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tripleglitchwriting · 5 months

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Ignition (Part 4)

Gn human reader, Ratchet-centric

CW: Calling a person an it (unintentionally), mild language, mention of injury

Your head hurt in the morning. It wasn’t a surprise but it also wasn’t welcome. When you opened your eyes, the sky was brightening and the forest showed off its colors once again. You mumbled something about your body being sore while you sat up. Shaking off the drowsy lethargy of sleep, you were once again met with the sight of a giant robot. It was kind of hard to ignore the huge glowing blue eyes piercing your skull.

“Hey there big guy” You said nonchalantly. It just started back down at you, a sober expression on its face. For a second you thought you caught it squinting, but the thing turned away before you would get a good look. Taking this as a prime opportunity to look yourself over, you checked your injuries.

Most of the scrapes you got were scabbing over and in the process of healing. Your leg was still in the splint, but surprisingly it hurt a lot less. The pain wasn’t gone, and you didn’t expect it to be gone for awhile, but it was better. The burn you got was also healing from what you could tell. It could still be felt but at least it wasn’t searing anymore.

When the giant turned back to you it was holding the cup again. You breathed in sharply, wincing as you remembered just how you got that burn. It seemed to notice that, however, and quickly knelt down and set the cup in front of you. Reaching out to touch it, you realized it was cool. Cool and clean. Drinking water. Well, you hoped it was drinking water, but considering the lengths this giant had gone to help you it most likely wasn’t going to kill you. Tenderly you picked up the oversized cup.

“Thanks.” You forgot how thirsty you before you started to drink the water, and in a minute most of the cup was empty. A feeling of freshness washed down your body, but at the same time you began to question what would happen next. You would be well on your way to getting back on your feet if it weren’t for your leg- without crutches it could be weeks before you could safely and comfortably stand. Even if it did help you, what was the giant’s end goal? Why did it help you?

Luckily, it moved again before you could start spiraling. A giant hand, one you’d felt hopeless in before, now sat in front of you with its palm open. The giant wanted you to get on, that much was clear, however that was easier said than done. First of all you weren’t even sure if you wanted to get on. After all you didn’t know where it would take you, what if it didn’t let you go when you healed? What if… oh god, what if it kept you as a pet? The thought suddenly shook you to your core. Fond memories of your healing injuries turned sour.

When the blockade of distraction keeping you from doom spiraling was swept away your body began to tense. Just like so many times before thoughts of horrible things shot around in your head, and this time, unbeknownst to you, they weren’t internal. You mumbled to yourself, staring through the robot. Of course you were still in danger, why wouldn’t you be? You assumed you were safe but you had no evidence, just optimistic assumptions. Stupid, stupid, stupid!

The hand still waited for you, but you had a hard time seeing it through watery eyes. Soon enough it retracted, not that you noticed. Subconsciously you expected it to come slamming down upon you. It didn’t. Instead, as you were falling down deeper into a horrible torrent of anxiety fueled panic, it pulled you out. Through one action you were brought back to the forefront of sanity, three simple words stopped the spiral.

“Are you okay?”

————————

The next cycle came quickly. Ratchet came out of recharge just as the planets’ star peaked over the horizon. The organic was still recharging, so he decided to get some work done. First he boiled (and cooled) some more water. Food would have to come later when he knew what to get. He also checked if he received any possibly missed signals- he didn’t. Frowning, but trying not to get discouraged, Ratchet noticed a small movement in the corner of his optic.

They were awake, which was good. Squeaking out some small sound that seemed to be directed at him, too. He offered them the water and they accepted, also good. Now it was time to move on. He needed to get back to the pod and try and get some sort of distress call out, though this time he couldn’t just pick up the probably sentient being in front of him. If he was going to gain more of their trust he needed to be patient, which was absolutely not something he wanted to do right now but it was also not optional. So Ratchet placed a servo in front of them hoping they would get the message and let him help them on.

Unfortunately they gave no indication they wanted anything to do with him. Actually, they seemed a little worse off than before. Their little optics began to water, something he’d noticed happening when he first found them, but now they also made hushed noises. Actually, he thought he could make some of the noises out to be words, but that would be ridiculous. Must be some result of the crash he’d have to figure out later. For now he needed to help.

Ratchet retracted his servo and asked a question almost out of instinct.

“Are you okay?”

——————

Surprisingly, his words seemed to reach you. You immediately snapped out of your dead stare and looked at him like you’d seen something impossible.

“What… was that?” You stammered out, still only half conscious.

Oh.

Ratchet’s mind quickly picked up on what was happening, sort of. They reacted like that because they could understand him. And even more, he could understand them. And they were talking. And he needed to reply.

“You can talk. Why could I not understand you before…?” He trailed off in a confused but curious manner.

“Of course I can talk! How can you talk? What the fuck! Why didn’t you just start with that?!”

“Well- well, I- , oh. Oh.” The final piece of the puzzle clicked into place. Wheeljack. The translator. “Of course he would forget to put in a conformation of language synchrony— of all the things! That bolthead.” Ratchet’s face went from confusion to disturbed annoyance.

“Hey! What?” Heart beating out of your chest you shouted at the now talking giant robot, confused and surprised and frankly scared out of your mind.

“Yes, right. I’m sorry, this has got to be a lot for you.” He took a second to compose himself. “My name is Ratchet. I am from the planet Cybertron. I am a medic for my team- the Autobots- and my pod crashed here about a cycle ago. I need to get back to my friends.”

“What?” A million thoughts shot through your head and the only question you could get out was “what”. Fantastic start.

“I installed a translator not long ago, I assumed it would notify me when it kicked in, but the designer apparently didn’t think that would be an important feature, so I didn’t have the chance to softly introduce language. I apologize for that.”

This time you couldn’t even get out a word. Your emotional state was on a roller coaster with no sign of stopping, going from terrified to bewildered in less than a sentence.

“I… didn’t know you were, well, sentient at first. I didn’t ask before picking you up, and I’m sorry, but you were injured. I only want to help, but I can only do that if you let me. My job is to heal, not to hurt. I promise I will not hurt you.”

