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todayisawthewhxlewxrld · 6 months

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"Lost It though, lost that privilege with a hundred more."

"your heart’s compatible mine breaks alone."

synopsis// bakugo is too little too late

pairing// katsuki bakugo x gn!reader

word count// 2.4k

contents// angst. like just angst. hurt/no comfort. pro hero!au. brief mentions of puking for anyone who has problems with that...

notes// this is super cringe bc i wrote it many moons ago and im only posting this bc i want it out of my drafts NOW... its ruining the rest of my GOODISH drafts. get out of here. leave. also guys you are NEVER going to believe this... this is inspired by a song... i know i know... how new and exciting and never before done by me right? its inspired by sweet talk by dear and the headlights (SO GOOD DEAR GOD)

Bakugo is stuck staring at his phone screen—or more specifically, the email within it—when Izuku busts out of the bathroom and into the living room where he’s lying.

“Did you get the email?” Izuku asks almost breathlessly.

“What do you think, nerd?” Bakugo rolls his eyes before turning his attention to Izuku, who’s only in a towel. “Izuku, why the fuck are you naked right now.”

“I was taking a shower!” he defends himself. “Are you going?”

he scoffs. “Why would I want to go to a reunion filled with our shitty high school classmates?”

Izuku sighs and rolls his eyes. “Because it would be good for your hero image?”

He hums. He hadn't considered that; he was thinking of something else. Bakugo asks, looking away, “Uh, do you think they’ll be there?..”

“Why don’t you text them and find out?” Izuku states the obvious.

“You know I’m not doing that,” Bakugo scowls.

Izuku rolls his eyes and starts walking back to the bathroom as he calls out, “Then suffer!!”

☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。

You’re sitting on your bed glaring at the email on your phone, and you don’t even realize you’re doing it until your boyfriend, who you didn't even noticed had entered the room, speaks up;

“Y/n?” he calls out softly.

You hum lowly in faint acknowledgment.

“You’re glaring at your phone,” he points out quietly.

“No, I’m not,” you mumble.

“Did you get the email?” he asks through a short laugh.

You sigh and nod, only for him to take your phone and turn it off before shoving it in his pocket. “Kirishima-“

“Don’t kirishima me,” he says, sitting next to you and pulling you into his embrace. “What good is glaring at the email gonna do?”

“Make it delete itself, I don’t know,” you mumble against him.

He hums and places his head atop yours. “Do you not wanna go?”

You groan and bury yourself deeper into his embrace. “It’s not that I don’t want to go; it’s just that… I don’t know. I don’t talk to any of them except for you-“

“I would hope so; I’m your boyfriend,” he interrupts with a poor joke.

“Kirishima,” you deadpan.

He kisses the top of your head. “Sorry, continue.”

“Like I was saying,” you continue, “I fell out with everyone like a year after coming to America…"

He nods, “I get it.”

You pull away from him slightly to look at him with a frown. “You don’t talk with any of them now either?”

He shrugs and gives you a small smile. “I mean, I talk to Denki and them once in awhile, but maybe this is exactly what we need to reconnect with our old friends, you know?”

“Yeah, maybe,” you mutter, turning your gaze to your hands, which have been fumbling with the hem of your shirt.

He frowns before placing a hand on your chin and tilting your head upward to look at him. “So?” he asks expectantly.

A small smile tugs at your lips. “So we’ll go, Kiri.”

He returns your smile, but even wider. “Good, I really didn’t wanna go by myself.”

“You were gonna leave me?” you exclaim dramatically.

He stifles a laugh. “Well, not anymore!”

You turn away from him. “Nah, I don’t wanna hear it—you're fake.”

He mumbles, “Shut up,” and rolls his eyes before grabbing your face and kissing you. You smile into it. Yeah, who cares if you haven’t talked to half of those people in a few years? This could be good! Maybe you’d even reconnect with your old best friend; Lord knows you’ve been dreaming about it since the moment you two fell out in the first place…

☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。

The closer the reunion got, the more on edge you became, which explains why on the day of, you were in your hotel bathroom with your head in the toilet, throwing up. Kirishima rubs your back soothingly as he sits on the edge of the tub.

