see her on KAF again but she’s someone we will NEVER forget.

Onision made his return to Kermit and Friends this week as well if you can’t already tell from the title. He mainly ruffled Flesh and Lizzie’s feathers by questioning their stories and political opinions. Not to say Onision was disrespectful by any means... he was not, but they did not like his line of questioning, especially Lizzie. However, Onision was terrific because Elisa’s not the type to challenge and question someone on their beliefs or the stories they tell. I think there’s great potential in Onision bringing that kind riveting content to Kermit and Friends regularly if he chooses to become a mainstay like I hope he does.

Everything about this episode was a rollercoaster blast except for one part.

Elisa admitted that she checked herself into the hospital a few days ago. Apparently she had some serious chest contusions and was having trouble breathing. After not finding anything wrong internally, the doctors chalked it up as an anxiety attack after forcing Elisa to stay there for over 8 hours.

To give you a timeline of events... last week, Elisa finally had enough of Andy Dick after he moved in for a few hours and treated her like dog crap. Or did she? It wasn’t 24 hours after last week’s show when Elisa was tweeting “Hi” to Andy, trying to get his attention. It was about 24 hours after that when Elisa was on a date with Andy on his Instagram stories. Then about 48 hours later, Elisa is getting checked into the hospital thanks to the anxiety she claims Andy has brought into her life.

So what happened on that date and the days following? Unfortunately, we didn’t get any answers. Maybe we will next week. But I’m truly fed up with seeing Andy bring so much heartache to Elisa’s life.

Elisa wrote this very beautiful song and made a sweet video tribute to Andy and played it during the show. Why? Why does he deserve that? Maybe it’ll help give Elisa a sense of closure and she’ll be able to move on from him. Maybe not. If so though, then I’m all for it, but part of me doubts that’s the case.

Unfortunately, Elisa is not a fan of my take on Andy right now, which is that she needs to stop trying to help someone who doesn’t want to help himself and who doesn’t treat her kindly. Elisa needs to focus on HER mental health and HER personal hardships rather than burdening herself with Andy’s, which just piles on and on relentlessly until boom... you’re being checked into a hospital. It will only get worse if she keeps putting effort into this guy.

Andy’s lover Lucas called into the show to try to pawn off Andy to Elisa, doing his best to guilt trip Elisa into taking Andy back. To Elisa’s credit, she told Lucas no and it seemed like she meant it. However, last week it seemed like she meant it when Elisa said she was done with Andy, so who knows if she’s serious this time.

It’s very tough for me to watch Elisa destroy herself all because of this poisonous clown Andy Dick. I guess you could say I should take my own advice and stop trying to help someone if they’re not willing to help themselves. The difference is, I’ve loved and supported Elisa for 6 years. I’ve been there for her at times when I know for a fact no one else was there for her. Not because I want anything from Elisa, but just because I genuinely love this woman and I want to see a beautiful/wonderful soul like her be happy.

Elisa has known Andy for not even 6 months. She loves a version of him in her head that does NOT exist. She cannot turn Andy into the person she wants him to be, and the harder she tries, the more heartbreak and devastation it’s going to bring to her life. So I pray Elisa can find the strength to move on from him and any other person in her life that’s dragging her down.

Moving on... Johnny B did a great karaoke performance of What A Wonderful Word by Louis Armstrong, Laurie was back to do the KAF Wrap-Up Show even though she had no clue who Flesh-N-Bone is and didn’t want to look him up, Kermit made a new friend named Alex G, Sharmin Smith went on a passionate rant about COVID, and Hud Isaacson fell asleep during the show with his new girlfriend by his side.

Let me just reiterate that this was a classic episode. I really mean it. Flesh was awesome, Lizzie was mind-blowing, Onision was perfect, and the chat was the most active it’s been since the Spreecast days. I don’t like kissing the ass of chat because sometimes they think they’re more important than they actually are... but they deserve to have their asses kissed after yesterday’s show! Chat was absolutely on fire and that’s really all the validation you need to know that this Kermit and Friends episode was a very special one.

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chillassimagines · 4 years

Text

Behind These Doors - Landon Kirby Smut

(REQUESTED)

Watching Landon fly with his wings in full fire mode was absolutely entrancing. Landon obviously wasn’t a very graceful human, but he looked absolutely flawless as a Phoenix. Watching him learn how to control it was the only thing reminding you that he was still your little dork, because when he wasn’t gliding across the sky, he was knocking into trees and even falling back down to earth.

“Babe, why don’t we give this a break for today. I don’t know how many more times I’m able to watch you “fall from grace” as you call it.” You called up to him. He sighed and slowly came back down to earth on both feet in one piece. You walked up to him as his flames went up into dust.

“No matter how many times I fall, when I get back up into the air, I feel invincible.” You smiled and placed your hand at the nape of his neck, fiddling with his curls.

“You’re so cute. Remember Landon, please don’t try practicing without someone here, you are still very breakable.” You winced inwardly as you remembered when he broke his nose. It was all sorts of messed up looking and he was in a lot of pain. He asked you to spell the pain away, but no way were you going to break his nose back in place. So, he had MG break his neck so he would die and come back with a perfectly normal nose. You preferred not to go through a similar situation again though.

“Leave me alone, super wolf healer.” He laughed as he put his forehead to yours. You joined in with his contagious grin.

“My bark is as equally strong as my bite, so you’re best off to listen.” You stated seriously. He cocked an eyebrow up.

“Oh really now?” Those words were fighting words. Landon knew as well as you that when those exact words were spoken in that tone with that face...you got extra hot.

“Can you guys chill that out? I’m getting uncomfortable.” Lizzie spoke up from her lawn chair a few feet away. Lizzie was a good copilot for Landon, with her magic she’d held his take offs and his come downs. She just wasn’t always available, so her time was precious.

“Geez, uh, I’m sorry Lizzie. I didn’t mean to um, make that, uh-“

“Calm down little grizzly head,” Lizzie rose from her chair and patted Landon’s head of curls as she walked past. “I’ll see you guys later!” She called over her shoulder walking away. Landon’s cheeks were pink, but you were on fire.

“I really am the worst at timing things.” He whispered as he watched her walk off. You extended your claws and ran them lightly down Landon’s neck, causing him to shiver at the sensation.

“You really, really are.” You rasped as you felt your wolf coming over you. Landon’s eyes widened slightly.

“You know, I don’t know when I’ll get over those.” He pointed at your eyes and you were sure they were shining bright yellow.

“Landon, you know you can’t just say that!” You grumbled as you felt your wolf and hormones mixing up a storm. Landon cupped both sides of your face.

“Hey, hey, calm down, breathe-“

“You need to do something.” You attempted to get your breathing under control.

“O-Okay, let’s just get back to my room.” He grabbed your hand and started walking back to the school. You knew that would take way too long.

“Fly, goddammit.” You pulled him to your chest and wrapped your arms around his waist. He nodded and spread his fiery wings. You only prayed he wouldn’t fall or drop you.

“Take it all off.” Landon mumbled as he closed the door to his room and locked it. On the way over your wolf had some fun taunting Landon. With touches, words, and things that had him matching your anxious energy. You followed his order with no hesitation.

“Landon.” You whispered as he gripped your waist harshly when you only were able to strip down to your underwear. Couldn’t finish the job if he wouldn’t let you go.

“I change my mind, get on the bed.” He then captured your top lip in a dirty kiss before releasing you. When you had first had sex with Landon it was a sweet awkward. You both knew what you wanted to do, but the execution was far from the dream. However, as time went on you both learned from each other, gained knowledge from outside sources (Lizzie and Rafael), and Landon opened himself up when you were intimate. Few things actually phased him when he was in this element.

And it was hot.

You sat on the bed and backed up onto the middle as Landon removed his shirt. You were damn near butt naked, but you didn’t care about the fairness, because you were still on fire. He moved to hover over you before pressing his lips to yours again. You held onto his soft curls as you made out. One hand moved to your side and moved to cup your breast. It made you want to howl, because the wolf in you was fueling this desire.

“Landon, please.” You broke from his kisses, but his lips soon found the valley between your breasts. His lips felt cold against your raging hot body and it was exhilarating. He traveled lower to the hem of your pink panties and you knew what he was up to. “Don’t tease.” You begged, raising your hips up to his face. He smiled softly and looked up at you.

“Only because you said please.” With his thumb he gathered your panties to the side and brought his mouth to your core.

“Yes! Landon!” This was his favorite move. He liked the look of you still in your underwear while he made you come undone. You had no idea if what was an actual kink, but he treated it like one. It turned him on to no end for unknown reasons. “God, you’re so good at this it’s, no fair.” You whimpered our your two last words.

His response was him humming against your beating clit. Your thighs were slowly closing in on his head, and your hands buried in his forest of curls made sure that he wouldn’t be going anywhere.

“I’m so close!” You rasped out again, feeling your wolfish urges becoming sated slowly. Your stomach was in so many knots for this boy and his mouth.

“Cum, Y/N.” He managed to break away briefly before diving back in to finish you off. You raised your wrist to your mouth and bit down as you came, fighting from hollering. You rocked your hips slowly into his face as you came down.

“Everytime, I dont know how you do it.” You breathed out in satisfaction as he rose to his knees. You readied yourself for him to pull down his bottoms by hooking your legs around his waist, waiting for him to pull them down and enter you. It was almost routine, and you had not one problem with it. At you readying yourself for the next position, Landon seemed to not be with it.

“We’re gonna do something different, babe.” You raised your brows and Landon flipped you over like a sack of potatoes. He pushed your thighs forward, making your ass rise in the air. He ran his hands up your back, applying pressure in his thumbs for a brief massage. Your face was in fact pressed to the bed and your ass was up. You were in shock at this turn of events you couldn’t bring yourself to say much.

“What are you doing?” Seemed like a reasonable question, right? Apparently you were wrong.

“Stay put and find out.” Your eyes widened like saucers. Landon was never outwardly dominant like this and it had your tummy doing flips. His hands placed themselves on your ass cheeks and began massaging them slowly. His thumbs would slowly inch towards your slit at every motion and the anticipation was killing you.

You were so glad he didn’t have súper hearing, at least not yet, because your heart was like a rock concert right now.

“Different’s good right? Exciting. Behind these doors I’m usually different for you in this situation. Behind these doors you make me feel just as invincible as flying. Free...like I can do anything. Like I can make you come apart while I do anything.” Those words reignited your flame and you knew he sensed it.

“I-I’m ready to find out.” The room fell into silence when you said that. It didn’t last for long before you filled it with your moans again. Landon pulled your panties to the side once more and ran two fingers down your slit. “Landon, I’m going to explode.” You pleaded.

“I know.” He answered shortly before rubbing your clit.

“Ahh, shit.” You whimpered, grinding your ass back into his rotating fingers. You felt his other hand release your panties leaving his fingers trapped inside of them as he continued pleasuring you. You heard the ripping of plastic and you mentally cursed yourself for not even thinking of a condom.

“Tell me if it gets uncomfortable.” He leaned over your back moments later, his naked chest pressing into your skin. You couldn’t barely comprehend what he said while you were lost in the pleasure. But the head of his member slipping inside of you sure woke you up.

“Landon!” You cried, muffling your voice in a pillow. He thrusted into you, not letting up on your clit. You felt yourself repeatedly clench around him and it matched up with his grunts and moans he muffled against your back. “Faster, please.” You groaned as he angled his hips in an upward motion, hitting you exactly where you needed him. He sped up at your request and feeling the sensation of his breath along your back gave your heightened senses a push.

“You close? Because, fuck I’m so close.” He asked before pressing a kiss to your skin. You angled your hips just right to rock back into him while moaning out. “I’ll take that as a “hell yes, Landon”.” You smiled and moaned once more as you clenched around him so tightly it made his thrusting pause. You felt his thighs vibrate against your ass and it was the most empowering feeling ever. “Y/N, relax for me, I can barely move.” He pulled his fingers away from your clit and moved the panties even further out of his way.

“Sorry baby.” You whispered and took a deep breath, trying to relax yourself. It was quite hard to do with a fully erect man inside of you.

“No, no, no, don’t be sorry.” He whispered and began pressing kisses everywhere on your back as you calmed down. He was able to slowly begin thrusting inside of you at a slow pace and you felt consumed by it.

“I’m there, I’m there, Landon.” You whimpered once more letting your head comfortably press into the pillows as you basked in your orgasm.

“Good, good.” He cooed before he gave you a particularly sharp thrust. You gasped out as you felt the pressure of his release against your walls. He pulled out and moved from on top of you to stand and throw away the condom. His pants hung low on his waist as he made his way back to your collapsed body. He laid next to you and moved your hair out of your face.

“You’re so pretty.” You both said at the same time. Landon raised an eyebrow and you bursted into laughter.

“You are something else, Y/N.” You scooted closer into his chest and moved his hand to rest on your bare bottom.

“You are someone else sometimes, Landon. I love it just like I love you.”

#imagines #the vampire diaries #tvd #the originals #the cw #smut #landon kirby #landon kirby imagines #landon kirby imagine #landon kirby smut #tvd smut #legacies #legacies smut #the originals smut #landon kirby legacies #aria shahghasemi

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heathsbitch · 4 years

Text

Treat You Better ➳ PEAKY BLINDERS

xxiv. DECISIONS, DECISIONS

The words rang through her like a bullet through flesh. The last time she had seen her father, it hadn't gone very well. He had hit her, and Finn came swooping in and rescued her from his filthy clutches.

But, somehow, she found herself wanting to see him again. Ivy wanted him to explain why he did everything he did in full detail.