“I… I don’t… but… I- I just…. This, this… it’s a lot. This is so much. Oh my god.” Great! That was about a solid, what, five understandable words? Better than just “what” you supposed. Its- his own words hit your brain like a brick to a window. Cybertron, medic, Ratchet, Autobot, maybe it was all just some vivid nightmare. You knew better, of course, but a giant robot alien was kind of hard to believe.

“I can see that. I’ll give you some space- but please stay off that broken limb of yours?”

“… yeah… yeah….” You mumbled.

Ratchet. That was his name. He had a name. He wasn’t… was he a robot? He was made of metal… but he was from another planet, which is insane… are you insane? Maybe you’ve just gone crazy, but that wouldn’t explain the exuberant amount of pain you’ve felt in the last day. He’d helped you. A medic. Who didn’t know you were sentient at first. Which was also insane. Though, you didn’t think much of him either when you’d first met.

As your brain slowly started coming to terms with this bullet-to-the-face realization, you began to grip another concept: He wasn’t going to hurt you. You weren’t going to be chopped up, or squished, or kept as a pet. He wanted to go back to his friends, but he was trapped here. With you. And you were trapped with him. How ironic.

Breaths came in slower now, your heart began to give itself a rest. More questions filled your mind, some of which you already knew the answers to. You still didn’t know the one you’d had all along, at least nothing concrete. Gathering up what courage you could find lying in the dirt, you spoke up.

“What are you?” He turned back.

“I could ask the same to you.”

“Are you, like, a robot?” It came out as a strange mechanical clanging sound, but you assumed he scoffed at that.

“I am a Cybertronian, not a robot. We are an autonomous race of mechanical beings.”

“Oh. Well… I’m a human. We’re… mammals, I think.”

“Alright, well do you have a name? Designation?”

“Ah, yeah, uh, I’m Doe.”

“Nice to meet you then, Doe.”

“It’s… nice to meet you too, Ratchet.” You smiled at him. It was an expression you didn’t think you’d give again after your panic spiral earlier, yet now, unsurprisingly to you, he smiled back.

“I take it you’re feeling better now?”

“Yes, actually. I’m sorry about earlier.”

“All understandable from what I can tell. But I do need to get back to my pod so I can work on signaling my friends, and you’re in no condition to walk on your own. I don’t think you’d want to be alone out here… so would you like a ride?” He spoke to you calmly, a comforting act in an uncomfortable situation. Ratchet set down his hand in front of you once again. “This isn’t horribly offensive in your culture, is it?”

“No, no, I’m just… not used to it. We don’t have… there aren’t… nothing is as big as you, nothing living at least. I just need a second.” He nodded thoughtfully. You began to move toward his hand, which went as well as anyone would expect. Sheepishly you make a request. “Actually, I might need some help.”

“I’ve got it.” With another giant hand he pinched your midsection lightly with two fingers. You were lifted up higher than you felt necessary, but were swiftly deposited on his palm anyway. After you adjusted to the old, scarred, metal seat, the world toyed with your stomach as it dropped. The corresponding motion Ratchet made, him standing up, took you a second to recover from. Bet even before you could register the disorientation he asked you another question.

“Are you alright?” Slowly at first, then more confidently you nodded.

Your body swayed with each step. It made you nauseous. However, conversation had always been a good distraction for you, and this robot- no, Cybertronian was in no short supply.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hello everyone and happy new year! I figured I’d cap this one off before the year ended in my time zone. “Ignition” is not fully over, I’ll be adding to it some more (most likely fluff), but I’ve got some other plans for this AU. After all, Ratchet wasn’t the only one with an escape pod.

That being said I hope everyone has enjoyed my silly stories this December! Have a good day, night, morning, or afternoon wherever you may be!

#transformers #tripleglitchwrites #transformers g/t #g/t #gn human reader #gn reader #ratchet #human reader #transformers first contact #first contact au #transformers au #IT ENDS FLUFFY I PROMISE

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local-diavolo-anon · 11 months

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I apologise because i have bad burnout and i can't color anything in these days :((

But i love this guy so fucking much i swear to god-

Ii gathered all the design notes i took for myself over the time i was reading Cryptid Sightings and made a singular page with everything

So yeah, @naffeclipse, for u 👉👈

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loserdiaz · 1 year

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wip wednesday

tagged by @rogerzsteven

this is from an old wip i recently picked up again.

Buck breaks up with Eddie on a Tuesday.

It’s the hardest thing that he’s ever had to do, and he wants to get it done as soon as possible so he can go burrow into his self-hatred and stay there.

He doesn't say any of the clichés like "It's not you, it's me."— he doesn't say "It just isn't working anymore" or "I don't love you anymore," because all of it would be a lie.

They both know it would be a lie.

"Please, please don't do this." Eddie begs, his voice breaking on the second word.

Buck's heart is pounding in his ears and he feels sick to his stomach. "Eddie." He says and Eddie's name falls from his lips like the most precious promise that he doesn't want to break but will have to anyway. "I… I just don't know how could we—"

Eddie sees the hesitation, the moment of doubt that makes Buck stop— and Eddie takes his chance, he strikes, hoping he'll be able to change Buck's mind.

"Please." Eddie's voice comes wavering but he forces himself to continue. "I know it's hard, and trust me, I hate this as much if not more than you. But— But I'm not ready to give this up." Eddie licks his lips, his mouth too dry to keep talking. "Christopher is scared, but—"

"But what? He'll get over it?"

"Buck—"

"He doesn't want us together, Eddie!" Buck snaps and Eddie flinches.

There must have been one tiny stitch holding Eddie's heart together, preventing it from breaking entirely. But it frays and snaps at Buck's words, leaving him reeling, hot moisture pressing behind his eyelids.

"He doesn't want us together. He doesn't want—" Buck bursts out, then visibly restrains himself. He reaches up and brushes his palm over his mouth before glancing away from Eddie. "Look, I get it. It sucks and I hate that it's hurting you, but— you'll move on."