“We can skip it and get a flight back home, y/n,” he suggests softly.

You shake your head and flush the toilet before wiping your mouth with your hand. “No, we didn’t fly all the way back here only to fly back because I can’t handle my nerves.”

he sighs. “I don’t care about that; I care about you being comfortable,” he says as he helps you up.

He laughs when you smile at him, teeth and all. You have to think about why he’s laughing for a moment until it hits you and you slap a hand over your mouth. “I have puke in my teeth, don’t I?”

He nods, his laughter dying down. “You might.” He kisses the top of your head. “Can I trust you to get ready without puking again?”

You shrug, your hand still over your mouth. “Maybe.”

Kirishima hums. “Good enough,” he says before kissing the back of your hand that covers your mouth and then leaving you to your own devices.

Now that you’ve puked up all your nerves (for the most part), you’re able to get ready with ease, but it isn’t until you’re finally at the reunion that your nerves start acting up again. Kirishima quickly noticed this when he felt how clammy the hand he was holding had gotten.

He squeezes your hand reassuringly. “Say the word, and we’ll leave right now, y/n.”

You shake your head. “No, Kiri, it's fine really..”

He grabs your chin with his free hand and forces you to look at him, his eyes looking straight through you. “Promise?”

You nod against his hold. “Promise.”

Before Kirishima can get another word in, he hears someone call him from a few feet away. He lets go of your face, but his hand remains in yours as he turns to see Denki and a few others waving him over. He turns back toward you and looks like he’s about to invite you along, but you shake your head and have to practically rip your hand out of his.

“Go!” you urge him. “Go reconnect with them; that’s what we came here for, right?”

He frowns and reluctantly nods. “What about you?”

You give a lighthearted shrug. “Don’t worry bout me, Kiri, just go.”

He sighs and gives you a quick kiss before waving goodbye and making his way toward his old friends, leaving you awkwardly standing there. Once he’s out of sight, you sigh and look around like a lost puppy.

“Well, this is fun,” you mumble.

You're drinking some random punch you found that you’re pretty sure is spiked, but don’t mind, for a few more minutes when you spot a familiar blond spikey-haired boy in the distance. You’re not sure what comes over you, but the next thing you know, you’re abandoning your drink on a random table and running toward him.

“Katsuki!” You practically scream as you roughly pull him into a hug. “You have no idea how happy I am to see you!”

He groans and tenses up at the contact but hugs you back regardless. “Didn’t know you were coming… Can you let go now?”

“Last minute decision,” you remark, squeezing him even tighter, “and you say that yet you’re still hugging me too, you know.”

You feel him grow warm in embarrassment before he lets go of you. “Your turn, dumbass.”

You laugh as you let go of him. Who knew someone could miss being called a dumbass? “I really am happy to see you, Katsuki… It’s been so long!”

Bakugo hums in agreement and shoves his hands into his pockets, a habit he can’t seem to get rid of. “Yeah, I’m happy to see you too, y/n.”

“So, what’s new?" you inquire cheerfully. "You know, besides being the number two hero and all.”

He narrows his eyes at you, and had you not previously been his best friend, you would’ve thought he was about to tear you a new one. “Says the number one hero in America?"

You wave him off. “Ah, that’s nothing,” you say coyly. “But seriously, what’s new?”

“Just hero shit, honestly,” Bakugo shrugs. “you?”

You open your mouth to tell him about Kirishima but quickly come to the conclusion that that’s a terrible idea. Had Bakugo been a normal best friend, then yes, you would tell him in a heartbeat. The problem is that he wasn’t just a normal best friend. For the entirety of highschool, you and Bakugo were stuck in this limbo of not just best friends but not quite lovers, so talking about boyfriends when he was almost yours simply doesn’t seem right.

“Y/n?” he asks impatiently.