The girl followed the Shelby brothers into the kitchen where Polly, Lizzie and Esme sat. Polly was slouched in the mahogany chair, a damp towel draped over her eyes. She had a hangover from yesterday's protests. Ivy giggled to herself, remembering the drunken state of the woman.

She quickly found a spare seat opposite the woman and sat down. She needed to think about what Tommy had said in more depth. The man had begun to speak and people had begun to move around the kitchen but Ivy paid no mind. She was lost in her thoughts; a mindless daydream of a fantasy she hoped would come to pass...

A happy family.

If only...

Ivy wondered what life would have been like if her parents had stayed together and her brother hadn't been pulled from her. Would it have been everything she had dreamt of? Or would have been just the same pain she had experienced with just her and her father?

No matter how many times she asked herself these questions, she would never know the answers. But if she could spend just a small amount of time with her father, maybe it wouldn't be as bad as she remembered. Maybe they would finally be able to tell the truth to each other; the whole truth.

But for now she could only dream.

"Ivy." Tommo's deep voice pulled the girl out of her day dream. "I think Miss Solomons is a little bit hungover." Lizzie said with a wink as she left the room, Esme was quick behind her. Tom smirked, as did Polly. "Sorry, I was..." Ivy looked for an excuse but she was lost for words.

"Can you give me and Polly a minute?" Thomas asked. The girl hastily stood up from her chair and nodded, making her way towards the betting den. "And, Ivy," She stopped in her tracks and turned to look at the man. "I'd like to speak with you once I'm finished. It's about Alfie." Ivy nodded again, slower this time before exiting the kitchen.

She made her way to her office, unsure whether or not she had uncompleted work to do. "Finn!" Ivy exclaimed as she was met with the sight of his auburn hair. He stood up from the chair that was sat neatly under her desk. "Ivy." He replied with a small smile.

Discomfort filled the room. The last time the pair had spoke, Michael had interrupted them and was slightly aggressive in his approach. But nevertheless, Ivy returned the smile and gestured for Finn to sit back in his chair.

Ivy's heart pounded so hard against her chest she was worried that Finn would be able to see it. Little did she know that Finn felt the same way.

The girl walked over to the opposite side of the dark wood desk and sat down in her own seat. "How have you been, Ivy?" Finn questioned as he lent forward in his chair to rest his forearms on the table.

Despite the question being completely normal, Ivy found herself being taken aback by his words. Finn was always protective, but he never was one for words. "I'm okay?" She spoke but her words were phrased as a question.

"We haven't talked about the day that Grace died and the day that Tom ran away to Wales," Finn began to explain. Ivy tensed in her chair. That was when she had her breakdown and the day that she had entirely lost it with Thomas. "You've been different, doll. Loud noises make you jump. When people shout at each other, you cry,"

He listed off the things that had changed within Ivy. It was almost as if a switch had been flipped. She was still the same girl as before. Only, the darkness had begun to take over.

And it was swallowing her whole.

"You fucking lost it with Tom." His words came out quieter than before, his eyes were cast to the desk in front of him. "H-how did..." Ivy struggled to get her words out. How did Finn know about the argument she had with Tommo?

"I saw you. With Michael. When you came out of his office, you were crying and there was blood on your hands. You were sat hugging Michael. He was helping you, I think." He was almost hissing by the end of his explanation, rage slipping through his veins.

"He wanted me to kill my father. Tom wanted me to shoot my own fucking father, how could I not shout at him?" Ivy had misunderstood his anger. "I'm not angry about fucking Tom," He launched from his chair, his hands buried in his previously slick hair. Ivy flinched, tears threatening to slip from her eyes. She hated arguing.

Finn slowly approached Ivy as she turned in her chair to face the boy. He crouched down and took her small hands in his large ones. "I'm not angry about Tom. I know how insensitive he can be." His voice was soft and gentle, his eyebrows furrowed as he gazed up at Ivy from his position on the floor.

"Why are you mad, then?" She was quiet when she spoke, she didn't want another outburst. The boy closed his eyes and carefully thought about what he was going to say next. "Michael," The word hung in the air, suspended in silence.

Ivy's heart dropped. 'How could he know about Mickey? What does he know about Michael?' Questions flashed across the girl's mind before she could form them into real words.

"You're probably just friends, and I'm probably over-reacting, but I just want to double check. You just..." He took a deep breathe before continuing his rant. "You just seem close." Finn's bright and watery eyes flickered between their conjoined hands and Ivy's face.

The girl didn't know what to say. She could tell Finn everything and risk destroying whatever it was between them. Or, she could lie to protect Finn, to prevent him from doing something that he'd regret later. But if he ever found out, he would be fuming. Was it worth the risk?

"I see him as a brother, Finn. Nothing else," She spoke with a warm smile, despite the infidelities pouring out of her mouth. "I promise there is absolutely nothing between us."

'How could I do that? He deserves the truth!' Ivy scolded herself after she had finished with her lies. Finn let out another breath, a sweet sigh of relief. "Good," He whispered, smiling down at their hands so he wasn't making eye contact.

"It's just that, Ivy, I lo-"

But their time together was cut short. Again. This time, by no other than Tommy Shelby. "Ivy, we need that chat. Now." He said the last word to Finn, completely disregarding any respect for the remnants of the previous conversation.

"We can talk later, Finn." Ivy beamed at the teen. He nodded and left without another word. Tommo gave the teen a small smile before he left the room. The man approached Ivy, his lips pressed into a thin line. "Ivy," Tom's deep voice sliced through the silence of the office. His hand stretched out to the chair in front of Ivy, pulling it back slightly so he could sit down.

She faced Tom, her back straightened and stiff. "I need you to stay calm," Even more nerves filled the girl. What could Tom possibly say that would make Ivy freak out?

"I need you to move in with Alfie again."

"Fuck off."

Ivy slammed her hands down on her desk and stood up, fury raging through her. She turned to face the wall of her office, her back towards Thomas. She had been told that they needed Alfie but could she bring herself to live with him again? "We need your father for a job, Ivy! We need him to calm down and we need to know if we can trust him. Ivy, did you hear me?"

"Yes," Her voice was timid and low. The girl thought back to earlier that day. "Maybe if I spent some more time with him, it wouldn't be as bad as I remembered." The words flashed through her head, a thought she had had whilst Tommo was talking to Polly about the strike the day before.

Ivy knew she didn't have a choice. After already disobeying Tom's orders once, she couldn't do it again. Besides, maybe she could tame the beast she called father.

Thomas had been speaking whilst she had been thinking but she wasn't listening.

"I'll do it," Her words left her mouth at no more than a whisper. "I'll do it."

The pair had talked through their plan. Ivy would stay with her father and try to calm him down so the Shelbys could use him with the Russians. She would also spy on him and collect information about his business for Thomas.

They had discussed what her excuse would be. She couldn't just turn up on Alfie's doorstep without an explanation. He would just simply turn her away. Ivy had suggested that she would run away, again. She would tell Alfie that Tom wanted her to kill him and she refused. The girl knew that it wouldn't be difficult to act as that situation had already taken place, just without the running away.

Ivy would be lying if she said she wasn't nervous, she was terrified. She knew that the truth about her father would come out in one way or another. Ivy didn't want Tom to know, she couldn't let him know. But only time would tell...

Two days after the plan was discussed, it was put into place. Ivy was stood on her father's doorstep, rain pounded down on her small frame. She had managed to conjure up some fake tears to make it look like she had actually run away. Tom had dropped her off at the end of the street with a small, "Good luck." before he began his drive back to Birmingham.

Her small fist shaking, she knocked on the door.

The maid had opened it. She recognised Ivy instantly. "Mr Solomons," She called to her master. "There's somebody here to see you." The girl was glad that she didn't mention her name, she wanted to see the surprise on her father's face. Heavy footsteps came booming down the corridor, grunts following close behind.

And there he stood, in all of his menacing glory.

Alfie towered over the girl, as he always had. His hair was stuck up in various positions, rings scattered over his hands, his shirt crinkled and un-tucked; he looked a mess. But, this was Alfie Solomons. Messy was his 'thing'.

"Ivy." His voice came out as a deep grumble that reverberated through his broad chest. Shock was laced into it as well, he was not expecting his daughter back on his doorstep, not after what had happened the last time they saw each other. "Can I come in?" Ivy squeaked, doing her best at acting like she had just run away.

Her father took a step back from the door, allowing her space to enter her old house. The man's brow was furrowed in utter confusion; he couldn't figure out why his daughter had come back to him, especially after what he had done.

Timidly, she found her way into the living room with assistance from the small maid. "Thank you." Ivy croaked as the maid helped her sit down. "Thanks," Alfie thanked the maid. "Now fuck off," The girl flinched at his words. He was always so harsh, not matter who he was speaking to.

Her father gradually made his way to the sofa and sat down next to his beloved daughter. "What are you doing here?" His voice was almost like a growl. Like a bear preying on a small, innocent dove. But Ivy wasn't innocent.

"Tom," The girl began. "H-he wanted to me to kill you. But, but I said no and I ran." Fake tears continued to pour out of the girl's crystal eyes as she clutched onto her sleeves. "All the way from Birmingham?" Alfie was still as confused as before.

"No. We were doing a job downtown and I took my chance." Silence filled the room once again. Ivy's gaze was focused on the rug that layed tattered across the floor. She couldn't believe she was back in her house. It had felt like so long since she had been there. Alfie's cold eyes burned holes into his daughter, his glare was menacing.

"I will fucking kill that gypsy scum." He hissed. "Don't. He'll kill you first. You're the only person I can trust. Please don't go." Her words were rushed. The longer she spoke, the more likely she would expose herself.

As more tears came falling from her eyes, she realised that they were no longer fake. Ivy had been holding in all of her emotions for a long time and she hadn't, truly, let them all out. Sobs racked her body, but she didn't dare look at her father.

"Oh muffin," Alfie's voice was soft; surprisingly soothing. He wrapped his large arms around the girl and pulled her in for a hug. Ivy could not stop crying, no matter how hard she tried to stop. She wanted her father back, she wanted her family back and together, she wanted to be with the Shelbys, she wanted to be with Finn...

She wanted to feel better, to stop feeling the constant pain she had always felt.

She wanted so many things she knew she could never have. And that was the real cause of the pain. Not her father, not Tommy or any other physical creature. The realisation that she would never be able to have all of these things. She would have to chose. But that decision could wait.

Now was a time to heal broken bonds. And to spy on the man that she begged she could fix.

Alfie lent back on the sofa, Ivy still between his strong arms. She rested on his chest. Her tears had slowed down but she was far from finished. "I'm so sorry. Really, muffin, I am. For everything," His words were like a bullet raging straight through her heart. Why did the truth hurt? Wasn't that exactly what she wanted to hear?

"I just wanted you to be strong. I never wanted to hurt you. I regret everything that I have ever done to you, muffin," The girl sniffed and buried her head further into her father's chest, keen to hear what else he had to say. But was it the truth? Or just more lies from another man?

Another sob broke through the quietness of the room. But this time, it didn't come from Ivy.

"I broke my little girl."

xxv. THE WHOLE TRUTH

MASTERLIST

#finn shelby #harry kirton #michael gray #finn cole #smut #fluff #angst #peaky blinders #tommy shelby #alfie solomons #treat you better

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idk-maybe-i-did-it · 3 years

Text

Scars: Year five, Chapter eleven

Remus Lupin x Reader

Warnings: Blood, swearing, mentions of self harm, implied mention of bruising,

Word Count: 2730

Remus ___________

" Why's there blood on the floor?"

Her voice sounded so hesitant.

" Y/n get out of the room."

" Tell me why there's blood on the floor."

" No."

Now, you might be thinking, "Hey Remus, when did you get here?" Or, " Hey Remus, why are you stopping? I need to know."

But either way, I can answer those if we just rewind for a bit.

————————————————————————

James pulled the car to a stop and Sirius stood, leaning his elbow atop the vehicle's roof.

I hesitantly opened the back door and ducked my head under to exit. Peter got out after me.

James turned and looked at me from his position against the car, his lips pursed and his eyes lay quizzical and sympathetic as he gazed at me.

I slipped the small box into my pocket and shut the door, walking up to the steps of the house. ________________________________

Third Person _____________

Oh, tie a yellow ribbon 'round the old oak tree

It's been three long years, do you still want me?

If I don't see a ribbon 'round the old oak tree

I'll stay on the bus, forget about us, put the blame on me

" This was auntie's favorite song y'know."

F/n stood up from his seat on the couch and moved over to the record player, crouching down and sifting through sleeves of vinyl records on the lower shelf until he found one.

He turned and grinned over at Y/n, holding the sleeve up for her to see.

Happy Together, The Turtles

Y/n gasped and moved forward quickly, gently taking the record from his hands as she replaced 'Tie a Yellow Ribbon' with 'Happy Together'.

" Don't you remember when mum used to play this and make me and Liz dance with her?"

Her face was soft and gentle as she looked over at him, much softer than it had been the past few days. F/n missed that innocent look to her face and the meager easiness to her eyes.

He stood back up and gave Y/n a smile, before images of her clouded his vision.

The insert, that one bloody insert was the cause of these nightmares.

F/n had managed to rid himself of the terrors years before but ever since that stupid passage they never stopped.

All he could ever think about when he saw her, when she looked over at him and when they hung out during the day, all he ever saw were images of deep crimson blood dripping from his daughters skin to her carpet below.

All it took was one measly diary insert to trigger the old memories.

" Yeah, I always loved those nights..."

However, a knock on the door quickly snapped the two of them out of their trance.

Y/n turned and ruffled her hair, awkwardly moving towards the door.

" Coming!"

A few moments went by while he waited for her to open the door.

" Baby!"