"No." It's all Eddie can manage to get out, breathing in and out through his nose, trying to quell the incessant nausea.

tagging: @monsterrae1 @lostinabuddiehaze @buddierights @spotsandsocks @eddiediazisascorpio @dickley-buddie @elvensorceress @lilbuddie @bekkachaos @prettyboybuckley @fatedbuck @maygrantgf @the-likesofus @loveyourownsmiilee and anyone else who wants to do it!!

#i promise this will have soft happy moments and also a really soft fluffy happy ending !!#wip wednesday #eddie diaz #evan buckley #buck x eddie #buddie #buddie fic #buddie wip #911 fic #911 wip #my writing #april writes

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leiawritesstories · 1 year

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Don't Have To Hurt Anymore

Frederick and I have been on a little bit of an angst kick recently, but I promise, I PROMISE, that this ends well. I PROMISE. i feel like this is horrible and rambling and goes nowhere but yeah here's a thing

inspired by "Broken" by Isak Danielson yes yES it sounds awful but i swear on gavriel's grave that it ends well

Word count: 2.7k

CW: swearing, references to abortion

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She’d fallen so hard, so fast. The first time she caught a glimpse of his pale hair, near-silver beneath the kaleidoscopic strobe lights, when she caught a flash of his grin, she was captivated. There was something familiar about that hair, something she couldn’t place. She laughed and spun her way across the floor until she stood beside him–half a turn and they’d be face to face.

He turned.

Aelin still remembered the way Rowan’s face slackened upon seeing her, the way his jaw dropped and his eyes widened, sweeping over her with something so much deeper than brazen appreciation. Despite her tiny little skirt, her skintight gold top, the stiletto heels she could barely keep upright in, the thick layer of makeup, he didn’t see the persona she put on, but the person beneath. He saw her.

Nobody had ever looked at her like that. Like they saw her, and were not afraid.

None of her worthless exes ever had, for damn sure.

“Hi,” he said–well, yelled over the thumping music–his tattooed hand nervously rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m Rowan.”

“Aelin,” she called back, her lips tilting upwards.

That quicksilver grin of his flashed over his face. “Dance with me?” She grinned right back and took his hand, falling effortlessly into his arms.

They lasted all of four songs before Rowan bent his head down to her ear, whispering the question she simultaneously wanted and dreaded. Want to go upstairs?

Yeah, she breathed, ten different ways to quietly slip out of the party rapidly forming in her mind. He linked his fingers through hers and walked her across the floor, weaving through dancing bodies and the thick stench of alcohol and sweat, guiding her up the staircase into fresher air.

She heaved a deep breath. “So much better.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, keeping his fingers laced with hers. A hint of something almost vulnerable– probably just the alcohol, though–flickered across the planes of his face. “Here.” He pushed open a door, standing back to let her walk in first. “This one’s mine.”

“Didn’t know you kept a room at the frat house,” she teased, cracking a joke to cover up the way she could feel herself starting to shake.

He chuckled and closed the door. “I lock up whenever I leave so none of the other guys can dump their shit in my nice clean room.”

Aelin snorted a laugh. “So, a frat guy who’s a clean freak? Who are you, Rowan?”

“Nobody important,” he mumbled. He sat down on the neatly-made bed, a gentle tug on her hand asking her to come sit with him.

She flinched.

He released her hand and held both his hands up, palms out. “Hey.” His voice was soft, wary. “I’m not going to make you do anything, Aelin.” A few seconds of silence passed. “My door’s unlocked; if you need to go, then go. I promise I won’t try anything.” He swallowed thickly. “I…I guess I just thought you might want some space.”

Gradually, Aelin relaxed, remembering to count her breaths like she’d practiced over and over again with her therapist. “I…thanks,” she whispered. Finding her power of movement, she stepped to the bed and sat down a few inches away from Rowan’s side, still keeping a hand’s breadth of distance. “I needed some space, yeah.”

That searching look of his was back on his face. “Aelin?”

“What.”

He exhaled deeply. “Punch me if I’m being an asshole, but–did something happen?”

She twisted the rings on her fingers, a hundred million incoherent thoughts rampaging through her mind. Then, she looked up, properly meeting his gaze for the first time that night. “Before I say anything, Rowan, do you know me?”

His forehead furrowed. “You…no? We just met downstairs, you must know someone else in the frat–probably Fen, he’s friends with everyone.” Confusion clouded his handsome face; his eyes scanned hers, looking for something, anything, any detail that might jog his memory.

She blew out a breath. “Can I use your bathroom really quick?”

“Sure.” He gestured towards the bathroom door. “Help yourself.”

“Thanks.”

Aelin locked the bathroom door behind her, turned on the tap, and gripped the edge of the sink, hands shaking. She lifted her eyes to the mirror, staring into a face that wasn’t hers. The makeup–how clever of her to use her artistic skills to adjust the shape of her face so nobody would really know it was her. She’d thought she could enjoy the frat party, throw back a few drinks and scream-sing along to a few songs and have a fun night.

Until Rowan wrapped his hand around hers, and every emotion she thought she’d shoved away came crashing back.

Reaching for a towel, Aelin shut off the water and patted her face dry, carefully hanging Rowan’s towel back up before turning–slowly–back towards the mirror to face her reflection. Her face now, no longer hiding behind makeup. Gingerly, she opened the bathroom door, half-hoping Rowan would have gone back downstairs since she was taking so long. He was still sitting on the bed, and his head lifted when she opened the door, mild concern on his face as he glanced towards her.

She walked hesitantly across the room, stopped right in front of him, met his gaze head-on.

His eyes widened, jaw slackening as he looked into her face and recognized her. “Aelin,” he whispered. “You were–”

“Yeah.” Her voice was a hollow rasp. “I didn’t think you’d remember–it’s been more than two years, I thought I wouldn’t remember anything about it.”

Cautiously, he offered her his tattooed hand, letting her touch her shaking fingers to his solid, steady ones. “Do you…do you need to say anything?