You laugh slightly. “Sorry, uh, same with me, just hero shit..”

Bakugo looks at you in suspicion, removing his hands from his pockets just to cross them. “Doesn’t seem like it.”

You avoid his stare, which is a horrible mistake; now he'll really know you're hiding something. “What?”

“You were gonna say something else, so just say it, dumbass,” he adds, narrowing his eyes at you.

You laugh nervously, staring back at him, “I wasn't g-“

“Y/n just say it; we're—we were best friends; I’m pretty sure you can tell me anything at this point.” He cuts you off, but his tone is surprisingly gentle.

The problem here is that you weren’t just best friends.

You sigh, knowing he won’t let up until you just tell him, so you might as well get this out of the way now. “I have a boyfriend,” you mumble nervously.

Bakugo’s heart drops, and he thinks he just went through the five stages of grief within ten seconds before asking, “You have a boyfriend?”

You awkwardly clear your throat and offer a small smile. “Uh, yeah!”

In disbelief, he scoffs and mumbles to himself, “You have a boyfriend…”

You nod. “Katsuki, are you okay?..”

He completely ignores you and snaps out of whatever trance he was in. “So who is he? Some American dude?”

You mentally curse him for asking who. “Uh no, it's, uh, it's actually Kirishima,” you nervously laugh.

Bakugo can feel small sparks starting to light up within his hands and wipes them against his pants. “How’d that happen?” he says blankly, as if he’s mentally checked out, which at this point, he’s trying to.

You’re surprised by his curiosity and overall lack of hostility, but you’re happy about it nonetheless. “Oh, well!" you explain happily, no longer fearful of it being awkward, "We had met up when he moved out to America, and, um, I don’t know, we just clicked, I guess?”

Bakugo scoffs to himself. “What, couldn’t have me, so you went with second best?”

Before completely processing what he said, you stare at him in complete disbelief. “What the actual fuck, Bakugo?” you snap.

His blood runs cold; he didn’t realize he actually said that out loud, and to make matters worse, you stopped using his first name; he fucked up. He fucked up big time. “Shit y/n, I'm sorry I didn't-“

“Don’t tell me you didn’t mean it because that’s bullshit,” you say sternly, pointing a finger at him as if scolding a child. “You know you meant that shit.”

“Y/n-,“ he tries to get a word in.

“You don't get to be mad,” you chide.

“I'm not mad!” Bakugo shouts.

“You’re not mad?” You repeat sarcastically because you know he is. “Why else would you say that, then?”

Bakugo groans, his shoulders dropping. “I don't know!”

You ignore him as suddenly all your pent-up emotions and feelings toward him begin to pour out of you. “What did you want me to do, Bakugo? Wait for you? If you forgot, I did!”

“I never asked you to,” he says flatly, his demeanor tense.

“You didn't have to!” you exclaim. “I waited for you because I loved you! I thought… I thought that we could somehow make it work even if we were long distance, and then you stopped texting and calling, so I picked up your slack! and all I got were one-word answers, so I stopped texting and calling too because I wanted to give you space. I kept telling myself that you just needed space, and you’d come back; you'd text me again, but you never did.”

His eyes glaze over as he remembers what he did to you and how he ghosted you because he thought that would be the best option, and obviously now he’s realizing that was actually the worst option he could have chosen. “Y/n, I'm sorry.”

“I don’t want your fucking sorrys,” you spit out. “You’re a piece of shit, Bakugo.”

He sniffles; he knows he is, he just didn’t want you to know that as well. “Y/n, can we please just forget I said anything?“

You laugh. “No, we can't, because even disregarding what happened between us a long time ago, you still called one of your so-called high school best friends second best to you.”

Bakugo is in defensive mode now; he knows he can't come back from this, so why not make it worse? “You only care because he’s your fucking boyfriend; you didn't give a fuck when I called half of these fucking people here second best to me in high school,” he sneers, his voice shaking with rage.