F/n's head whipped around at the word and his shock soon dissipated at the sight before him.

She meant baby,

as in Remus Lupin baby

Peter nervously took his mother's tin of biscuits out and James diverted his eyes from the older man on the floor, unknown to wether or not the man knew he had been the cause of his daughters lost memory. Sirius nodded his head to the man, his smile tight, and Remus almost flinched as he met the man's gaze while squeezing his daughter tight.

Y/n stepped back from Remus and leant up, quickly pecking his lips before she moved to greet the others.

The older man, however, frowned when he saw the werewolf spin his daughter around, distasteful would be a proper word.

He absolutely despised Remus Lupin.

The half-bred boy had no right to touch his daughter, to kiss her, to see her, to be friends with her, nor to even be near her.

The boy was a monster who could only do harm to the people around him, in F/n's eyes at least.

He knew not to trust a werewolf.

Being a werewolf only brought harm to the people around you.

F/n distastefully thought back to the first night he and M/n had fought.

" This isn't my fault F/n."

The man turnt around and seethed at the woman, his nostrils flaring.

" Yes it is your flipping fault M/n! Y/n and Elizabeth can't even get into school now because of you!"

" You and I both know that the incident wasn't my fault F/n. Do Not blame me for what that creature did to our child!"

" Mummy?"

M/n's head snapped over to see their three year old daughter had waddled into the bedroom, her stuffed bunny rabbit's ear held loosely in her fist. M/n and F/n stared open mouthed at the child.

" Yes dear?"

The child nervously stuck a thumb in her mouth and diverted her eyes.

" Lizzy went thump on the floor and she won't get up when I try to shake her."

F/n immediately froze, his mind going into panic mode and M/n quickly ushered the young Y/--

" Hey Dad!"

F/n snapped out of his trance, swiping his eyes over to where Y/n was pouring tea for the four boys surrounding her, one of which with his arms wrapped around her waist from behind.

" Ye- Yes dear?"

" Aren't you gonna come and say hello to Peter, James, Sirius and Rem?"

F/n had to clench his jaw before a mangled yeah left his tongue. _______________________________

" Y/n why don't you show the boys around? If they hang out over here for the last week of summer then they best know where everything is."

The five teenagers quickly became silent at the tone he had used; Sirius and Remus being the only two familiar by it.

Y/n hesitantly nodded and brought a hand up to usher the four boys to the hallway across the room where her room lay, walls f/c in all their glory. _____________________________

Remus lay his head in her lap and stared up at her face while she played a game of cards with the other three boys on the floor.

How he loved looking at her face.

Remus blocked out the noises of the others and gazed up at the features lining her frame.

Features no longer familiar to his eyes.

She had changed since he saw her last, before the incident with James happened.

Her eyes no longer held the same deep purple circles beneath them and her e/c irises no longer had dark shadows swimming in them.

Her smile was no longer fake, her tears no longer sad and her skin seemed to just sparkle under the change of attitude. The female no longer found need to hide her arms or skin, Remus was yet to explain how she got all those marks running up the length of her arm, and she only wrapped a thin layer of bandages over the marks for the matron at school had instructed her to do so after applying a gel to the tissue.

So almost ever feature on her face had become completely unfamiliar to Remus' eyes and he had since then swore to memorize every new detail displayed upon on body.

Of course it would seem only fitting that something of that type would happen, her entire being had gone from negative to positive and The Marauders were completely unfamiliar to such a thing when it came to her.

Although they were glad of such a change, James couldn't help but feel put down that he had caused such a thing to happen, that he had been the root cause of all their despair and depression.

Sirius comforted him by saying it was a bottle of booze's fault. ______________________________

Remus ___________

Sirius and I talked about it when we got back to James' house and we decided to come back tomorrow to make sure that guy isn't a complete arse.

Her father gave me some bad vibes and apparently Sirius felt the same way.

Hence the secondary check in. _______________________________

It happened ten minutes after we walked in the house.

Well, a lot of things happened actually.

One of the things was this:

" Where's daddy at? Where's my dad at hm?"

" I'm right here Y/n."

" No, that's not what I meant. Where's my dad at huh? Where's he been at for the past fifteen years?"

Technically James, Sirius and I weren't supposed to be hearing this but they were talking rather loudly.

" Y/n you can't be taking this there now of all times—"

" Yes I fucking can."

" Sweetheart please don't swear—"

" Why? Does it make you uncomfortable? Well try being me for the past fifteen years, having to explain why your aunties your mum. Now that's uncomfortable."

I could feel the tension from between the two rooms.

" Please don't be this way to me Y/n."

" Don't be this way to you?! Look at me, Horrible Y/n, Naughty Y/n,— No, No, No, I know you're good at walking away but not today you won't. Where is he?"

" I'm right here Y/n."

" No your not. My dad was a man who actually cared and my dad was a person who didn't just turn his back on people for Seven Whole Years."

" How do you—"

" I used to count the days until you would let me come back. All in all it added up to seven years."

" Well listen kid, that man abandoned us okay. He left a—"

" And you abandoned me!"

I could hear the strain to his voice now.

" It was a temporary thing Y/n, Candace agreed."

" Temporary?! I'm still living with her—"

" No, your aunt is dead and that is why you're here. I'd rather you stay here than with that half-bred boyfriend of yours—"

" Oh don't you call him that!"

" I wanted you back, I always did Y/n!"

" Ohhh, I believe you. Honest."

Sirius glimpsed over at me with the look that said 'We need to stop.' So the four of us moved back over to the deck of cards and tried to black out the sounds of their argument.

But one sentence, and I knew it had her stilled.

" She never gave you back!"

" Well I was never even Candies to give! You're supposed to be my dad!"

" She loved you so much—"

" More than you did apparently."

And that was when she walked back in.

" I do love you Y/n, believe me."

She turned back to the door, " I want to."

But what I'm talking about, is the thing that happened. The thing that had them yelling things again.

Everything happened in quick succession.

Four things.

Thing one, we walked in and they were at the table playing cards.

Second thing, Y/n welcomed us in and her dad looked at me the same way he did yesterday and the day he took her back.

With loathing and hatred.

The third thing that happened, and this confused us a bit, she asked when 'Lizzy will be home from University' and he responded by saying 'Soon'.

Y/n's sister died when she was younger.

The fourth thing, she walked into her sisters room.

And there was blood.

Everywhere.

A good minute of her staring at the floor passed before Sirius hooked an arm on her waist and started pulling her out.

She elbowed him and demanded her father come in and explain.

Which brings us to this point.

" Why's there blood on the floor?"

He shook his head and told her to get out.

" No, tell me why there's blood on the floor."

" No."

Bollocks to this.

I shook my head and stepped up, placing a hand on her shoulder.

And in the gentlest, calmest voice I could muster, I looked him in the eyes and said, " Just answer the question."

Words became words and skin hit skin and before I knew it my face was flung to the side and my left jaw stung like a bludger smacked against it in the rain.

Sirius lashed out at him and James helped me back to my feet while Y/n stared in shock at me, frozen to the spot.

His next words made all of us freeze and I suddenly understand why the blood was on the floor.

His voice had been filled with hatred and loathing and fire and it all clicked.

He called me a monster, he called me a creature that should be killed, he said I'm dangerous and I should never go near his daughter, that 'werewolves only ruin relationships' and that it's his home so I can't tell him what to do.

And suddenly an idea popped up in my head, an idea so ludicrous, so vulgar and horrifically heartbreaking that I almost dismissed it, but it seems so likely.

What if his eldest daughter killed herself because her being a werewolf tore apart her families relationship?

What if Y/n wasn't the reason her sister was killed and that her dad only told her so she wouldn't know what happened?

What if the gunshots that went off in the woods that night were actually the bullets coming from a gun her sister had in her bedroom and the blood on the floor was actually her own?

What if her father used Obliviate to make Y/n forget?

What if her father used Obliviate to make Y/n think he had always been a muggle?

But Y/n had asked when he sister was getting back...

What if he Obliviated her again to make her forget her sister was dead a few days ago?

It would make sense because the Y/n we used to know hated her father for what he did so she wouldn't be likely to forget her sister died...

Holy Shit this man is a maniac.

I glimpsed over to my girlfriend, the blood had drained from her face and suddenly I could see the gears in all their eyes turning.

Yelled spurt out and over all the voices and noise and things happening, although nothing could've prepared me for what happened next.

She was screaming at him and crying and trying to lash at him with her fists and suddenly Sirius was gone and into her bedroom and my arms were wrapped around her from behind and pulling her back while he was making excuses for why he never tried to take her back from her mum all those years ago once more.

The lies spilling from his mouth were easy to recognize because they were the same ones Y/n had come to use over the years, always making up excuses for why he didn't want his own daughter and we had always told her otherwise.

Soon however Y/n was screaming again and started to pry herself from my grip, which is actually a lot easier than it used to be because I've let myself go over the summer (in James' words), and suddenly Sirius is back by my side helping me pull the door shut and pull Y/n out.

I can see James in the car, ushering us out, and before I slammed the main door shut I yelled 'You're a terrible father you know!'

Now we're sitting in the car and I'm holding an ice-pack to my face, Y/n's leant up against me and everyone is silent but from the way James is squeezing the steering wheel and how Sirius is gripping the seat I can tell that they're bloody pissed off.

That was a hell of a lot to take in.

" Is your face okay Remus?"

Her voice came out small and I nodded my head. ________________________________ My eyes widened.

I forgot to give the letter back to Y/n.

The letter her mum sent her in fourth year.

______________________________________________________________

Drink some water, eat some food and remember You Are Loved!

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let-me-write-shit · 4 years

Text

Like We Used To: 11

A/N: Don’t hate me yet!!!

Remember, this story will only continue based on demand. So don’t forget to like and message me what do you think. Any guesses on what’s going to happen? Theories? Etc?

[Click here for previous chapters]

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CHAPTER ELEVEN

Elizabeth shot her head towards Harry to see if he was joking. His face was straight and serious. She laughed, scrubbing another dish, “What? I can’t come with you.”

“Why not?” He asked, “You said it yourself, you can work from home. Why not take it on the road with me?”

“Are you crazy?”

“Please?” Harry smiled, hands clasped like he was begging, “It’ll be fun! Come on, I just got to see you again. I don’t want you to leave now.”

Elizabeth stared into his eyes, searching for words. This whole week felt like it had come straight from a cheesy romantic comedy. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t want to go. Not only to spend more time with Harry, but also to see what his whole world was like now. But she couldn’t avoid her real life forever. She’s been living in this fairy-tale life for long enough.

“Harry,” Elizabeth sighed, “I can’t. I’m sorry.” When she saw the disappointment on his face she tried to explain herself, “It’s not that I don’t want to go, because I do. And I appreciate the offer, but I can’t just drop my whole life on a whim for you. I’m still not entirely sure what’s even going on between us and I don’t think you know, either. We needed this weekend to reconnect, but I also think that it was easy for us to get caught up in the moment when we’re forced to see each other twenty-four hours a day for almost three days. We need the time apart to figure out what we really want out of this.”

Harry listened intently. Taking in every word Elizabeth said. She was right, and he knew it. His body language relaxed and he finally said, jokingly, “Okay, but you’re not just saying this because I was bad in bed, right?”

Elizabeth laughed, chucking the wet sponge she was using to wash the dishes at him, “No, you jackass. It’s not because you were bad in bed.”

“Right, because that would be absurd. I’m obviously great in bed.”

“The best,” Elizabeth rolled her eyes sarcastically.

The two of them finished the dishes, grabbed a pack of oreos, and headed up to Elizabeth’s room to talk more. They had shared a whole sleeve of oreos before they noticed that it was nearly 2AM.

“Ok, take these cookies away from me before I eat the rest of the pack,” Elizabeth shoved the box to Harry.

“I probably would have eaten the entire sleeve by myself if you weren’t here to stop me,” He admitted.

Elizabeth chuckled, “Alright, you. Get out now. I need to go to bed.”

“What? No sleepover again? But it’s our last night,” Harry pouted, standing up from the bed.

Elizabeth walked him to the door and opened it, “Absolutely not.”

“Not even a goodnight kiss?”

She shook her head, “I don’t see any candles or rose petals.”

“Fine,” he stood, leaning in the doorway and smirking at her, “but you’re still wearing my shirt and I’d like it back.”

“Fine,” she conceded, mimicking his smirk, slowly untying the ends of the shirt and slipping it off, exposing her breasts.

She let Harry ogle her chest for a moment before shoving the shirt in his arms and closing the door in his face. Pleased with herself and his reaction, Elizabeth smiled and made her way back to her bag to grab another sleeping top. There was a thud on the door and Harry’s soft voice on the other side groaned, “Tease!”

It was pretty hard for Elizabeth to fall asleep that night, knowing it was her last night seeing Harry for the foreseeable future. Harry kept reassuring her that he was going to be back in her life for good, but she honestly didn’t know how well that promise would hold up when he got back to his normal routine. He had told her how busy he could get at times, especially when preparing for a new album.

Elizabeth was only able to get maybe about 3 hours of sleep before her alarm started blaring. It was 7 AM and everyone had to be out of the house by 10. She stumbled to the bathroom, took a quick shower, let her hair air dry while she threw on a minimal amount of makeup and got dressed into high-waisted light grey sweats, a black cropped top, and layered it with an oversized flannel.[x] It was an hour and a half car ride back home, so she wanted to make sure she was comfortable.