She really thought she loved him. Stupid, childish Aelin.

She was nineteen when she met Chaol Westfall, still a big-eyed freshman amazed at how huge the world of university was. He was a year older, the rising-star sophomore baseball player that half the student body had a crush on, but for some reason he only had eyes for Aelin. She thought she was nobody–sure, she played on the basketball team, but she was only a freshman; she wasn’t getting tons of minutes or anything special. They met in a class, a 150-person psychology lecture at 10 a.m. Aelin sat in the middle of the lecture hall, in the sweet spot where she knew she wouldn’t really be noticed but she still had a good view of the professor. Chaol strolled into class and sat down a couple rows in front of her, and she paid him no attention, thinking he was just another guy. About a month in, they both showed up to a study session with a few other student-athletes from the class and quickly found they had a lot of shared interests.

Their first date had been a few days later. He took her out to dinner at a nicer restaurant, laughed and flirted and wooed her over dinner and dessert, drove her back to her building and kissed her goodnight. She’d gone upstairs to her dorm with a giddy smile on her face, incredibly excited for the potential of a relationship.

Then he took her to one of the baseball team’s parties, and she started to have doubts.

She shoved those silly doubts away, though, drowned them out with laughter and flirting and cheap beer and Chaol’s kisses. She told her apprehension to go fuck itself and wound her fingers into Chaol’s hair, pressed her body closer to his. One of his teammates wolf-whistled at them, earning a dirty gesture from Chaol, who laughed wryly as he took Aelin’s hand and led her through the chaos of the party into a quieter room, locking the door behind them. Don’t need anyone walking in, he chuckled.

When he kissed her again, tongue tangling with hers, his hands drifted to the hem of her dress, sending sparks shooting through her blood. He paused, leaning back enough to find her eyes. Is this okay?

And Aelin nodded, sliding her dress off her shoulders, and kissed him back, closing her eyes, losing herself in his surprisingly gentle touch. It only took a few moments before he was less gentle, before clothes disappeared in a hazy, half-drunk blur, before a condom appeared from gods knew where and he was laying her down, promising he’d make her feel so good. And he did, he made her feel things she’d never felt before, made her feel pleasure like she’d never experienced it. He told her she was beautiful, she was gorgeous, she was stunning.

She really thought he meant it.

The next morning, she woke up in Chaol’s arms. She smiled lazily, sleepily wondering if this could become her life. And for a while, it was her life. For at least a few months, she grew used to tumbling into Chaol’s bed, falling asleep in his arms. She grew used to wearing his jersey, which meant she caught looks from other girls. She grew used to the idea of him as her boyfriend.

Then she passed out during her chemistry lab.

When she came around, her professor and her lab partner and some of her classmates were clustered around her, varying degrees of concern on their faces. She waved them off and sat up, taking her lab partner’s arm for stability. Probably just the chemical fumes, she joked. It’s like I forgot basic lab safety, right?

She got through the rest of the lab before racing back to her dorm, dumping her things, grabbing her car keys, and driving straight to the pharmacy. Once she got back, she locked herself in the bathroom and opened the cardboard box with shaky hands, unfolding the ridiculously large instruction sheet. She almost couldn’t focus because of her nerves, but she steeled herself, followed the instructions, and waited. And waited. Gods, three minutes was an eternity.

The chiming of her phone timer just about gave her a heart attack. She scrambled to turn off the timer, then grabbed the little plastic sticks. She swore she could hear her own heartbeat thundering as she forced herself to look at the tests.

Two blue crosses stared her in the face.

Of course, she told Chaol. Why wouldn’t she? He was the father; he deserved to know. She showed him the tests late that night, sitting by his side. She wrapped her arms around her knees, suddenly reverting back to her little self, terrified of the great big world. He dropped the pregnancy tests with a soft, dull clatter and swore under his breath.

She managed to look over at him, tears pooling in her eyes. “What should we do?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “Fuck, I didn’t–we were safe–”

“We were.” Until they weren’t.

He sighed. “We’ll figure it out. I promise.”

She believed him. Stupid, stupid Aelin.

It hadn’t even been twenty-four hours after telling Chaol when Aelin knocked on his door and walked in, like she’d grown used to doing, and stopped short, gasping. The sight of one’s boyfriend shirtless and making out with someone else tended to do that.

At her gasp, Chaol jerked away from the…the guy? Well, shit. Good for him? Or something? Aelin didn’t wait for him to try and explain, she just slammed the door and walked away, ignoring his half-assed attempt to call after her. He barely even tried–he didn’t even run after her. He just called her name once or twice, then gave up and went back to his room. And his probable boyfriend.

Aelin expected to feel…something. Instead, she just felt numb. She walked back to her dorm, sat down on her bed, and stared at the wall. She didn’t know how long passed until voices sounded in the hallway and she snapped back into reality and picked up her phone, pretending like she’d just been casually scrolling through Instagram when her roommate walked in.

The next day–it was a Saturday, she remembered it like it had been yesterday–she got up quietly, made her bed, got dressed in comfortable leggings and an oversized Nirvana t-shirt that had once been her dad’s, picked up her car keys and her purse, and slipped out the door. On autopilot, she drove into town, pulled into the clinic parking lot, locked up her car, walked into the building, and went upstairs. The receptionist at the desk was a sweet-faced, middle-aged lady with graying hair who only asked a few check-in questions before handing Aelin a clipboard with a few forms and telling her where to sign. In moments, she was being escorted into the clinic, a nurse in vibrant purple scrubs at her side. The nurse sat with her through the whole thing, squeezing her hand, and wheeled her into the recovery room, saying something about how someone would come by in half an hour to discharge her.

She remembered exiting the clinic feeling tired, ready to go back to her dorm and have a good long nap. She remembered walking back into the waiting area and suddenly having the need to sit down, a wave of lightheadedness washing over her. She remembered how she all but collapsed onto the floor, waving off the staff who came to check on her. I just need a moment.

She remembered a tattooed hand reaching down to her. Hey. Do you need a lift?