Your jaw tightens as you nod. You’d say you can't believe he'd throw something like that in your face, but it’s Bakugo; when someone goes low, he goes lower. “Fuck you, Bakugo.”

He notices you turning around to begin walking away, and he's ready to reach out and stop you when you look at him from over your shoulder.

“You know, I really was excited to see you,” you mumble, disappointedly. “Bye, Bakugo."

Bakugo's hand falls back to his side as he watches you walk away. When he hears someone behind him, he fights back tears as his hands clench into fists, angry at himself.

“Kacchan,” Izuku says softly.

Bakugo sniffles and wipes his nose roughly. “Fuck off, nerd.”

He ignores him. “I heard most of it.”

Bakugo turns around to face Izuku, his face red and his jaw clenched. “I’m a piece of shit, aren’t I?”

Izuku says nothing but offers Bakugo a small smile as he opens his arms as if to invite him into his embrace, and yes, if this were high school or middle school Bakugo, he would probably scoff and say something to make himself an even bigger piece of shit and then leave, but this is a different Bakugo—well, different in only some aspects apparently—so Bakugo quite literally falls into Izuku’s embrace, the weight causing Izuku to stumble backwards for a moment before he stabilizes both himself and Bakugo, strong enough to carry the both of them, letting Bakugo cry into his arms.

Katsuki Bakugo was too little, too late.

Katsuki Bakugo would always be too little, too late.

©TODAYISAWTHEWHXLEWXRLD

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peakysabrina · 4 years

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Heaven

How Jeremiah met his wife, how they got married, and the story of how Isaiah was born.

TW for miscarriages, sorry!!

Jeremiah Jesus had tried to become a priest before, but because of the reasons stated above, had been pushed out of the noble calling of God. Time and time again, he had gone to the seminar, and had done what all the white boys had done, better than them, and was still rejected with a snare and everything short but a kick to the backside. Somehow, his devotion to God wasn't good enough, his oratory wasn't good enough, and him as a man wasn't enough. Every time, he knew very well why it had been: because he was black, his parents were from the Caribbean, and he didn't fit the Church of England's image of a good shepard for their sheep. The sheep, better known as citizens, weren't big on other ethnicities, and a coloured pastor could drive them away from church, and away from the brain-wash that went on inside such venerable buildings.

So Jeremiah Jesus gave up, tired of wasting his time studying the Bible and the great Classic masters of oratory, given that it was of no use. Instead, he decided it would be much better to make it on his own, to go off into the world, make his money, find a job, one that he could excel at, despite the colour of his skin, or the place of origin of his parents. The first step to make that happen was to go around to the shops, to try and find someone who would employ him, even if it was in the backrooms, or warehouses. No one agreed, so Jeremiah moved on to the farms and factories around Birmingham. There, in the small property of Jacob Steadman, he found what he was looking for: a steady position as farm hand, doing whatever was needed.

The Steadman family was composed of seven people: the father, Jacob, who was married to Lucinda; the eldest daughter, Lucy; and four younger siblings, named Jacob Jr., Alphonse (who went by Alphie), Henrietta and Julius. They had a couple more men on the property, who mostly dealt with the produce the family sold at nearby markets. The Steadmans weren't rich, but they lived comfortably, which allowed them a bit more independence, and an education for their children. The eldest one, a beautiful red-haired girl in her early twenties, was especially gifted, and wrote stories for her younger brothers and sisters, which she also illustrated with all the care in the world. She was, unfortunately, prone to bouts of coughing fits, with no apparent reason, and the fairy-tale sessions were often interrupted by these moments, much to her sadness.

"Hey. You need any help?" the same Lucy came asking, carrying a tin full of water and a plate of food. "You've been at it for hours, eh?"