After throwing the rest of her belongings into her duffel bag, Elizabeth headed down to the kitchen when Kate was, pouring herself a coffee. She walked over to her best friend, engulfing her into a warm hug. Wordlessly, Kate reciprocated and they started lightly swaying, letting the memories of this weekend soak in. Her best friends had gotten married after twelve years together, and she saw their entire journey. Elizabeth felt incredibly grateful for that. Once they pulled apart, Elizabeth grabbed herself a mug to pour herself some coffee, noticing everyone else, aside from Daisy, on the patio eating breakfast. Harry and Matt were sitting next to each other, laughing. They had gotten along really well ever since the incident at the club last night. They somehow bonded over each other’s heroism and protection of Elizabeth.

“Are you excited for your honeymoon?” Elizabeth asked Kate.

“Beyond! We’ve got a whole itinerary planned. A week of sun, snorkeling, and site seeing, and relaxation.”

Elizabeth smiled sweetly at her friend, “I’m excited for you. You both definitely deserve this getaway.”

The two continued their conversation with the rest of their friends on the patio. Daisy eventually joined them and before they finished, cleaned up, and went to grab their belongings as it was time to go. Elizabeth was doing a last minute sweep of her room to make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything when there was a light knocking sound. She turned to see Harry standing in the door frame, his black duffel bag hanging from his one shoulder, and her lacy blue bra dangling from his finger, a smirk plastered on his face.

He walked in, handing it over to Elizabeth who was blushing. “Found it under the bed,” Harry said.

“Thanks! Would have been upset if I lost that. It’s my favorite bra.”

“Mine, too,” he winked as she shoved it in her bag.

“Shut up,” she laughed, standing up straight. “Ready?”

He nodded and they both headed out front, joining the rest of their friends who were packing the cars. Lewis and Kate were headed straight to the airport from here so they were in a car by themselves. Celeste, Daisy, and Edward all lived fairly close to each other, so they rode in Edward’s car, and Matt would be taking Elizabeth home. Everyone was crowding around, saying their final goodbyes, Harry nodded for her to talk privately. Elizabeth walked towards Matt’s car and they both leaned against the side.

Harry smiled, sadly, “I’m gonna miss you.”

“I feel like you’re breaking up with me or something,” Elizabeth joked, laughing.

He grinned, raising an eyebrow, “You know you could still come with me.”

“I know. But I gotta get home.”

Harry nodded, frowning, “Ok. Well, just so you know, this was probably the best weekend I’ve had in a long time because of you.”

Elizabeth smiled up at him, feeling a pull on her heart strings, “Yeah, we had a lot of fun.”

“Ready to go?” Matt called out to Elizabeth, nodding a farewell to Harry before getting in his car and starting up the engine.

Elizabeth turned back to Harry and gave him a sad smile, “Well, thanks for everything, Lost Boy,” and wrapped her arms around Harry’s waist.

Harry put his arms around her shoulders and squeezed her tighter, kissing the top of her head and staying like that for a minute before pulling apart. “Bye, Lizzy.”

She grinned at him one more time before getting in the passenger seat and watching his figure get smaller and smaller as they drove away, until she could no longer see him.

Matt did his best to make the car ride home more enjoyable, and to be honest, there were moments where she would forget about her sadness to be leaving. But when she finally got to her house and was left alone, Elizabeth found herself drowning in all of the memories from the past three days. It had been the most eventful weekend of her whole entire life. She wanted to rewind time and keep reliving it.

Trying to stay productive and keep her mind off of things, Elizabeth decided to unpack her bag. She went through and put all of her hair supplies and makeup away, organized her jewelry, and draped her bridesmaid's dress on a chair, telling herself she would get it dry cleaned at some point this week. When she was going through her dirty clothes, she found the black hoodie that Harry had let her borrow the night of her dare. She clutched it, smiling at the memory before slipping it back on. It still had that slightly spicy scent of his cologne on it.

Every time Elizabeth’s phone lit up, her heart raced, hoping it would be Harry. But as the sun began to set and she still hadn’t gotten a text or a call from him, she began to doubt herself. Maybe he was still on the road. Maybe he was busy. Or maybe he had time to think on the drive back that she wasn’t what he wanted, after all. The clock turned to 11 PM, and Elizabeth laid down in her bed, defeated. Her heart sank.

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#Harry Styles #Harry Styles fanfic #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #one direction #one direction fanfic #one direction fan fic #one direction imagine #one direction fan fiction #smut #fluff

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harryskalechips · 4 years

Text

You’re one in a million Part 2

Word count: 1921

A/N I know the smut was pretty hot in part 1 but in this part, It will be all angst and fluff. I’m also writing new angsty pieces and smut pieces so stay tuned lovers!

“I just can’t believe he broke up with me.” Lizzie cries in my arms as she sits on the couch in my living room. “Y/N, I even introduced you guys. I really liked him.” I brush her hair away from her face and try to stay silent as I listen to her cry about Harry.

The thing about Lizzie is that she is such a hopeless romantic. No matter how long she’s known someone, if she’s interested she will give her all. It doesn’t matter she met Harry about a month ago, she was caught off guard when Harry broke up with her just a few weeks after meeting me. The only problem I am having is if I should tell her about Harry and me but what will that do? Truth be told after that night Harry and I shared, I avoided talking to him at all costs. Yes, I have strong feelings for him but I do not want to be the girl who hurts Lizzie more than I already have. I love her, she’s been my best friend ever since we were in high school.

“Did you love him?” I rest my hands in my lap as she sits up and takes a sip of the hot chocolate I made for her.

“Absolutely not but I was so entranced by him. I wanted to know more about him and just I don’t know… make him love me?” I nod my head in silence. Sadly, a boy had to come in between us.

After Lizzie left, I found my thumb tapping on Harry’s contact after two weeks. I needed to talk to someone who understands where I am coming from. Although Harry and I ended that night in my bed, I believe we were so tempted by each other we forgot who we were hurting. I know Harry is a good guy and when he listens to what I have to say, I know he will think I am right. After all, he didn’t try to contact me after that night too. I just found out he broke up with her yesterday.

To Harry Styles

Hey, I was wondering if you’re free tonight. Anyway, we can meet up? I have to talk to you.”

I was just about to head to my room to lie down but my phone vibrated instantly.

From Harry Styles

Yeah, I’m free. Would you like me to come over? It’s kind of late, I don’t know if there will be any places open for us to go to xxx

I responded with a simple yes and tossed my phone onto my pillow as I fell on my bed staring at my ceiling. I wish I wasn’t in love with him.

After 30 minutes, Harry buzzed my apartment and I let him in. When I opened my door, he was standing in a vintage Aerosmith tee, blue jeans, and his vans. He was also carrying a brown take out bag with Lin’s cook written in red. I flashed him a smile and take the food out of his arms.

“I see, you called me over just for food.” He smiles and bends down to untie his shoes. I put the food onto my table and laugh while putting on my sweatshirt that was lying on my couch.

“Totally, don’t have to talk to you. It was an excuse.” I roll my eyes. “We can eat first since you brought food, I mean I’m hungry.” He laughs at me and heads straight to my kitchen looking for plates and forks.

“The first drawer on your right,” I tell him as I pick the cups up from the cabinet beside him.

As we sit at my dining table together, the first thing I want to mention is the food he brought. “Thank you for the Chinese food, how did you know I’m a sucker for Lin’s cook. I never knew you ate there too.” He smiles a little and opens the container of fried rice, offering I go first. I shake my head to let him since he’s the guest but he takes the container and puts some on my plate first anyways.

“I knew you liked Lin’s cook because you told me while we were walking to the lake last summer. I actually never had Lin’s before though so I’m quite excited.”

“But you did have Chinese food before… right?” I tease a bit.

“Yes.” We laugh together and when I stare into his eyes my heart skipped a beat because I know we have this chemistry that none of us can deny.

The dinner was delicious and the topics we covered were light and humorous. It felt like Harry and I wasn’t in this ethical dilemma with Lizzie. As we cleaned up, we headed to my couch with mugs of tea in our hands. Ironic since his ex-girlfriend was sitting on this couch not less than 24 hours ago.

“I know what you want to talk to me about. I’m sorry that I led you into sleeping with me that night. It was wrong of me and I know you regret it so much.” He looks down at his lap. The last time we were on this couch, things happened.

“I’m not here to talk about that. I wanted to talk to you because I needed someone to listen to me and who understands what type of situation I am in. He looks up at me again and nods for me to continue. I snuggle more into my corner of the couch and use my fluffy blanket to cover myself. “‘I’ve never met a boy who I can connect so well with. When I met you, you had this attraction that I couldn’t ignore. Sadly, Lizzie felt the same way when she first met you. Harry I,” I can feel my tears fall down my face. “I really really love you. I know we’ve never actually spent time together but the way we just click, I don’t think I can find that with someone else. I don’t want to. You’re just everything that I want.” He takes my hands and holds onto them, just listening. “But with everything that you are, I can’t let us hurt Lizzie like that again. She’s my best friend. I’m sorry but that is why I can’t be with you no matter how much I want to.” We rest our foreheads together in silence. The breathing I can hear coming from the both of us made me take in how real he is. That what we have is something real. “Can I tell you one more thing, Harry.” He laughs a little and pulls away to listen.

“I don’t regret sleeping with you that night after meeting you again. I felt like I needed to see you and feel you because what we had in the summer was one magical night. I’m sorry I’m crying.” I wipe my tears and laugh it off. He pulls me into a hug and hides his face into the crook of my neck.

“Can I tell you something too?” I nod. “I really really love you Y/N.” and with that, we kissed one more time. As we pulled away, I took one more sniff of him and stared at every detail on his face so I can remember the first boy I have ever loved. Little did I know he was doing the same thing. “You think we will ever see each other again?”

“Maybe? At the moment we shouldn’t though for Lizzie.”

“Of course.”

“Goodbye, lovie.”

~2 years later~

The ballroom was beautiful. The fairy lights were scattered around the ceiling and the decorations around the room gave this enchanted vibe for Lizzie and Thomas’s wedding reception. I sat here alone at my table while the other single guests found a partner to dance with on the dance floor. I was not offended that anyone asked me to dance with them after all, this whole day has been exhausting.

“Y/N!” Lizzie approaches me with a big smile. Seeing her run to me in her wedding dress made me smile so widely. I did tell her about Harry and me meeting prior a year after their break up. I told her about the night we had after meeting him again through her. She was really mad at me, I thought I would lose her too but she forgave me and respected that I let Harry go for her.

“Hi.” I smile and give her a weird look because of her high scale of excitement.

“Look, remember what you told me last year about you and Harry.” I nod, “Well, you know I understand now because you guys had a connection yet you had to let him go because of me.”

“Lizzie, don’t think of it as a favour. I love you. I did for our friendship.”

“Okay but look I have a friend that is here tonight and he told me he’s interested in you. Is there any way, you can give him one dance?”

“I don’t know Liz. I’m not really looking for a boyfriend at the moment.”

“Just one dance.”

“Fine.” She squeals and takes my hand to lead me to the dance floor.

“He’s standing there, just tap his shoulder.” His back was facing away from me as he stood in the circle of the dance floor talking to other guys too. I walk carefully in my heels and tap him.

“Hi.” He turns around and I see the familiar eyes I’ve tried so hard to remember after 2 years.

“Hello.” He smirks at my lost reaction.

“Harry.”

“Nice to meet you. Can I get your name?” I smile.

“Y/N.”

“What a beautiful name but would you mind, if I call you my lovie instead?” I nod. “May I have this dance?” He asks as the song changes into a new one. As I kept my eyes on him, I didn’t notice that everyone else on the dance floor left, leaving just us.

“Hello everyone, thank you for coming tonight.” I look up to see Lizzie on the mic. “No, Y/N keep dancing with him. As everyone can see, this is my best friend Y/N and Harry. A man I met two years back. This man I thought I would seriously date but Thomas, you know. Harry and I barely lasted a week but Y/N and he spent one night the summer prior and fell in love. She let him go because of me. Y/N, I just want to let you know that I love you too. For you, to sacrifice your one chance at trying love for me means a lot. So here I am trying to give you another one. Harry here, has been single ever since meeting you again. I think that love you guys found is still in your hearts. So ladies and gentlemen, please give your round of applause for Y/N and Harry.”

The claps surrounded the room, leaving me to laugh and close my eyes feeling a bit embarrassed.

“Have I ever told you that night in the summer when we were looking at the stars, you called the big one the most beautiful.” I nod. “Well, I always thought you were my one in a million. The one who has been the most beautiful in my eyes. Believe it or not, I still damn well love you.”

“I love you too Harry.”

#Harry Styles #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles oneshots #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagines #one direction #harrystylesfanfic #you're one in a million

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panda-noosh · 4 years

Text

red wallpaper {Thomas Shelby x Reader}

Words: 7.5k

Summary: You and Tommy go to Alfie Solomon’s housewarming party, forgetting the trouble that always follows Tommy around.

Genre: angst

Warning: swearing - violence

Notes: support my writing or ask me about commissions! - here you go y’all. pls enjoy. i love tommy.

---

“-and in some cases, the guns have even rusted!”

Tommy nods, fiddling with his lower lip. His ice blue eyes have yet to look up at the weedy man in front of him, instead staying focused on the piles upon piles of paper work stacked on his desk. “I think that happens to most metals when left out for too long, Mr Cartwright.”

“I didn’t pay for most metals, Mr Shelby. I paid for top quality stuff! That’s what you promised, and that’s what you provide for everyone else!”

“But even I’m not a miracle worker, sir. We deliver the goods, but if you’re not willing to take care of them-”

“Oh, you’re just looking for bloody excuses now!”

You wince. Mr Dean Cartwright, a new client of Tommy’s, really has no idea just who he is dealing with. The shrill tone in his voice runs right through you, but you know Tommy is made of harder stuff - he won’t put up with this childish behaviour for much longer.