She remembered looking up into pine-green eyes filled with concern. She remembered the sticker on his t-shirt: VOLUNTEER. She took the outstretched hand, let the young man help her to her feet, and took a deep breath, steadying herself. When he asked her again if she needed a lift, she shook her head and started walking. Her legs quivered and buckled, betraying her, and he was right back at her side, gently insisting that he at least get her out to her car.

She was much more stable by the time she got to the parking lot, stable enough to wave at the guy before driving herself back to campus, heading upstairs into her room, curling up on her bed, stuffing her face into her pillow, and releasing a long, stifled scream.

The tears followed immediately after that, bursting uncontrollably from the depths of her being. Aelin tucked herself into a tight little ball, clutched her pillows, and sobbed, her whole body shaking with the force of her tears.

Until now, she’d spent the last two years deliberately forgetting that day had ever happened.

She was sobbing by the time she’d finished speaking, slumped onto Rowan’s bedroom floor with her arms wrapped around her knees, overcome by every broken feeling she thought she’d locked away. She didn’t even realize he was kneeling next to her until he said her name, softly at first, then a little stronger. Aelin. Aelin. Aelin. “What?”

He faced her, close enough to touch but not wanting to reach for her lest he frighten her, lest she pull away. “You don’t have to hide yourself from me, Aelin, I promise.”

She sniffled. “How can you say that?”

“Because you deserve to hear it,” he murmured. “It’s true. That asshole–he never deserved you, not for a godsdamn second.”

Despite herself, she managed a teary chuckle. “He never fucking did.” She looked up through a film of tears, finding muted rage clouding Rowan’s face. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“He–he’s not worth it.” Chaol wasn’t worth it. She’d failed to see that for so long, still clinging to the hope that he’d come back to her, that he would change into someone who cared. He’d left her broken on the floor, left her without a care in the world.

Rowan had started to pick up the broken pieces of her the moment he held out his hand in the clinic.

“Okay.” Rowan’s whisper was gentle. “I…Aelin?” Her brows lifted in question. “Can I–” Words failed, so he just held out his arms. She all but fell into his embrace, clinging to him like a lifeline. Hot salty tears dripped into his shirt, her shoulders shaking as she cried.

When she raised her head, a hint of a smile curled at the corners of her lips. “Hey.”

“Hey.” His tentative smile was everything she needed in that moment.

She’d fallen for him so fast, so hard–like she always did. Like she had with Chaol. And with her handful of high school boyfriends before that. This time, though, it was different.