"It's my job" Jeremiah replied, looking up from the car tyre he was trying to patch up, and seeing that blessed apparition, made even more welcome by the food she was holding. "I will accept some lunch, though"

"Yeah, thought so" she replied, chuckling and handing him the plate and the water. "How's it going with dad's car? That tyre's busted"

"Busted is... an understatement. You feeling better today? I heard you coughing yesterday"

"I uh... I'm better, I think, yeah" Lucy sighed, obviously not one bit better, but refusing to look weak, even in front of the help. "To be honest with you, I don't think I'll ever get any better. But that's just my opinion"

"Have you been to a doctor?" Jeremiah looked up from his plate, still chewing a bit of meat. "Nothing they can do about it?"

"I've been to a couple doctors, and none of them know what the hell is going on. Shit, sorry, shouldn't curse, you're religious" Lucy let out, apparently unaware that it hadn't been offensive, but rather funny, to hear someone so proper speaking like that.

"No problem, I'm not that religious" he assured, observing closely the process of his boss's daughter crouching, and then sitting on the ground. If he was asked, a lady sitting on the ground, talking to the coloured help would be much more scandalous than all the cursing in the world. But he liked how pratical she was, how she didn't let her obvious beauty and good manners get in the way of doing what she wanted to do. "I have a chair somewhere over there, if you want"

"Nah, I'm alright, thanks" was the quick answer, accompanied by a shrug. "I'm sorry if I kept you awake with my coughing"

"You didn't. I couldn't sleep anyway"

"Anything worrying you?" Lucy kindly asked, taking a nearby wrench and playing with it, throwing it in the air a couple of times, and catching it with precision. "Well, anything I can help you with? Even if it's just talking"

"On second thought, maybe it was your coughing" Jeremiah joked, finishing his lunch and taking a big swig of water. "No, it's nothing. I was reading, and I lost track of time"

"I know that feeling. You know what I was reading? That one author you showed me, Jane Austen. Really like her stuff" Lucy informed, dreamily looking into the distance. Truth be told, Jeremiah was terrified of her when she looked like that, terrified of the way it made him want to lunge forward and kiss her. It was unspokenly agreed between the two that whatever the thing between them was, it was friendship, and just that: friendship.

"Glad you like it, I came across some stuff of hers through a friend of mine in town" he replied, clearing his throat, and coming back to reality. "His dad knew her dad, or so he says"

"That's interesting. What about you, what were you reading?"

"Do you even need to ask?" he laughed, drinking what was left from the water. "I go back to it a couple times a year, to make sure I haven't forgotten anything. Helps me keep my mind in the right place"

"Fair enough, Jimmy. No shame in that" she responded, using that name that only she was allowed to use. She didn't like the name Jeremiah for some reason, didn't like the way it sounded; but Jimmy sounded good, it suited him. Reading the Bible and losing track of time because of it also suit him, and Lucy was very aware that it was just one of the manners in which he was perfect, in which he made her fall for him.

"You've read the Bible, haven't you?"

"Might have... when I went to Sunday School. Ah, and on Sundays, they always read a bit, don't they? Can't say I remember reading it from start to finish in one go, though" she admitted, tapping her fingers on her lips as she gave the subject some thought. "I prefer novels, You know the ones, where the girls have pretty dresses, and always end up marrying the man of their dreams and living in a mansion"

"That what you want to do?"

"Pfff" Lucy let out, a strange and humorous sound that made Jeremiah laugh along. "I don't really care about dresses, and mansions are too much maintenance. As for the man of my dreams, he knows where I live, he can come get me if he wants" she added, looking down, and then up at him. Another good thing about Lucy was this: she knew what she wanted, and she knew how to get it. The ball was in his court, so to speak, and there was no religion that could provide an answer.

That conversation was the latest of many they had shared, and hints had been coming all along. But it was all in good fun, a bit of light flirting between friends. There had never been anything like that very particular jab, and it wasn't mistakeable for banter. So, it was time to make a decision: to stick to friendship, maintain everything as it was, and resort to reading the Holy Book to drown the noise of his very obvious attraction; or to go ahead and go get the girl he wanted. It was true: he knew where she lived, and knew which room was hers. It had to be the one which still had light coming from underneath the door. She had to be awake, and alone, for them to be able to talk through what they needed to talk through. As softly as he could, he knocked, and the door opened instantly, like she had been waiting. Knowing Lucy, she probably had been, although she would not admit to it.