You and Lizzie share a glance. The rake-thin woman has her lips pursed, trying to hide a laugh. You, on the other hand, cast your eyes back and forth between your work and your husband, anxiety pooling in the pit of your stomach. You’ve known Tommy long enough to spot when he isn’t happy, and his current lack of eye contact and slow, lazy drawl is a big indicator that this conversation will be finishing very, very soon, whether Mr Cartwright likes it or not.

Tommy takes a slow breath, picking up a pen. “I’m afraid we can’t compensate for you being a stupid cunt, Mr Cartwright.”

Dean opens his mouth, but no words emerge when he realises just what Tommy has said.

“Now,” Tommy continues, “if there’s nothing else, Mr Cartwright, I have twelve other clients to see today who may actually have real concerns to bring to my attention, so if you don’t mind-”

“You’re all a bunch of lousy bastards!” Dean stands up so abruptly his chair tips backwards. Your attention is fully grabbed now, head snapping up from your work. Lizzie bursts into quiet giggles at your side, but Tommy does not look nearly as amused; his eyes have darkened, and you reflexively tighten your grip on your pen when you spot it.

But Dean is too far gone by now, arms waving as he rants and raves in that squeaky voice of his; he reminds you of a rat, stout with a sour expression. He yells at Tommy with absolutely no coherent argument to justify it, and seeing Tommy shift in his seat is all it takes for you to stand up and approach the raging man with timid steps.

“Y/N, what are you doing?” Lizzie asks through giggles, one hand held beneath her nose in her attempts to stop her laughter.

You ignore her, placing a hand on Deans arm. “Mr Cartwright-”

He shoves you off, whirls around and says, “I knew I shouldn’t have trusted Thomas fucking Shelby. He’s the same idiot who married street scum like you!”

Oh, fuck.

You’re used to it. You’ve heard it all before, yelled at you from across the street, written about you in letters sent to the office, whispers on the streets, but nobody has ever had the nerve to say it in front of Tommy.

He’s out of his seat before you can even blink. You let out a startled cry, struggling to catch your bearings in time. In a flash, Tommy has his hands wrapped tight around Dean Cartwright’s throat, thumbs digging into his jugular. Tommy’s teeth are gritted, spittle dribbling down his chin that he does nothing to sort out; his ice blue eyes are glaring right into Dean’s, lost in a trance you have only seen him in a handful of times.

You shove yourself away from Lizzie’s desk and grab Tommy’s arm. He’s rigid, completely set on ending this mans life, but the feel of your fingers around his bicep brings him back to the present.

He turns his head just slightly, teeth still gritted. “Let me go, Y/N.”

“Let him go, you crazy bastard,” you hiss. “This isn’t going to solve anything, alright? Death is too good for whiny little pricks like him.”

Tommy’s muscles gradually relax beneath your grip. You let your hand slowly fall from his arm as the tension releases, and finally Tommy’s own hands have fallen to his sides. He stuffs them in his pockets, glares right into Dean’s eyes and says, “Get out of my fucking face.”

Dean is wise enough to not waste a second. He pushes away from the wall, nearly falling over his too-large feet in his rush to the door. It slams behind him, rattling picture frames and trophies hidden behind glass cases. As soon as the door is closed, Lizzie bursts into full-on laughter, shaking her head.

“Fuck off, that didn’t just happen,” she howls. “What a twat!”

“Lizzie, out,” Tommy demands.

You sigh and look down. “Tommy, she has work to do-”

“She can do it later. I’ll give her a fucking extension.” He points to the door, addressing Lizzie now. “Out.”

Lizzie’s laughter dies. She gives you a small smile before rising and leaving the room.

You’ve been in this situation a number of times before, and it never gets any easier. You love Tommy with all your heart, but you don’t really know how to calm him down. You don’t think anyone really does; according to his brothers, he’s never trusted anyone as much as he trusts you, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to be a complete open book. Just like you’re not a complete open book with him - you have secrets, a life you’d rather leave behind, and the two of you can respect that.

But then you get moments like this where a swift kiss and the promise of sex isn’t really enough to settle his anger. All you can do is stare at the space between you, hoping and praying he’ll say something first.

And he does.

“I’ll kill him next time I see him walking through my streets.”

“Don’t.”

“Did you hear what he fucking called you?”

“And did you notice that I don’t really care?”

Tommy scoffs, spinning round to face the window. “That’s not the point.”

“How many times have I told you that I don’t need you to protect me all the time?”

“We’re married, Y/N. It’s my job to protect you.”

You close your eyes; this is the part he never seems to fully understand. He’s so good at giving you privacy when you need it. He’s so good at letting you roam your own comfort zone when you need to, but god, the idea of letting you fight your own battles is completely foreign to him. Someone looks at you with even the slightest hint of malice, and he loses it.

“You know I’ve heard it all before, right?” you say softly.

Tommy stiffens. You take this moment to approach him from behind, placing your hand on the small of his back, your chin on his shoulder. Together, the two of you stare out at the ash-stained streets of Small Heath, the place Thomas Shelby calls his domain.

“Remember when we first got married?” Tommy doesn’t reply, but he shivers when your breath hits his cheek. “Nobody understood why Big Bad Thomas Shelby would choose someone like me. Whenever you got all them letters, you didn’t go out and hunt each and every person, did you?”

“I would have.”

You squeeze his hips, pulling him closer to you. “But I asked you not to, and you listened. That’s when I knew you really have feelings, Thomas Shelby.”

The corners of his mouth twitch, eyes fluttering a little when you sprinkle kisses along his tense jaw.

“I don’t give a single fuck what everyone else has to say,” you continue, voice lowered to a whisper. “As long as you’re safe and happy.”

Tommy sighs, a heavy noise that portrays his disapproval for this mindset, but also shows that he’s willing to calm down if it means keeping you happy. Slowly, he turns and presses a kiss to your forehead, his arms circling your waist. “You’re too good for me.”

“I’ll make my mind up about that, thank you very much.”

----

The door opens. The bed dips. The clunk of shoes hitting the floor echoes through the dark room.

You open your eyes; this always happens. Tommy comes to bed later than he should, and you’re still awake, and the two of you quarrel about why the other person isn’t asleep yet, and then you both fall asleep in each others arms. It’s how these nights always go, but tonight seems different.

Tommy sits at the end of the bed, glancing over his shoulder when he feels you stir. He doesn’t say anything at first, not a single word about how late it is, or a single query about why you’re still awake; he just looks back at you, a tiny smile playing on his face, illuminated only by the moonlight cast through the thin silk curtains.

You reach forward, dragging gentle fingers along his arms. The goosebumps spring up from his freckled arms. “Did you get everything finished?”

“I had a phone call,” he replies. His voice is gruff, cursed by lack of sleep. “With Alfie.”

“Oh?” You push yourself up onto your elbow. “Is he doing alright?”

“He’s fine. Better than ever, I’d say.” Tommy runs a hand through his hair, closing his eyes with a hearty sigh that reveals all of the exhaustion he has been hiding from everyone throughout the entire day. “He’s invited me to a house-warming party he’s holding in a few weeks.”

You tilt your head. “Are you gonna go?”

“Not on my own.”

You freeze, fingers stilling against his arm. Tommy turns to look at you again, one eyebrow raised. His smile has yet to fade from his face, but it’s dulled now, like he’s trying to keep the air light. It doesn’t work, however, as your heart immediately starts a rampage in your chest, thumping against your rib cage.

Tommy sighs, noticing your suddenly wide eyes and lack of response. He grips your fingers in his own, pulling them to his lips. He speaks against your flesh when he says, “Don’t panic. I think it’s about time you go to an event with me. Everyone knows about you by now.”

“But not everybody is happy.”

“And why the fuck does that matter?”

He’s looking at you with wide eyes, an innocence so fake it almost makes you laugh; he’s trying to weaken you, trying to use the cute tactic to get you to crumble.

You tug your hands away from his mouth, giving him a sharp tap on the nose that has him recoiling, frowning into the dim darkness. “It matters, Tommy, because you attract trouble enough as it is when you’re on your own. Can you imagine what it’ll be like if I’m there?”

“When has trouble ever been an issue for me?”

“I can name multiple occasions-”

He sighs, grabbing your hands again. This time, however, he keeps them pressed firm against his bare chest, allowing you to feel his heartbeat against your knuckles. Proof that Thomas Shelby is real, that he’s alive, that he’s yours.

“One night,” he says. “That’s all this will be. One night where you and I can enjoy ourselves.” He grins, moving your fingers back to his lips. “We can call it our honeymoon.”

The rational part of your brain is telling you to say no. There’s so much that could go wrong, so much that is bound to go wrong because you’re married to Thomas Shelby, and that in itself is enough to drag you into trouble you didn’t ask for.

But at the end of the day, trouble isn’t something you’re unfamiliar with. You grew up on the streets. This is the reason people hate you, why they think you and Tommy are so bad for each other - they see you as nothing more than some kind of urchin, leeching off the Shelby name to build your way to the top.

Staying hidden isn’t going to change those mindsets, so why bother trying?

You sigh, blowing hot air into Tommy’s face that does nothing but make him grin wider.

“So, yeah?” he urges.

You roll your eyes, dragging him down to the pillows beside you. “Fine. But if anything goes wrong-”

“Then it’s entirely my-” He presses a kiss to your nose, “-fucking-” A kiss to your chin, “-fault.” Finally, he kisses your lips, grinning against your mouth like a school boy having his first kiss.

----

Mr Alfie Solomons has always been a person you got along with. It doesn’t make much sense, considering the two of you have nothing in common, and you only see him every now and then; Tommy doesn’t like you being around him, considering Alfie has the verbal filter of a toddler. His business deals are more like bets made in a bookies than anything else, and yet you still find yourself laughing along and joining in on the jokes he shares.

It has been a while since you last saw him, however. Work has been hectic, and Tommy has barely had time to even think of anything Alfie Solomons may want, so you haven’t been able to stop and have a decent conversation with the tall, broad man you would gladly call a friend.

His new home is somewhat bland when you put it beside his personality; the chairs are covered in crocodile skin covers, but the carpet is plain white and the walls are painted a grey that does not suit the boisterous personality of Alfie. Walking in, Tommy to your side, you silently wonder if you’ve got the wrong place.

Tommy hooks his arm through your arm; he’s dressed in a very fine suit, his hat on his head and his smile placed pleasantly on his face. It’s the look he wears when he’s out, but judging by the tenseness in his arms and the halting ways of his footsteps, he is far from happy to be here.

“I’m assuming Alfie hasn’t had time to decorate to his tastes just yet?” you ask in hushed tones as you and Tommy move through the semicrowded foyer. Alfie has invited multiple people, all of whom are dressed in the finest dresses and suits - all of whom look very, very intimidating.

“It’s probably for the fucking better,” Tommy whispers back. “I can’t imagine what this shit-hole is gonna look like in a few weeks time.”

“The heads of his enemies hung up on the wall.”

“A mans cock as the fucking service bell.”

You snicker. Tommy smirks, glancing at you.

“Are you sure you’re okay with being here?” he asks.

You shrug. In all honesty, being around the upper class has become something you’re used to, which is not something you ever thought you’d be able to say. Living a life on the streets has led you to believe that nothing good can be trusted, and you’re still stuck in that mindset even now. As you look around at the finely dressed people, you can’t help but feel a tight nip of anxiety at the memories they bring up - memories of people like them kicking dirt at you, calling you names, telling Tommy he can do so, so, so much better.

“I look alright, don’t I?”

Tommy’s eyes snap down, one eyebrow raising. “Of course you do. I told you that before we left.” He leans forward, lowers his voice. “I told you that in the carriage.” He kisses the space just below your ear. “I told you that before we walked in…”

You swat your hand at his chest, forcing him backwards as warmth spreads along your neck. “Okay, I get it. Fuck sake, Tommy - I’m trying to remain calm here.”

“You’re doing an excellent job.”

“Yeah?”

“Besides the fact that you look like someone is about to jump out and stab you.”

You scoff. “I wonder who I got that from.”

Tommy doesn’t even respond, merely grins before the host of the party himself is approaching.

The thing about Alfie Solomons is, he cannot be subtle. Keeping his head down and minding his own business is not something he is very keen on doing, and part of you is convinced he couldn’t even do it if he tried. He stands taller than every single person in the room. His hair is sticking out all over the place, and the clunk clunk clunk of his cane is louder even than the chattering voices.

“Tommy Shelby! Little Red Riding Hood!” he calls, spreading his arms out. His golden rings glitter.

Tommy’s arm tightens around your waist when he pulls you into his side, giving Alfie a strained smile. Though you and Alfie have always gotten along, Tommy is still quite wary of the man.

“Mr Solomons,” Tommy replies casually. “Fine place you’ve got here, eh?”

“Cost me a fucking fortune, mate.” Alfie shakes his head, glancing around at the golden foyer, the people inside it. “If any one of these bastards mucks up the glasswork, I’m gonna be quite pissed off.”

You grin. “Shouldn’t have invited so many people then.”

“I think it’s common fucking decency to have a house warming party.” He gestures to the people around him. “Invited all my pals, so I did.”

“Who’s he?” Tommy points to a man staring at a framed picture by the doorway.

Alfie glances over his shoulder, eyes squinted. “That’s - uh - Christ - uh - that’s…” He turns back to Tommy, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “That’s not fucking important, is what it is. Now, how about I give you the tour?”

Alfie doesn’t wait for a response. He wraps a large arm around Tommy’s neck and starts through the crowd; Tommy grunts, just barely managing to snatch your hand up before Alfie is pulling him forward. You giggle, stumbling along behind them.