This time, it was Rowan.

~~~

TAGS:

@live-the-fangirl-life

@superspiritfestival

@thegreyj

@wordsafterhours

@elentiyawhitethorn

@morganofthewildfire

@backtobl4ck

@rowanaelinn

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@goddess-aelin

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@clea-nightingale

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@darling-im-the-queen-of-hell

@llyncooljones

@silentquartz

#my writing #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #rowaelin #rowan x aelin #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin angst #sorry not sorry for the pain #fluffy ending though i promise #I PROMISE

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befuddledmackem · 4 months

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Title: Hold Me, Lover, Like You Used To

Author: Mackem

Fandom: Alan Wake 2

Characters: Alice Wake, Alan Wake

Pairing: Alice Wake / Alan Wake

Rating: Teen

Word count: 2,677

Summary:

Alice is on her tiptoes, pulling flour out of an overhead cupboard, when she feels a presence at her back. She can’t help but let out a surprised noise, even though this was her goal when she started puttering about in the kitchen. It dissolves into a sheepish laugh when arms curl around her waist and a chin rests on her shoulder, slotting perfectly against the line of her throat like they were made to fit together.

“Sorry.” Alan’s voice is thick with sleep, dozy and quiet in the soft light of the kitchen. Alice hums as his lips brush against her neck; she still isn’t used to the feel of his beard, but she finds that she likes the scratch of it against her skin. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

#Alan Wake 2 #Alan Wake #Alice Wake #fanfiction #fanfic #my fic #this is a purely fluffy happy ending #but i haven't even finished the game so I have no idea how canon-compliant it is #i am ridiculous and i know it i promise

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daringdarlingdt · 8 months

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me, before starting to rewatch dr who: I can be normal about david tennant as the doctor

me now:

#doctor who #david tennant #i am sosososososo normallllll #literally the piece of media that convinced me that actually i have hyperfixations #literally ruined the end of grade 12 watching it during covid i couldn't stop myself from bingeing 5 episodes in a row like twice daily #even though i saw him in good omens first this is the role that made me absolutely obsessed with david tennant in the first place #he is just soo...#but i can be normal about it i promise i don't think about what devil he sold his soul to be able to make me cry with one line #or the tenth doctor's tragic arc over the course of his three seasons and they way his development is beautifully written #or david's big brown eyes and crooked nose and adorable freckles and spiky fluffy hair #or the two best companions in the whole show who are both so good for him in different but important ways #or poor martha the long-suffering who was betrayed by the writers and the narrative and the doctor and had so much potential #but was victim to the doctor's post-rose angst :(#i don't spend any of the time that i should be working on my academic resoponsiblities thinking about these things no sir #nia originals

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cyber-streak-extra · 8 months

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Like Gone & Grief, this is a “What if?” scenario. The ITP: Happy Ending AU was made by @maraariana01

Title: Too Late

Description: Funtime Freddy has a fun and exciting time as he deals with Oswald and the rabbit.

(TW: Blood+injuries/dismemberment)

(TW: Death)

Ralpho opened his eyes. Looking around, he remembered that he was in the living room, the lights off—some of the only light currently coming from the TV.

It seemed that it was paused—there was still nearly an hour left of the rom-com. It was the fourth one that the two had settled on watching—after having coming back from a walk.

So far, the rabbit’s favorite film of the bunch had been the second one. Among other reasons, he thought that one of the characters had reminded him of Spring Bonnie.

Spring Bonnie. Honey Bun? The rabbit looked around—and found himself surprised by how he failed to realize something. He was laying on top the bunny.

He knew that’s not how he’d been originally—he’d been sitting beside Spring Bonnie, head against his shoulder. So, Ralpho guessed that, at some point, Spring Bonnie changed positions.

Ralpho looked at the bunny. His eyes were closed. Although, Ralpho wasn’t sure if Spring Bonnie was actually asleep or not. It had never seemed like he could.

Though, he could remember his Honey Bun telling him about nightmares—or something that at least felt like one. Spring Bonnie always seemed so scared after it—at least for a moment.

He’d told the rabbit once about how something horrible had happened to both him and Oswald. Ralpho had never been good with nightmares—or anything similar—yet he listened to Spring Bonnie, at least.

Ralpho could remember having his own nightmares when he slept—although they were never all that often. He usually never remembered his regular dreams, or nightmares.

The last one he’d had—which he could at least vaguely remember—involved the rabbit being back at Camp Etenia—although it had seemed pretty different.

Ralpho didn’t know if the bunny was aware that he was awake or not. But, the rabbit decided not to say anything—even if there was something he wanted to tell Spring Bonnie.

Settling on telling Spring Bonnie sometime later, Ralpho laid his head back down against the bunny’s chest. He’d never noticed until now, but it felt a little fuzzy.

As he reached down, grabbing hold of one of the bunny’s hands, Ralpho closed his eyes, slowly falling back asleep. He felt a gentle squeeze around his hand.

...

Funtime Freddy stared up at the rabbit that he held up in the air. As he squeezed the rabbit tighter, the bear’s barely functioning tail began wagging.

Ralpho glanced between the bear and the concerned Oswald. Oz and Honey Bun have had to deal with this guy before? He flinched at the grip tightening again—yet Funtime Freddy didn’t do much else yet.

Both Oswald and Ralpho could hear a strange noise—it was happening repeatedly—and Oswald was sure that he had started hearing it earlier, shortly after Funtime Freddy first appeared.

From where the boy was standing—being kept in place by the bear—he could see an occasional movement from his storage tank. Is... Is he trying to open it...?

Ralpho was struggling. His hands were wrapped around Funtime Freddy’s arm, trying to pull it off—trying to get out of the bear’s grasp—but it wasn’t working.

Neither were the rabbit’s kicks. He managed to kick his legs twice—both times hitting Funtime Freddy square in the storage tank—but that did nothing. Except make the bear laugh.

This was the rabbit’s first time ever seeing the bear—yet he knew that this wasn’t Oswald’s. Ralpho didn’t know any of the details of the previous encounter—except that Funtime Freddy hadn’t succeeded.

On the way to the building, he’d heard the bear rambling on and on—among the things that Ralpho had managed to catch, he’d heard Funtime Freddy say “Silly Millie”, and decapitation.

The rabbit needed to get Oswald out of here. He needed to get him back to Spring Bonnie. Ralpho wanted to get back to him, too. It just seemed like doing that was a little difficult right now.

Right now, more than anything else, Ralpho would love for him and Oswald to be doing anything with the bunny—maybe try watching another rom-com.

Instead, the two were dealing with a broken bear who wouldn’t stop laughing, and wanted to kill them. Ralpho didn’t even understand how he’d found them—had he been following for a while?