"Thank God, I was starting to think you hadn't gotten my hint" Lucy scoffed, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "Took you long enough"

"It wasn't an open invitation, was it? What happens if your parents come around to check on you? And what if they hear us?" Jeremiah asked in return, fully regretting what he had done. It would mean being dismissed on the spot, and he couldn't really afford to go back to his parents' house. "I can't lose my job"

"You won't, don't think about it" she guaranteed, going around Jeremiah and locking the door. "See? They can't come in"

"What does it mean, then? What do you want to do?" he asked, bearing in mind that a decision had to be made, and the sooner the better, before someone caught them.

"Do I need to know? Do you really need an answer to that?" Lucy asked, biting her lip repeatedly, obviously nervous for being put on the spot.

"If I didn't need to know where we stand, I wouldn't have come here, now would I?" Jeremiah asked, losing a bit of his cool. It was in his nature to need everything decided, and defined. The idea of puting them both at risk for nothing was annoying, to say the least. "I came here for nothing, wasn't it, Lucy?"

Her reaction was completely unexpected: instead of pouting, or retaliating, Lucy simply walked up to him, placed her hands on his neck, and pulled him down, kissing him on the lips. For good measure, she took Jeremiah's own palms and placed them on her waist, where he could feel the warmth of her skin through the cotton of the nightgown.

"Would this be considered nothing?" Lucy asked, breaking the kiss but making sure Jeremiah's hands stayed where they were. "Because if so..." she continued, taking his writs, and making his hands move to her thighs, and then up, and up, until the nightgown was over her head and on the floor. "...would this be better?"

For once, Jeremiah was speachless, and torn between looking at her face, or looking down at her body, which was wrong, but pretty damn irresistible. He didn't know whether she was aware of what she had done, but it didn't seem to be a problem when he bent over to kiss her, taking her into his arms without thinking too much about it.

After that night, things only escalated: from sex, to talks of marriage, and to a proposal, done beneath the apple trees on a warm Spring day, complete with the best ring the sparse money Jeremiah could buy. At the same time, he'd started making efforts to find a new job, whereas Lucy had gotten employment at the Birmingham library, in hopes that some day, they could tell her parents about their engagement. Once that was out of the way, they could get married, and move into their own house, living their lives, building a family, having a good existence. Luckily, there had been an opening for Bible Studies teacher, under mysterious circumstances, but that were probably connected with the imprisonment of the deacon. Hence, it was time: Lucy's parents had to know.

"Mom and dad, me and Ji... I mean, me and Jeremiah have something we need to tell you" Lucy started, getting her mother's attention, while her father kept on reading the newspaper. "We're engaged to be married"

"You're what? To... to each other?" mrs. Steadman asked, absolutely caught off guard.

"Yeah" her daughter responded, showing her mother the engagement ring.

"No"

"What?"

"I said no" mr. Steadman chimed in, lowering the paper, and looking at his daughter with the utmost disgust. "You are not marrying a coloured man, let alone a poor one"

"Excuse me, sir, but I don't think the colour of my skin has anything to do with this subject. I love your daughter, I am prepared to offer her the best life I possibly can" Jeremiah protested, forcing Lucy to take his arm, to pacify him a little.

"Look son, I have no problem with the colour of your skin, but I am not letting my daughter marry you" Jacob replied, as if he was simply commenting on the weather outside. "You have no idea how people will treat her if she marries you"

"I'm not unaware of that, dad, I know how stupid people are; I don't care about any of that, I'm prepared to deal with whatever is thrown at me. Jeremiah asked me to marry him, I said yes, and that's that. You can be by my side on my wedding day, or not. That's your call" Lucy stated, beggining to feel the burn of anger on her throat. "He's the man I want, he's the man I love, and that's that on that"