The house itself is magnificent. Two gold plated staircases lead up to the second and third floors. All along the hallway, paintings like the walls - not like the pictures in the house of you and Tommy. These pictures are of landscapes, of rolling green hills and pretty oceans, sheep grazing fields in the summer time. Alfie explains each one as he passes them, but you’re much too absorbed in looking to pay much attention to the history behind them.

It’s only when Tommy places a hand on the small of your back do you realise you’ve stopped to stare. Your head snaps round, eyes slightly widened for a reason you can’t pinpoint.

Tommy tilts his head. “You alright, love?”

“They’re so pretty,” you reply, gesturing to the painting of a field you have taken an interest in. “We should get some of these hung up in our house.”

“Oh, yes,” Alfie cuts in. “You can hang it up and invite me over to look at it, since you selfish twats didn’t have a house warming party when you moved in together.”

“We wanted to keep it quiet,” Tommy says, and your stomach curls as you remember those first few days after finally moving what little belongings you had into the official Shelby household; you and Tommy had argued for weeks, to the point where you were certain you were just going to move out and live on the streets again. Tommy wanted to keep things quiet, claiming he didn’t want you to get any hate or abuse from the people who had already been abusing you since word spread that Thomas Shelby had found himself someone - someone plucked from the gutters, someone who everybody claimed to be nothing more than a gold digger.

You wanted to fight those rumours and confidently show everyone that you and Tommy were together, you were in love, you were moving in together and getting married and planning a future - but Tommy had refused, and things had gone bad, and you remember that time with such sadness it almost brings you to tears standing in the middle of Alfie Solomon’s hallway.

“Well, fuck you guys,” says Alfie, turning on his heel. “Let’s keep going before Y/N starts crying over the painting.”

You scowl, but follow close behind anyway. Alfie leads you through the rest of the house, going full circle until he eventually arrives back at the less-crowded foyer. It seems as if the rest of the guests have finally spaced out into other rooms in the house.

However, there is still a handful of people standing around the foyer, and all of them have noticed your presence.

“So that’s that,” says Alfie, clapping his hands. “Bit of a shit hole, but you two won’t say anything, will you?”

“‘Course they won’t.” The voice comes from nowhere, female and icy, but you’ve heard it before. There’s that familiar undertone of self-importance that once made your skin crawl. Beside you, Tommy stiffens, and you know instantly that he recognises it, too.

Alfie spins on his heel. “Ah, May! I didn’t think you’d make it!”

May Carleton steps forward, wearing her usual tipped hat with her brown hair curled to perfection, her strong jaw jutting out as she regards the three people staring at her, Alfie being the only one who looks remotely pleased to be in her presence.

You shuffle closer to Tommy, but May’s eyes have already found you. You try giving her a small smile, but it’s so obviously fake that it’s almost embarrassing even giving it a go.

“Lovely place you’ve got here, Mr Solomons,” May says. “I can’t wait to see what you’re going to do for the decoration. Maybe a few family pictures?”

“I’ve got one of me and Cyril already in the works, Lady Carleton,” Alfie replies, before glancing at you. “Cyril’s my dog. Lovely little thing. Bit stressed out with all the people, but he’s pushing through.”

“And what about you two?”

Your eyes snap up. May is staring at you and Tommy, that fake smile plastered on her face. She regards Tommy with a slight tilt to her head, eyes a bit darker than normal. You feel so childish stepping closer to him, bundling close to his side in any attempt to let her know that he’s yours, he proposed to you, he loves you, and whatever the two of them had has been replaced for a while now.

It’s childish but the feeling is there, dark and obvious below your ribcage. After years upon years of living and losing, you’ve finally found something worth keeping, something that proved to you life wasn’t just doom and gloom. You’re not prepared to lose it now.

Tommy tilts his head. “What about us two?”

“Well, I heard the news,” May replies. “Everybody heard the news - the marriage? I’ll be honest Tommy, I expected you to be a little more picky with your choice of spouse.”

Tommy’s jaw clenches. You tighten your grip on his arm, a silent plea for him to not take the bait. “I don’t really think it was a choice. I fell in love, and that’s all there is to it. Now, if you’ll excuse us, Miss Carleton-”

“But surely the rumours must have done something?”

“The rumours mean absolutely fuck-”

“The rumours died down years ago,” you interject, taking a single step forward before Tommy can throw himself fists flying into the midst of things. “I haven’t been bothered by them for a very long time; the fact that you’re bringing them up now just shows how deeply invested in my life you seem to be, Miss Carleton.”

May’s smile twists. Her dark brown eyes are magic, cascading over your form; from any other person, it would seem most natural, maybe even necessary to look at you in such a way, but from May, it sends goosebumps trickling along your skin.

“Oh, invested isn’t really the right word,” she replies smoothly. “I don’t know if you know this, Y/N, but Tommy and I have a bit of history. He’s an old friend, if you will.” She looks at Tommy, gives him a cute little smile. “I’m just looking out for him. I would hate to see his hard work be drained by a gold digger.”

Tommy straightens up. “Good night, Miss Carleton.”

May smiles again, taking a single step back before she turns to Alfie and says, “Do you know where I can find the refreshments table, Mr Solomons?”

Alfie looks between May and Tommy, one eyebrow raised. You give him a glare, a silent warning to keep his mouth shut that he, thankfully, picks up on almost immediately. He nods to May, says, “Uh - sure, love. Right this way,” before he and May head off towards the dining room you and Tommy were being led through only moments before.

As soon as May is out of ear shot, you pry yourself out of Tommy’s grip and start towards the door. He groans, low and subtle in his throat, but you’ve heard it so many times to be familiar with it; he’s noticed your annoyance, and he isn’t happy with it.

“Y/N,” he calls over his shoulder. “Don’t get hasty.”

“You didn’t tell me she was going to be here.”

Tommy throws his head back in exasperation. “If I’d have known she was going to be here, I would have said something. Fucking hell, I wouldn’t have even gone!”

You fold your arms over your chest, regarding the exit door. It would be so easy to just leave, to head home and let Tommy deal with his business meetings all on his own; at the end of the day, May was right - the rumours haven’t exactly died down, and people still look at you as nothing more than a gold digger, wanting a fancy surname to make their own.

You close your eyes. “I’m getting real sick of having to defend myself against complete strangers, Tommy. When is it gonna stop?”

Your husband wraps his arms around your waist, tugging you into him. Against your back, you feel the hard press of his pocket watch. His breath lingers on your neck, fingers messing with the gold chain dangling from the front of your dress shirt. “I don’t know. I really have no fucking clue.” He turns you around. Opening your eyes, you’re surprised to see him so close, lips inches from your own. “But what I do know is, none of the shit they’re saying really matters. We both know what’s going on behind closed doors, and it’s definitely not you wanting to get in my pocket.”

You flick your eyes to his mouth. “No, it is not.”

He grins, swipes his tongue along his lips before leaning in and kissing you. It’s only brief, a hint of what shall ensue later on, but on it’s own, it’s enough to keep you rooted to the spot. When Tommy pulls away, he’s smiling again.

“How about we enjoy the rest of the party and then we can head home and forget any of this shit actually happened?”

“Arthur’s going to take the piss out of us when we get back to The Garrison. You know that, don’t you?”

“Of course I do. But it’s a bit of fucking normalcy, so I don’t give a shit.” He taps your backside. “Now, let’s go.”

---

A couple of drinks later, and May Carleton is not even a glimmer in the back of your mind.

You, Alfie and Tommy venture off together as the night draws on. Alfie led you and Tommy to the bar situated in his oversized kitchen, and the three of you sit and chat like old friends. Tommy, for the first time since you married him, is actually going into detail about the wedding. You watch him, eyes glistening because you can see the emotion as he talks, the fond memories dousing his every word.

He glances at you every now and then, and that familiar twitch of his lips makes you giggle into your glass. This isn’t something he opens up about, considering the circumstances, but with Alfie, he doesn’t seem to mind, and you have no arguments against just sitting back and listening to him.

“I think that’s fucking beautiful, you know,” says Alfie once Tommy has finished. “Holy matrimony and all that. In sickness and in health. Who would have thought our Tommy would have found that kind of love for himself, eh?”

You chuckle, nudging Tommy playfully. “Definitely not me.”

“Still pissed off I didn’t get a bloody invite,” Alfie continues, taking a swig of his whiskey. He sends a playful glare in your direction. “You hardly had any family there, did you, Little Red. I could have walked you down the aisle instead of that big baffoon Johnny Dogs.”

“Ay!” you exclaim. “There’s absolutely nothing wrong with Johnny Dogs.”

“Besides the fact he’s two inches short of being a legal dwarf?”

Even Tommy laughs at this, and it’s a lovely sound to hear after so many days of him being stressed out over every single little thing. You make a mental reminder to thank Alfie for it before you leave.

The drinks continue, the chatter flowing easier and easier with each passing minute. Alfie talks about his plans for decorating, going into detail about the gorgeous red wallpaper he plans on putting in the back room, the wonderful portraits he plans on hanging in the foyer for all the guests to admire as they walk in.

It’s during this in depth description that the doors to the bar swing open and the gunshots go off.

A stranger in a green gown is the first to fall, but Tommy isn’t far behind. The screams make it difficult for you to catch on to what’s actually happening, the feel of Alfie’s arm around your waist not being enough to startle you into the reality of what is going on.

And the thing is, you should have expected this. This is just the kind of thing that happens when you step out with Thomas Shelby; and perhaps it was the drinks, the idle chatter, being around friends and getting too comfortable. Whatever it was, it forced you to put your guard down, and now you’re paying the price.

Now Tommy is paying the price.

You fall to your knees beside him, Alfie reaching out to grab your hand, but you’re quicker than him. You pty your hand away, tears filling your eyes before you can stop them, before you can even fully register what is going on.

“Y/N,” Alfie hisses. “Y/N, we have to go. We have to-”

“Get him out of here,” you interject, grabbing Tommy’s collar and lifting his head off the marble floor. “Get him out of here, Alfie.”

Tommy coughs. Blood splatters his chin. You don’t know where the gunshot wound is, but you don’t have time to investigate - the anger is pumping through you at a million miles per hour, and you’ll be damned if you don’t take advantage of it now.

Alfie tries reaching for you before you dive forward, but with Tommy’s half unconscious body in his grip and your determination, he doesn’t stand a chance. You’re on your feet, rushing through the gunfire before you can think better of it, and in seconds you’ve crashed into the gunmans side and sent him to the floor.

He cries out, gun slipping from his fingers. You grab it before it can get too far, bringing it up and slamming it back down into the mans nose.

It breaks, the break so obvious and twisted it nearly makes you wince. Blood sprays across his face, and he bucks his hips in his attempts to get you away from him, but it doesn’t work.

“Who are you?” you demand. “What are you doing here?”

“O-one question at a - a time, please,” he chokes out. His eyes are half closed, and you silently wonder if he even knows who you are yet.

“What are you doing here?” you repeat.

His head lolls to the side. “To kill Thomas Shelby.”

You slam the gun down into his abdomen. “Why? Who sent you?”

That’s when his eyes open. For a second, there’s a tiny smile playing on his face, but it vanishes as soon as his eyes land on yours. You tilt your head, holding his own gun inches away from his busted nose, a silent warning for him to tell you the truth before you take matters into your own hands.

His head falls back against the marble. “Oh, fuck.”

“You have no business being here,” you growl. “It’s a fucking house warming party!”

“A house warming party Tommy Shelby decided to attend with his most darling spouse.” The man smiles. Blood coats his teeth, and he runs his tongue along it. “How could my people and I not take such a perfect opportunity?”

“I’m going to kill you,” you growl. “Let’s see how great of an opportunity this was when you’ve got a bullet in your head.”

“I don’t know why people were so surprised to hear you and Tommy got together.”

You freeze. “Don’t talk about Tommy.”

“You’re both so alike, aren’t you?” he continues. “Violent. Angry. Traumatised by the things you couldn’t help; what does it feel like to walk around your own home and know that none of it will ever truly be yours? What does it feel like, fucking your own husband and knowing his spit is probably worth more than your entire life?”

“He’s a fucking Shelby,” you growl. “He’s worth more than all of us, which is why nobody’s going to give a shit if I blow your fucking brains across this floor.”

His eyes widen, and that’s when you know you’ve got him. You don’t wait any longer, because there’s no point. He’s tried hurting your feelings, tried to wriggle himself inside your brain, and it hasn’t worked - you won’t bother giving him the chance to do it again.

That’s when you turn the gun around and press the trigger. It explodes, and your shoulder seems to shatter along with the strangers ribcage. A pain lances through your upper arm, driving you backwards with a shriek of pain to accompany it.

The man is dead, though. Looking over, crumpled on the floor as you are, you are still able to see the blood and the disaster that is his corpse - no longer breathing, no longer living.

“Tommy.” His name is a mantra, the first thing you can think of saying despite the throbbing ache in your arm, spreading across your collarbones.

“You fucking idiot!”

You close your eyes. “Where’s Tommy, Alfie? Where did you take him?”

“I’ve got him comfortable.” Alfie scoops you up; you wince, arm hanging limp by your side. “What the fuck made you think that was a good idea, eh?”

“Where did you take him?”

“Nowhere that concerns you at the minute, babe, I’ll tell you that much.” He nudges your shoulder, and it feels like someone has lit a match against your nerves. You hiss, trying to pull away, but Alfie is much bigger and much stronger than you. “Ah, see, that’s what you get when you don’t follow the shooting drill - you get a wonky shoulder.”

“It’s fine.”

“It absolutely is not, and I refuse to disclose any information on your husbands whereabouts before you’ve got it seen to.”

You groan, trying and failing to kick at Alfie’s legs. He simply grins, shaking his head as he looks around at the blood stained floor.