“Little Ocelot,” The boy looked up at the smirking bear. He didn’t like that new look in Funtime Freddy’s eyes. “What should you do with a stuffed animal?”

Oswald blinked. What? “I... you should just-“

“Wrong!” The bear chuckled, interrupting the boy before he had the chance to even finish. “Wrong, Little Ocelot!” The bear’s tail was wagging again.

“The correct and only answer is to tear them apart! It’s fun!” Funtime Freddy laughed in excitement. Oswald and Ralpho didn’t. The rabbit glanced down at Oswald.

He opened his mouth to speak, only to get caught off guard when Funtime Freddy slammed him against the wall—keeping him against it with his arm. A groan escaped the rabbit.

In the process of pinning Ralpho to the nearby wall, Funtime Freddy had roughly shoved Oswald away. As of now, the bear found himself more focused on the rabbit.

“You know...” Funtime Freddy stared into Ralpho’s eyes, the rabbit’s ears lowering, and quite a large frown on him. “I hear that rabbits have a lucky foot...”

Ralpho’s eyes widened as the bear grabbed ahold of his left leg—the grip as tight as possible. “I wonder if it’s true for the whole leg...” Funtime Freddy pulled.

...

Ralpho sat there, a pen in hand, and staring down at the paper. He grinned. On the top, it said “Things I Love About You, Spring.”

Below that, the rabbit had already written over forty things, yet he wasn’t done yet. He figured he’d probably have to use the back, or even get another piece of paper.

Ralpho had already settled on giving it to Spring Bonnie at some point—as part of his confession. Although, he still didn’t exactly know when that would happen—he was still planning things.

When he heard footsteps approaching the area, Ralpho’s eyes widened, and his ears twitched. Not finished yet! Looking around, he tried to find a place for the list.

The rabbit proceeded to take his hat off, stuff the list into it, and put it back atop his head. Just as he finished doing that, Spring Bonnie entered, walking over to him.

“Hey, Spring,” Ralpho smiled up at him.

...

Oswald covered his ears as Ralpho began screaming, but that barely did anything—he still heard the rabbit’s pained screaming. Funtime Freddy laughed again.

The boy tried to look away—watching the blood began coming out of the rabbit, but he found himself unable to do so—or move in general. He wanted to help. But he couldn’t.

As Funtime Freddy dropped Ralpho and the leg—tears and blood spilling from out of him—the bear noticed something else. He’d heard the sound of something opening. Glancing down, he grinned.

“I’ll be taking this!~” Funtime Freddy chuckled. He reached down, picking up the leg, and placing it inside of his storage tank. He tried to close it, but found that he couldn’t.

Turning around, Funtime Freddy faced the terrified Oswald. He slowly began approaching. “You know what, Little Ocelot?” His eyes glowed brightly, “I think I’ll tear you both apart!”

“N-No...” The collapsed rabbit reached towards Funtime Freddy, who was getting closer to Oswald—who, in response, was backing away—and reached for his ankle.

Funtime Freddy paused at the action. His head turned away from the boy, and he looked down. He was silent for a couple of seconds, debating on what to do next.

Quickly, and without warning, the bear reached over, wrapping an arm around Oswald to keep him in place—all while flipping Ralpho over, and stomping a foot down on his stomach.

“You’re going to get to watch, Little Ocelot!” Funtime Freddy revealed, giggling happily. “And then, it’ll be your turn after I finish up!”

Reaching down, he took hold of Ralpho’s left arm, and quickly started pulling and tugging at it. Ralpho cried out—and Oswald began thrashing around in the bear’s grasp.

“S-Stop it! Stop hurting him!” The boy begged.

New tears were forming in the rabbit’s eyes—and falling—as Funtime Freddy continued. All three of them could hear the arm ripping—could see it ripping—could see the blood coming out.

Ralpho glanced towards his other arm, and then back up at Funtime Freddy. The rabbit threw a punch—hitting the bear directly in the face.

It didn’t do anything—except for making the bear start to laugh. Through said laughter, he gave the arm one final tug—and that was it.

He didn’t stop laughing to himself as the arm finally came off, and as he heard Ralpho begin to scream again from the pain. He watched the new blood spill onto the floor.

Funtime Freddy only held onto the arm for a couple more seconds, before simply tossing it away. Unlike the orange rabbit’s leg, he didn’t feel like keeping the arm.

“Did that hurt?” The bear smirked, tilting his head to the side. The only responses he got was a whimper from Ralpho, and the boy calling out for the rabbit, while thrashing around in his grasp once more.

Oswald could feel his own tears beginning to form and fall. As he called out Ralpho’s name again, the rabbit lifted his head up, shaking.

Rather quickly, Funtime Freddy came up with what he wanted to do next. He set Oswald to the ground, shoving him quite far. Then, he reached down.

He picked Ralpho back up by the throat, quickly tightening his grip, and he started to pull his arm back far.

Ralpho turned away, blinking the tears away—only for new ones to start forming and falling moments later. Through them, he stared at Oswald.

The room the three of them were in had two doors—but they seemed locked. Ralpho wanted the boy to get out, though. He noticed a vent not too far from where Oswald was.

“O-Oz..!” The rabbit managed to call out. “L-Look... you... you need to-“

Ralpho froze. Gasping, with widened eyes he looked away from Oswald, he looked down at himself. Funtime Freddy’s arm had gone straight through his chest.

Looking behind himself for a moment, he saw that it had gone all the way through—coming out of his back. Ralpho screamed as Funtime Freddy pulled his arm out.

Funtime Freddy laughed as he watched Ralpho fall to the ground. He stared at the hole he had left, and then at the blood that was being spilt—some was on his arm, unsurprisingly.

The rabbit lay on the ground, staring up at the ceiling, shaking.

...

Ralpho refocused on the bunny in front of him. “Which, actually, reminds m-“ He stopped halfway, and stared.

As he felt his ears go up, he heard a gasp manage to escape him as he stared at the beautiful flowers. He had to hold in a laugh that was filled with surprise.

He couldn’t believe this. Nearly for the entire day, Ralpho himself had been planning out a little (or, rather large), speech for Spring Bonnie. He thought it would be a nice way to confess.

It seemed that Spring Bonnie had beaten him to the whole confessing thing—but it was a rather pleasant surprise. He thought it was cute.

As Ralpho stared at the flowers, he realized that he found himself staring at the orange and blue ones. They reminded him of himself. Smiling, he looked back up at Spring Bonnie.

“Aw, Spring...!” The rabbit cried out, leaping. He wrapped his arms around Spring Bonnie—and he felt the bunny wrap his own arms around him quickly.

Staring at Spring Bonnie with a growing smile, he felt his nose touching the bunny’s. Spring Bonnie hadn’t let go of the flowers.

“I love you, too!”

...

Ralpho turned his head, staring at Oswald. The boy had run over to him, and was kneeling beside the rabbit. “R-Ralpho...” Oswald whispered.

“Os-... O-Oswald... I-“ The rabbit cried out as the pain was getting worse. He tried not to look. “I’m fine.” Ralpho wanted to tell him. But he didn’t look the part.

“I will be fine” Ralpho had thought of telling him next. But... would he? The rabbit didn’t know. Nothing like this had ever happened to him—he’d never experienced this.

The worst he’d ever been hurt, until now, had been the times when he’d received the patches on his leg and arm—and both of those had been small and simple.

Honey Bun...

Ralpho, with his remaining arm, pointed. Oswald looked—and he noticed a vent after a moment. “There...” The rabbit muttered, his arm falling back to the ground.

