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lord-explosion-baku · 4 years

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Compromise

Yandere Alpha!Aizawa x omega!reader

Warnings: omegaverse fuckery, yandere, dark themes, very slight daddy kink, very slight breeding kink, PiNk NiPpLeS

A/N: I wrote this for a friend and that friend is me. Entirely self indulgent which is wack because usually when I write AOB shit I have the shield of it being a request up. Usually I try to stray away from describing things about skin and bodies for self-inserts, but I did a little bit for this one. Anyways, have some nasty trash

(DO NOT REPOST MY WORK ANYWHERE WITHOUT ASKING FOR MY PERMISSION)

Aizawa was a patient and experienced man. He was no stranger to having a cat he rescued off the street become reclusive in his domain— only making appearances when they needed to eat, drink, and relieve themselves, so it was not too alarming when he brought you, a criminal vigilante, back to his home and you had reacted similarly. He wasn’t worried. He figured that as an omega, he’d find you deprived and wanton sooner or later.

He understood that you needed your space. It surely had to be a bit of a culture shock to you for the first couple of days or weeks, and he certainly knew that you’d need your time to cool off after being plucked so suddenly off the streets like you were. The last thing Aizawa wanted was for you to hate him, so at first he had repressed his need to claim you immediately in order to help you acclimate to your new environment. He was fervently against forcing himself on you, even if his nature told him that it was his right.

Before you became a suitable partner, you had to be his pet. You had to be his comfortable pet.

So he left you alone in the room he’d set up for you, only hoping that you’d come out to visit him on your own accord before you fell into your first heat in your new home. Your stubborn heart never showed its face, but that wasn’t a dealbreaker for the erasure hero. If anything, your petulance stirred him. It beckoned him.

The day finally came when you had your first heat, and he would be lying if he said that he wasn’t looking forward to it. It was only natural for Aizawa to be drawn to your room when he caught a whiff of that delectable scent, that musty aroma that was so indisputably you, that it got him hard as a rock instantaneously. Like a moth to a flame, he found and rescued you from your own aching turmoil. The alpha claimed you, and marked you, and fucked you, and loved you, until you were nothing but a messy pile of satisfied lust melded into the guest room sheets, panting and writhing and thanking him for taking very good care of you. You were soft and warm and you fit around him perfectly. You were heaven on earth, crying into his shoulder, clawing at his back, begging for him to give more, more, more, and he did, and you wailed and came for him over and over until you inevitably passed out— splayed on the bed all cute and tuckered out and his. He had been elated.

He had hoped that after the first time he mated with you, you’d be more personable. However, after the fifth heat, Aizawa had to admit that your indomitability would not be broken so easily. He figured that he was spoiling you— letting you stay hidden and alone for as long as you wanted until your heat broke and you could use him for the one thing you’d value him for as an omega. That was the thing. He was letting you use him, and though that may have made you his comfortable pet, that didn’t further your advancement into becoming a suitable partner; it just made you a spoiled princess. He just had to let you know that though a princess you may be, you were his. He’d spoil you on his own terms, and that was only after you learned who held the reigns under his roof.

Six hours had passed since he first caught your scent. You were early this month, which was a pleasant surprise. That could’ve been because of your change in diet; Aizawa had been feeding you lean meat rather than packaged protein in hopes of getting you to act a little more congenial, but that hadn’t changed your mood much. You still glared and recoiled whenever he entered the room, which was nothing compared to the storm of swears you had whirled at him while trying to claw his eyes out when he first brought you to the condo. Still, he’d prefer that you at least thanked him for feeding you and making sure you had plenty of blankets to sleep with at night.

But now that you were in heat— now that you were needy, and desperate, and hungry for an alpha, Aizawa knew that dealing with your less-than-pleasant mood would be worth it. However, this month, he would not come to your aid when he caught the first signs of you torture. He’d have you wait for however long he could stomach it

Aizawa was surprised when you finally came out to the living room.

What Aizawa was expecting was an insolent omega with a potent glower on her face— that consistent brat’s disposition. What he wasn’t expecting was that the brat was going to be wearing one of his long sleeved shirts with nothing but her panties underneath, and he didn’t expect it to be so fucking cute. Did you miss his scent? Was his shirt some sort of comfort object to you?

You were becoming such a good girl.

A sheen of your own need coated your thighs and your potent aroma wafted around the living room. It was nearly unbearable. Aizawa didn’t bother to hide the raging tent in his pants. He wanted you to know that he smelled you, that he wanted you, and that it was no mistake that you had been neglected for hours. You were being punished and you should know. He lifted a singular brow, prompting you to speak.

Instead of begging for him immediately like he expected you to, you surprised him for the second time with an accusation:

“You are being cruel.”

Your voice was hoarse, as if you’d been crying, or moaning, or both, and Aizawa loved it. The corner of his mouth twitched up and he extended his arm out, beckoning you to climb into his lap, and like an obedient little bitch, you did.

Your knees were on either side of one of his thick thighs, one of your hands were pulling pathetically at the shoulder of his shirt while the other pressed lightly to his neck. Shouta felt a shudder climb up his spine when you squeezed your legs together and he gave his own leg and experimental bump, just to watch you clench your teeth together and hiss.

You burrowed your face into the crook of his neck. Aizawa took you in, pressing his nose to your hair, relishing the mixed aroma of your shampoo, your sweat, and your pheromone. You gave out a wanton little whimper when he pressed his hand lightly to the small of your back. Aizawa bumped his leg again, and you shuddered against him, letting out the smallest sigh. Noisy baby girl.

You were everything lovely in this world— his little rose.

“Sadist,” you accused, slowly rolling your hips as you began riding his thigh. Your nails dug into his shoulder when he gave you another bump. You growled, but it was no more threatening than a hiss of a kitten.

Aizawa smirked against your hair. Even the loveliest of roses had their thorns.

“How do you figure?” He asked in a slightly mocking tone, because his true nature when he got intimate was no secret to him nor you— not that you objected to it… in the moment. “I haven’t laid a finger on you.”

He slid his large hands down your waist to your smooth, bare thighs. Your body flushed with warmth, and Aizawa could tell that you felt his cock pulsate against your leg by how your cheeks burned a deeper shade of lustful red.

“You’re… neglecting me,” you murmured into his chest.

Aizawa tutted at you and you hummed against him. It was baffling how similar you were to an actual pampered cat.

“Neglecting,” he echoed, baleful and bemused while still oddly roused by how you were trying to appeal to his alpha ethos. “Do I not bring you food when you are hungry? Water when you’re thirsty? Have I not invited you to stay with me in a loving home that you’re free to roam on your own accord only to leave you be when you choose to stay shut away in the lonely room?”

You peeled your head away and scowled down at him. Your plush lips pursed in a way that thrilled Aizawa. His eyelids grew heavy as he imagined pushing his fingers between your them while his cock plunged deep into your soaking, needy, little omega cunt. God, how he missed feeling your walls tighten around him. He thought about what it was like being inside you all the damn time, and it was torture knowing that you were a only a room away from him, and that he could have you at any time so easily, but you’d never be able to love him like he wanted you to if he commanded you to fuck him. Even now, waiting this long while he knew you’d let him in easily, but knowing he had a point to prove, was absolute torture. If patience was a virtue, Aizawa was a goddamn saint.

Trembling, you said, “you kidnapped me, actually. That’s not as loving as you might think, Eraser.”

“No, sweetheart.” Aizawa brought his hand up to your face. His thumb caressed your lips, and they parted readily for him. Your mouth wrapped around him as you hummed tentatively around his thumb. You suckled on him with buzzing warmth, trying to sway him away from having a serious conversation, because it was obvious that right now, you did not want to talk about your ‘kidnapping’; you wanted Aizawa to rut you. “I saved you.”

Aizawa pulled his thumb out of your mouth with a pop! and with the same hand, he proceeded to squeeze your cheeks together. “And you’ve not been very gracious.”

Aizawa could see a fire building up in your eyes. The carnal side of him wanted you to lash out, just so he could push you onto the floor, head down, ass up, and teach you some goddamn manners, but he had to tell himself that you needed to learn. This thought waged war against the sudden realization that his thigh was warm and wet with your lust, and that was quickly pushing the limits of his resolve. He didn’t think that you even knew you were scenting him, which might’ve made that all the more hot.

You’re hurting, he thought to himself. You’re hurting and you want him. You want to be pumped full of his seed, to be bred like a blue ribbon bitch. You want him to use you.

Aizawa could feel his blood rushing while you reached around his head to pull his hair tie out, letting his messy black mop drape over his face. Your lovely hands softly grasped his wrist and with a voice too damn sweet for your own damn good, you asked, “what do you want?”

“For you to be a good girl.”

“I— I’m here, aren’t I?” You asked, as if that would suffice. In retrospect, it would, but Aizawa wanted to be greedy with you. He wanted much more.

So he lied. “That’s not enough, princess.”

“God, please, tell me what I need to do for you to… to fuck me. This is excruciating!”

“Oh. Is my little kitten in heat?” Aizawa moved his hand from your cheeks, down to your warm neck and squeezed. “Is that why she’s finally crawled out of her hideaway?”

Aizawa grabbed the back of your head and you gasped. Your hands slid down to below your stomach, but Aizawa yanked on your hair, causing you to cry out and grasp at his arms before you could dip your treacherous hands into your ptanties. He watched as your nipples hardened harshly through his shirt that really did fit you well.

You whispered out a cute little, “yes,” as Aizawa pushed the shirt up to reveal the tender, pink tits he’d been missing for weeks. Licking his lips, Aizawa experimentally pinched one of your swollen buds between his middle and index fingers as he palmed your sore, swollen breasts. You moaned as you rubbed yourself harder onto his thigh, as if that would be enough to get you off, though it clearly wasn’t by your hushed pleas for any kind of relief. Aizawa ached. He could feel his own pre-cum dribbling out of his cock every time you barely brushed against him.

“Poor baby,” Aizawa cooed before wrapping his lips around one of your nipples. Your body shook while his tongue swirled around you. You placed your hands on the top of his head and began kneading your fingertips through your hair. Aizawa groaned, the reverberations in his chest deepening, the edges of his teeth teasing your sensitive bud.

“Eraser,” you mewled, because you were a vigilante criminal first and foremost, then with another tug, you warbled out a, “daddy,” because you wanted to stir him on a crueler, more personal level, and to tip the bucket over, you knitted your fingers into the back of his head, and pleaded, “alphaahhah.”

Aizawa pulled back and growled, ripping his shirt up and off your shoulders. In nothing but your panties, your entire body flushed in either embarrassment or asoursal— possibly both. Aizawa wanted to worship every inch of you.

You tried to kiss him then, but Aizawa wasn’t having it— jerking his head away just enough so your lips were a hair away from his. You groaned defiantly, then pushed your face past his so his nose was lodged against your neck, below your scent glands. Since Aizawa was having a fine time teasing you, he rolled his tongue up your neck, just to hear your voice catch in a pathetic squeak that set every single nerve ending in his entire body aflame. This was sadomasochism in its prime. Aizawa enjoyed it immensely.

“I’ll come out more— a couple times a week.” You promised desperately, catching that Aizawa wanted to bargain with you.

“Not enough,” his gruff whisper against your skin sent ripples of goosebumps across your arms. “Though I love looking at my little pet, I want to be able to touch her, to hold her, to hear about her day. I’m going to need more from her. Do you understand?”

You paused. Mirthless. Shaken. His. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?” He asked, before giving you another long lick.

“Yes-“ of all the names he’d like to hear from you— sir, alpha, Shouta, Eraserhead, you chose, “- daddy.” While in this state, your lustful, breathy sighs was the only air he needed for his lungs and hearing you call him daddy woke up something covertly instinctual in him. Your name was his heartbeat.

Baby girl. Baby girl.

“I can… join you for breakfast or dinner on the weekends… when you have time.”

“-I can make the time,” Aizawa cut in, murmuring against your skin. “Go on.”

You groaned in frustration. “I don’t know what the hell you want, Eraser! I can’t be your little housewife!”

Aizawa didn’t miss a beat. He was used to your outbursts, even when they were a bit too sudden. He also knew that when he bit down on the junction of your neck and shoulders, you would moan and pull in his hair. When you did, all he had to do was grab your wrists, hold them above your shoulders, and watch you become a panting mess.

Housewife? As if Aizawa wanted you to be so tame. Someone to cook and clean for him? The concept was cute, but that wasn’t on brand with the woman he loved. Aizawa knew who you were, and that was not a doting slave, although the thought of you in an apron and nothing else besides that apron was an exciting concept.

“I don’t want a housewife, kitten. I want a mate.”

Your face flushed. Aizawa’s cock throbbed between your wet thighs. He wanted you. He wanted you. He wanted you, and you kept pushing yourself against him, and god could he not wait another agonizing second of not being inside of you. He was about to let up— give in, give you what you both wanted, and then try again the next time you were desperate for him. He was about to, but then you hit him with a deal.

A myriad of promises escaped your lips, each richer than the last. Some of them were cute, domesticated bullshit that tickled Aizawa’s interest: movie nights, a kiss in the morning, brushing teeth together. Others tickled Aizawa in a different way: massages, surprise blowjobs, something concerning a collar and a leash.

Before he knew it, Aizawa was grinning. He couldn’t say that any of the ideas you spouted in your time of need, but in all honesty, the promise to try was really all he needed.

“I think we might be in business,” he said, and his grin turned into a kiss, and that kiss turned into his tongue brushing against yours, and his enjoying the taste of your moan turned into him ridding himself of the sweats that kept him from you.

The head of Aizawa’s cock twitched and glistened, wet with urgent desire. His stomach tightened when he grasped his throbbing base. You gave him a hungry look. “You wanna prove to me you'll be my good girl?” he purred, appraising you. You bit your lip and nodded attentively, ready to take any request he sent your way. “Then why don’t you ride daddy’s cock?.”

You laughed then. It was a sort of short, relieved kind of laugh that was more of a thank you than anything else— a yes, sir, anything you say, grateful for this opportunity, sir sort of noise.

You pulled your soaking panties to the side and formed a gyre with your hips, moving in circles, coating Aizawa’s cock in your slick. You licked your lips as his cock head teased your saturated slit. You hummed, practically quivering from the idea of having his cock push into you and it took everything out of Aizawa not to grab on to your hips and force you down on him. He needed to enjoy the show before being brute.

You dipped down onto him. Your mouth fell open, but no noise came out. Aizawa flexed his jaw, trying hard to hold onto the last remaining thread of his restraint. You locked your hand onto the back of his neck and eased yourself off of him— you hadn’t gotten even half of his length inside of you, but still your face tensed in pained pleasure as you rolled back down his shaft.

“Fuck. Sho. I can’t-!”

“What is it, baby girl? Is daddy’s cock too big for you to work with on your own?”

You gave him a withering look. You locked your fingers into his hair and forced your lips back on his. He chuckled lowly against your kiss, palming your breasts as you began to ride him.

Aizawa groaned inwardly because fuck, you felt so good rhythmically sliding up and down his cock— so warm, so sloppy, so tight— fuck, so tight that you couldn’t fit all of him in you. You moved your ass so well that Aizawa was surprised he hadn’t made you ride him before. Of course, every time the two of you had gotten intimate (intimate being being Aizawa’s word of choice because he loved you too damn much) in the past, it's always been rushed, carnal, and desperate. It didn’t help that Aizawa liked to take the reigns, and that fact battled with Aizawa’s desire to watch you move so fluently, so sensuously on top of him. You were a marvel to witness, and if he could, he’d savor this moment forever, but his corporal instincts took over.

Aizawa gripped onto your hips. Your pupils dilated.

Aizawa pulled you down onto him and when your mouth fell open this time, a high yip rang out from the back of your throat. He bucked his hips up, hitting you hard and deep each time you came down on him. You whimpered and mewled, digging your nails into his skin as your lust and need rolled down onto his thighs.

“Such pretty noises, kitten.“ he pulled your head back to him so his lips were against your ear. “I’m gonna ruin your little cunt, baby girl. How do you like that idea?”

“Hnngggg. Yes, daddy, please, please.”

Aizawa smirked. Good girl.

He bit your neck and you squeezed around him. He wrapped his arms around your body and stood up, moving you to the arm of the couch. You wrapped your legs around him, locking them around his hips with a grin Aizawa didn’t think you knew you had on. Fingers pulled on skin as he pistoned his hips, slapping into your fast and hard, filling the room with slaps and squelching and the sounds of you hissing and moaning and pleading for more. His skin turned red where you scraped your nails across, hopelessly trying to pull him more into you, and so he did.

He pushed himself to his hilt and watched your eyes roll into the back of your head. Your mouth formed an ‘o’ shape and Jesus Christ if you weren’t the most enchanting fucking creature on this plain earth. Aizawa pushed your shoulders back so you laid flat on your back with your legs hanging off the couch. He admired your stomach as his cock pressed against it, hitting your spot again and again, eliciting sweet music from his precious fucktoy.

Your pussy fluttered as your sputtered out nonsensensical praises for your alpha— the only man that could take care of you, the only man that would ever touch you again.

“Feel good, baby?” Aizawa hissed through gritted teeth as the base of his cock began to inflate. “You like it when I take care of you?”

You were lost to your words, only able to whimper back at him, clutching at the couch cushions with trembling fingers.

“C’mon girl, I know you can handle much more than this.”

“Shooutah,” you managed, squeezing your eyes shut as two thick tears rolled off your cheeks. “Pleaaase.”

“What is it, little kitty? Use your words.”

“I wanna make you a daddy,” you cried, your toes curling, your body shaking. Aizawa growled, his vision sharpening, his cock pulsating. You crooned, “I wanna have your baby. Please— please! ”

Aizawa couldn’t believe his ears. His perfect little mate playing with his instincts like that, just for a good fuck? Naughty kitten. He hunched over the couch, hand wrapping around your neck, squeezing lightly, forcing you to look at your mate. You squeaked, brows furrowing, breath faltering. You were giving him such a pretty and pathetic look. He couldn’t stand it.

Aizawa felt his knot swell all the way up when his lips once again collided with yours. You spasmed around him, and the added sensation of the sweet reverberations of your moans against his lips blew him away.

Aizawa could forgive you for making empty promises every now and again, but if you were going to say something so dangerous while he rutted into you, he might have to teach you to choose your worlds a little more carefully his way.

His knot locked you into place. His cock throbbed intensely as ropes of thick, hot cum lined your quivering cunt walls. Aizawa groaned when you howled, the two of you harmonized and synced, bonded to each other once again. Elation coursed through his veins, and he could tell by the beautiful euphoric look on your face, he could tell you were feeling the same way.

Trapped in each other’s daze, Aizawa couldn’t be happier stuck to you like this. He wove his fingers through your sweaty hair and kissed your neck, your jaw, your cheeks, and your lips.

“I love you,” he whispered, because he couldn’t lie to you like this. You said nothing back, because you couldn’t lie either. It bothered Aizawa, but not enough to ruin his good mood. You didn’t love him yet because you didn’t know him. If you were true to your word and spent more time with him, letting him show you that the two of you were each other’s perfect mates, that could change. It would change.

At least when the swelling went down, and Aizawa could lay back on the couch, you curled against him and let him play with your hair. The two of you laid entwined together for a long while. Aizawa was content having you in his arms, but when your breathing grew heavier and he knew you were asleep, he was glad to be carrying you back to bed, his bed, where you’d be sleeping in from now on.