"Out" Jacob simply stated, his eyes as clear as day, pointing to the door. He didn't even raise his voice, but the message as loud: he wanted the both of them out of his house, and he wanted them to go without missing a second. As for his wife, she just lowered her head and went back to sewing, pursing her lips but saying nothing. It seemed like the only one affected by that demand was Lucy, whose eyes filled with tears, and fists clenched. "I said out, didn't you hear me? Out of my sight, both of you. And don't you dare come back"

Matter of fact, they didn't. Lucy packed her clothes and some books she'd bought with her own money, wrote a letter to her siblings explaining why she had to leave, and was out of her childhood home before dinner time. As for her fiancé, a completely distraught Jeremiah, there was not much to be said: the guilt he felt in his heart was so overwhelming he wanted to simultaneously punch Jacob Steadman and hug Lucy, to cry on her shoulder. It was her spirit that never waivered, it was her that got him out of the property her parents owned, and it was her who found them a room to rent while they saved up for an apartment or house of their own. Their landlord, Arthur Shelby, was a strange man, but his wife, named Elizabeth, was an angel, who looked after the young couple with as much care as she did her own child, a lanky, sickly-looking boy named after his father.

As for their wedding, there was not much to be said: there was the priest, the bride, the groom, and two witnesses, namely Elizabeth Shelby and her husband, who signed the paper with a disgruntled look on his face. It wasn't much of a party, but then again it didn't need to be, as Lucy and Jeremiah didn't have the means to provide one. The bride had a bouquet of wildflowers, and a simple everyday dress, but her groom was so in love it didn't matter. To Jeremiah, she was an angel, something from high heavens.

"... I now pronounce you husband and wife. Mr. Jesus, you may kiss your bride" the pastor announced, causing both Jeremiah and Lucy to smile at each other, before chastly kissing to the sound of Elizabeth Shelby's subdued clapping, echoing off the walls of the empty church.

"Congratulations, I wish you nothing but happiness, truly" Elizabeth wished, hugging Lucy tightly and patting Jeremiah's shoulder. As for her husband, he was already outside, smoking a cigarette and probably trying to make a pass at any woman who passed by. "Now would be the time to leave your bouquet at the altar and make a wish. I'll wait outside"

"Oh, I forgot" Lucy let out, turning to the altar and trying to think of a wish. "You have anything you want to wish for?" she asked Jeremiah, who in all honesty, was just happy to be alive and married to the girl he loved.

"Not really, I'll leave the wish to you" he replied, accompanying her back to the altar, where a figure of Jesus Christ on the cross looked over them.

"Well, I wish for..." she started, a sweet smile on her features. "I wish for a happy and healthy baby. And since my husband doesn't want to make his own wish, I'll take his and ask for some te ability to carry my child safely"

"That's a good wish" Jeremiah replied, wrapping his arm around her waist. "Both of them are, really. Can't wait to have a little one with you"

"Me either. You reckon it will take long to... should we be talking about this in church, though?" Lucy laughed, putting down the simply bouquet of flowers and taking Jeremiah's hand as they exited the temple. "I feel bad now, for talking about baby-making at church"

"God doesn't care, don't worry" Jeremiah assured, as they walked over to the Shelbies, who were waiting for them. "Can't wait, though"

In the end, it did take a fair bit for a baby to make its appearance in their life. Elizabeth Shelby had four children by the time Lucy Jesus managed to carry a pregnancy to term. Her disappointments had taken its toll on the girl, who became more and more fragile as time went by. Her coughing became constant, and her body slowly started giving in. However, Lucy had gathered every bit of strength she had, and, in 1905, Isaiah was born. He was healthy, beautiful, and strong, much stronger than his mother. In due time, the little boy had to say goodbye to his father, who departed for war, and then, to his mother, who couldn't survive another miscarriage. Elizabeth Shelby and Polly Gray, her sister-in-law, raised the Jesus boy, who grew up playing with the Shelby boys, and who would, in time, become one of them.

The second part of this (focused on Isaiah) is on AO3

#peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders cast #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders #peaky blinder headcanon #peaky fookin blinders

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