“You know, he could have done all this at my old house and it wouldn’t be a problem.” He sighs. “What colour goes with blood stains?”

---

Your shoulder doesn’t need much more than a splint. Johnny Dogs gives you a stern talking to, just for extra effect. John Shelby sprays spittle everywhere when he yells at you for being careless, before Arthur gave you a hug and made it all better.

None of the scolding is enough to keep your mind off the final goal, though, and you eventually point blank refuse to stay cooped up in Alfie’s oversized bedroom.

“I want to see him.”

“And he wants to see you,” Finn replies as he and Alfie pass marbles to each other across the floor.

John slaps Finn around the back of the head. “You weren’t supposed to say that, you tit.”

“I want to see him,” you repeat, louder this time.

John sighs, rolling his head to look at you. “He’s in a bad way.”

“I know. I saw him.” You fold your arms over your chest. “I’m not a wimp, you lot. I’ve seen this kind of thing plenty of times before.”

Arthur and John share a look between them, and you find it kind of cute that they really think they can keep you away from Tommy; your shoulder feels fine, and whilst you’re still a little shook up, it’s not enough to keep you from seeing him.

Without giving the Shelby boys (and Alfie) a chance to protest, you slip from the bed and head towards the door. None of them can get a word in before you’ve pulled it open and started bolting towards Alfie’s guest room.

Behind you, the Shelby boys yell your name, displeased with how fast you’ve decided to take matters into your own hands, but any problems you may have once had with their displeasure is wiped free from your mind when you step inside the guest bedroom to see Tommy laid across the bed.

His eyes aren’t closed, which is the first good sign. He’s looking around with that alert gaze of his - an alert gaze thats falls on you almost as soon as you cross the threshold.

He’s shirtless, half his torso hidden beneath the thick woolen covers Alfie provided him. There are blood stained bandages sat by his bedside, but you try your hardest to ignore those for now.

You all-but sprint to his side, dropping to your knees beside him.

“Thank fuck you’re alright,” is all you can manage to say. You’re certain anything more than that will only result in you blubbering beside him, and that’s the last thing you want right now.

Tommy slinks back against his pillows, closing his eyes. “I told them-”

“I don’t give a flying fuck what you told them, Thomas Shelby,” you hiss. “How could you possibly think I wouldn’t come and see you?”

“I thought you might have a bit more common sense,” he grunts, and you know he’s only saying it to hurt your feelings, know he’s only saying it because he wants you to understand his anger - and you do, because you’ve been in his position too many times to count. A position where he’s tried saving your life despite the countless times you tell him not to, that it’s not worth it, that he just needs to take a step back and have some faith in your abilities to hold your own in life.

You reach forward and take his hand, pressing his knuckles against your mouth. “I never want to see you like that again, do you hear me?”

“I can’t really help it.”

“I’ll keep you in the house. You didn’t tell me the Russians were still after you, Tommy. If I’d have known that-”

“If you’d known that, you would have panicked.”

Your eyes shoot up. “Well, of course I fucking would have! I thought we were through with this kind of thing, Tommy.”

Tommy lowers his eyes, gazing at the space where your fingers are clasped with his. Your wedding rings are right beside each other, subtle but expensive.

“You have to understand why it’s hard for me to stop.” His voice is a grumble, like it pains him to speak such honest words. He traces his thumb along your palm, eyes not once flicking up to look at you, and you know why; Thomas Shelby doesn’t like speaking emotions. He doesn’t like the awkward, heart felt chats that every married couple needs to have here and there, so he puts them off as long as possible. You’ve always let him get on with it, but seeing him in this state, strained and wounded, you know you can no longer put it off.

“We’re both perfectly capable of looking after ourselves,” you say. “That’s obvious. It’s always been obvious - but sometimes, Tommy, the situation moves too fast for you to tackle it on your own, and when that happens you need to let me be your partner and help.”

“The Russians-”

You lean forward and clunk your forehead against his. “The Russians can be dealt with. I killed one just now, didn’t I?”

Tommy’s eyes snap up. “You killed him?” His mouth twists. He tries to push himself onto his elbows, but falls right back into the mattress. “You went after him?”

You sigh. “Tommy-”

“For fuck sake, Y/N!”

You flinch at the volume of his words, drawing your hand back into your lap. “What? I saved your-”

“I don’t know why you don’t understand,” he growls through gritted teeth. “I know you’re perfectly capable of protecting yourself, but if things go wrong and I lose you. . . That’s it. There’s nothing else I can do. I won’t be able to crawl out of that.”

You blink. That was certainly not the direction you were expecting this conversation to take, and it leaves you paralysed, at a loss for words as you stare right back into Tommy’s oh-so-sincere gaze.

“I just…” He shakes his head, looks away. “I need you to understand that you’re the most important thing in the world to me, and when I can’t protect you, I want you to love me enough to keep yourself out of danger - danger that was meant for me in the first place.”

“Why can’t it work both ways, Tommy?” you whisper, cursing the tears flooding your waterline already.

“Because, Y/N,” Tommy whispers back. “You’ve already been through hell. It’s about time you got a break.”

---

The rest of the Shelby boys were overjoyed to see Tommy back on his feet again.

The two of you walked out of Alfie Solomon’s home, Tommy’s arm wrapped around your neck, a slight limp to his step that he tried desperately to hide from the crowd waiting for him by the door. You can’t help but giggle, watching his frown immediately find purchase on his face when he looks around to see his entire family waiting for him to resurface.

“There he is!” John yells, clapping Tommy a little too harshly on the back. “Stupid fucker, you are, eh? If I was any less wise, I’d think you missed the fucking Somme.”

“Shut up, John,” Tommy grunts, but he’s smiling. “Get me home. I want to spend some time with Y/N.”

“Oh, you’re a boring old cunt, Tommy,” Arthur scoffs. “Come and have a drink - celebrate life and all that.”

“I’m not in the mood for a drink,” Tommy replies. “And unless you want graphic details, I don’t think you’d want to hear what I do want to do once I get home.”

You groan, swatting Tommy lightly on the chest. The other Shelby boys laugh and jostle, walking alongside you and Tommy as you approach the carriage waiting in the yard.

But the carriage is not flanked by the driver alone - standing beside it is none other than May Carleton, a towel wrapped around her shoulders. Her shirt is slightly blood stained, her dark hair a ragged mess as she looks towards you and your motley crew, one eyebrow slightly raised.

And it would be so easy to use this left over adrenaline to just run up and completely wipe her out, because in your mind, that’s what she deserves. The self-righteous little bitch, constantly sneering at you from across the room, thinking you’re less just because you didn’t come from money quite like she did-

“Y/N.” Your name, spoken firm in that voice of hers. “Can we have a chat?”

“Ooooh,” John teases, nudging you. “No one’s got a rifle hiding, have they? That seems to be our Y/N’s weapon of choice today.”

“Shut up, John,” Tommy growls, tightening his grip on your waist.

You stare at May. The word “No” is heavy on your tongue, so you don’t say it. You just stare, waiting for her to explain what it is she wants you for.

She sighs, looking to the ground. “I wanted to apologise before you left.”

Perhaps a gunshot to the forehead would have been less shocking.

You raise a brow, refusing to show much more emotion than that. “Is that right.”

“I was wrong,” she continues. “I always thought you were just in it for the money, the Shelby name - but you risked your life for your husband today.”

“I don’t need you to tell me what I did today, May,” you reply coldly. “I also don’t need you to think your words from before actually hurt my feelings - I know your kind. I know what you’re trying to do. You fuck my husband a few times and you think that’s it. I don’t need an apology. I need to go home and make sure my husband is okay.”

John, Arthur and Finn struggle to keep their laughter under control, but it’s not them you’re worried about. Beside you, Tommy stares at your side profile, mouth slightly open, ice-like eyes narrowed and patient.You squeeze his middle a little bit, and he eases into you.

May purses her lips and looks away, ringing her trembling hands in front of her. “And here I was thinking an apology would be appreciated.”

You snort, and even Tommy has to bite his lower lip to stop his own emotions showing through. “Us Shelby’s never ask for apologies, May. Do you wanna know why?”

May doesn’t respond.

�� You step forward, lowering your voice. “It’s because we don’t fucking want them.”

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fic #peaky blinders fanfiction #tommy shelby #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby fanfiction #tommy shelby fic #thomas shelby fanfic #thomas shelby #thomas shelby fic #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby self insert #thomas shelby self insert #tommy shelby imagine #thomas shelby imagine #peaky blinders self insert #peaky blinkers imagine

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cilldaracailin · 4 years

Text

Crazy Little Thing Called Love

Hello my Tumblr lovely’s.

Here is the next part in this story.

Hope you all enjoy.

Thanks so much for all the love and comments on this one so far :)

Suze xx

3 “The ache for home lives in all of us. The safe place where we can go as we are and not be questioned.”

“So, what was that all about? The ID?” Asked Taron as they sat down on the base of the stone statue, the little green area on the opposite side of the canal much quieter than the town and where the parade had been, only a few people walking around heading home after the parade and duck race.

“Jane is in the musical society and is a fan of yours.” Robyn smiled. “She knew who you were as soon as you walked up even with the green hair and shamrocks on your cheek.”

“And that I wasn’t Dean Edwards?” He chuckled.

“She is a huge Elton John fan and adored your performance in Rocketman. Believe me, I saved you from an onslaught of questions and pictures.”

“You really haven’t told anyone about me, have you?” He asked her quietly, pulling at the orange fabric on the duck in his hands.

Robyn looked to Taron, taking in his strong side profile, noticing how he kept his eyes on the duck in his hands. “Not really no.”

“Can I ask you why?”

Robyn looked away from his face and to her own hands. “It’s not that I haven’t been sharing the news around that I know you and of course my friends and family know what happened in Florida as well as the gospel choir and musical society and of course the parents and the girls in work…”

“So, a lot of people really know.” He interrupted with a little smile.

“Those who are important to me know Taron. I am not keeping you a secret, but I am not shouting from the rooftops that my new best friend is a wonderfully talented actor with a heap of awards under his belt. You know how much I love you Taron and how important you are to me, how important our relationship is to me and I have seen first-hand how horrible the unwanted media attention is for you and for me too that I don’t really feel the need to share what we have with those who don’t deserve to know about it. You are a very special person Taron and only those who I can trust get to know about you.” Taron reached over with his free hand as she spoke and held her right hand tight in his left. “I know it’s a bit different for you because at times you live your life in the public eye and I am there with you too and you know I am ok with that Taron, you know that.”

“I do.”

“But I only share the most precious things in my life with those I fully and truly trust and believe it or not, it doesn’t include most of Kilcreen. By only introducing you to those I have full faith in, means my home will always be a sanctuary for you Taron, a place you can come to when you need too. Somewhere you can freely walk around without your hat and eyes on the back of your head on the constant look out for a rouge photographer.”

“And I know that means a lot to you too. Even though you accept that aspect of my life, I know it is something you can find difficult.”

“Taron you know I don’t…”

“I know Robyn and when you accompany me on the red carpet and stand willingly with me, I know you are there to fully support me and be there for me without a question and the way you keep protecting me is something I don’t think I will ever get used too but I appreciate that being photographed when you are just out getting a coffee with me is something very unsettling for you at times.”

“At times.” She agreed. “So like I said, it’s not that I don’t want my world to know about you, I just want to keep a bubble for you when you need it and Taron, I honestly don’t mind getting photographed with you. It gives me more photos for my wall!” She laughed as he let go of her hand and went straight to tickle her. “But on a serious note, I am always here for you ok? No matter what and like I said, it’s not that I don’t want to share you, it’s just I need to be absolutely sure those I can share you with will be respectful to you.”

“Jane’s not one of them?” He asked.

“Oh, she is. Don’t worry but it’s not the time or place for a photo opportunity and I already gave her the piece of paper you signed for me when we went to The Prince of Egypt together.”

“The one you pushed into your bra.”

Robyn laughed. “Yeah that one.”

“You still gave it to Jane after it had been in your bra?”

Robyn’s nose crinkled up as she looked at him. “Jane has boobs too and wears bras.”

Taron laughed a little nervously. “Not where I was going with that chicken but ok sure. Just you gave her the piece of paper you had in your bra.”

“She really didn’t care Taron. It had your signature on it and I really didn’t need it.”

“Or to sell it on eBay.” He added.

“Nope.”

“Robyn?”

“Yep.”

“Thanks for asking me to come over for St. Patrick’s Day and for keeping my bubble for me when I need it.”

“Anytime rocketman.” Robyn slipped right arm around his waist, inching a little closer to him, laying her head on his shoulder.

Taron looked at the duck in his hands, which was now looking a little bit sad, his costume and feathers destroyed with water. “Poor rocketman.” He pulled a very soggy orange feather from the duck. “Though to be fair, after I had finished filming in that outfit, I looked pretty much the same. It was so hot and I was so hot and was melting in that onesie.”

“I can only imagine.”

“And the weather was so unbelievably heated and humid. It was so uncomfortably muggy.”

“Some of those outfits looked very heavy and stifling.”

“That dress was a killer.”

Robyn chuckled. “Your face never showed that though.”

Well I am an actor.” He replied. He pulled the envelope which he got from Jane with the prize money from winning the duck race from his coat pocket. “This is yours.”

“Erm nope.” Robyn lifted her head from his shoulder and pushed it back towards him. “That is your prize. Your duck won.”

“Because you bought it for me.”

“Because you wanted one Taron.”

“Because it is a Kilcreen St Patrick’s Day tradition. This is yours.”

“Absolutely not Taron. It’s your prize.” Robyn took the envelope from him and pushed it inside his coat. “Yours.”