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#bnha x reader #shouta aizawa x reader #aizawa x reader #yandere bnha #bnha yandere #tw yandere #yandere x reader #omegaverse #aob #alpha!aizawa #yandere!aizawa #yandere!aizawa x reader #boku no hero academia #mha x reader #bnha reader insert #reader insert #x reader #alpha x omega

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cloudywriter · 3 years

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promposals

rowaelin month - september 1st

prompt: i just realized i’m desperately in love with you

hey guys!! it’s finally rowaelin month and i’m literally so excited you have no idea. sadly, i don’t have time to do every day but i’ll do as many as i can. i can’t wait to see what everyone comes up with. happy writing/reading! (this is just some straight fluff)

masterlist, AO3

~~~

The school was abuzz, anticipation hung thick in the hallways during each passing period. It had been that way for a week or so now with prom on the horizon. Everyone was constantly on high alert for the next promposal, most desperately hoping it would be their own. Girls hung around their lockers inconspicuously for far longer than necessary and boys tried to play it cool while secretly fretting over who to ask and how to do it.

Rowan was over it pretty quickly, but he’d likely have to suffer through the next month of promposal after promposal. Today was no different, there was an asking in the parking lot before school, one in his first-period English class, another in the hallway after. He couldn’t escape it.

Thankfully, Rowan wasn’t quite as grumpy as he used to be due to a certain blonde worming into his life a few years ago but he was still Rowan. Sullen and reserved as ever. That fateful blonde being the only one to draw him from his shell.

Rowan sighed, aimlessly scrolling around on his phone. It was the passing period before his 3rd-period class, AP Biology, and Rowan was leaning against Aelin’s locker.

Aelin always stopped by her locker after her photography class to put her camera away and then they’d head to class together. It was their routine, the same every day. Not yet broken during their entire senior year which was quickly coming to a close. That was a subject Rowan didn’t want to broach though.

He cleared his head of those unsavory thoughts. Rowan could tell yet another proposal was gearing up, Ilias came around the corner holding a poster board in one hand and a bouquet of assorted flowers in the other. At that moment too, Aelin turned the corner, giving Rowan a small smile as she hurried towards him.

Rowan’s cold resting face tugged into a smirk as she approached her already open locker. Rowan always took it upon himself to open it for her in advance, Aelin tended to fumble with the locks that required a specific number combination and artful twisting.

As Aelin stored away her camera and shut her locker door with a thud, a gasp down the hallway had them both turning around.

Ansel was there, her hand cupping her mouth, clearly unsuspecting of Ilias and his proposal. They both watched as Ansel excitedly agreed to prom with Ilias and took the flowers from his outstretched hand, pulling him into a hug.

Aelin turned her attention away from the happy couple and began to walk towards their next class, Rowan following suit. They progressed for a bit in silence until Aelin spoke up.

“I hope Chaol asks me to prom soon,” she confessed.

Rowan almost choked, that single sentence baffling him. “Chaol?” He asked incredulously.

“Or Dorian,” Aelin shrugged, crossing her arms in front of her. Rowan was suddenly feeling very panicked, like a fish that had accidentally discovered land, flopping around in search of water in a frenzy. To say he felt confused was an understatement. Rowan hadn’t given prom much of his brainpower. He hadn’t even considered asking anyone. He’d just assumed he’d go with Aelin. Why would he have thought otherwise? They did everything together; he’d expected prom would be no different.

When they sat down at their blacktop table in biology Rowan silently floundered as he tried to think over this revelation. Why would Aelin want to go with someone else? Usually, before class started, he and Aelin would joke around until the teacher told them it was time to reel it in but today Rowan stared ahead, picking at the skin of his thumb. A nervous tick he’d developed throughout high school.

Should he ask someone else then? He couldn’t even think of anyone else he tolerated enough to spend the night with. Maybe Lyria? She was nice enough, always sharing her notes with him in English when he was too busy with lacrosse to do the reading. She was quiet, soft-spoken. Absolutely nothing like the girl sat next to him. That thought made him frown. Remelle? No, he could barely stand Remelle, but he knew she liked him so at least she’d definitely say yes.

Rowan was pretty much out of luck. Aelin and his friend group were to whom his time was devoted to, he didn’t branch out much beyond them.

He thought of Aelin all dressed up, maybe in a golden gown that catered to her love of theatrics. Possibly in a deep green that complemented her bright eyes and skin tone. He imagined her with her hair loosely curled and flowing down her back. The delicate, golden Kingsflame silhouette necklace he’d gotten her for her 18th birthday clasped around her neck. It was easy for Rowan to conjure up that image but he couldn’t picture her looking like that and holding onto Chaol’s arm. It felt so intensely wrong to even consider it.

It was always him. He always imagined her with him. They were a package deal in Rowan’s mind, but apparently not in Aelin’s.

Aelin seemed to be catching onto Rowan’s internal dilemma. Throughout the duration of the class, he could feel her watching him out of the corner of her peripheral, trying to gauge what could be wrong. She stayed quiet though and dutifully continued her notes that mostly consisted of a collection of small doodles. Rowan couldn’t help but watch and wonder how she truly felt about him.

For the rest of the school day, Rowan pretty much blew Aelin off. He sat between Lorcan and Fenrys at lunch instead of the 2 seats on the right side of the circular table that always housed Aelin and himself. He told her not to wait up in the stands during his lacrosse practice and to head home on her own instead. He could tell she was confused maybe even a little hurt but Rowan couldn’t bring himself to push aside his mass of feelings that had him acting strange.

He wasn’t even completely sure what was wrong with himself. The thought of Aelin accompanying another guy to prom shouldn’t affect him like it was; they were only best friends nothing more. She had free reign to go with whoever she wanted and she could get whoever, Aelin was a beautiful girl he wasn’t blind to that. He’d just thought it’d be him.

All throughout lacrosse practice, Rowan was distracted, missing the ball or the goal when he had it, a stark difference from his usual skill. His coach had already pulled him aside once and asked if he was feeling okay only to be given a grunted yeah before putting him back in. He only grew more upset with Aelin as he pondered the day’s events instead of keeping his head in the game. Some part of him knew it was irrational but he couldn’t help it. Why wouldn’t she want to share one of their last big moments of high school together?

And that’s how he continued to feel as he made the short drive home with his hefty lacrosse bag weighing down his shoulder and his school bag heavy on his back. When he finally entered the home he sighed, the scent of his mother’s cooking filling his nostrils. Honestly, he’d rather stay up in his room and stew than sit through family dinner right now but he knew it’d only prompt more questions from his parents. So he dropped his things by the door much to his mother’s chagrin and collapsed into one of the dining table’s chairs.

“Feeling alright, son?” His father’s silver brow rose, already catching on to his foul mood.

“Yeah, just tired,” Rowan confirmed, taking a sip of water.

His mother entered then, a dish of pasta cupped between her oven mitts that she placed in the center of the table. “How was practice?” She asked sweetly, stripping her hands of their cover and sitting down.

“It was fine.”

Rowan’s mother and father exchanged a look between themselves. He was normally much more talkative, always giving them updates on school, on plays they’d done during practice, on Aelin. Rowan chose to ignore their concerned expressions and instead served himself a helping of dinner silently.

His phone buzzed then from inside the pocket of his shorts. Rowan pulled it out to check the message and frowned at the screen.

fire-breathing b queen👑 : r u okay?

He stuck his phone back into his pocket instead of typing a reply and forced himself to eat the rest of his dinner. He only half-listened to his parents’ conversation about their days and what was going on in his dad’s office. Rowan knew he was stewing again, falling into a spiral of uncertainty.

“Rowan, honey, are you sure you’re okay?” His mother pressed, worry lining her brow.

Rowan’s lips formed a thin line. No, he wasn’t okay.

In a split-second decision, Rowan decided he was done dancing around whatever was going on between him and Aelin. “I need to go,” Rowan said suddenly, standing up from his chair that loudly scraped across the floor. His parents looked surprised by his outburst but didn’t stop him as he grabbed his keys from the little table by the front entrance and left.

Rowan didn’t even need to look at the road to know the way to Aelin’s house. The route was in his bones now and within a few minutes he was pulling up in front of her large white house. He hopped out of his truck, not even bothering to lock the doors before he pounded on her green-painted front door.

The door opened with a squeak and he saw Aelin standing there in one of her nightgowns that drove Rowan absolutely mad.

“You’re not going to prom with Chaol,” he rasped, pushing the hair falling on his forehead back with his hand.

“Huh?” Aelin was clearly confused as to why Rowan had come knocking at her door without preamble.

“You’re not going with him,” Rowan once again declared, standing his ground, ready to get everything off his chest before he lost the courage.

“Ro, I don’t get what you’re going on about. He hasn’t even asked me and if he doesn’t ask me I don’t know who’d I go with,” she admitted, her hand still holding the door open and her mouth in a serious line.

Rowan surges forward at that, gripping both of Aelin’s hands in his own. “You’d go with me, Aelin. I want you to go with me,” he pleaded with her, lifting her hands up to his chest. “Aelin,” he continued, “I don’t want to go with anyone else but you. I want to do everything with you, go everywhere with you. Gods, Aelin, you’re like my reason to breathe, to get up in the morning.”

“Row-” Aelin tried to interrupt, her blue eyes going wide.

“No, just let me finish, I- I know that sounds crazy and I know it’s so out of the blue and you didn’t expect me to show up outside your door like this and start professing my feelings,” Rowan was rambling now he knew. Everything he wanted to say to her was running through his mind like a freight train so much so he struggled to express it. The words were jumbled in his mind as if they were a bowl of alphabet soup in a blender. He just needed her to know how he felt.

“I- I just, I thought about you going to prom with Chaol or some other guy all damn day and I hated it. Gods, I couldn’t figure out why I hated it so much, it just it- it felt so wrong. Fireheart, I want you to be with me. Gods, I think I’m so desperately in love with you I’m going to combust or something.” Rowan was getting flustered now, he knew his face was burning and he was sweating, maybe from the humidity or maybe from the sheer weight of what he was confessing to his best friend. “Rowan,” Aelin started once again, her face contorted in pure shock.

“I know you might not feel the same Aelin, I knew I came here risking that, and if you don’t feel the same-”

“Rowan!” Aelin said with more force, bringing her hands to cup his face. “Listen to me,” she pleaded.

Rowan stopped trying to fight her and looked at her. He felt as though his stomach might fall out. His nerves were so intense as he stared into Aelin’s golden-ringed eyes.

“You’re just so fucking stupid,” Aelin breathed.

Rowan’s brow furrowed, he certainly hadn’t expected her to say that. “Wha-” he began.

He couldn’t even finish his thought before Aelin’s lips descended upon his own. She cradled his face in her hands as her soft lips moved against his in a slow rhythm. Rowan’s brain stalled and struggled to catch up with what the hell was happening.

He just knew this felt right, this felt so gods-damn right.

His hands were loosely wrapped around her wrists and they traveled lightly over her arms and moved to rest on her back and pull her into him.

Her body molded against his own. It felt like the final bit of a 50,000 piece puzzle had finally fallen into place after years of pouring over it. Rowan kissed Aelin back with just as much fever, desperate to keep her lips on his own. He brushed his tongue along the seam of her lips and she pulled back.

They both stood there, gulping down air as they stared at each other trying to navigate this unimaginable revelation.

“You’re- you’re not going to prom with Chaol, right?” Rowan finally managed to ask.

“No,” Aelin breathed. “I’ll go with you, I’ll always go with you.”

Their lips met once again.

~~~

day one down. stay tuned and have a wonderful day, xoxo

#rowaelin #aelin ashryver galathynius #aelin x rowan #rowan x aelin #rowan whitethorn #rowaelin au #rowaelin fanfiction #lorcan salvaterre #fenrys moonbeam #chaol westfall #dorian havilliard #rowaelin month #rowaelin fluff #throne of glass #throne of glass fanfiction

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iridiscent-aesthetics · 3 years

Note

Az scolding his shadows for sneaking out to hang out with Gwyn and then Gwyn scolding him for scolding the shadows as the shadows cheer their mommy on in the background🥰

Prompt idea from @imsointobooks Thank you so much! I loved writing this!

Everywhere. He'd searched everywhere.

Azriel had been frantic, searching for his shadows. He had been working on a report as they silently slid away from him. He'd noticed, but hadn't minded. They were used to slipping away and returning back to him in awhile. But never all of them, it was usually only a few jumpy ones, and came skittering back soon enough.

Now, after about almost 45 minutes or more, they still hadn't bothered coming back.

With the absence of them swarming over his shoulders, he felt incomplete. Spiraling back to being locked up in that dark cold cell, all alone. It was only when the shadows had chosen him, had protected him; had he felt safe. Now with them nowhere in sight, he felt lonely once more.

The shadows were a part of him, as he was of them. He was bounded to them seemingly by his soul, and deep within he knew, that they were safe and fine, wherever they were, and happy as well. Quite content than in a long while since now. He could feel them, their cheery emotions radiating pure joy to him. And he couldn't help but wonder, just what was making them so happy. And just where in Prythian were they?!

He was growing restless, he yelled into the void, demanding where they were. They jostled at once, before sneering back at him through the channel. But one shadow flew up to him, binding to his wrist and tugging him outside.

He followed, greatly irritated, not enjoying being pushed around. Out into the training ring, where the shadow pulled on him with such excitement that he stumbled in his steps. Gaining back his stance, he looked over and saw a fierce Valkyrie, dancing with her sword along with his shadows, fighting them. He tensed a moment, worried why his shadows were fighting with Gwyn. If they would intimidate her, but figured that was clearly not the case, marveling at how effortlessly she was yielding her sword, matching his shadows at every step. She wasn't afraid of them, she would not yield. That competitive strike he shared oh so well with her, never backing away from a challenge, always clashing him head on, word to word, blow to blow. Az rushed over to their side of the pit and summoned all his shadows to him in a haste, almost as if embracing them after missing them for too long. Unrelentingly they returned to him, supposedly deciding it was enough toying with him.

The priestess had noticed now, halting mid blow. She looked to Azriel and smiled brightly. "Oh hello there Shadowsinger!" "Or only singer, I suppose?" She gave him a mocking grin. Az rose an amused eyebrow, as to enquire. He had confessed that he could sing on Winter Solstice, was she teasing him for that? Gwyn only chuckled at him as she explained, "Well a Shadowsinger, whose shadows are missing from him, makes only a singer, does it not?" "And besides, you have admitted that you sing, I can only assume how well you are." Contemplating her answer, a heartbeat later, Az burst into fits of laughter, rich and loud. He laughed so hard that he had to sit down for a moment to catch his breath. He couldn't remember the last he laughed so heart fully. He looked up at Gwyn to see her gazing down at him fondly, like she was watching a baby giggle.

" Very bad joke Berdara." He remarked with a crooked grin.

"And is that why the reputed stoic faced spymaster is a muddle of laughter in front of me right now?"

"My humor seems to be just as dead as yours priestess. Unfortunate souls we are."

"Truly, yes of course." She retorted, trying and failing to hide that smile on her beautiful face.

"Jokes aside Shadowsinger, what brings you here?" She asked, piercing him with a knowing gaze. She knew the answer, only wanted to hear it from him.

"My shadows, well." "They disappeared and I found them here. They seem to be quite drawn to you."

"Well at least someone is," she muttered, not giving him the chance to ask her what that was about and immediately saying "I'm sorry if it bothered you. I was training alone when they showed up, so I decided to train with them. They're fun to have around, curious little souls."

This surprised him, it wasn't new to him that his shadows were off the leash when she was around, but considering them souls? Fun to be around with? No one had ever felt that way, Had never sympathized with the comfort his shadows brought him.

"That they are. When they disappeared, I immediately missed their company." He reminisced all the times they were his steady lone companions in the darkness.

"I'm sorry if it occurs as if I'm stealing them from you. I understand that they are a part of you. I only enjoy their company as much as yours." She apologized with a heavy guilty look, genuinely worried if she had offended Az by his shadows to taking a liking her.

"No Gwyneth- nothing of such sort. The shadows admire you deeply and enjoy your company very much. I'm happy to see them associate with you. It is not everyday, actually never that they are accepted and liked by anyone but me. And likewise that they ever pick interest in anyone. They must've grown steadily bored of me as well." He admitted. "And are you admitting that you enjoy my company?" He threw her a taunting smirk.

"Well five hundred years into with a brooding spymaster might do that to them." "And well yes, you aren't the worst company to have around Shadowsinger, one of the best really, seeing that you come in package with these lovelies." And as on cue one of his shadows darted to her, twirling itself around her raised palm as she giggled looking at it. At the sound of her melodic voice, the rest of his shadows took of to her from behind him twirling round her like a litter of puppies, no matter how hard he tried to reign them in.

"For the love of Cauldron, stop running bothering her you little menaces!" He yelled at them, "Do you HAVE to disobey me and embarrass me in front of her?!"

"But we aren't disobeying you Shadowsinger, Neither are we bothering her. We adore her and she likes us!" They shouted joyously. "Are you jealous Shadowsinger?" They taunted him.

Jealous? What possibly for could he be jealous of them; that they could see Gwyn whenever they wished to? That they could bring her beautiful smiles and bounts of laughter alive? Or that they could be as close to her as they wished and graze her skin?

" Enough." He let out sternly. "Stop dazzling and come back here. You're grounded for a week. No Gwyn. No sneak outs." He reeled them in with all his strength despite their protests. They were going off hook and disturbing the priestess way too much. The shadows tried running to Gwyn and hide behind her back as Az pulled them in.

The corners of Gwyn's lips turned down as she frowned on him.

"Azriel..." She put her hands on her hips and faced him with a stern expression. Az looked back to her in confusion.

"Are you trying to stop your shadows from associating with me? Am I such a bad influence on them?" She asked with a hint of nervousness.

" No- Gwyn, they- I don't want them disturbing you. You don't have to put up with their fuzziness. I wouldn't want want them to frighten you. They are only a discomfort and remainder of my darkness to many."

"Seriously?" Gwyn gave him an incredulous look. "You think they disturb me? I love them! They are SO much fun! They look out for me. Why would they ever frighten me!? They're such a steady and soothing companion when I lay awake because of my nightmares. They care for me! And I will not let you break my beautiful friendship with them just because you think they would scare me. Never apologize for what you are Az, you are a Shadowsinger. Your shadows are a part of you. No part of you would ever scare me Az." She held his hand in his hers "I see you, all of you. And I am not afraid."

Az didn't know what to say, he was overwhelmed. This female, standing in front of him. Facing him, unafraid and accepting.

He could only croak out "Why?" His voice full of raw emotion.

"I think you already know the answer to that." Her voice almost inaudible as she patted his chest and smiled softly.

"Now let those shadows out before I make you fight me." She ordered immediately before he could ponder on what she said before.

And he did, how could he ever deny her? He let his shadows out as they jumped to her, cheering her on for bringing them freedom, and dancing along with her laugh. Another sight he would never forget, bringing him a smile as he buried this image deep within. Again glowingly brightly in his chest

And here's another one. I didnt try for any physical descriptions this time.

And while writing I seemed to have made it more of a description of Az and his shadows' relation than their liking to Gwyn. It doesnt really perfectly fit the head canon and that was why I was planning of a part 2 to this if you guys wanted. Let me know if you're up for it!

Up next I have another A-mazing idea from @aelingalathyniusrailme and I absolutely loved it! It might take a day or two but I want put up my best for it!

Always open for suggestions and feedback. Feel free to send me Head Canons and other prompts!

#headcanon #acotar #acosf #gwynriel #azriel x gwyn #gwyn x azriel #gwyneth berdara #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #a thing of secret lovely beauty #ya books #fantasy #sarah j maas #reading #booksbooksbooks #fandom #shadows #shadowsinger #shipping

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sunsoothed · 3 years

Text

last love

prompt fill time! i got this prompt ages ago, i think when the show was still airing, and i just finished writing it in two days or so. it's turned out to be much longer than i intended, and i'm pleased about that. there is bye bye balloon date and a night spent in busan. warning for one instance of referenced internalised homophobia.

word count: 2294

read on ao3

enjoy!

Unfortunately sunny, the day reigns. There is a flyer slid cleanly under Jipurgi Law Firm’s door, inoffensive to the eye, nothing special. It is Chayoung who first takes note of it, hearing the paper flap as a draught sings through the office.

She stands in her heels, staring down at the complexity of colour, before she finds a very, very familiar face.

“Byeonhosa-nim,” Chayoung says, as she bends down and picks the flyer up, “You didn’t tell me you got another job.”

Vincenzo furrows his brows, leans back in his chair to observe what Chayoung’s got her hands on to make her hypothesise such a thing. He leans back far enough to catch sight of the flimsy flyer, distantly notices the Bye Bye Balloon logo, and in his shock, manages to tip his chair back entirely.

Minutes later, Vincenzo holds an ice-pack to the back of his head, seated at the table in the middle of the office. Chayoung sits at the head of the table and Mr Nam opposite him, the both of them eagerly awaiting an explanation while the flyer sits innocently on the table. Vincenzo can see his own tired face reflected back at him.

“Seokdo-hyung asked me to model for him,” Vincenzo mumbles.

Chayoung leans forward, her hands clasped together and forming a triangle with her forearms. “I didn’t hear you, could you repeat that?”

Vincenzo shoots her a dirty look, and replies with a scowl: “Seokdo-hyung asked me to model for him.”

“Wow,” Mr Nam nods. “Wow,” He repeats, and then he claps.

With a deadpan expression, Vincenzo hits his head with the ice-pack.

Chayoung bites her lips to hide a grin. “Modelling, then?”

“He said I owed him,” Vincenzo mutters. “You can see I’m not happy about it.”

Chayoung ignores him completely. Her massage toy materialises out of somewhere and taps him on the shoulder.

“Do you get a free ride if you modeled for them?”

Vincenzo glares first at the toy, then at Chayoung. “How would I know.”

“Tch.” She glares back. “I’m going to ask them.”

Before Vincenzo has time to process what she’s saying, Chayoung skips out of the office. His panicked byeonhosa-nim! fails to reach her ears, and with a sigh he resigns himself to his fate.

It’s a week later that Chayoung drags him to spend a night in Busan, quite literally pulling him by the hand into the train at five-thirty AM. The one backpack of their shared necessities for one night slings heavily over his shoulders.

Seokdo-hyung had already started setting everything up at the port, or so he’d told them, when they’d called him last night. He also specified that they needed to arrive before nine in the morning, then he harped on about logistics of wind direction and whatnot, and Chayoung had put him off speaker and returned to going through Vincenzo’s cupboard.

Of course, she had shown up at his place uninvited, and of course, he let her do whatever she wished.

And so were the consequences: one bad cup of espresso at the train station and three hours in-and-out of sleep aboard the train. Chayoung shakes him awake fifteen minutes before they arrive, something unmistakably soft in her eyes as he removes his head from her shoulder.

“You’re like a cat,” She tells him, smile mild and indulgent. When he asks her to, she refuses to elaborate on it. “You just are.”

Chayoung takes his hand the moment they get off the train. Vincenzo stares down at their joint hands, then at Chayoung’s face, an obvious question in his raised eyebrows.

“You’ll get lost,” She explains. “I bet you’ve never been to Busan before.”

Vincenzo opens his mouth, always ready to argue with her, before he realises that she’s actually right. “I haven’t,” He acquiesces. “Lead the way.”

When Chayoung grins at those words, there is a blush high on her cheekbones, reflecting in the morning sunlight. Vincenzo wants to kiss her.

So it turns out Seokdo-hyung is actually competent at his work, for he had everything prepared when Vincenzo and Chayoung arrived on site, still holding hands. He had nothing to say to that.

“I’ll take you for a nice ride around the coast, but since you both aren’t actually using our service, you get none of the on-flight snacks and we’ll come down before we use up too much fuel. Clear?”

“Clear!” Chayoung exclaims, determined in the sharpness of her eyes. Vincenzo just nods.

Seokdo-hyung claps his hands together, then gestures for them to get on, scampering on once the both of them are standing in the basket. They’re high up in no time, Busan’s urban landscape majestically below them.

“I usually don’t do this,” Seokdo-hyung starts up, after they drift for a few minutes. “But it’s difficult to get licensed to pilot this, so I’m glad I can put my skills to use.”

“You have a very mysterious past, Mr Nutria,” Chayoung calls from across the basket. “How random is a hot air balloon license.”

“Ah,” Seokdo-hyung stares out into the distance, exclaims somewhere between wistful and egoistic. “I’m full of surprises.”

Vincenzo and Chayoung share a smile. Vincenzo shifts closer, so that they’re both sharing the same view, shoulder to shoulder.

“I’ve never seen something like this,” Chayoung tells him, voice soft. She leans into his shoulder to be heard, Vincenzo automatically leaning down to accommodate her.

“Me neither.”

Chayoung laughs, airy and giddy, her eyes on his face for just a second before she continues to take in the scenery. “It’s nice up here, isn’t it?”

Vincenzo blinks softly at her. “Mm. It’s a little cold, but yes, nice. Very nice.”

“You always underdress because you want to look cool,” Chayoung tuts. “I expected this.”

Vincenzo, who has never been so perceived and so personally affronted, only stares mutely as she produces a woolen scarf from her handbag. Before he has the opportunity to ask her exactly how she managed to stuff it in her bag, she’s throwing it around his neck, wrapping it tightly.

“Too - too tight,” Vincenzo winces, as Chayoung pulls the ends of the scarf; constricting his throat.

Chayoung’s eyebrows shoot up in alarm, then fall back down in annoyance as Vincenzo grins at her. She shoves his shoulder.

“Idiot,” Chayoung huffs, pointedly looking away from him.

“Wouldn’t it be funny,” Vincenzo starts, placating her with a hand on her shoulder, “If you managed to kill me like that?”

“You’re seriously asking to be killed now,” Chayoung replies, diluted astonishment. “With your mother’s scarf, too. You’re very dedicated to giving yourself a horrible end.”

“That won’t be a horrible end,” He says, toys with the scarf around his neck. “At least, not for me.”

“Not after all you’ve done?”

Vincenzo exhales and bites the flesh of his lower lip. Then he nods at Chayoung.

Chayoung drapes an arm over his shoulder. “Then we’ll go together.”

“Byeonhosa-nim —”

“We’ll go together,” Chayoung vows, leaving no room for argument.

Early evening, Seokdo-hyung has already made his way back to Seoul. Vincenzo and Chayoung have since walked enough to exhaust themselves and eaten too much off the streets of Busan to need dinner. Chayoung still stops him by a convenience store near the Hyatt, and puts two packets of ramen’s worth of bills on his credit card.

“I spent all my money treating you,” Chayoung explains, when Vincenzo holds his mouth open and eyebrows raised throughout the billing process. “Be grateful.”

“On no, of course,” Vincenzo sarcastically inclines his head. “It’s not like I’ve been carrying your luggage the whole day.”

He still holds the door open for her when they exit.

“If it’s too much for your old, weary shoulders, I’ll carry the bag.”

“When we’re outside the hotel?” Vincenzo smiles his fake smile while looking up at the building. “Thank you for your kind offer, byeonhosa-nim.”

Chayoung smiles back smugly.

Well, turns out she wanted him to suffer more.

“There’s only one bed.”

Chayoung just shrugs. Vincenzo scrunches his brows.

“Where will I sleep?”

“On the bed,” She replies.

“And where will you sleep?”

“On the bed.”

“Byeonhosa-nim,” Vincenzo begins, but he doesn’t know where he’s going with it. “Byeonhosa-nim.”

“Byeonhosa-nim,” Chayoung parrots back. “Is it a problem?”

Between Vincenzo’s quiet crisis over the bed and his stuttering, Chayoung has very happily dug her clothes and toiletries out of the backpack.

“I’m going to change,” She calls over her shoulder. “Don’t just stand there.”

Vincenzo, who had been planning to just stand there for a good few minutes more, does not budge an inch. In fact, he’s in the same position when Chayoung returns from the bathroom, mouth minty and feet bare.

“Byeonhosa-nim,” She says softly. “Is it really a —”

“Byeonhosa-nim,” Vincenzo interrupts her. “Can I kiss you?”

When the sun announces the first of its presence, it’s palpable through the translucent curtains of the hotel room. Chayoung awakens from her catnap against Vincenzo’s shoulder, her hair draped over his chest. She hums, content, runs a hand over his torso, eventually settling on the curve of his waist and clutching.

“You’re awake?” Vincenzo’s dry voice sounds from above her. “Did you sleep well?”

Chayoung smiles up at him. “Very well.”

Vincenzo responds in kind; he holds her by the waist, guiding her slightly upwards for a kiss.

“You would, after you exhausted yourself like that.”

“Why do I get the feeling you talk to all your hook-ups like that?” Chayoung wonders while she lightly traces his jaw with her free hand. “Is this how you usually do this?”

“This isn’t a hook-up to me.”

“No?” Chayoung’s fingers stop shy of his lips.

“No,” Vincenzo confirms, bends down to kiss her fingers. “It’s much more than that.”

She sighs against his chest. “For me, too. You’re not a hook-up.”

Vincenzo kisses her forehead.

“But…”

“But?”

Chayoung hides her face in his neck. “But I won’t say this is some first love thing either.”

That draws a laugh out of him. “First loves are overrated anyway.”

Chayoung peers at him. “Sounds like there’s a story behind that.”

Vincenzo tilts his head to look at her. Chayoung gets the hint, lazily boosting herself up on her forearms. Vincenzo, freed from his entrapment, takes a moment to relieve the cricks in his neck, then sits back against the headboard of the bed. Chayoung drapes the sheets over her shoulders and sits beside him.

“Back in Italy,” Vincenzo starts, after retrieving his lighter from his bedside, “There was this upperclassman at my high school. He was also Korean. He used to tutor me, in our school’s library, every Wednesday evening.”

Vincenzo clicks the lighter open and shut a couple of times.

“I realised I liked him and I had a crisis about it, like any fourteen-year-old would. I definitely detested that part of me for a good while. It wasn’t — isn’t something that was exactly… orthodox. And to a fourteen-year-old, no matter what you’ve seen, when you discover something for yourself, it’s always pretty monumental. So I… I tried to avoid him for a few weeks, but he found me each time, and he’d speak my mother tongue and cajole me into a better mood. He never asked what had me so down.”

Vincenzo closes the lighter and holds his thumb down.

“I thought of him day and night. The more I made myself avoid him, the more I’d think of meeting him, the more I met him, the more I’d want to see him again. It was like that. But that wasn’t why I really thought of him as my first love, I think. It was after he graduated, he gave me a present, a letter. He said he was proud of me. And then…”

“And then he left?”

Vincenzo looks at Chayoung with a reluctant smile. He nods.

“That’s when I knew I loved him. His absence hurt like my mother had abandoned me again.” Vincenzo swallows. “But you know how it is for fourteen-year-olds. I did forget him. I did forget that part of my identity as well. But I like to keep him in my memory. He was kind to me, I was so much more naive. It’s nice to remember him, because I can remember a different me. It’s somewhat a tribute to Park Joohyung, the boy I once was. Before my world changed forever.”

Vincenzo swallows into the silence once again. Chayoung sighs.

“I can’t compete with that.”

A laugh, punched out, but a laugh nonetheless. “This isn’t a competition.”

Chayoung sighs again, leans against his shoulder until her cheek is squished against it. “My first love was this boy who used to walk to the bus stop with me. He always had some kind of candy on him, and he always shared it with me.”

“How Pavlovian.” Vincenzo drily remarks.

“What did I say? Nothing that can compete with your sob story.”

Vincenzo scoffs lightly. “We won’t end up like that.”

“We won’t,” Chayoung agrees. “We’re old now.”

Vincenzo bends his head so that they’re eye to eye. “Your timing is horrible.”

“What? Were you going to confess your undying love to me or something?”

Vincenzo’s mouth hangs open in affront.

“You were,” Chayoung says, then covers her mouth with her hand. “Oh my god, you were.”

“You ruined the moment,” Vincenzo curtly informs her. “Forget it.”

“You can’t do this to me —”

“I can,” He decides, and sits with his arms crossed and mouth sealed shut.

“Come on.”

“Byeonhosa-nim.”

“Vincenzo Cassano.”

“... Jagiya?”

That makes him look at her.

“I love you,” Chayoung seizes the opportunity. “Now say it back.”

Disgruntled cat that he is, it takes more than one try to get Vincenzo to say it back. But once he starts, he doesn’t stop.

#tvn vincenzo #vincenzo cassano #hong chayoung #chayenzo #chayenzo fic #vincenzo fic #bye bye balloon #whovie writes

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ourstarscollided · 3 years

Text

jatp fanworks appreciation - day 3 (wips)

wip wednesday - I didn’t think I wanted to join in on this day for my own stuff considering I’ve never posted anything original for this fandom, but I think this might just be the little boost I need from myself to actually finish the wips that I have sitting around. I am peer pressuring myself and holding myself accountable by posting this - or at least that’s what I’m telling myself. Most of the past 6 mths has just been me screaming to no one in a Google Doc, so here are some things I’ve been ruminating about over the last 6 months (and if my secret agenda is to get other people to write about it so I don’t have to? Then that’s between you and me).

Everything’s under a read more because I like giving context and that usually spirals out of control!?!?

If you would like to see more from any of the below, feel free to shoot me an ask/message and I can definitely share some more! (Or you can just come yell at me about JATP in general.)

Strangers Fake Dating AU // Julie x Luke

I’m a simple person. I see a prompt, I latch onto it, and then I completely miss the entire point of the prompt as my imagination goes wild for no real reason. This really was supposed to be a super short drabble, but it manifested into a 3k+ thing that isn’t even finished.

Julie’s not really sure what she’s supposed to do now. Nothing has ever prepared her for a situation in which she’s supposed to pretend to be a stranger’s girlfriend, especially if that situation involves parents. Does she continue this ruse? Can she come up with a quick enough excuse to tell this Luke character that she actually can’t stay? What if this is just all an elaborate plan to kidnap her? Has she been listening to too many true crime podcasts? Why does Luke smell so good? Does he know how to cook? Why does his shirt not have sleeves? What-

“I can hear you thinking from here.” Her head whips up at the sound of Luke’s voice, which is now at a whisper and kind of frantic. “I just- I just really needed to get my mom off my back, so I kinda need you to pretend to be my girlfriend. Just for the night. I swear I’ll make it up to you somehow.”

Julie studies Luke’s face and it’s nearly impossible to not cave under his gaze, which can only be simply described as ‘puppy dog eyes’. She finds herself smiling back, letting out a huff, “I hope you like lasagna.” And the grin that spreads across the boy’s face is enough for her to know that he’s incredibly relieved that she agreed.

“I’m Luke by the way. Luke Patterson.”

(Okay, he’s kinda cute. And no one this cute is a serial killer. Right?)

She gives a small smile back, “I’m Julie.”

5+1 alive!Juke AU // Julie x Luke

Inspired by paper - LANY

This is one of the first things I ever felt the urge to write down back in September because I love exploring the idea of how two people can appear to be the perfect relationship on the outside, but are actually fighting their own demons. Especially when it comes to celebrities and people who are in the spotlight. It’s basically a 5+1 fic about the moments from other people’s perspectives who happen to orbit around Julie/Luke that all revolve around paper. My outline for this is so long because I can’t manage to narrow it down, and there’s zero cohesiveness but I do have little things jotted down.

“Hey little man,” Luke’s knelt down to match his 5 year-old height, and a hand extends out to him for a high five, “What are you doing here?”

His eyes flicker to the left, towards his own apartment door, where his mom is giving him an encouraging nod. “ I- I just wanted to-” he stutters and finds himself looking at his feet as he shuffles back and forth on the spot. “I- I drew you guys something!”

He shoves the paper out towards the older boy in front of him, but doesn’t look up.

Reincarnation AU // Julie x Luke

I had a random thought in December about how magical it is that Julie and Luke are so tied to one another that their love transcends time and space, which will always lead them back to one another. I remember reading a book a long time ago about how the main character is fated to die at a certain age, and that kind of sparked this little idea. I can’t bring myself to actually plot out every single timeline right now, but I did manage to write a little bit.

It will never be as complex as Rosie’s idea and all the wonderful additions in the link here, and I don’t really plan on it being anything more than a small idea. But I really do still think someone should write some sort of reincarnation AU cause I’d hop on that so fast!!

“Okay- that’s not- Luke. You seriously just ran away?”

“What was I supposed to do Alex? We all know how this ends.”

His friend looks at him, face painted in understanding and he sighs, “Yeah. Yeah, we do.”

Because it’s true, Alex does know, so does Reggie and Bobby. Most importantly, so does Luke. It’s the exact same tragic love story every time.

Call it a curse or fate or destiny. Maybe it’s because Mercury is in retrograde. Whatever. It always ends the same way - with a heartbreaking goodbye, a whisper of the promise that they’ll find each other again, and the possibility of a happy ending. He’s said the same goodbye at least 734 times, but it’s not like he’s counting or anything. Fuck the universe and its mystical ways.

Competitive Alex // Alex x Willie

No real thoughts or reasons for this other than I just think I self-projected my need to play board games with people in real life into a fic. And maybe a little bit of my competitiveness onto Alex and then threw in Willie because I think he would be able to handle it while also finding it endearing. I also have written nothing about the actual competitiveness, it’s just 2k words of Alex crushing on Willie.

“Wait,” his eyes dart between the three boys, “You both know Willie? How come I’ve never met him?”

His roommates look at each other, and there’s a smirk on Luke’s face when he says, “Actually Alex, I think you have. Remember that time you got really drunk after one of our shows?”

Oh no. He really hopes that it’s not the time he’s thinking of, so he tries to sound nonchalant. “You’re going to have to be more specific, Luke.”

“The night we played at that tiny bar at the edge of the campus! We got paid in those tiny colourful shots?” He doesn’t really know where Luke is going with this, so he’s slowly nodding along. “And you were super upset that the hot dog vendor at the end of the street was closed?”

Dear Julie, Love Mom series

I made myself sad with this thought when I first watched the show and was talking to my friend about how I think that Rose would’ve left messages for the Molina family, especially when we found out that Wake Up was actually from her mom. I wrote a bigger explanation for it here.

Anyways, I started with the one for Julie’s wedding and it kind of became an 8k monster with three different POVs?!? As much as I love how I wrote this, I feel too unsure about my writing to share it in full, so you will get carefully selected looks alkfe. (I’m also kind of stuck on some of the more emotional scenes and I may or may not have procrastinated by photoshopping a moodboard for it.)

Excerpt 1 (Julie POV): A look into where I’m going with this whole letters from Rose thing.

The key clicks into place, and with a turn, the latch falls open. She’s not sure what she wants to find in the box, and she’s too scared to think about it really. All she knows is that this was the sign from her mom that she was waiting for all week, and in true Rose fashion, her mom had managed to give it to her, even if at the last second. Her dad turns the box to face Julie, and gestures to her to open up the lid.

Tucked inside is a VHS tape, the words ‘For Julie, on your wedding day’ written in her mom’s cursive on the cover. Some loose glitter and confetti fall back into the box as she reaches in to pick up the tape and turn it over in her hands. There’s a little purple butterfly etched on the back, the same one that’s been drawn on all the other messages that her mom had left her. Her finger automatically finds its way, tracing the shape of the small doodle.

“Do you want me to leave you alone, mija?”

Excerpt 2 (Julie POV): This part has absolutely nothing to do with the main plot of the story, but it self-inserted itself into this fic after @tangledstarlight and I talked about You’re Still the One by Shania Twain being their first dance. This whole scene came to me at 4am one night and might be the most self-indulgent thing I’ve ever written.

They knew that when they had asked Reggie to be in charge of the first dance performance, that they (and Alex) weren’t allowed to veto any of his ideas. Luke had warned Julie that that would be a mistake, but the giddiness that radiated off of Reggie when she had told him he could have free reign was worth it. She just hadn’t thought that he would actually take it to heart and run with it.

Sure, they had chosen You’re Still the One by Shania Twain as their first dance song, and sure it was more or less a country song, but she didn’t really imagine that she’d be staring at her adoptive brother, Carlos and her Dad wearing cowboy hats and boots at her wedding. They had somehow managed to ditch their Flynn-approved suit jackets and were sporting a taupe-coloured suede-textured vest over their dress shirts. If she looked closely, she could see that they had somehow also found some gaudy looking bolo ties with a matching set of ornamental clasps to wear. When she envisioned her wedding, she really didn’t expect that her first (public) dance as a married couple would be a full-on Western themed occasion. The only exception was Alex, who had settled on his cajon in the back, still in his pink suit, eyes rolling when she met his gaze. But even she knew how there was no real annoyance in the blonde’s reaction or else he wouldn’t also be wearing one of the tacky ties around his neck as well.

“I’m gonna seriously kill him.” She hears Luke grumble under his breath, only low enough for her to hear. But she’s still too busy giggling to actually be mad, and she knows that Luke isn’t really going to kill Reggie. At least she doesn’t think so.

Excerpt 3 (Luke POV): Idk man. My mind went “What about Luke?” and I said “You’re right!! What about him?!?”

He doesn’t realize that he’s just been silently staring at the woman in front of him, until a gentle voice breaks him out of his thoughts. “Why are you looking at me like that?” Julie’s peering at him from under her eyelashes, a curious look on her face.

“You just-” he gives a little shake of his head, trying to come up with the right words. He wants to tell her she’s beautiful. Stunning. A wicked beauty. But she’s more than that - she’s almost angelic. “I can’t believe you’re my wife.”

“Luke, we’ve been legally married for like, a whole year.” Her lips are quirked up in a grin, amusement in her voice. “You’ve only just realized that now?”

“That’s different.”

“Yeah? Different how?”

This feels a little strange to post and a little like my inner self seeking validation but let’s not talk about that.

Kskssj anyways present me @ future me: finish one of these because writing has been really cathartic for you and you didn’t think it would bring you so much joy!!!

#gotta tag this so that it doesnt ever show up in any tags on tumblr.#i like that what got me to post about my writing was a fanworks appreciation week. but i will say that a couple weeks ago when i was feeling #extra good about my writing. i made a promise to myself to post smthg for the 6 mth mark of jatp and that kinda got backtracked because of #my requirements to be an adult and my general insecurities about putting out content that is mine for the works to judge sjsjsj #so this is me making it up to myself by sharing some things.#thank you rosie for indulging me in my ramblings. you’ve really given me confidence in my work even tho you’ve never read anything of mine.#just know I APPRECIATE YOU A LOT!!!!#i hope you dont mind that i tagged you!!!#anyways this is gonna get thrown into my queue for wednesday and whenever it posts is whenever it will post.#i also typed this on my phone (i DO NOT RECOMMEND IT) so sorry if the formatting is janky. i didnt wanna give myself time to second guess #myself and end up not posting it. sjjs #jatp fanworks appreciation week #sometimes i write #personal #<- need to come up with tags for myself welp #sunset queue

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atiny-orbit1219 · 4 years

Text

Body Waves

Idol: Wong Yukhei/Lucas from NCT

Prompt: Whenever your mom is too busy with work you’re left taking your little sister to her dance lessons. I’m the midst of being stressed from finals your mom asked you to take your sister to dance. It was safe to say you weren’t happy but you did it anyway. The normal instructor is on leave and taking her place temporarily is her dangerously handsome nephew, Lucas. You find yourself immediately falling for the adorable boy so what are you going to do when he asks if you’d like a private lesson?