Taron took the envelope out again. “It’s ours and we keep it for when we meet up and do things together, like having dinner later or a few drinks. So…” He opened the envelope and took the notes out and split the money in two. “You keep half and I keep half and when it’s gone it’s gone so we spend it wisely and keep cwtch away from it.”

Robyn laughed and she put the money in her purse, while Taron did the same for his wallet.

“I can’t believe you bloody won. I have had a duck in this race since it started and never won.”

“I told you Robyn. You are my good luck charm. Have been since I met you in Florida.” Taron leaned over and went to kiss her cheek but we met with a face full of hair as Robyn turned her head as the loudspeaker set up on the green for the day squeaked as a voice started to speak.

“And now we have a performance from Kilcreen’s Gospel Choir, directed by Maddie Lyons.”

“Shit!” Robyn scrambled to her feet cursing. “Shit fucking shit balls!”

“Robyn?”

“The gospel choir! The performance after the duck race! I bloody forgot!” Taron started to laugh as Robyn brushed herself down. “What are you doing! We need to go!”

She bent down and grabbed his hands, yanking him to his feet and took to a run, still holding onto his right hand, almost dragging him behind her, until he caught up. She sprinted up the stone steps and down the bridge and road that led into the The Square, glad that Taron kept up with her. They moved through the crowd, Robyn apologising as she bumped into people as they went, still hauling Taron behind her. She stopped suddenly, Taron bumping into her.

“Stay with my mam.” She instructed him a little breathless from their quick run and with a mouthed apology to Maddie, snuck into the choir group, finding her place in the front row, still trying to catch her breath as she joined in with the song they were singing, picking up on the harmonies easily.

Lizzie looked to Taron who was grinning and trying to catch his own breath. “And you were?” She asked him.

“On the green by the train station. Lost track of time.”

“Hmm I am sure.” She looked to his hands and saw the duck he was holding. “So, you won then?”

“Ahh yeah, I did,”

“What did Robyn decorate that duck as?”

Taron blushed a little. “Erm it’s actually like one of the costumes I wore for the Elton John movie.” He explained. “Feathers and all.”

“You wore something like that?”

Taron chuckled. “It was a bit more elaborate but yeah I did.”

“I actually think I remember.” Lizzie replied. “The one at the start of the movie?”

“That was it.”

“And Robyn made the duck look like you?”

He laughed again. “Not me exactly but more so the outfit.”

“Uh-huh.” Lizzie answered turning her attention back to the choir as they started to sing another song. “Sure Taron.”

Glancing at the duck in his hands, Taron looked up to where Robyn was standing in the choir, his heart hammering in his chest and not from the quick dash they had made to get to her choir. He caught her eye and immediately saw a blush rise to her cheeks and knew it matched the ones on his.

“So, you invited Robyn to another event of yours?” Asked Lizzie having heard the choir sing the song they were currently singing many times before, she was happy to miss it and engage in a little chat with the man beside her, not yet having the chance to talk to him on his own.

“Yeah I did. It’s the premier in London for the movie I finished filming in February.”

“The one that was stopped because of what happened in Florida?” Asked Lizzie.

“That’s the one. Matthew, the director, put a lot of hours in to make sure it was ready for the original release date in April and I really want Robyn to go with me. It’s because of her that I was even able to finish filming.”

“Robyn was telling me you are working on a new film at the moment too?”

Taron nodded. “Yeah. That was the reason why I was late coming over. My schedule is pretty full on and it changed at the last minute. Matthew is the director for this one too and he finalised his cast at the weekend and organised a last-minute script read through. Just something I had to go to.”

“But you still made it here.”

“I promised Robyn I would.”

“And when I first met you, I asked you to look after my daughter and you promised me you would.”

Taron heard the change of tone in Robyn’s mothers voice and he closed his eyes as he waited for yet another lecture from another strong woman. “Lizzie…”

“I know you love her Taron.” His words were not only cut off but caught in his throat and he turned to look at Lizzie seeing so much of Robyn in her features and his eyes moved to meet hers. “And I also know she loves you too and you don’t need to look at me with that doubtful look. I don’t want to bring the subject of New York up but for Robyn to still be fully giving her all to you after that, I know she loves you. It’s been a while since I have seen her excited over a weekend away or a phone call or a teddy bear.” Taron smiled. “You made her day with that present, believe me. Even I tried to find one for her and could not.”

“Sometimes my job does have its perks. I was so happy to find something to make her smile.”

“You make her smile Taron, frustrate her too but definitely make her smile.”

“I try too. Lizzie, I can’t explain to you how important your daughter is to me.”

“You don’t have to Taron. Your actions, the majority of your actions show me that, but I just want to say one thing Taron. Robyn has been deeply hurt in a past relationship. I don’t know if she ever talked to you about Keith?”

Taron nodded. “She mentioned him once or twice.”

“Fucker, if you excuse my French. I tell you something, if I ever see his face again…” Lizzie’s words trailed off. “Sorry Taron.”

“It’s ok. I don’t actually know the whole story but I know he was a fucker as you call him.”

“As her mother you can understand that I will never let any man hurt her again and I know you are not him Taron and from how Robyn speaks about you after she has been with you, I know you treat her with the upmost respect and to be fair, I don’t think I need to worry about Robyn standing up for herself.”

Taron nodded his agreement. “I have seen it first-hand. It is not something you need to be concerned about.”

“But I just need you to promise me that you will look after her. She has this strong exterior but underneath she is a vulnerable young woman who just needs to be loved without question. I am not going to lie to you Taron, some aspects of your job worry me.”

“The media.” Sighed Taron.

“Got it in one.”

“I can’t promise you that I can keep every photo taken of us together from the media Lizzie, but I can do my best to try. I have a wonderful team who work with me.”

“And I have already seen how hard they work for you and I very much appreciate what you have done for Robyn so far but just the things people write about the two of you, about Robyn.”

Taron groaned. “Please don’t read them Lizzie. Robyn doesn’t read them. I don’t read them. I understand it is hard not to, but it is the only way to deal with it, by not reading it. Unfortunately, it is just something that comes with my job and it is very unwanted attention I get.” He reached for her hands. “Mothers just have a knack for knowing things and you are right, just like mine was. I love Robyn and I mean properly love her like head spinning, goose bumps and racing heart love her. She has been a constant comfort in my life since I met her and gotten me through some tough times and saved my life but please trust and believe me that I am always there for her too when she needs me and always will be no matter what. She is a beautiful, intelligent woman who literally holds my heart Lizzie and I promise to treat her with the respect and love she deserves, the same she has shown me.”

Lizzie smiled. “Thank you, Taron.” She leaned in and gave him a close hug. “And before you even think about it, Robyn hates massages.”

“Sorry?” Asked Taron confused.

“My daughter is very good at giving them but hates them.”

Taron felt his whole face flush and as the hug ended, he saw a wicked smile on Robyn’s mother face. “You heard about that then.”

“I am her mother. She tells me things.” Lizzie watched as his blush stretched to his neck. “And I need you to make sure you look after yourself because I need you to look after her.” She smiled at him. “She loves anything to do with her hair though.”

Taron smiled back. “I figured that one out already.”

Lizzie lifted her hands and placed them on his cheeks. “From what I have seen Taron, you are well fitted for her, but she is my only child.”

Although Lizzie’s tone was a little light, he could hear the warning in her words and nodded under her hands. In the same way as Robyn did, Lizzie stroked his cheeks a little before her hands fell from his face and she turned her attention back to the choir.

He had expected a speech at some point from Robyn’s mother and it wasn’t the angry one he had been waiting for but rather an almost plea for him to look after Lizzie’s most precious possession, her daughter. Her words spun around his head. Robyn loved him? Well he knew that. He knew Robyn loved him; she had told him herself. In fact, she had told him less than ten minutes ago as they sat on the green but Lizzie spoke as if Robyn’s feelings ran deeper.

“Hey Taron!” Robyn’s dad came and stood beside his wife. “Enjoy the parade?”

“Yeah I did.” He answered, his thoughts still on the conversation with Lizzie. He shook his head, deciding he just didn’t have the energy at the moment that it would take to think it through and turned to look at the choir as a cheer went up around him and Robyn took the few steps forward to the microphone.

“Happy St Patrick’s Day!” She spoke. “Thanks so much for sticking around to listen to us having a good old sing song. We have been working on a new song and sure we’re going to give it a whirl and see what happens with it. It’s not what we would call performance ready but if you know it sing along.” Robyn looked for Taron in the crowd and gave him a quick little wink and before she moved and picked up her guitar, Taron recognising the instrument as hers straight away having played it himself. He stared her down and once she started playing the opening riff, his whole body rose with surprise his face going straight into a smile.

“Know this one?” Lizzie asked him seeing his face light up.

“Might just know it.” He answered, his eyes closing as the music for Tiny Dancer filtered through the speakers, Robyn taking the lead vocal as she played guitar, the choir supporting her with a wonderful chorus of harmonised ohhs and ahhs.

Taron pulled his phone from his pocket and quickly opened his camera to video the performance. He wanted to keep a copy of it but also have one for Elton too, knowing he would want to see this and would thoroughly enjoy not only the gospel take on his song but the fact that Robyn was singing it. For the second verse, the whole choir joined in with Robyn and she took a step back from the microphone, so her voice didn’t carry louder the others. He naturally just sang along, enjoying how the crowd around him joined in too, the beautiful acoustic version of the Elton John song along with the crowd making it an exquisite version. Robyn stepped forward to take a solo verse again and her eyes locked on his the whole time and he knew she could see him singing along and he gave her one of those full grin smiles he had when he was truly in his happy place.

This song was more than just a song from the movie he was in, more than just an Elton John hit. It was the song he had in his head as Robyn taught him to control his breathing in the 7/11 when he was panicking, the one she had gently sung to him as he lay in pain in the ambulance and the song he had taken to singing while he was in her kitchen when he visited her, even videoing himself singing it on Robyn’s phone for her. It was their song, one that they had bonded over, one that brought a tear to his eye as he just closed his eyes and listened. It already held such a special place in his heart from his time filming Rocketman but now it held such a different emotional connection and he would always associate it with Robyn. He had heard Kilcreen’s gospel choir perform before, even joining them for a rehearsal and their harmonies were so on point, the difficulty increasing as the song moved through to another verse, Taron hearing Robyn’s voice taking the chorus herself again. He didn’t even think about singing along and naturally did so, his own voice louder than those around him but he didn’t care. He had to sing along and even with the slight crackle and wobble in his voice from tiredness, he didn’t stop until the song had finished, only himself and Robyn ending the song, Taron a little flustered that he had kept going when everyone else had stopped but he was so caught up in the music he hadn’t noticed.

As a huge cheer went up for the performance and Taron was brought down to earth as he had been floating on a music high. He looked to Robyn and saw that once again her eyes were locked with his and he mouthed ‘thank you’ to her and she nodded back to him, before she moved to put her guitar back taking her place back in the front row. The choir sang for another ten minutes and had finished their set just as a few drops of rain started to fall, the crowd starting to disperse quickly as the rain threatened.

“Taron, John and I am going to head on home. We normally have a meal with my sister who lives next door us on Patrick’s Day. She cooks us up a proper Irish meal.”

“Robyn isn’t going?” Asked Taron, wiping away a single raindrop from his forehead.

“She normally does but don’t you have plans for the day? Something about Guinness and a céilí?”

Taron nodded. “Yeah that was the plan but if she normally has dinner with her family…” Taron’s voice trailed off.

“Robyn can have dinner with us whenever she wants Taron. She only gets to see you for two days. She planned a completely Irish themed evening for you. Go and enjoy yourself.” Lizzie gave him a quick hug. “She wants you to have a good night so go and do so. It was so lovely to see you again.”

“Thank you Lizzie and you too. I will look after her for you.”

“I trust you completely with her.”

With another goodbye to her parents, Taron then turned to look toward the choir all of who had already left, just Robyn and Maddie staying behind to tidy up. He strolled over to them. “Need some help?” He asked, getting a big grin from Robyn who nodded. “What can I do?”

With some instruction from the two woman and with his help, the three had all the wires, cables and speakers put back in Maddie’s car as well as the microphone stands, music stands and keyboard within fifteen minutes.

“Thanks so much Taron. That made my life a lot easier.” Said Maddie.

“No problem. Thanks for the performance. I think Kilcreen gospel choir might be my favourite.” He laughed.

“You are already a member Taron, no need to suck up to the musical director.” Laughed Robyn as she swung her guitar case on her back.

“You know where we practice Taron and are welcome whenever you want.” With a quick goodbye, Maddie hopped in her car, giving the horn a beep as she drove off.

“So Tiny Dancer?” Asked Taron as he turned to Robyn. “Who came up with that song choice?”

“No idea.” She answered him, shrugging her shoulders and it was an awkward hug that Taron gave her as he held the duck in one hand and he couldn’t wrap his free arm full around her guitar. “Guess you liked it then.”

“It was beautiful. Haven’t heard it sang like that before.”

“Heard you singing along.” Robyn answered him as he let her go. “You should have come up and joined us.”

“You didn’t need any help and I thought you didn’t play in front of people.”

Robyn shrugged her shoulders once more. “Guess I changed my mind. We should make a move before those clouds actually break into a proper shower. I just need to drop this home before we head for some food.”

“That is fine by me.”

#Taron Egerton #Taron Egerton Fanfiction #Taron Egerton Fanfic #Taron Fanfic #Love #Friendship #Cuddles #Laughter #Protection #Bubbles #Singing #Thoughtfulness #St. Patrick's Day #Gospel Choir #Tiny Dancer #Mothers #Robyn and Taron

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