Warnings: suggestive?? I don’t know.

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You peel the sticky note from the fridge and immediately groan. It was difficult to read your mother’s scratchy writing but you could tell what it said at one glance. “Working late tonight. Take your sister to her dance class please.” You mumble. Normally this wouldn’t be such an issue but finals week is approaching and the time spent watching your little sister twirl around clumsily could be used studying instead. Of course though, you were going to do it. There is no use in arguing with your mother. You’ll just bring your textbooks and do what you can.

After a quick breakfast you were out of the house and off to your college campus to have a day full of iced coffee, tears, and study guides. No one ever told you college was like this, the movies made it seem like two semesters of non stop partying and drinking but so far it's only been non stop crying and stressing. “Hey Y/N! You coming to the library with us? We’re gonna go over the study guide together.” you let out a soft sigh and shake your head. “Can’t… I’d love to but I have to take my littler sister to her dance lesson right after class.” You whine, pulling your bag over your shoulder as your friends give you looks of sympathy.

You head to the parking lot, test questions and answers running through your mind at full speed. You were too busy thinking you almost walked past your car. You groan to yourself, frustrated at how things are playing out. You take a few steps backwards and enter your car, going to pick up your sister from school. Within minutes you arrived at the junior high and watched as your sister jogged over to you and slid into the passenger side.

“The new dance instructor is starting today!” Your sister said excitedly, you two were chatting about your days to pass time and she just remembered that the temporary replacement instructor’s first day is today. The regular instructor is busy birthing a child so her nephew is taking over as he is on holiday from some pretentious dance school in The city. You nod at your sister’s words, your fingers drumming on the steering wheel. “I wonder what he’ll teach you guys.” I hum, curious to how this new guy was gonna handle ten little girls at once. At least now you’ll have some entertainment in the background while you study.

You and your sister were the last to walk through the glass doors of the dance studio, but luckily you weren’t late. You noticed the normal group of moms all huddled, whispering to each other and pointing to the door that led to one of the dance rooms. You of course just figured they were gossiping about something or someone.. typical dance moms.

You follow your sister and the rest of the group into the studio once it was time for the lesson to start. Your head was already buried in the textbook, your eyes scanning the pages as the path to the seats was muscle memory at this point. Except... they weren’t there. Instead a stereo has taken their place. You didn’t notice until it was too late. You tripped on one of the wires, your stomach dropping from fear and surprise as you saw the ground approaching, your textbook falling from your hands as you attempted to catch yourself. You closed your eyes, awaiting your fate to hit the hardwood floor… yet the impact never came. You felt a hand wrap around your arm and pull you against what felt like a brick wall but you soon found out it was your savior’s chest. You gasp in shock as he speaks. “You should really pay attention to where you’re walking.” His voice was lighthearted and his smile was blinding as he looked down at you.

You had to blink a few times to make sure this was real. You looked up at him, his tan face, gorgeous smile, beautiful brown eyes, and perfect hair… there’s no possible way someone this good looking was standing this close to you. “Oh! Well uh- you know- t-the chairs! They’re usually here.” You stutter like a complete idiot as all knowledge of basic human functions leaves your brain to make room for every little detail of him to be sealed in your mind forever. He just laughs and you swear it was the sound you hear as you enter Heaven’s gates. “Sorry.. I moved them to the other side to match my studio back at home.., it was a bit confusing.” He explains and you could only dumbly nod along.

He finally lets you go and reaches down, grabbing your textbook from the floor and holding it out for you. “Oh.. I heard this class is brutal.. good luck!” He says with a charming smile. You reach out, grasping the book tightly as you let out a small laugh. “Thank you! And yeah it’s a bit tough.. but probably not as tough as teaching these girls so good luck to you as well.” You hum before turning around to take a seat with all the other moms. Your heart was racing a mile a minute, your cheeks still red from the encounter as you pretended to read the book while you actually listened to the stranger introduce himself.

“Hello! My name is Lucas!” He said, his deep voice filling the room causing you to almost melt into the chair. “My aunt is currently on maternity leave so that means you're stuck with me for a few months.” He joked. The girls laughed as he continued. “Your teacher gave me your recital song and I have free reign on choreography so let’s make this something no ones ever seen before yeah?” Lucas smiles his heart stopping smile before leading the girls through stretches.

You couldn’t take your eyes off him. No matter how hard you tried you always found yourself staring at his body while he taught. Every now and then he’d feel your eyes and turn to look at you, which you would quickly look down at the book in your lap. This boy had you and the other moms wrapped around his finger. All they talked about was how good looking he was and how taking off their wedding rings sounded like a great idea at the moment.

The hour passed by in what felt like minutes and soon it was time to go. You bite your lip, waving a goodbye to Lucas before gathering your sister and going home.

The next few weeks you practically begged your mom to let you take your sister to dance class. Finals were over and now you could let yourself become completely infatuated with Lucas. The previous week he asked you how your test had gone and you felt your knees go weak. He remembered!! You could almost squeal at how happy it made you. You knew you were acting like a middle school girl with a crush but you couldn’t help it.. Lucas is hands down the best looking man you’ve ever seen and he’s also caring, funny, sweet and just… perfect.

After another hour of watching Lucas magically keep the attention of the girls, the class came to an end and like every other day you go to wave goodbye and collect your sister so you two could drive home and you can rant about just how gorgeous Lucas looked today.

“Hey! Y/n!” You were stopped in your tracks as Lucas jogged over to you. You turn around to face him, your heart skipping a beat just from the close proximity. “Oh hey Lucas! Did my sister leave her shoes again because I swear I’m gonna start glueing them to her feet.” You pout and Lucas can only smile. “No not this time… Although your sister did tell me you were interested in dancing.” Your eyes went wide at his words. “Did she now?” You ask cluelessly, your gaze shifting to your sister giving you a thumbs up and a cheeky smile from behind Lucas’s back. This little brat- “If you’d like I can give you a few… private lessons?” Lucas offered. Scratch that, your sister is an angel and you will definitely get her ice cream on the way home. “Really? You’d do that?” You ask, a blush forming at the idea of being alone with Lucas. “Yeah! I need the teaching experience and my aunt gave me the keys to the studio… so maybe you can come by Friday night after close?” He asked with a shy smile which you returned. “Okay! Sounds great! I’ll see you then.. I guess.” You say nervously and Lucas nods. “See you then.”

As Friday night finally comes you find yourself panicked. “What do I wear? What do I say? You put me in this mess! Help me!” You order your sister who just laid on your bed to watch the chaos unfold. “Wear the one black tank top with your leggings, black is so your sweat stains don’t show.” She says calmly. “You’re a genius.” You say as you gather the outfit and get dressed. “Hair up or down?” You ask for advice once more. “Wear it down then before the lesson starts put it up while he’s watching… guys like that.” You nod, putting the hair tie on your wrist for later. “How do I look?” You wait for your final evaluation as your sister stands up to get a closer look. She lifts your arm, takes a sniff, then hums in approval. “You’re ready my young grasshopper.” You shove her shoulder but smile anyways. “I’m ready…” you say softly before grabbing your keys and purse before heading to the studio.

You see Lucas’s car already in the parking lot as you take a deep breath. He’s just a guy teaching you a few dance steps.. you repeat this as you enter the building. You find Lucas in the studio and he smiles as you walk in. “Hey.” He said softly. “Hi.” You reply. “I went ahead and picked the song and choreographed everything.” You were surprised at how prepared he was and it only made you fall further for him. “Just so you know I have two left feet and no rhythm.” You exaggerate and Lucas laughs. “I’m sure that’s not true… plus… you have me to guide you.” You blush at his comment but nod your head.

You remember the hair tie on your wrist and gulp nervously before bringing your hands up to your hair. You could feel Lucas’s eyes on you as you gather the strands into a low ponytail. After he knew he was caught staring he just cleared his throat and walked over to the middle of the dance floor. “Okay.. you ready?” He asked. You walked over to his side, “ready.”

You were not expecting the choreo to be this touchy. Once Lucas started showing you the moves and you felt his large hands on your waist you almost lost the ability to function. You somehow managed to keep up with him though as he instructed you on how to move your body with his. Soon you were ready to dance with the music. The low base filled the room as you immerse yourself into the dance so you wouldn’t focus on your body pressed against Lucas’s. There was one move where your back was pressed against Lucas’s chest and you swayed your hips against him. While learning the move you were careful about leaving some space between you two but you decide to take the risk as you grow drunk on Lucas’s touch. He noticed your change in confidence and couldn’t help but smile but that smile soon faltered. He choreographed this dance.. he should’ve known better than putting in a move where you are literally just grinding on him.

Lucas tried to continue to the next move where he turned you around to face him and he stopped there, the dance long forgotten as you give him a confused look. “Why did you st-“ Lucas leaned down, cupping your face with both hands and captured your lips with his. You didn’t hesitate and kissed him back, your arms wrapping around the back of his neck as he pulled you closer, his lips moving expertly against yours. You’ve dreamt this moment over and over again but you never thought it would feel this good. Your whole body felt like it was on fire as Lucas slowly pulled away, a small smile on his face. You smiled back, an unspoken understanding flooding both of you as you jumped up into his arms. He catches you effortlessly and your lips are on his again.

You kissed until you felt lightheaded from lack of oxygen, your back pressed against the cold glass of the mirror as you studied Lucas’s face from up close. His messy hair from your hands, his swollen lips from your kiss, his eyes full of admiration for you.. your mark was on him and even though you couldn’t see yourself you’re sure his was on you too. And if not it sure was gonna be as his lips traveled to your neck. You were never going to complain about taking your sister to dance class again.

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silentexplorer18 · 5 years

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Soulmates: A Draco Malfoy Short

Summary: There’s a saying in the wizard world that the world changes color when you meet your soulmate. Is it really true?

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x reader

Warnings: Tiniest details of injuries. Not the best writing in the world? Soft Draco? Possibly slightly OOC Draco?

Note: This fic was inspired by @humdrummoloch‘s prompt #1556 (”Can I stop pretending to care now?”). As soon as I saw it, I immediately thought of Draco, and this is the idea that came from it.

Read it here on AO3.

Masterlist

There’s this old wizard saying that meeting your soulmate will change your view of the world. By that, the world was meant to turn the color of your soulmate’s eyes after your first glances together. Honestly, though you’d heard the words repeated throughout your youth, you’d never expected the rumors to be true.

That is, until Third Year when you accidentally bumped into Draco Malfoy in the hall. In that instant, stumbling to scoop up his books for him, ignoring your own almost completely, your eyes darted up to meet his silver ones when your vision blurred, the world turning into grey tones, silvery highlights glinting around you as the faintest shade of blue tinted the shadows. That sensation lasted until he’d shoved your books into your hands, surprised with how focused you’d been on rectifying the mistake you’d made in causing him to drop his belongings rather than gathering your own, and brushed by you in the hallway.

Despite every doubt in the past, you knew that your vision change was something special. You knew he was your soulmate.

At first, you were bashful about it, casually sending an extra glance or two toward the Slytherin Prince during meals or in classes. However, as the weeks progressed, the feelings in your chest only continued to bubble and grow, threatening to erupt on accident if you didn’t take the reigns and tell him soon.

So that’s what you did. Bashfully, you asked the blonde if you could speak with him privately. He shot you some odd looks, but relented, following you into a quiet hallway of the castle with little protest. Waiting for you to speak, he quirked a brow, and your heart could’ve melted on the spot.

With a rushed breath, you pushed the words that had been gnawing at you off your chest. “I think we’re soulmates.”

If anyone were to ask Draco Malfoy, he would say he was much too dignified to snort, but, to you, the noise that came from his usually dapper features sounded an awful lot like a snort of derision. “You and I? Soulmates? Where’d you get a foolish idea like that?”

Your face deflated. Of course it was foolish to think that Draco would welcome you with open arms, but you had hoped nonetheless that he would give more merit to the concept of soulmates.

Yet you knew even then that you had to fight for him to accept you; he was your one true love, after all.

“My vision turned silver when I made eye contact with you that day I bumped you in the hallway,” you explained.

He scoffed at that. “Your vision turned silver? What a tale. The hallway is dark, cast in shadows; that was certainly what you saw. Your vision couldn’t have changed, mine didn’t. That’s merely a story old wizards and witches spew to children.”

The truth was, he didn't recall his vision changing, but even if it had, the color of your eyes wouldn’t have been that remarkably noticeable in the dark hallway that day. The change would have been faint at most, thus he probably wouldn’t have perceived it.

“I know what I saw,” you murmured, eyes imploring him for belief.

“Well I don’t, but we simply cannot work. I have a status to uphold. So I suggest you go back to your daydreams and stop focusing on this soulmates nonsense,” he stated, immediately hating the crestfallen look that washed across your face. “I’ll see you in Transfiguration,” he stated, providing you with a polite nod.

With that, he walked away, leaving you to ponder what to do to gain his belief.

The next time you pulled Draco Malfoy away from his life, it was during his free period. Again, you implored that he listen to your thoughts. You knew that somewhere deep inside his heart, he must care about soulmates, but he shut down your idea as fast as the first attempt, reminding you that people like you and people like him don’t end up together.

However, he isn’t cruel in his tone, nor in the way he sweeps past you, back inside the castle to the safety of the dungeons.

And that gives you hope. Only a sliver, mind you, but hope nonetheless that he doesn’t hate you.

That’s the first step.

After all the times you’ve pulled him from his studies, wandered up to him while he was alone to argue your case, he’s begun to grow quite fond of you, a fact he’d never choose to admit to anyone other than himself.

However, that doesn’t mean the feeling isn’t there.

He finds your persistence charming in an adorable sort of way, and the bubble of passion in your voice each time you speak to him in particular warms his heart in a way he seldom gets warmed.

Thus, he’s chosen to walk the fine line between being kind enough to keep you speaking to him but curt enough to keep you from thinking you have a real chance ever being with him.

It’s selfish, he knows, but you’re too delightful, too different from any of his other friends, for him to try to be rid of you for good.

So your conversations have become kind of a game to him, a small moment in time where he allows himself to be playful, humorous, and witty as he refutes your notion that the two of you belong together.

When you traipse up to the bench he’s sitting on, eyes scanning the weathered novel in his delicate hands, he can only moderately hide the delicious smirk working its way across his pale features as you sit down beside him, turning your bright smile toward his face determinedly.

“Draco, please, hear me out,” you say quietly but surely, eyes boring into his mildly amused gaze. “I know I’m not your ideal fantasy of a girlfriend,” you began, eyes fluttering to look toward the Black Lake, noting the gentle rippling of the water, “but I know we’re soulmates. I know we’re meant to be together. There has to be a reason for it. And maybe you’ll like me; you won’t know unless you try.”

Your eyes connected back to his silvery ones. Those mesmerizing silver eyes that so captivated your mind, haunting you with hope whenever night would fall, the darkness forcing you into your own mind.

What you couldn’t see behind Draco’s novel was the deep frown that adorned his lips. He hated when you would speak like that. Even if he couldn’t date you, couldn’t love you out of the significance of his social status, his mood would bubble over in dislike, near anger, when you’d put yourself down. Why couldn’t you see that he didn’t want you because of social status? Why couldn’t you understand that you were a marvelous creature in his eyes, a beauty anyone would be lucky to have? Why couldn’t you understand that were he anyone else, he’d have already snatched you up? Why couldn’t you fall in love with a good man?

As he gazed at you, watching your eyelashes flutter as the breeze tumbled across your cheeks, lips closed in concentration as you awaited some form of an answer from Draco, he couldn’t help but marvel at your beauty, at your persistence, wish for one scarce moment that he could take you up on your offer. You could almost appear stoic, unconcerned under Draco’s intense gaze, had it not been for the glimmer of hope clearly discernible in your eyes.

You wanted him to try for you.

You wanted him to want you.

And you’d never once stopped hoping he’d change his mind about you.

But he couldn’t. He couldn’t change as mind as much as he wanted to.

So he tried to turn you down gently, giving you a signature smirk as he drawled out, “Can I stop pretending to care now?”

As much as it hurt to hear those words, the look he fixed you with seemed a little playful, and you tried your best to not let the disappointment show on your face as you retorted back, “As if you ever pretended to care to begin with.” With a sigh, your eyes raked across his face one last time before you rose from the stone, a soft, “Just think about it, Draco,” falling from your lips and echoing through the boy’s mind as you sauntered off toward the castle.

You didn’t come to him the next morning, but that was remarkably understandable.

Both of you were busy worrying over the quidditch match that would occur later in the afternoon.

The day was heavy with stormy weather, thunder shaking the window panes of the castle and causing first years to jump in surprise with each booming clap.

But the match couldn’t be cancelled.

The game would go on despite the weather.

And that had Draco worried.

You were a strong flyer, but even the best of broom riders could falter under such intense weather.

So when the match commenced, Draco was hovering high in the air, eyes trailing for the snitch that would end the match. After all, the sooner it ended, the better. However, despite his searching, he’d still find his eyes flickering back to you every once and awhile. He wanted to know where you were on the field. He wanted to assure that you were okay.

You, meanwhile, were occupied as you zipped across the field, hunkering down on your broom and squinting against the thick sheets of rain. It made everything impossibly difficult to see, but that wouldn’t stop you from trying your hardest. You wanted to win, obviously.

With the heavy rain, it was difficult for Draco to see the snitch. He could barely see the opposing team’s seeker as he flitted across the pitch in search of the golden flash that would relieve everyone from the hideously soggy situation. While waiting for that tiny golden flash, his eyes trailed back to you, noting the way you were beginning to struggle against the weather.

It was a battle after all, as the wind whipped around you. And that left you less protected. Putting up your defenses against the weather lowered them against other things.

Like the bludger that was hurtling for your side.

The bludger that you didn’t notice until it had walloped against your shoulder, pain instantly searing your arm.

On a normal day, you would have spun down to the ground in pain or hunkered against your broom to finish the game with gritted teeth.

But this wasn’t a normal day.

The hit threw your momentum off, and instead of leaning from the side as you normally would, you completely slipped from your broom, the water slick on the handle providing far too little traction to keep you upright.

With a gasp and small scream, you tumbled toward the muddy dirt, eyes screwing shut as you prepared for the impact, realizing in that instant that you were going to die today. You were going to die, snap your neck for not paying enough attention. With closed eyes and a terrified breath, you hoped it would be over before you knew what hit you.

And it was partially true as your body made impact.

But it wasn’t with the ground.

It was with a body. A warm body.

Your eyes flew open, and you realized you were sitting sideways on a broom, legs draped over one of Draco’s. His arm was around your back, other poised in front of you on the broom, steadying the two of you as he slowed. Your eyes trailed his face, seeing nothing but worry in his eyes, and that broke you.

Flinging your good arm around his neck, you pressed your face under his jaw, sobs wracking your body as the terror of everything caught up with you. “Thank you,” you breathed into his neck, gasping as you felt his lips press against your hair gently.

“Just breathe. You’re safe. I’ve got you,” he murmured, arm curling protectively around your waist.

As he swirled down to the ground slowly, as gently as he could manage with the steady wind, an announcement rang through the air. The other team had caught the snitch. But, honestly, Draco didn’t mind anymore. All he cared about was making sure you were safe.

After dropping down to the ground, he gently picked you up, cradling you in his arms as he carried you back to the castle, back to Madam Pomfrey to heal all your injuries.

He stayed by your side the whole time, silent and protective, hand holding your uninjured one, tracing patterns on it gently to keep you calm.

When you’d been allowed to depart, you stopped Draco in the hall with a gentle squeeze of his hand. “Thank you,” you stated, earnestly, shyly, with an air to your voice he’d seldom seen, unsure of what his compassion meant.

Pulling you against him again, he tentatively wrapped his arms around you, placing the gentlest of kisses against your temple. “I know you think you’re not perfect for me, but you are. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted. I just don’t want you to get hurt. I don’t want my family to scare you away. You deserve better.”

Your face burrowed against his chest. “Draco, you’re the best.” He scoffed slightly, but your words soon quieted him. “You’re the best to me. You’re the best for me. Always. Let me show you?”

His stubble scraped against the top of your head as he nodded. “Okay.”

Neither of you truly knew if the world changed color that day. It could have easily been a cloud flitting before the sun or a passerby obscuring the light. However, it didn’t seem to matter much as the two of you ended up together

You were meant to be together. It was obvious as soon as your relationship began, even before that. So, really, did it matter how you ended up discovering that fact?

Neither of you seemed to think so.

A/N: This is my first Draco Malfoy fic, so let me know what you think! I’m excited of hopefully writing some more in the future since he’s such a mesmerizing muse. As always, shoot any questions, comments, concerns, asks, or general chatter my way. I adore talking to each and every one of you. I hope you’re having a good day!

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco x reader #draco

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solohux · 4 years

Note

Prompt time! "An exhausted, weary Poe Dameron comes to Kylo Ren seeking death. Kylo gives the pilot a new life instead."

I made it soft, I’m so sorry. Also, it’s 1.7k words because I am clearly incapable of writing drabbles!

Sometime between TLJ & TROS, canon divergence whereby the First Order are almost completely victorious and the Resistance are almost eliminated.

When news comes to the Supreme Leader that the best pilot in the Resistance has surrendered himself to the First Order, Kylo is conflicted. Victory after victory has graced the Order in recent weeks, eliminating massive parts of the Resistance and leaving them with less people than the meagre few who slipped out of their grasp on Crait.

Now, one of those few has given himself to the victorious side and their numbers dwindle still. Kylo can’t deny that a part of him feels elated, boastful that his reign of terror has proved thus successful in bringing the First Order to power, but there’s something else inside of him that’s trying to make him feel sorrowful, disgusted. The part of his soul that still calls itself Ben Solo is screaming louder than ever, thrown into grief at the surrender of Poe Dameron, Ben’s first and only love.

“Dameron is in the torture chamber, sir,” an officer tells him. Kylo can sense her smugness without reading her expression. “General Hux has offered to lead the interrogation upon your approval.”

“Declined,” Kylo growls. Hux’s methods are questionable…and messy. Too much blood. “I will interrogate the pilot myself. “You may tell the General that he, nor any of his lackeys, are to disturb me.”

“Yes, Supreme Leader.”

The officer hurries back along the corridor. Kylo almost wishes he could be there when she delivers Kylo’s orders to Hux so he could watch his pale face burn with anger until he’s as red as his hair, biting back slander against the Order’s Supreme Leader. But a prisoner is in need of Kylo’s attention now so he puts everything else to the back of his mind and strides forward, ignoring his own internal conflict and focuses on drawing on the dark side to pull what he needs from Dameron’s mind.

‘Haven’t you hurt him enough?’

It’s Kylo’s own voice inside of his mind but his words sting, making his stomach twist as he remembers his last kiss with Poe beneath their Force tree—Ben was pinned to the ground underneath Poe, laughing after play-wrestling for a while before the slim pilot had jabbed in fingers into the Jedi’s ribs and pinned him down. It wasn’t their first kiss but it’s the one that Ben had felt most deeply, as though the Force around them fluttered in pure joy at their joining.

So it pains even more when Kylo enters the torture chamber and sees his once-beloved cuffed into the interrogation chair with all of his fight gone from his eyes. He’s slumped back, head turned to the side as though he hasn’t even got the energy to hold himself up. If it weren’t for the cuffs around his ankles and wrists, Kylo wonders whether he’d be huddled in a corner.

“I didn’t think that surrender was your style, pilot,” Kylo teases, keeping his eyes locked on the prisoner. “Nothing to say?”

Poe blinks slowly, sighing, “Kill me.”

Kylo’s blood runs cold. He never thought he’d be alive to see the day where Poe Dameron’s sense of fight, his fiery soul and his hope-filled heart have all perished beneath the crushing, icy grip of the First Order’s rule. He looks like a shadow of his former self, slumped in the interrogation chair without an ounce of resistance left in his tired, thin body. Inside of himself, Ben Solo is already mourning the death of his first love, for there is nothing left of that man in front of him.

“Didn’t you hear me, Ren?” Poe snaps, though his voice remains beaten. Kylo snaps out of it, thankful that he has his helmet on to hide his watery eyes. “I said, kill me.”

“Why?” Kylo isn’t sure why he’s even gratifying Poe with a verbal response to his words, and why he isn’t just choking the life out of the rebel scum, having been graced with an opportunity to eliminate such an influential member of the Rebellion. Something inside of him is stopping him.

“Because it’s what you do, isn’t it? Kill people.”

“Sometimes. Usually, people don’t ask for it.”

“Well, I asked for it.”

“And I asked why.”

Poe turns his head away from Kylo, closing his eyes and allows his tears to fall. Not since he came face-to-face with Han Solo has Kylo felt so conflicted and so torn, using everything he has to fight against the swelling feelings in his chest that are telling him to take Poe into his arms and run away—far away.

“Because I’ve got nothing left,” Poe’s voice shakes, still turned away from Kylo as though not wanting at him as he admits his weakness. “My family, they’re all—you killed them all.”

“The girl—”

“Rey is still alive. Finn, too. They’re the only ones left. They’re in hiding together, starting a family of their own. You’ll never find them.”

And part of Kylo doesn’t want to. Rey rejected his offer to train her and show her the true power of the dark side after Crait; why would he waste his precious time on someone who is so blindly dedicated to the Light?

‘And yet you show mercy to Poe Dameron.’

Kylo grits his teeth, ignoring his own taunting voice.

“And Ben,” Poe whispers, pained by the memory of his once-lover. “You took him from me first, didn’t you?”

“He was weak and foolish,” Kylo retorts, spewing out that line he’s been rehearsing for years. “He had to be destroyed for me to achieve my destiny.”

“Destiny.” Poe laughs. “He was my everything.”

“And you were his. That is why he had to die.”

“That’s why I’m looking for death. I need…I need to see him again. Rey and Finn—they’ve got each other, they were always meant to find each other.” Poe’s expression softens momentarily as he gazes into nothingness, as though dreaming of Ben. “If he’s dead like you say he is, then death is the only way that I’ll ever see him again. After all you’ve taken from me, Ren, grant me this. Kill me and let me be with Ben.”

In polar opposite of their last day together beneath the Force tree, everything around Kylo laments and grieves. Instead of the Force fluttering with joy like it had when Poe and Ben shared a kiss, the very same Force is now howling with sadness, breaking down and shattering as one of its dearest children welcomes death at the mere prospect of finding his old lover. Kylo can’t take it, smothered inside of his helmet with nothing but the feelings of agony and regret surround him, undoing years and years of training to suppress Ben’s intense love for Poe, and Kylo can do nothing but watch it unravel.

With trembling fingers, he reaches up and unclasps his helmet, pulling it away and letting his hair fall into place around his pale cheeks. Poe doesn’t look up, obviously unwilling to look at the face of his ‘dead’ love.

“Poe,” Kylo says softly, dropping his helmet to the floor whilst approaching the prisoner slowly, as one would a skittish deer. “I—”

“I don’t want to hear it,” Poe says, closing his eyes when Kylo gets too close for him to ignore. “Please, Ren. It’s too hard. You’re too much like him.”

“I am him,” and with a wave of his hand, Poe’s bonds are undone and he’s free, taking him that much by surprise that he falls forward and can’t catch himself in such a weakened, malnourished state but, luckily, Kylo is there to catch him—though they both still fall to the ground.

‘Pinned you!’ Poe’s young, laughter-filled voice fills Kylo’s mind as he lands on his back with Poe on top of him, a carbon-copy image of how they were beneath the Force tree that day—with Poe straddling Ben’s thighs, his hands either side of Ben’s head, and their faces only inches apart.

Kylo becomes lost in Poe’s dark eyes, searching for the hope that he once found so much comfort in, but he finds nothing but anguish and loneliness. Their gazes remain locked as Poe cups Kylo’s cheek hesitantly, studying every mole and freckle on his face as though unconvinced that Kylo is Ben—despite having known the truth for years.

“I’m here,” Kylo whispers, feeling his resistance melt away and he allows himself to lean into Poe’s touch, sighing.

“Ben?”

“Poe…”

“Is this you? My…”

“I’ve always been here, Poe. I’ve always been yours.”

Poe’s kiss is just as Kylo remembers—gentle, wistful, and everything he ever wanted. He feels his soul shift from dark to light, like Ben is yawning and stretching and awakening after being held in check for so long, emerging to take control and ready to renounce everything if it means keeping Poe this close to him.

“Ben,” Poe gasps between kisses. “It is you.”

“I couldn’t let you die,” Ben says, holding Poe’s cheeks in his hands, using the Force to aid them in sitting up, though Poe remains in Ben’s lap. “I won’t let you go.”

Poe throws his arms around Ben’s neck, holding him close, and Ben gets a glimpse of those familiar, hopeful eyes just before the pilot buries his face in Ben’s neck, kissing him all over as though wanting to make up for all the time they’ve lost—

Ben stops. “Run away with me.”

“What?” Poe pulls away, brushing his hands through Ben’s hair.

“You heard me. Let’s run away, Poe. If you have nothing left in the rebellion then what is there to lose? I want to be with you. I don’t want to be Kylo Ren anymore.”

“You’re serious?”

“Completely. Will you come with me?”

“I would have followed you to the ends of the galaxy if you’d asked me, Ben Solo,” Poe smiles, tears falling again but this time, he’s smiling through them. “As if you have to ask.”

#darkpilot #benpoe #no mcd!!!#no death at all!#m:writing

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ontowanderlust · 4 years

Text

How to say I love you (3)

A/N: Hi. Hello. Yes, I’m alive, and yes I should’ve updated sooner. In my defense, it’s been one hell of a semester, I’ve had quite of a rollercoaster ride and not in a good way, mind you. Writer’s block had enveloped me in some ways you can’t imagine and now, here we are.

I would like to thank all of you for still going to my blog even if it’s dead and still read my works. You guys are awesome! I do wish you’d take the time to comment or send me asks about random stuff....

Another thing, please excuse this story. It’s not as par as the first two and well.... I hope you guys bear with me.

Anyway, I wish you all a Merry Christmas! (It’s Christmas here sooooooo yeah)

Special thanks to: @grimpower-s My dearest beta, you are amazing! Thank you for editing this on short notice and for waiting for quite a long time for my update.

One of the reasons why I haven’t posted this was because of the sucky title. Let me know if you guys have better ideas. The other reason was just I’m too lazy to post this. My betas knew that I had a name written here but I had to revert to second person since… this is tumblr. (Though, the last name is predetermined already, don’t fight me on this.) Let me know if this sucks or if you guys like it.

Also some reminders:

Five is eighteen in this fic

The apocalypse had already happened

(Spoiler) They are sent back in time

And there are some of the 43 involved in this fic- there are 16 actually. Find them all and hit me in my asks if you knew the reference of the names.

Alternatively: 7 times he confessed and the 1 time she accepted his confession / 8 ways to say I Love You

Fandom: The Umbrella Academy

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader

Prompt: This prompt is brought to you by R. McKinley (you write beautifully, may I just say) and @chickenshit‘s photo edit. I did say that I’m gonna write something about this, right?

=Masterlist=

It was so unlike her to stay silent as she assessed him. Given that she usually had a comment ready for him, he’s unsure as to what to make of her lack of reaction.

It didn’t help that they are both standing on the front porch of the Morris’ mansion- where they could be easily seen by either of their families with him wearing that stupid suit and tie Luther had procured for him while balancing a ridiculously large teddy bear and huge bouquet of flowers shoved onto him by Allison.

Why hadn't he asked Vanya again? He groaned inwardly as he shifted his weight in an attempt to curb the nervousness he is starting to feel. Oh yeah, her boyfriend turned out to be a real piece of an asshole.

“You need some help with that?” she asked, gesturing to the ridiculous items he held as he gladly shoved them to her, eliciting a slight oof from her.

“Please,” he muttered, backtracking his action as he helped her settle the teddy bear to the ground while she balanced the bouquet on her arm. “They’re yours anyway,” he cleared his throat, wiping his pants discreetly onto his pants.

Why the hell is he nervous? It’s just his neighbour, after all.

His neighbour, whom he found annoying, whom he had kissed the week before. He inwardly groaned. If only he could go back in time without facing another repercussions…

She raised an eyebrow at him, eyes darting from his gifts back to him, searching his eyes for answers. “Why?”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “Why?” he echoed as he studied her, eyes narrowing as he was trying to decipher if she was messing with him. “These are what girls like, right? You know, when someone needs something from them? Flowers, teddy bear, chocolates, and a fancy restaurant date?”

As much as he liked to see the smile creeping back to her face, he couldn’t help but feel a little bit of annoyance as he watched her face go through a myriad of emotions, finally settling with a full blown laughter.

“It’s the chocolates, isn’t it?” he groaned as he was about to spatial jump and find the item he had forgotten to which she waved him off.

“And where…” she wheezed out, trying to control herself. “Where did you even get that information, hmm?” she challenged, tilting her head at him as her laughter ceased, rising to her tiptoes as she reached over, the back of her hand pressing onto his forehead to feel for any sign of fever.

“Please don’t tell me you resorted to watching those cringey films-”

How dare she?

“Listen, you ungrateful-” he started, trying to swat her hand away from him.

He was cut off by the front door swinging open only to reveal the grinning face of Y/N’s twin, his eyes lighting up at the sight of his sister. “Hey, there you are! You’re being-” his jovial tone died in his throat as he drank the scenario before his eyes. “-summoned.” he finished lamely as he watched his sister pull away from the ridiculously overdressed guy standing on their porch.

Crutchie paused at the doorway, his head shaking as his grin made its way back to his face as Five closed his eyes in embarrassment.

Just when he was about to speak again, Five grabbed Y/N’s free hand, his wrists glowing as he spatial jumped both of them out of the porch, and out of Crutchie’s sight.

“This isn’t what it looks like, Crutchie!” the remaining lad let out a small laugh as the sound of his sister’s voice died into the air while he retrieved the forgotten bear before closing the door.

“I have to admit, this is not what I envisioned when I saw this. I’ve always thought this was his way of proposing…” he muttered to himself.

“I… am severely under dressed for this.” She bemoaned as the blue lights dimmed, revealing the fancy restaurant he was talking about earlier. He wasn’t really kidding about taking her to the restaurant.

He gave her a glance over. While her description of what she is wearing is severely under dressed, he had known that she was brought up beyond a comfortable lifestyle. Her dress- while she would describe it as simple, it is enough for his breath to be taken away. “You look fine,” his tone is dismissive, yet he couldn’t help but glanced at her again. “As you always do.” he muttered to which she turned her head to him with a questioning look on her eyes.

She shook her head as he grabbed the menu off the table. When she felt him actively averting his attention from her, using the menu as a way to do so, she sighed, effectively stopping time around them as she did, earning the attention she was seeking from her companion.

She stood up, carefully taking the bouquet before striding towards his end as she took his wrist and dragged him away from the table, and away from the restaurant.

When she felt like she had placed quite a distance between them and the offending restaurant, she had relinquished her hold over time but she had yet to relinquish the hold she had over the boy.

“What the hell was that?” Five demanded of her as she steered him towards the park near their houses and slowed her pace, prompting him to do the same. “I was about to order you food.”

She scoffed. “You’ve no idea on how to dine exquisitely. Stop trying to pretend like you have an idea of what it’s like to live in finery. It doesn’t suit you.” She scolded him. “Besides, why would you even take me there when you’re obviously not used to that kind of stuff?”

“I don’t get you,” he spoke as he shifted her hold on him in a more comfortable position. “Here I am, trying to make up to you, trying to apologize but you won’t even give me the chance. Do you really not like me that much?”

“And why exactly are you apologizing?” she countered, pausing at her tracks. “You know, this is the most out of character you’ve ever been: dressing to the nines, knocking over my front door, giving me ridiculous stuff, taking me to a nice restaurant… if I hadn’t known any better, I would think you’re trying to take me on a date here!” she spoke in a no nonsense tone, her hands leaving his to move animatedly as she enumerated what he had done, faltering for a moment as he watched her eyes went wide.

“What?”

“Are you…” her voice dropped to a whisper as if she was afraid of voicing something confidential out loud. “...confessing your feelings for me?” she asked out of nowhere, making him freeze.

He looked at her sombrely. “...would you believe me if I were?”

“Not in the lightest.”

Her reply was instantaneous and clipped as she resumed walking, making him do the same. What the hell is wrong with this girl? One moment she’s all animated then the next she’s being hostile. She hadn’t believed him yet so why would she believe him if he had outright shown it through this?

Whatever. It’s not like him to care about anyone’s opinions. He shouldn’t make any exceptions.

But why does it feel like he is suffocating?

“If you had allowed dinner to commence,” he cleared his throat, reigning him back to reality. “You would’ve known that I was trying to apologize for my actions last week.” he explained in a strained voice.

“Last week?” she asked, tilting her head in confusion. “What did you do last week that warrants all of this?”

“Please don’t tell me you had forgotten what transcribed last tuesday.”

“You mean to tell me that you went all through this just so you could apologize because of the kiss?” she slowly uttered the words as if she was trying to comprehend what he was trying to convey.

“Exactly.” he nodded. “If you could just find it in your heart-”

“Fine, I accept your apology!” she suddenly exclaimed, throwing her free hand in the air in somewhat defeat. “Now can you please just stop being weird?”

He furrowed his eyebrows at her. “Me?” he asked her. “Being weird?”

“Weirder than usual.” she amended as her face underwent a myriad of emotions, settling on furrowing her eyebrows as she sighed. “You didn’t have to go through all of this, you know? A simple apology would’ve sufficed- not that I was expecting one from you anyway. But thank you, it means a lot as to how far you’d go for an apology.”

He didn’t know why but there was a strange urge for him to utter those words he was dying to say ever since he saw her on her porch earlier. He could’ve easily blamed it on the way the street lights seemed to envelope her in an ethereal look, or perhaps the way she looked right now with a bouquet cradled on one arm while dressed in one of her simpler yet refined dresses.

“I-” he opened his mouth but at the last minute, he seemed to swallow the words as she looked up to him with those eyes displaying a curious look. “So we’re okay now?”

She let out a small smile. “Yeah, we’re okay now.” she seemed to hesitate for a bit but decided against it as she stepped towards him, raising onto her tiptoes as she hugged him tightly, ruffling his hair as she quickly stepped back and dashed away from him, perhaps out of embarrassment.

He shook his head, a small smile slowly creeping its way to his lips, that heavy feeling dissipating all so suddenly.

“Okay.”

#The Umbrella Academy #TUA #The Umbrella Academy fanfic #number five #Number One #Number three #Number seven #luther hargreeves #Allison Hargreeves #vanya hargreeves #five hargreeves #number five x reader #five hargreeves imagine #five hargreeves x reader #Mentions of:#Newsies

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goodwriterwithbadhabits · 4 years

Text

March 15th

Master List

**Before you read this, I gotta say, this is my favorite story I wrote this year, it was so much fun to write and I really hope you like it!**

“Incoming mail ship.” Wonpil’s head shot up so fast, he smacked it on the duct he was repairing. “Ship docking in port 14. Let’s remain calm this time folks, the captain doesn’t want any more incident reports before we get home.” At the sound of his friend’s voice over the intercom, Wonpil, let go of the screwdriver he was holding, letting it float next to the open duct cover.

“Chan, I’m expecting a package, and it’s super important.”

“From your wife, right?” The younger man inquired, kicking off from the wall to propel himself towards his superior. Wonpil can’t help the grin on his face.

“Yeah, I got a transmission from her a month ago saying she sent me something, so I’m expecting it soon.” Both men grinned at this. “So I’ve gotten the last of the wiring soldered, but I need you to recoat it, troubleshoot and run a final diagnostics, and if I’m not back by the time that’s done, put the panel back in place and send me the reports.” Chan salutes, a cheesy grin on his face.

“Yes sir, take your time boss.” Wonpil nods, moving to the closed door at the end of the hall.

“Sector 113, gravity activated.” Both boys boots thump onto the floor, followed by the clank of multiple tools. Wonpil leaves the corridor quickly, turning the gravity back off and gives Chan one more salute before making his way to the ports.

The I.S.S Moonrise was the first ship of its kind, a high tech, orbital colony floating in the vastness of space, just past the edge of the Milky Way, a months journey from most of the inhabitant’s home planet of Earth. Wonpil was one of the lucky ones, only on the station for 18 months, 20, if you include the 2 months of travel to get there and back. As the current head of engineering, he got a lot more free reign of the station than most of its inhabitants, which were a mix of scientists, farmers, and historians.

“Paging Kim Wonpil, where are you Pil?” The voice over his comms made him roll his eyes.

“Why are you using the comms to annoy me, Jae?”

“First of all, it’s hyung.”

“No one’s used that term in almost 50 years, give it a rest.”

“Then it’s lieutenant.” The man whined.

“Then you should be calling me Chief Engineer,” Wonpil retorted, opening the hangar doors.

“Whatever, look Jihyo won't let me grab your package for you.” Wonpil felt like vibrating as he made his way to the group surrounding the mailing ship.

“No need, I’m right here.” The crowd opens for him to walk through, most either recognizing Wonpil, or the silver stripes on his uniform. He’s shocked to find Jihyo holding a package, as captain of the Hermes, she usually remained in the cockpit while Chaeyoung and Tsuyu handled the mail.

“I could have delivered it to him, Jihyo.” Jae whines, flipping through the letters he’d received, no doubt from his parents and sister.

“No can do, Y/n made me promise this box would go from my hand to his.” She punctuated her sentence by placing the small box in Wonpil’s outstretched hand.

“She came in person then?” Jihyo nodded, grinning as he signed for the mail.

“And she also wanted me to give you this.” She leaned forward, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek, making his face flush red.

“Aish,” He huffed, hiding his burning face behind his hands as those around them laughed.

“Come on kid, the Captain asked us to join him for lunch.” Jae slung his arm over Wonpil’s shoulder, though the smaller man simply knocked it away from him, turning back to Jihyo.

“I’m actually sending something today,” He told her, pulling a small box from his pocket. “Make sure she gets it okay?”

“No problem.” Jihyo nodded, “Want me to give her a kiss for you?” Wonpil couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up.

“No, we’ll save those for when I get home.”

“See you in two months, Wonpil.”

“See you then, Ji.” He saluted the woman, before finally letting Jae lead him to Sungjin’s office. Wonpil decided to open the package during lunch, knowing full well that Brian and Dowoon would want to know what you had sent him.

“Good afternoon Lieutenant Park, Chief Kim.” The robotic voice greeted as the two entered the spacious room Sungjin and the other two boys were sitting in.

“Nothing is as beautiful as a sunset on Earth, the west coast of America has the best views,” Brian told the youngest boy, who shook his head.

“No chance, Olympian sunsets are better,” Dowoon argued. Brian turned to his best friend and eternal roommate.

“Jae, which is better, West Coast Sunsets or Olympian sunsets?” Jae shrugged, dropping into his seat next to him.

“Never been to Olympia, so I say West Coast.”

“What about you, Jin?” The Captain paused mid-bite, to sigh.

“I didn’t want to be brought into this argument. You argue Earth vs Mars every week.” He grumbled.

“Then I will end the argument.” Wonpil decided, setting the box on the table. The boys gasped, Dowoon bouncing in his chair.

“Is that from Y/n?” He asks, earning a nod from Wonpil. “Open it then,” Sungjin ordered, setting down his burger. Wonpil complied happily, and the contents made his heart clench. Resting in the box was a very small pair of shoes, knitted yellow booties, and a small SD card in a plastic case.

“Oh, she was so little.” Jae cooed, picking up the tiny shoes.

“They must be the shoes she came home in.” Wonpil realized, “She’s almost a year old.” He sighs, picking up the SD card. “Do you mind, Captain?” He asks, and Sungjin nods, tapping the table to expose the port.

“Go ahead, I want to see the little one.” He grins. Wonpil inserts the card, and a second later a hologram of his wife, sitting on a bed with a very small child on her lap appears above the table.

“Oh look at her,” Brian coos. “She’s getting so big.” Wonpil can’t help his smile as he rests his arm on the table, his head following.

“Hi, babe, and hello boys.” The recording begins. “Since I know the Captain will ask you to play this for him.” She grins, glancing down at the baby on her lap. “Will you say hello to Daddy and your Uncles?” She asks, earning a few baby sounds and a laugh from her daughter. She looks back up, smiling at the camera. “Hyebin says hi.” She giggles. “By the time you get this video, we’ll be celebrating her first birthday. My mom insists on getting her a smash cake.” Wonpil lets out a small laugh, remembering the mess that ensued from his oldest daughter’s first birthday. “And your parents are coming over to celebrate too, they know how much we all miss you.”

“Is that Daddy?” Another small voice fills the speakers and you look away from the camera, shaking your head.

“No baby, we’ll call him tomorrow, I’m filming a message for him though, would you like to say hello to him?” A second later, the tiny face of his oldest daughter filled the entire screen, making the boys laugh. “Too close Hyerin, everyone’s gonna be able to see up your nose.” The boys laugh again as the little girl lets out a tiny squeak and darts over to her mother’s legs.

“Hi, Daddy!” She waves. “I miss you! And uncle Dowoon. Mom says I have to be at least 10 before I can go with you to space.” She pouts the last few words.

“Why don’t you tell Daddy what you want to be when you grow up?”

“I wanna be a pilot! My teacher let us play on the simulator at school and I kept the plane up the longest.” You giggled at your daughter's excitement.

“I told her she had to wait until Sungjin was home for a week before she was allowed to go bother him.” You shifted, bringing Hyebin up to rest on your shoulder. “Rin, do you remember how old Bin is?”

“She’ll be a year old on the 19th next month.” Rin nodded, climbing onto the bed next to her mother.

“And how old will she be when daddy gets home?”

“16 months.”

“So how many months till Daddy gets home?” Rin pauses, counting on her fingers.

“Five!” She finally exclaims, looking to her mom for confirmation.

“Exactly.” You nod, patting Hyebin’s back as she begins to fuss. “Rin, can you do Mommy a favor and go get Binnie’s pacifier out of her bed?”

“The elephant, right.”

“That’s right, thank you, baby.” You watch for a moment as the little girl runs out of the room. “Oh, and I forgot to tell you, Lilo had her puppies, most of them have been adopted, but I’m letting Rin keep one so she has her own pet.” You smile, “And don’t worry Dowoon, we saved you a puppy as well, she’s staying with us until you get home.” Dowoon cheers, making the boys laugh. “I’ll be going back to work soon, turns out the mission to the probe is ahead of schedule, they want me there when the repairs begin, oh and babe, the shoes in the box, they’re the shoes Bin was brought home in, my grandmother made them, I thought you might like something from home for your desk, just don’t forget to bring them home with you, or my mom might fly out there and mug Brian for them.” Brian huffs, setting the yellow boots on the table. Rin comes back into the room, hands her mother the pacifier, and climbs back onto the bed. “Do you want to say anything else to daddy?”

“I miss you! And don’t feel bad that you won’t be here on my birthday. Mommy said you’ll be closer to me then than ever before, and that we’ll be able to see you from the control room.” Her grin falls into an exaggerated glare. “But don’t be late coming home, and don’t get hurt okay?” She points a stern finger at the camera.

“Do you want to say bye?” You prompt.

“Bye-bye Daddy, I’ll see you soon.” She waves, a grin that makes her look like Wonpil on her face.

“Bye babe, I love you. Stay safe okay?” You pick up Bin’s tiny hand, waving it to the camera. “Say bye to Daddy Binnie.” You let go of her hand, blowing a kiss to the camera. “Come home soon.” With a final set of waves from you and Rin, the recording ends.

Wonpil’s face is wet, he knows he’s crying, and he isn’t even ashamed of it as he hides his face in the crook of his arm.

“I know why Wonpil’s crying, why am I crying?” Dowoon mutters. “Why are you crying?” Wonpil looks up to find the youngest man pointing to Brian, who is wiping his eyes on the cuff of his sleeve.

“Rin’s gotten so big.” He mutters, earning chuckles from the boys.

“How do you think I feel?” Wonpil asks, wiping his own eyes. “She’s gonna be seven the day I leave.”

“I can’t wait to get back to Earth.” Jae sighs, “I miss my friends.”

“I miss New York Pizza.” Sungjin sighs and all the boys groan in agreement.

“Here’s a deal, when we get home, let’s go out for pizza, bring your families or whatever, we can go to Escape From New York.” Wonpil offers. “Maybe not the first night home, Y/n might kill me if I try leaving the house.” There’s another chorus of laughs. “Oh man, three months till we leave.” Sungjin sighs. “I don’t know if I’m ready.”

“Not ready to give up command yet?” Brian jokes. Sungjin shakes his head.

“It’s not that, it’s…” He trails off, unsure of what to say.

“Here, everything we do means something incredible.” Dowoon begins, and the botanist looks away from the older boys, shy as ever. “Grow a plant and its next-gen Astro-terraforming, find a microbe in some nebula get to watch a species be born. Every message sent out to the probes, the colonies, it’s all integral to GASEX and the future of human and Xeno interactions. Back home, Mars, Earth, wherever the hell Jae is from.”

“Literally just the lunar colony.”

“Back home, yeah we’re respected, but the things we do, they aren’t breakthroughs, it’s just humans doing human things.” Dowoon finishes.

“Unless you’re Wonpil, then you go from repairing a spaceship to building them.” Jae jokes, lightening the mood. Wonpil feels his face heat up as he removes the SD card from the table port.

“Not for too long.” He confesses. “I’ve worked out a schedule, 11 months on, 11 home until the girls are old enough to join me here.” He tells them, earning cheers. “What about you, coming back anytime soon?”

“I will be. Come January I’m back on the Artemis.” Sungjin tosses a fry in his mouth. “And then I’m really Captain Sungjin again.”

“I’ll be on Earth for a few weeks before heading back to Mars.” Dowoon begins, stealing one of Sungjin’s fries. “I think I’ll be back here in 13 Earth months.” He shrugs.

“Well Jae and I aren’t leaving Earth anytime soon. Not till the coming March, I’m lecturing at Incheon BioCenter for a while and he’s gonna be teaching some languages over at The Seoul Communications Institute.” Brian gestures to Jae who grins, flashing a peace sign.

“So that puts us all back here, coming March?” Sungjin asks.

“Following January. I’ll be the last one back.” Wonpil informs him.

“So three months, technically four, and then we can avoid each other until then.” Brian jokes. “Here’s to avoiding you all until ‘56 then.”

The cabin is filled with the clinking of their glasses and for a moment, everything is normal.

Three months pass quickly, and soon finds Wonpil leaving the ship in the capable hands of Chirs Bang, Im Jaebeom becoming the temporary captain of the Moonrise and Jae successfully shutting up long enough to make his kissing the girl he’d been crushing on goodbye, something out of a romance novel. Wonpil watched his box of belongings, everything he’d collected from different planets and trade ships, being loaded onto the small ship that would carry him home with a heavy heart. This was one of those moments of belonging two places and having to choose between them.

And then they were setting off, Sungjin expertly piloting them back to the Milky Way, Jae standing as communications, and Jinyoung as navigation. The month passed in the blink of an eye, between rousing card games, basic repairs, and quiet conversations about home, and soon, they were whizzing past Mars, with Dowoon’s face glued to the porthole.

“This is the S.S. Artemis, we’re just outside Earth’s Atmo, ETA 6 minutes.” Jae’s professional voice barely masked his glee as he watched the sun peek over the planet’s edge.

“Welcome back to the Milky Way, Artemis. How do we look, Lieutenant Park?”

“Blue, and beautiful.” Jae breathed. “Feels good to be home.”

“Let’s get through atmo first.” Jinyoung chided. “Then we can celebrate.”

“Right, ladies and gentlemen, begin reentry preparation.” Sungjin’s command echoed through the small craft’s intercom. “We land in Seoul Spaceport in 6 minutes, let’s not be late.”

The first person off the ship was Sungjin, who earned a round of applause as he paused at the top of the exit stairs. He was followed quickly by Jae, who flung himself onto the nearest tree, hugging it like a lost lover. Wonpil was among the last to set foot on dry land, and he had the strongest urge to just lay in a flowerbed for a few hours. Instead, he dropped his sunglasses over his eyes and shouldered his bag, following the other engineers towards the flashing cameras.

“I see them!” The shrill voice of his daughter made Wonpil break into a grin, dropping to his knees and opening his arms for a hug. He watched his daughter fly past him, directly into Dowoon, and before he could react he found himself flat on his ass, a furry body pressed into his chest.

“Hello Lilo, how’s my girl been?’ He greeted the border collie, accepting the kisses she was planting on his chin. “Oh yes, I missed you too.” Finally dislodging the dog, he turned, finding Hyerin chattering excitedly to Dowoon while Brian laughed at him from a distance. Standing he snuck up to the girl, picking her up unexpectedly, making her shriek and giggle. “What do you think you’re doing?” He asked, spinning her around. “Daddy!” She cried, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing his cheek. “I didn’t see you.”

“Did you really, or did you get distracted by Dr. Yoon?” Your voice made Wonpil turn quickly, grin expanding so much it hurt. There you were, after 20 long months, hair pulled mostly away from your face, sunglasses perched on the crown of your head, and his baby sleeping on your chest.

“Please, Y/n, just call me Dowoon, you make it so formal,” Dowoon whined, but Wonpil wasn’t really listening. He surged forward, still holding Rin, free hand coming up to your face to pull you in for a long-awaited kiss.

“I have seen the cosmos, more nebulas than I can count, and the birth of hundreds of stars, and nothing, nothing compares to seeing you again.” He whispered, pressing his forehead to yours.

“Except maybe Pizza,” Jae whispered, leaning on your shoulder. The group began laughing, and you gave Wonpil one more kiss before turning to the other boys.

“Welcome home boys.” You grinned, giving each one a hug and introducing them to Hyebin who had just woken up. Rin remained firmly attached to Dowoon’s leg once let on the ground and Wonpil couldn’t even be upset, especially once his arms were quickly filled with Hyebin.

“Hello, little one.” He grinned, watching the way her eyes grew big as he spoke. “My little Binnie, you have a whole galaxy in your eyes, and the universe at your fingertips.” He cooed and the little girl giggled, her chubby fingers going to grab his cheek.

“And lucky for us, we have stardust in our veins.” You piped in, arm coming to wrap around your husband’s side as you all walked to your car.

“For now, let’s just keep our boots on solid ground, sound good?” He asked, and you looked up at him, shooting him a wink and the kind of smile that made him fall for you in the first place.

“Galactic.”

#day6 imagines #day6 imagine #day6 wonpil #kim wonpil #wonpil imagines #wonpil imagine #space au

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aswithasunbeam · 4 years

Note

Strange request, but do you think that you could write some hurt/comfort fluff set after Eliza has her miscarriage? I love your writing, and would love to see that! Thank you! 💕

Thanks so much, and it’s not strange at all! There’s a chapter in “An Elusive Peace” that kind of matches your prompt, though it’s more hurt/comfort than fluff. It can be read as a stand-alone piece, so I’ll post it here!

______

November-December 1794

Hamilton adjusted upwards in his saddle, kicking his heels inward to spur his horse onward towards the growing lights of Philadelphia in the distance. The old horse whinnied, but complied, picking the pace back up to a gallop. The pounding hoof beats were loud in the otherwise silent night.

“I know, old fellow,” Hamilton muttered with an apologetic pat to the horse’s neck. His own thighs and back screamed for relief from the hard ride. His breath created a white puff in the frigid air, the cloud rising up to join the others created by his horse’s labored breaths. “Almost there.”

The waning moon above provided barely enough light to see the road. Safety would have dictated he stop at the inn ten miles back, for a lantern and some water if nothing else, but he’d galloped by without a second thought. Blind panic urged him onward.

He never should have left.

“Please don’t go,” Eliza had whispered, her arms tight around his torso. The sunny fall day had accentuated her pallor and her bruised eyes, her figure thin and fragile in his arms. With the stress of Johnny’s illness that summer, she’d failed to round out as she usually did when with child.

Even with all these warning signs, he’d simply kissed her forehead and promised, “I’ll be home before you know it. The wicked whiskey insurgents are all bluster, sure to crumble at the slightest show of force. I highly doubt there will be any active fighting at all; just an agreeable ride that I hope will do me some good.1 Why, by the time you return home from Trenton with Pip and Alex, I may already be on my way back.”

She’d squeezed him tighter, her fingers twisting through his queue, then pulled away. Her hands had slid down over his shoulders to adjust the lapels of his uniform coat. With a brave little nod, she’d instructed, “Come home safe.”

“Of course, my angel.”

Never had it occurred to him that she may not be there when he did.

Leaning forward, he touched a hand to his pocket again, the letter crumpled within a heavy weight upon his heart. A stack of mail had been handed to him over the tavern counter that morning, after he’d risen from a restless sleep and come down in search of breakfast. Most of it had been bureaucratic nonsense, but the private note from Knox had caught his eye.

“Among other reasons for wishing your return is Mrs. Hamiltons earnest desire. It seems she has had, or has been in danger of a miscarriage, which has much alarmed her,” Knox had informed him.2 Hamilton’s whole body had gone cold, his mind spinning. Had Eliza lost the baby? Was she in danger herself? Ned and Dr. Kuhn said not, according to the letter, but that could so easily be a sop to his anxiety, he couldn’t bring himself to trust it. He felt sick as he scrambled to find himself a fresh horse, desperate to set off as soon as possible.

“I need you.” He heard her voice, so clear it was as if she were whispering in his ear. How many times had she said that to him? How many times had he blithely continued on with his plans, ignoring her need?

He kicked his heels into his horse’s side again. The poor beast maintained his gallop, but wasn’t capable of more speed. “I’m coming,” he whispered uselessly into the empty night.

When at long last the dirt road gave way to the cobblestone streets of Philadelphia, he allowed the horse to slow ever so slightly, though he still maintained an almost reckless speed as he navigated the thankfully deserted maze of city streets. As he tore down Market Street, he spotted the President’s carriage in front of his house, and light glowing in the front windows despite the late hour. He pulled the reigns to a halt just outside and dismounted, patting the horse as he tied him to the pole. The horse snorted with exhaustion and lapped at the water in the barrel as Hamilton raced up the front steps.

His hands shook as he reached for his keys, badly enough that he dropped them as he tried to line the proper one up with the lock on the front door. They hit the stoop with a jangling clatter, and he exhaled as he bent to reclaim them. The door opened as he straightened.

“Son,” Washington greeted.

“Eliza?” he demanded, breathless as he forced his way around Washington.

“Upstairs.” Washington grabbed his arms as he made to fly towards the steps. “Son, she…I’m afraid she lost the little one. A little girl.”

Hamilton closed his eyes, the loss hitting him square in the chest. His poor little babe. Did she know how she’d been loved? How desperately she’d been wanted?

Washington’s free hand rested against his shoulder. “I thought you should know, before you went to her.”

He nodded, struggling to swallow around the tight lump in his throat.

The hand on his shoulder came around to his back as Washington pulled him into a loose embrace. He leaned in to the fatherly touch, a hot tear escaping from the corner of his eye. “I’m so sorry, my boy.”

“I should have been here,” he muttered.

“It’s not your fault. You couldn’t have known,” Washington assured him.

But he could have. He should have. She’d asked him to stay, and he hadn’t listened. “I’m done.”

“What was that, son?”

“I’m done,” he repeated. He wanted to be angry: with Washington, with God, with himself. But all he felt was a numb sort of emptiness in his middle. He fought to give volume to his voice. “With the Treasury. With government service. I’m finished. I’m resigning, as of now.”

“My boy, this is hardly the moment—”

“I’m done.”

Disentangling himself from Washington’s hold, he flew up the stairs, his footsteps echoing in the narrow space. The door to the master bedroom stood open at the end of the hall, soft amber light glowing from within. As he stopped in the doorway, he saw Mrs. Washington at the bedside, a sewing circle in her hand. She looked up at him, rose, and patted at his face in a motherly manner.

“She’s been waiting for you,” Mrs. Washington said before brushing past him to exit, the door tapping closed behind her.

Eliza lay prone in the bed, her dark hair fanning out across the pillow behind her, the color stark against the white pillows and her bloodless face. Her eyes were closed, but her chest worked in a hard, uneven fashion that belied sleep. He collapsed down to his knees on the floor beside her, lifting her delicate wrist to wrap her hand between both of his.

His strong, resilient wife had never looked so fragile.

“Alexander?” Her voice was hardly even a croak.

“I’m here, my love.” He kissed her knuckles with reverence. “I’m home.”

Her eyes struggled open, crust visible at the corners and along her dark lashes. Desolation swirled in their inky depths. Hand squeezing his weakly, she whispered, “I’m sorry.”

The exhale that escaped him sounded almost like a sob. One of his hands reached out to smooth her hair back from her forehead. “I’m sorry, too.”

Her face crumpled, a sob tearing its way out of her. “Our baby.” She rolled over, nearer to him, and he gathered her against him in his arms as best he could.

“I know,” he whispered into her hair. “I know.”

“What are you doing?” His wife’s groggy voice drew his eye up from the letter he’d been scribbling on his lap desk. He blotted the ink quickly and folded the desk over on itself so he could lay it at his feet beside him.

“You’re awake,” he noted, delight apparent in his tone.

She’d been feverish the past several days, slipping in and out of consciousness at unpredictable intervals. Neddy had been by several times to see to her, but Hamilton had made it a point to be by her side as much as possible. He hated for her to wake and not see him holding vigil.

Her head rolled on the pillow to look at him. He noticed her lips were chapped as she pressed them together, swallowing dryly. Leaning over to the side table, he poured out a cup of the peppermint water Neddy had left.

“Here, my angel. Let’s sit you up a little so you can drink.” He stooped low over the bed and gingerly lifted her, just enough to prop another pillow behind her shoulders. Then he held the drink to her lips, tipping it slightly as her mouth parted. “Slowly.”

She managed a few sips before sealing her lips and turning away.

“Good,” he praised, though he wished she’d managed a little more. Laying the back of his hand to her forehead, he tested her temperature. Still too warm. “How do you feel?”

She blinked at him slowly.

“Ned says you’re through the worst of it,” he went on, barreling over the silence with a tremulous half smile. “Your color’s starting to come back a little. Oh, and look, Jamie drew you a picture to cheer you up. I think it’s supposed to be horse.”

He held the drawing up for her inspection. Relief pooled in his belly when she reached out to take it from him, her lips twitching up in an almost-smile. “They’re all right? The children?” she asked, voice a little stronger after the water.

“They’re fine. Just worried about you, as am I.”

Her gaze slid back to him. “What were you doing? At your desk, while I was sleeping?”

He glanced down at the desk and shrugged. “Just a letter.”

She gave a resigned sort of sigh. “Treasury business?”

“No.” Bending over at the waist, he tugged the letter free from the desk to show her. “It’s to Troup, asking if he knows of any houses I might engage.”

Placing Jamie’s scribbled drawing on the bed, she took up the letter in her hands, squinting at the words in the dim light of the room. “In New York?”

“In New York,” he confirmed. “If nothing’s available right away, I thought we might spend a few weeks with your family in Albany. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind. Your parents are always so eager to see the little ones.”

Her expression was inscrutable. “My parents?” she echoed.

He frowned and felt her forehead again, wondering if the fever were robbing her of coherence. Her eyes fluttered closed as he dragged his knuckles down gently along her cheek. “Yes,” he answered. “I’ll even let you force me up that mountain of yours.”

“It’s a waterfall,” she corrected, a note of fondness leaking into her voice.

“Whatever you say, dearest,” he agreed.

She let out a puff of breath that could almost have been a chuckle. When her eyes opened again, they looked clearer. She tilted her head to the side, considering him. “What about your work?”

“I don’t have any work.” Confusion wrinkled her brow, and he smiled genuinely. “I’ve resigned, Eliza.”

“I’m sure you will, sweetheart,” she said, reaching out to pat his leg. “But I don’t think you should engage a house yet. We can’t afford two rent payments, and—”

“No, Betsey,” he interrupted, leaning closer to her. “I’ve resigned. I sent Washington the letter this morning. I’ve given him until the end of January to arrange my replacement. Then we’re going home.”3

“But the boys? Their school. And—”

“New York has schools, and the girls can continue their music and dance lessons there as well. I’ll arrange everything. You won’t need to worry about a thing, except getting better.”

Her expression was still closed. “You really sent the letter?”

“I did,” he assured her. “In a little more than a month’s time, you’ll officially be married to a good for nothing lay-about, as Angelica is so fond of calling me.”

“She calls you a good for nothing politician,” Eliza amended.4

“Well, she’ll have to change it. I’m finished with politics.”

She looked at him for a long, silent beat, before her mouth tightened and her eyes squeezed shut. When she sniffled and managed a shaky exhale, he realized she was crying. He brushed his thumb along her cheekbone. The crippling loss and the days of fever had her emotions on edge; his news simply brought it back to the surface, he understood.

After a few quiet minutes to compose herself , she reached up to cover his hand with hers. “I didn’t think you’d really do it,” she whispered.

“I’d do anything for you.” How foolish he’d been, to have taken her so much for granted over the past several years. She’d tried to tell him so many times that it was all too much, yet he’d stubbornly refused to listen. His pride and vanity had so nearly cost him everything good and dear in his life. “I only regret not having done it sooner.”

She reached out and took a fistful of his shirt to pull him closer to her. His hand dropped from her cheek to the bed, the letter to Troup and Jamie’s drawing crumpling under his palm as he steadied his weight so as to not crush her beneath him. When her lips captured his, tears of gratitude pricked at his own eyes.

A puff of breath scattered a cloud of dust that had accumulated on top of one of his old legal tomes, the light of a candle dancing wildly as a result. He cracked open the spine, hunting for a definition he once knew by heart. His mind, too full of figures and budgets over the past years, seemed to have pushed aside all his legal training.

The soft melody of one of Mozart’s piano sonatas met his ear as he dragged his finger down over the close-packed words of his book. The eleventh, to be precise, if he wasn’t very much mistaken. Tucking the book under his arm, he wandered out towards the parlor, and smiled at the scene within.

Eliza’s face glowed a healthy pink in the soft candlelight, her eyes focused intently on the sheet music before her as her fingers danced over the keys with practiced grace. So rarely did he get to watch her at ease, freed from the cares of their house and children, he sometimes lost sight of how staggeringly beautiful and talented she was. Her shoulders swayed slightly as she warmed up to a faster tempo; she stumbled over one of the faster runs, but pushed on, though her mouth tightened in an adorable little frown. He slid silently into a chair and closed his eyes.

When she came to the end of the piece, he applauded softly and called, “Brava.”

She smiled weakly at him. “I’m out of practice.”

“You played beautifully,” he insisted. “It’s been a long time since I was last treated to your musical talents. You should play more.”

“I do play, sometimes, to distract myself.”

He frowned. “Did you need distracting from something just now?”

She bit her lip, then continued as if he hadn’t spoken, “You’re just rarely here to enjoy it.”

“Things will be different now,” he promised. “No more late nights, no more public offices. Just you and me, and our family.”

She gave him another weak smile. A shiver ran through her as she did, and she drew her dressing down closer around herself. He rose, placed his hands on her shoulders, and leaned down to kiss the crown of her head.

“Chills?”

“I’m all right,” she assured him, tilting her head up to look at him. “A little weak, still, but recovered. You needn’t worry so much.”

“Au contraire, mon ange.” He tapped her nose affectionately. “Worrying about you is my most important job. What better subject do I have to occupy my thoughts?”

Her brow rose as she teased, “Who are you, and what have you done with my husband?”

Laughing softly, he reached for the poker to stoke the fire, then offered her his arm.

She sighed. “You know, I can walk all on my own. You’ve been leading me about like a fragile piece of porcelain the past few weeks.”

“Did it occur to you that I just want to be close to you?”

She frowned skeptically, but accepted his arm. He led her to the sofa, where he spread out an old quilt across their laps and rested his arm behind her. Surveying the side table, he noticed Pip had left a book lying out.

“Do you want me to read to you?” he offered. “Pip left Gulliver’s Travels on the table here. Or I could go fetch us something else?”

She leaned into him, her head resting on his shoulder as her arm wrapped around his middle, and shook her head. He closed his arms around her in a gentle embrace. They stayed sitting quietly for a long moment.

Eliza broke the silence. “Do you think about her? Our baby?”

His heartbeat quickened at the question. He had to swallow down the beginnings of a lump in his throat before he could answer, “I do. All the time.”

“Me, too,” she whispered. “Ned let me see her, just for a minute. She was so tiny, but she was beautiful.”

Tears stung at his eyes. “Of course she was. Just like her mother.”

“We didn’t even get to name her.” Eliza’s voice hitched slightly as she spoke.

“Do you want to name her?”

She stilled in his arms, and peeked up at him. “No one else would know.”

“We would know,” he replied evenly.

Considering a moment, her front teeth worrying at her lower lip, she nodded. “I was thinking, before….” Her throat sounded thick around the ‘before,’ and all that it implied. She paused a moment. “I was thinking maybe Kitty, for my mother. But then, I thought maybe you might like Rachel, after your mother. My family already has so many Kittys.”

His vision was blurry with tears as he suggested, “We could do both. Rachel Catherine.”

“Rachel Catherine Hamilton,” she said, slowly, as though tasting the name on her tongue.

“Beautiful,” he approved, releasing a slow breath. “Just like her.”

She buried her face in his shoulder. He held her as she shook in his arms, his mind wandering to the little life that could have been, that never would be. His precious little daughter who he hadn’t been home to see for the first and last time.

Things would be different now, he vowed.

#hamilton fanfic #an elusive peace #hamliza #Tw: miscarriage #ask

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black-wolf066 · 4 years

Text

AU where Five dies young in the apocalypse part 3

[Part 1] [Part 2]

[A03 link if it’s easier to read]

Our Place to Call Home

Being homeless had never truly bothered Klaus after he had left the academy behind him. Especially not when he had chosen it of his own free will.

At the ripe age of seventeen years, four months, and twelve days old (“Yes Ben, I remember the exact date I left. No one can forget that week of utter fun; no matter how hard one tries.”), Klaus hadn’t had very many choices laid out for him to pick from. It had been either leave everything behind for the streets (where he had a better chance of making it on his own) or stay and deal with a cruel man who had never cared for him—or any of them for that matter—and never hesitated in reminding him of his uselessness in that household.

Sure, leaving would have entailed wandering into the unknown, with food, shelter and his next fix not ever being a solid guarantee, but staying hadn’t exactly been an option for him either (not after Five, and certainly not after Ben—still so very fresh in his grave at that point in time). Staying would have required him to accept the knowledge that Reginald would end up killing him—or his remaining siblings—with the missions the old man continuously forced them on.

In the end, the streets were the lesser of two evils in Klaus’ opinion.

(As he crept out late in the night with nothing more than a knapsack, three hundred some odd dollars pilfered from Luther’s shoe box hidden under the floorboard beneath his bed, and the clothes on his back; Klaus spared one fleeting thought to the rest of his brothers and sisters; hoping they too would be smart enough to leave before it was too late.)

Once out there, he—and by extension, Ben—had finally been free to do whatever he had damn well pleased. To go wherever his feet led him, without a single care in the world. Sure it hadn’t been easy; some days worse than others (a fight here, a drug deal gone south there, the lack of food or a warm place to sleep when the nights would get too cold), but he had finally been handed the reigns of his own destiny and nothing anyone could do or say would have stopped him from enjoying that high (not even a concerned Ben dogging his every step).

It took plenty of trial and error on his part (but Five wasn’t the only one capable of adaptability in the family), and plenty of months honing the skills he had learned for a different purpose then what they were originally intended for. Nevertheless, Klaus had made his new lifestyle work.

And for seven blissfully, foggy years, it did work.

Then Five up and died, came back from the future (“Called it!” “Congratulations, you’re not a complete idiot.” “Hey! I could deal without the sarcasm, Five-y, but I’ll still take the compliment!”) to haunt him, and suddenly Klaus’ blissful little world went up in figurative smoke and flames.

His lifestyle, he knew, was no longer a viable option; not with his resolve to stay relatively clean for Ben and Five’s sake. Not with the streets being a vixen of temptation he would succumb to the longer he was out there, and certainly not with the end of times looming like a distant gale in the background of what his life had apparently become.

God, no one told him being a responsible adult would suck quite this much.

(***)

“Sorry, occupancy is full.”

With a tired sigh, Klaus turned on his heel and left the shelter for the park.

“You could try another one rather than just giving up, you know. It’s not even that late out.” Five griped.

No, it wasn’t late at all, but Five didn’t know the streets like Klaus and Ben did. Five didn’t know each and every shelter within the city limit or that that particular establishment didn’t have a very reputable reputation to begin with. Herman Housing was usually the homeless’ last pick; the staff habitually rude and ill-tempered, the food border-line questionable, and the water from the showers leaving one feeling dirtier then when they first walked in. So, if Herman Housing—of all places—was full at this early hour of the day, then there was no point in wasting his time and energy trying for a bed somewhere else.

He was too tired and grumpy to communicate any of this information to Five.

Ben—bless him and his knack for knowing just what he’s thinking—voiced this for him.

“Well, you still can’t just sleep out here on the bench, Klaus.”

“Watch me.” He flopped back dramatically in his seat for added effect and grinned as Five looked for all the world like a riled cat.

“Klaus,” Ben cut in sharply before the argument could start. “You saw the news at Griddy’s. A blizzard’s coming and it’s going to be bad. Just go to Diego or Vanya, please—you know they won’t turn you away.”

No, they wouldn’t (not with the incoming threat of four feet of snow looming on the horizon), but his wounds were still fresh from their blatant dismissal when he tried to tell them Five had finally showed up to haunt his pathetic ass. It shouldn’t hurt, not when none of them every really believed him to begin with (even before Ben), but it did and still does. Ghosts were his thing after all, it shouldn’t have been that hard to believe. Sure, the drugs fundamentally nulled his powers almost completely, but his siblings should know by now that nothing he put in his system would stop Ben—or Five or any of them—from manifesting if they wanted too. His siblings were just that right side of stubborn pain in the asses that Klaus hoped none of the other spirits ever caught on too or he’d really be in trouble.

As the temperature continued to drop, and his brothers continued to pester and hound him like the mother hens they freaking were; he threw up his hands in defeat with a frustrated “Fine, I’m moving, I’m moving, you happy?”

He went to Diego.

(***)

The next incident, was just two weeks before Vanya would begin writing her book (not that Klaus would know that). It was just a normal night, the chill not as biting despite it being the dead of winter, when Klaus’ past actions finally came to bite him annoyingly in the ass.

He fought as hard as he could—he can honestly say that he did try—against his ruthless ex-drug dealer, but hand to hand combat had never been one of his strong suits growing up, and even if it had been; eight pitted against one simply wasn’t a fair fight (and a little over kill if you asked him). Being nimble and light on his feet also didn’t help when his exits were being blocked at every turn.

He managed to take out one fellow and roughed up two more before he was down for the count; knocked out cold and still being beaten and shaken down for what little money he had left in his pockets.

Ben and Five watched it all happen fearfully and angrily; helpless to do anything but be silent witnesses as their brother was beaten black and blue in the alley he was chased into.

When he eventually, and thankfully, awoke the next morning, he didn’t go to the Emergency room despite their concerned prompting (“You could be bleeding internally, Klaus!” “Don’t care, Ben, still not going.” “You’re a dumb-ass, you know that?” “Why thank you, Five.” “That’s not a compliment asshole, go to the damn hospital!” “Nope.” “You are insufferable!”). Hospitals were as bad as graveyards, and Klaus avoided them both like they would give him the plague.

Instead, in the early hours of the morning, with the streets and sidewalks still quiet with the sun not yet out to wake the living; he shuffled and limped his way slowly and blurrily towards Vanya’s home; her apartment being closer than Diego’s place of current residence or an emergency room either way.

Vanya took him to the hospital anyway.

(***)

Within a span of five months after the incident, bouncing from homeless shelter to endless homeless shelter (occasionally crashing at Diego’s or Vanya’s when the nagging got to be too much) and applying for whatever aid the government would be willing to give him; found Klaus with his very own studio apartment to call home.

The building was washed out and unkempt, the neighborhood he was located in looking as though it had never seen what better days even looked like. The apartment itself made even his old room seem bigger, but it was affordable with the temporary grant given to him (and would continue to be affordable once he found a job to better sustain himself) and that was enough for him.

No matter how small, it was his, and between the three of them, they filled it with everything their father would have hated. With bright colors, tacky furniture (that was cheap, and well used, but still comfortable to sink into) and wacky patterned curtains, pillows and throws, that shouldn’t normally go together but somehow Klaus had made work (despite Ben’s and Five’s obvious doubt before seeing it themselves).

Ben finally had the library of his dreams. It wasn’t nearly as big as the one back at the mansion, but it was an ever growing collection that Klaus continued to enable (sure he had to hold open the books for Ben to read, but if it made the book-worm happy, he was willing to do it; a small price to pay for all the shit he’s put him through over the years). There was even a section for Five’s theory and mathematical volumes and an even smaller section for Klaus’ own collection (nothing noteworthy, just a few comics and fictional works of fantasy and romance).

The rest of Ben’s knick-knacks were just as random and odd as Klaus’, but the Polaroid camera and the photo albums Klaus began to fill up for him; were definitely among Ben’s top favorites.

In the beginning it was hard to figure out what Klaus could bring home for Five to make him feel included. Five’s interests geared more toward having to be tangible to do them (much to his displeasure). That still didn’t stop Klaus from buying the chalkboard easel he later found at a second hand store, and on days when Five would get restless and fidgety, Klaus would humor him for a few hours and write whatever complicated and convoluted equations he wanted written out on that very same easel (“No Five, I’m not writing on the walls.” “I don’t care if there isn’t enough space left on the chalkboard, you aren’t gonna be of any help when I have to paint over it now will you?”). He ends up buying another chalkboard and a white board to appease the irritable gremlin.

The dart board he had found not long after, had also been a nice addition as well; it wasn’t as nice as the one Five had back in his old room, but it still played a melancholy homage it (to the fonder memories Five had of challenging Ben or Diego or Klaus during their down time between training—more so Ben and Klaus, since Diego’s power was essentially cheating).

Ben and Klaus also learned—along with Five himself it would seem—that the forever stuck thirteen-year-old held an interest for anything nautical or tropical in nature; having seen him eye certain pieces every time they’d walk into some of the antique stores Klaus liked to frequent.

The spyglass, the random colorful sea shells, the oceanic themed paintings, and the little anchor shaped paper weight— the metallic object situated on Five’s side of the bookshelf—went without much fanfare, but that was okay, the smile on his brother’s face when he placed them in their home was reward enough.

Their place might not be much worth noting—maybe even a little crazy, and a little over-crowded with nonsensical junk to the outside looking in—and though his brothers really didn’t need the space or any of the knick-knacks Klaus continued to buy for them; it was their home regardless.

It was the home the three of them were making for themselves and it was enough.

(Oh, and they bought a coffee machine that Klaus honestly has no idea he will even use, but said why the hell not anyway ‘cause fuck you dad!)

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nightglider124 · 5 years

Note

22 ROBSTAR, make me cry

So,I’m finally getting around to writing the prompts that have been sitting in my inox since fucking APRIL. Like, gosh, I am so sorry for procrastinating that much, holy shit. XD

Anyway! Idk if it will make you cry but it’s all I could think of lmao.

I’m trying my hardest to make the others shorter than this; more sweet and to the point.

Hope you like it all the same! ^.^

____________________________________________

“This isn’t goodbye.”

The sound of his footsteps echoed and bounced off of the walls of the room, constantly pacing back and forth, as if that would magically solve his predicament.

Robin dragged a gloved hand through his dark locks of hair, for what felt like the hundredth time that day alone.

Tamaran was a strange place at the best of times but they usually managed. This time, however, everything felt more confusing and frustrating than ever before.

Galfore had explained a fair amount before they had even hopped into the T-Ship and set course for Starfire’s home world.

There was a new threat in the galaxy; a malicious and greed fueled race that had their eyes on Tamaran, in particular.

War was already waging between the two species on the west planes of Tamaran, according to the Grand Ruler himself.

It wasn’t her fight. Not anymore.

And she knew that.

But, Starfire’s greatest flaw was that she was too kind and too giving; regardless of what she wanted or what her own heart yearned for.

She’d offered her aid and now, the team had barely seen her since they’d arrived. She was either with soldiers or Galfore or the war council.

Robin guessed a Princess’ duties were never really over as long as the blood of royalty flowed through her veins.

They’d been there almost a week and he wanted some answers and furthermore, he wanted to see his best friend’s face, an image that seemed to be fading more and more as the days went by.

So, here he was, waiting it out inside her chambers. The guards had let him pass, knowing that he was friends with their Princess but not before having one of their spears dangerously close to his throat as a warning.

He paused in his pace by the balcony, letting a breath of wind that flowed in through the open double doors soothe him. It wasn’t Starfire’s fault that she’d been practically torn away from them from the moment they’d gotten there.

She was the Princess and he knew how much her presence was demanded by her people.

The door creaked and his head snapped up as Starfire slipped past the threshold. Her jade eyes widened upon seeing him, clearly not expecting him to be in her room at this time of night.

“Robin?” She murmured, wondering if she was imagining him due to fatigue.

“Hey.” He said, quietly reigning his confusion and frustrations of being on her world in for her sake, “Been busy?”

She offered him a tired smile, “Unfortunately, yes. I have been in 10 meetings between the war council and Galfore today. Arguments and broken strategies were thrown back and forth for the majority of said meetings. It was… exhausting.”

He smiled back and watched as she moved around the room, dropping some of her stuff off before she pulled her feet from her long, thigh high boots. Starfire sighed and crawled onto her bed, staring at him expectantly.

“You may sit, Robin.”

“Oh! Right… sorry… I keep forgetting myself while we’re here.”

He took a seat on the edge of her bed, relaxing and allowing himself to deflate.

“Please… are the Titans alright?” She paused, “I know things have not easy since we arrived and I apologise for that-”

His masked eyes flicked to her direction, “It’s not your fault, Star. You’re just trying to do right by everyone.”

“Trying being the keyword…” She muttered, dragging her hair over her shoulder and stroking her fingers through the long, auburn locks.

“You’re doing your best, Star. That’s all anyone can ask of you.”

“It just feels like my input is doing nothing to help, is all.”

He frowned and subconsciously laced their fingers together, “You’re giving more than you probably think.”

Her gaze lingered on their joint hands and she tried to quench the blush she could slowly feel rising to her face, “Thank you, Robin.”

The boy wonder smile at her for a long moment before it faded and he frowned, a look of guilt pinned to his face.

“Is everything okay?” Starfire queried,

Robin watched her, trying to gauge how she would feel about the request he was about to make. He knew she was making headway with the diplomats and soldiers that were all involved with this incoming war that Tamaran was to face but the Titans were needed on Earth. He had no idea how long this feud and difficulties would last; they needed to return home in order to continue doing their jobs of saving the city from daily threats.

“Starfire… I… I don’t mean to make things even worse but…” He sighed and shook his head, “We need to leave tomorrow.”

“Leave?”

“Yes. We’ve already been away from Jump longer than I would like. Titans East can’t juggle their own city and ours for too long. We need to get back.”

She was silent for a long moment, thoughts and concerns flitting through her mind; being pulled in multiple directions all at once.

“Star?” He prompted, “I know what I’m asking is difficult… I know you don’t want to leave Tamaran with all of this going on but-”

“Robin…”

He turned his whole body to look at her, propping his knee up on the mattress; something about her tone was off, something about it concerned him and there was an icy plummet in his chest, a sense of dread seeping in.

Starfire sat there, looking meek as she twiddled her fingers. Whatever she had to say; it wasn’t something she liked and she knew it wasn’t something he was going to like hearing either.

When she raised her head, her eyes looked glossy like she was fighting to hold back unshed tears from falling.

“I- I have to stay.”

He froze, his heart thumping louder suddenly as he tried to process if he had heard her correctly.

“What?” He asked, his mask impossibly wide as he waited for her to clarify,

She gave a shuddering sigh, trying to collect herself and her thoughts before voicing them,

“Tamaran… they need me here, Robin.”

“B-But… we need you on Earth too.”

She sadly shook her head, “Not like my planet does. I am not the only one who makes up our team… you can all handle things without me, I am certain of it.”

“Star… please don’t. Tamaran isn’t your home anymore… Earth is. You’ve said it yourself.”

“My life and my heart is on Earth. That is true.” She took a deep breath and squeezed his hand, bringing her free one to clasp it as well, “But they are still my people and they are facing a danger they do not know how to fight. I must stay and help them…”

He swallowed the lump in his throat, “Well… you’ll come home after, right? How long do you think you’ll have to stay?”

She tilted her head, giving him a sympathetic look and he knew in his heart that there was no definitive answer on how long a war would last.

“I am sorry…” She whispered, looking truly and utterly at a loss,

“I… don’t want to leave you here… not without backup.”

She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his cheek, causing his heart rate to spike at her sudden proximity. She touched the other side of his face with her fingertips, leaving a trail of fiery sensations.

As she sat back, she took a moment to stare at the material of his mask, knowing exactly where his eyes were beneath.

“I will be okay… and I will come home… once I know my people are safe from the oncoming threat, I will return to Earth.”

“You promise?”

She smiled softly, “I promise.”

There was a blanket of silence that befell them; it wasn’t uncomfortable but it wasn’t one that was filled with joy either.

He watched her, trying to sort his own emotions from one another and figure out exactly how he felt about the situation at hand, besides the obvious not wanting to leave her here and hating every second that she wouldn’t be with them back on Earth.

“I guess… I should probably go and let the others know then…” He mumbled, getting to his feet,

“Robin…” She whimpered, the sadness evident in her voice and in her eyes,

He smiled at her; a facade to hide how much it really hurt to know that she would be staying on Tamaran for god knows how long. He knew he had to put on a face for her, to let her know that it was okay.

The last thing he wanted was for her to feel guiltier about the situation than she probably already did.

“This isn’t goodbye.” He told her, “It’s just… a… see you later.”

She visibly swallowed the mountain in her throat before he tearfully nodded, brushing away a stray tear that slid down her cheek.

“Goodnight, Star… we’ll… see you in the morning before we go.” He vowed,

“Of course… goodnight Robin…” She murmured, her voice unusually quiet,

He held the gaze between them for a few moments longer before he turned and walked towards the exit, wordlessly escaping through the crack between the double doors.

Once outside, he let go of a deep breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding onto. His expression crumpled and his shoulders slumped, feeling the weight of her decision to stay resting on him like a heavy burden.

Starfire blinked at the closed doors, the silence that now surrounded her was deafening. She felt the hot sting of tears as they freely trickled down her face with her powerless to stop them.

Her heart felt like it was too much inside of her chest; like something sharp had torn through it and she was helpless as it bled out.

She struggled to catch her breath as she sniffled and prayed to every God in existence that would listen, that she had not just lied to the most important person in the universe to her.

Because when she dwelled on it, she didn’t know when she would return and even worse, she didn’t know if she would return; the threat of war gnawing at her like an unpredictable nightmare.

There was no certainty in war, after all.

#teen titans #robstar #robin #starfire #fanfiction #dc comics #angst/fluff prompts #oneshot #prompts #requests #nightglider124

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sweetcatmintea · 5 years

Text

Three Two One

Flash fiction Friday and I went over word limit again <.<;; Not as badly as last week but maybe next week I’ll actually stay under the 1000 word limit orz

I had a lot of fun writing this and I hope you have as much fun reading it! Feedback is appreciated ^u^

Prompt: Jumping Fences

Words: 1467

----------

“What in the actual hell do you think you’re doing!? Get away from me Dillan or I swear, I’ll beat you into the dirt.” Growled threats tumbled out, fleeing while she stayed stuck. Trapped. He didn’t stop. Hands hovered over her temples, tingling the hairs standing on end.

“You think I want to do this to you Alex? I never wanted it to come to this…” He sighed. “Don’t worry. I’ve been practicing. It’s not going to hurt.”

“Practicing my foot! I don’t goddamn care! Untie me!” Alex jerked in the seat, restrained by whatever Dillan had lying around. Belts, tape, cords. Pathetic impromptu tools. Clearly, he’d been thinking of this for a while but hadn’t bothered with the details. It was strangely offensive. She wasn’t even worth a plan? Snapping in his direction, her teeth clipped the air where his hand had been. Dillan frowned, sighing again. He needed to concentrate for this to work. The tears in Alex’s eyes misted his own. Her distress was paralysing. He had to steel his resolve. This was for the best.

“I get that you’re scared! I really do. But you can’t go on like this. You’re an adult but your parents lock you away – Don’t give me that look. You know it’s true. I’ll make it so you can be free. You aren’t going to remember this. Any of it! Just that I’m your friend and you are rooming with me for a bit. You can finally be yourself!”

The god damned arrogance! “Are you kidding me?? Mr Hero In Training wants to brain wipe me, his friend, because my parents are protective? God Damn it Dillan! What are you thinking? You’re right! I am an adult and I choose to stay with my folks. I happen to like them! Let me go already! This is ridiculous!” This was exactly why her parents were protective in the first place. When she was born, delicate and doe-eyed, her fate had been written in her soft features. In a world of heroes and villains, she’d been assigned the role of Damsel. In a way, she’d expected to face this situation one day, but not like this. How could she have known that Dillan would go screwy? He was alignment checked – chaotic good – and halfway through his hero course. More than that, he was her friend. Now he was hovering over her, awkwardly avoiding the daggers she glared into his stupid superman t-shirt.

“Look, it’s really not even a big deal. I’ll count down, touch your head and poof! You won’t remember anything bad either! I wouldn’t do that to you. Y’know, lots of people would love to forget their past. I’m doing you a service.” He faltered at her stormy face. “A-anyway. It’s not like I’m going to tell you anything weird like we’re dating or whatever. Just trust me, it’ll all turn out. I don’t even know why I’m telling you all thi-”

“You’re monologing because you’re a godDAMMED VILLAIN!”

He took a moment steadying himself from her outburst. “I guess I’m just trying to make things easier for you. Anyway, I’ll count down from three and you’ll get to start a whole new life.”

“Seriously, stop! I don’t want this! Whatever you’re going through, we can talk about it! Please, just let me go!”

Three

Alex had met Dillan at university. Her parents were apprehensive about her studying, rathering she get a non-descript job at a little bookshop or something, but nothing could dissuade her from psychology. She wanted to help other Damsels who’d been toyed with in some comic book game, then tossed away once the level cleared. She wanted to help villains overcome whatever had pushed them towards evil in the first place. You can’t solve every problem by punching it after all. Their classes ended up working together on a joined assignment. Heroes and psychs preparing for future collaboration. A paired assignment and, unsurprisingly, Alex was the last approached. It’s not all that convenient to be associated with a Damsel after all. Dillan all but tripped into the room, tardiness becoming his trademark over the following classes, and was stuck with who he could get. Dillan was being trained to use his mind control power to de-escalate hostage situations and Alex was all about cognitive mechanisms. They had a lot in common and got along very well. Alex’s parents were ecstatic that she’d finally made a university friend. His hero status wasn’t great news, but at least he’d look out for her, right? That’s how they made peace with it at least. She didn’t want to lose their time together.

Two

Alex’s other friend, Wisteria, had a smeared name, like her. Unlike her, she was no Damsel. Dark hair, smoky eyes, and a mystery at the best of times, she wore her alignment like a cloak. Chaotic evil. Villain material in the making. Her ability didn’t help matters. They met in self defence class. She always had a quiet kindness about her, hard to see to those who were not looking. Alex offered to help her with a shoulder throw she was struggling with. They worked until Alex couldn’t take it anymore. Wisteria’s under breath quips getting the best of Alex, leaving her cackling on the floor like a moron. Their friendship thrived in the form of a contest. Whoever could make the other smile more, won. Wisteria’s advantage of a naturally stoic countenance may have left her reigning champion, but they were both cramping with laughter by the end of their frequent meetings. Would Wisteria keep smiling without her?

One

Was this all because Alex had bailed on a party invite? She’d been chatting with Dillan that morning and he’d started talking about an upcoming party. It was 90% hero first years and Alex just couldn’t deal with that level of drunken ego today. Polite pass with an excuse about promising to be home early. Something about crimes on the news, parental worry, yadda yadda. Dillan had laughed it off, promising to snapchat a play-by-play commentary. It was all the usual stuff. That was until they were walking off to class. Alex had gone to jump the fence. A spectacular fail. She slipped, landing on her back like a geriatric turtle, winded. Next thing she knew, she was tied to a goddamned chair about to be reprogrammed. Dillan must’ve taken advantage of her lowered defences, sneaking into her brain while it was still trying to get breathing back on track. It didn’t matter. Not anymore. He was going to fry her. She didn’t bother stifling her sobs. What about Captain Fluffington? Who’s going to explain to him what happened? Is he going to spend his life thinking she’d abandoned him? She didn’t want this she didn’t want this she didn’t want this!!

Restart

One breathy word. Alex screwed her eyes shut. She didn’t want to forget. She braced against the oncoming touch. It never came. Squinting through cracked eyelids, she could have screeched with joy. Dillan was grunting, struggling to move. Wisteria loomed in the doorway. Murder etched into her face, she almost shook with anger. Her shadow snaked across the floor, clamping onto Dillan’s with its intangible hands, rooting him in place.

“You told people Alex was with me last!? Way to throw me under the bus you intolerable drivel merchant!”

Her fist smashed his jaw. An audible crack and he crumpled, a suspended ragdoll until her shadow released him. He moaned when she nudged him but didn’t get up.

“Sorry it took so long Lex. The police didn’t believe I was in class all day. We had to show them surveillance footage so they’d let me go.” She made quick work of unbuckling Alex. “You okay?”

As much as Alex wanted to brush it off and play it cool, all she could manage was a watery ‘Mn hm’. It had been so close. Half a second longer… A tidal wave of relief and what ifs crashed over her. Knees now jelly, she started bawling again. Wisteria wrapped her up in a hug while she cried into her shirt.

“I ought I asn’tgoinooeeyouagaiiinnn!” (I thought I wasn’t going to see you again.)

She chuckled. “You couldn’t get rid of me that easily. This is the sort of stuff I’m training for.”

Wisteria ran a hand through Alex’s hair and it was the most comforting thing in the whole damned world.

Managing to calm down to, at least, coherence, Alex whispered “I was so scared Whis.”

“I know. I’m sorry it took so long. It won’t happen again. I’ll always drop everything to come save your sorry butt. My alignment is chaotically self-interested after all. You are very important to my self.”

Alex huffed out a laugh. There’s a reason Wisteria’s her best friend.

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Tag list

@cawolters, @inexorableblob, @inkovert, @snobbysnekboi, @kainablue, and @i-rove-rock-n-roll

#Flash Fiction Friday #fff18 #writing #writblr #original story #short story #heroes #villains #kidnapping

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lupinwritings · 5 years

Note

Any peterick historical au would be great

Becuase I’m a history geek and love a good obscure au, I used a random number generator to pick a year between 1 AD and 1990 AD to set the scene for this and we got 333 AD. Hope Pete and Patrick enjoy the Roman Empire. (Also this was a really fun way to come up with a plot if you guys like this idea feel free to tell me to do it again).

Bit of context: same-sex relationships were accepted at this time and most people had relationships with both men and women. Pre-marital sex was also fine as long as it wasn’t with a married woman. Also, relationships progressed a lot faster at this point, this was still in the era of dating for a week before being engaged, if that, so yes, I know the timeline seems strange for a modern reader. Just go with it.

Pete looked up to the sound of hoofbeats. The horizon was just barely tinted blue with the first signs that the sun would be rising soon. It was rare that the small town got any visitors so the young poet was taken aback to see a well-dressed man on horseback stop by where he sat at the city fountain.

“Can I help you, sir?” He stood, realizing that this man, respectable as he looked, might not mean to do any good.

The man took a shaky breath, Pete could hear the way his cheap armor shifted with the effort this took before he dismounted. He stood a little shorter than Pete and looked quite a bit weaker at the moment. “I only need a place to stay for the night and possibly food or drink if you have any to spare.”

Pete extended his arm “tell me your name and then I will take you to the inn.” Pete got the sense this man wouldn’t have the means to pay, not that anyone else in this forsaken corner of the world did, but he was sure something could be arranged.

“Patrick.” He took Pete’s arm, holding his horse’s reins with his other hand. It was an unusual name, he also spoke with a foreign accent, Pete made a mental note to ask more about his history in the morning - well, later in the morning. When they got to the entrance to the small inn, which was usually used for housing people while constructions were done at home as opposed to outsiders, Pete took the horse’s reigns to take them to the small stables before rejoining Patrick at the doors “go on. Joseph won’t turn you away. You look like you need rest.” Patrick just nodded in response and walked inside. The door’s closed behind him and Pete was left standing in the dark again, it was a bit lighter than it had been before, though. Sunrise would come soon, Pete still had a poem to finish before the town grew noisy again.

It was midday when Pete wandered into the inn and smiled at Joseph, the young innkeeper who could use a long rest and a shave but besides that, was a decent enough person. Joe leaned over the small counter “did you hear? One of the emperor’s own came in half-dead last night.”

Pete just hummed “how is he?”

“Haven’t seen him yet but one of the girls checked to make sure he was still breathing within the last hour. No one knows what happened.”

“Could I check on him?”

Joe gave him a confused look “Peter… why?”

“Just - I saw him last night and he looked bad but also scared. I just want to make sure he’s okay.”

Joe nodded and sighed “alight, but if this goes wrong I’ll have your head. I don’t want another repeat of-”

Pete laughed and was already ducking behind the curtain that separated the lobby from the hallway of rooms before Joe could finish. Finding Patrick’s room wasn’t hard, it was the only one that was still occupied this late in the day. He slipped past the wooden door to see Patrick on the straw bed, his armor and tunics set neatly below the window, as was his sword. Pete had missed that last night but clearly, Joe hadn’t. “Emperor’s own” he’d said, must have been a soldier. Patrick looked up but didn’t move, his head dropping back onto the pillow when he saw who it was “I apologize for my lack of manners. It feels as if I will keel over if I do any more than lay here.”

Pete laughed “I know the feeling. Glad to see you made it through the night. I believe you owe me an explanation, though.” He pulled the chair closer to the bed and sat down “who are you and why are you here?”

Patrick closed his eyes for a moment before answering “my name is Patrick, son of Avitus. My home lays south of Hadriani, laid south of. Well, I suppose you should know that Hadrian’s Wall has fallen, as will the northern front.”

Pete bit the inside of his cheek. Not a Roman soldier then, just a young man protecting his family from the northern Franks when the wall fell. “What became of your family?” He asked, afraid he knew the answer already.

“They’re traveling ahead to Germania. I hoped to travel straight through the nights to catch up with them but it seems… I may have underestimated my injuries.” He tried to sit up a bit and hissed, laying flat again.

“Has the apothecary seen you?” Pete said, pitying this man who couldn’t be much other than himself.

Patrick nodded “this morning while I slept. I thank you and your town for the kindness you’ve shown a stranger. I do not think I ever heard your name.”

“Peter.” He stood up. When you are well enough to walk, have Joe direct you to my shop. I do not want this to be the last time I see you.”

“Oh I doubt I’ll be well enough to go off on my own for quite some time, but I will, as soon as I have the strength to do so.” And then Patrick smiled and Pete felt for a moment that he was back in Rome during his schooling, hiding his face when a group of pretty girls would walk past. He dipped his head before he left. He waited for a moment in the hallway to regain his thoughts. He was definitely looking forward to Patrick’s recovery.

It was several days before Pete looked up to see Patrick in the door of his home-based shop. “Ah,” he breathed, standing to walk over and take Patrick’s arm “how is our local celebrity?”

“In quite a good deal of pain, but I wanted to see you.”

There was a moment of silence before Pete offered his chair to Patrick “I’m honored.”

Patrick laughed softly and looked around the room “it seems that I should be the one who is honored. An orator?”

Pete sat down cross-legged in front of Patrick and shrugged “poet more often, but I do what is required.”

“Well then write me something, mister poet.” Patrick took Pete’s hand and smiled “or do you have too many young ladies waiting on your attention for that?”

Pete frowned “what gives you that idea?”

Patrick touched Pete’s jaw gently “don’t take offense, dear, I only mean to flatter.”

Pete scoffed and stood to tidy his work table “well your flattery is far from accurate. And no, before you ask, the women here are not blind nor are they stupid.”

Patrick stood and wrapped the one arm that he could comfortably lift around Pete’s neck “I fear I’ve caused you injury.”

Pete shook his head and rested his forehead against Patrick’s “no, if I have you I have all I need for the moment. Do I have you?”

Patrick smiled and kissed him “yes, dear. What makes you mournful, then?”

Pete leaned back against his table, one arm still wrapped around Patrick’s lower back “that once you are well you will leave again, and then what will I do?”

Patrick pushed Pete’s hair back and looked up at him “I suppose you’ll just have to wait for me to come back.”

Pete looked at him for a second “you’re… your family is in Germania, though. Should you not -”

Patrick cut him off by kissing him again “I will make sure they are settled and provided for and then I will return to you. I told you, I’m yours. I hope you did not take that lightly.”

Pete smiled and wrapped his other arm around Patrick’s waist “then I suppose I can stop paying the apothecary to delay your treatments?”

Patrick laughed and took a step back “I dearly hope you say that in jest, because I feel we could enjoy ourselves so much more if I was not in so much pain.”

Pete took Patrick’s hands to keep him from moving back much more “of course. I would if you asked me to, though.”

“I have no doubt that you would. I’d rather you paid her to hurry it up, though.”

Pete sat down on the chair and Patrick sat on his lap, wincing for a moment before his grimace was replaced by a smile “this whole thing is taking far too long. I am glad I can at least get out of bed now, though. It’s dreadfully boring just watching the shadows on the ceiling all day.”

Pete ran his hands up and down Patrick’s thighs, not really listening to the other man talk anymore “I’m sure it is, dear.”

Patrick huffed out a breath that reminded Pete for a moment of the night he’d first seen Patrick, how broken and weak he’d seemed “where’s your mind gone off to?”

“I’ll just miss you when you’re gone,” Pete admitted.

“You’re missing me when I haven’t even left yet? You’ll miss me twice as long when you do that. Just enjoy me while I’m here.”

“I intend to.”

I didn’t mean for this to be as fluff-filled as it was but I’m tired and have no self-control. Please show this one some love because I’d absolutely love to do a part 2! Just get this post to 50 notes and I’ll make a sequel. Also send me more prompts if you want.

#peterick

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