“O-Oz. Yo-Y... You need to... g-go.”

Oswald opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by a burst of laughter coming from Funtime Freddy, who had been watching.

“Well, this has just been-“ Funtime Freddy stopped himself, ears twitching. He looked around, then down at the two of them.

“Did you hear that, Little Ocelot?”

Oswald stared. At first, the only things he could hear were coming from Ralpho, but then, after a second, the boy heard something new.

Footsteps. They were loud. They were approaching rather quickly, by the sound of it. The footsteps, from what all of them could hear, didn’t sound like a human was making them.

Funtime Freddy stared towards the main door of the room with a frown. Then, he glanced towards the side door of the room. The bear made up his mind.

“Well, bye-bye, Little Ocelot!~” Funtime Freddy bolted away from the two. He made his way towards the second, smaller door, almost tripping in the process.

He ripped the door off of its hinges, and ran.

...

Ralpho!? Oswald?! Spring Bonnie managed to get the door open, and hurried inside. Am I-

He had immediately began scanning the room, and he felt himself tense up at what he spotted. The bunny’s eyes shrunk. Ralpho...?

Blood. There was blood. There was so much of it. It was coming from Ralpho. There was an arm on the ground that he noticed—it wasn’t too far from his son and Ralpho.

Spring Bonnie forced his legs to start moving again, and he rushed towards the two. He could see everything better once close up—but the sight was even worse.

Ralpho was bleeding. His arm wasn’t on him. His leg wasn’t on him—where was his leg? The rabbit had a hole in his chest. Spring Bonnie felt the remnant and agony getting worse.

Shaking, Spring Bonnie knelt down beside Oswald and his son. I should have gotten here sooner. I should have gotten here sooner. I’m sorry!

As he reached over to try and pick up Ralpho, he heard Oswald speak up—his voice barely above a whisper. “He was protecting me...”

For a moment, he’d glanced towards his son as he spoke, and it didn’t seem like his son was hurt. He could only give his son a shaky pat, before looking back at Ralpho.

Spring Bonnie, at first, had been attempting to try and pick Ralpho up—wanting to carry him out of here—wanting to find him help. Could Jackie help, he wondered?

Although, the moment he’d wrapped his arms around Ralpho, trying to be as careful as he could—and attempted to lift him—the rabbit cried out.

I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Spring Bonnie began repeating.

Spring Bonnie wanted to do something. He wanted to get Ralpho and Oswald out of here. He needed to. He needed to get Ralpho help—but could Jackie do anything?

He didn’t want Ralpho to be in pain—but trying to get a hold onto him to get him out of here had caused the rabbit even more pain. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry...

Spring Bonnie glanced back at Oswald for a second. If he couldn’t move Ralpho, what if he had his son text Jackie to try and get her to come help Ralpho?

Though, that option was quickly thrown out the window. Spring Bonnie remembered that Oswald didn’t have his phone with him. He’d seen it in his son’s room after the two left.

In the back of his mind, he thought about asking Oswald to go find her—but, he hated that. Funtime Freddy may not be in here, but he was out there.

If he requested that, Oswald would be alone, and with Funtime Freddy still around, the bear could easily catch the boy a third time—the second time on the same day.

Spring Bonnie couldn’t leave, either—he’d end up leaving Oswald and Ralpho alone. What if, after he left, Funtime Freddy came back?

There was still the option of all three of them leaving in an attempt to find her. But, simply just moving Ralpho caused the rabbit further pain.

The bunny felt himself starting to shake more. Trying his best to be even more careful, he took hold of Ralpho, and pulled him closer—ears lowering as the rabbit cried out from pain.

I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’ll try to be careful. You need help. Jackie can help you. Spring Bonnie wrapped his arms around Ralpho, and began to stand up.

Stay with me. Stay with me, please. You’ll be okay—she can help. Spring Bonnie stood up to his full height, holding the orange rabbit bridal style.

“Ho-H-... Honey... B-Bun...” The bunny stared down. Ralpho stared up. I’m here... I’m here now... He should have gotten here sooner. He should have gotten here before this happened.

As he stared at Ralpho, carefully beginning to make his way towards the door, he felt Oswald move to his side. You protected him... I should have been around to protect you both...

Ralpho moved himself around a little bit—resting his head against Spring Bonnie’s chest. He lifted his hand up, shaking, and rested it against the bunny’s cheek.

“Gl-G... Glad... to s-see... you...” Ralpho mumbled. “M-... Missed... you, H-Honey Bun...”

“Oz... is... okay...”

Just as the three of them reached the main door, Ralpho’s hand slid off of Spring Bonnie’s cheek, and fell down to his side. R-Ralpho...?

Looking down at the rabbit, his eyes were shut—Spring Bonnie wasn’t sure if he’d seen Ralpho even open them—and he wasn’t moving. He wasn’t moving.

“Ralpho...?” He heard his son say.

Feeling his body beginning to shake further, Spring Bonnie continued to stare down at the rabbit. Ralpho? Ralpho! No, no... no, please! Please... please...

He moved one of his own hands, and gently placed it on one of Ralpho’s cheeks—the first thing Spring Bonnie could think of to do was gently rub the rabbit’s cheek.

No response. The rabbit remained still. Spring Bonnie felt himself collapse onto the ground—the remnant and agony dripping onto the ground, and onto Ralpho.

Keeping the rabbit in his grasp, he reached down, and grabbed hold of his hand. He held it, and gently squeezed. Ralpho, please. Please, please don’t go. Please... stay...

Although he didn’t hear anything—aside from some sniffling now—he felt Oswald hug him. He could only pull the boy closer. I’m... I’m so sorry, I should have...

Spring Bonnie had never had nightmares before—he’d have the flashbacks, but those weren’t the same. But, Spring Bonnie wished that, right now, he could have them.

He wanted this to be a nightmare—he wanted this to just be a nightmare that he suddenly had for the first time—and for him to wake up, and see Oswald and Ralpho with him, having not been captured.

I’m so sorry! Spring Bonnie held Ralpho closer to him, as more remnant and agony began leaking from his eyes. This couldn’t be happening. This shouldn’t be happening. It shouldn’t.

I’m so sorry...

He kept a hold on Ralpho, not planning on letting go. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry... both of you. I shouldn’t have suggested the idea...

Spring Bonnie shut his eyes. This wouldn’t have happened...

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laceyamethyst · 2 years

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so last week i posted this hangster fic idea that was taking over my mind: okay but has anyone written a hangster fic where the bird strike hits hangman’s plane instead of phoenix’s (and rooster proceeds to Lose His Fucking Shit)? because i kind of need to read that

the wonderful @sassypopstar and @blood-mocha-latte posted incredible fics inspired by the prompt. i was, in turn, inspired by them to take my own bait and try my hand at it, and this is the resulting fic.

Summary:

“Hangman, it’s on fire,” he screamed. “Don’t th—”

But it was too late.

“Throttling up.”

“NO!” Bradley screamed, seeing Jake’s right engine blow. His plane started falling, and Bradley couldn’t keep the words in anymore.

“JAKE! NO! JAKE!"

Bradley and Jake broke up in Lemoore, and a year later they’re assigned to the Dagger Squad mission. Bradley thinks he’s got his heart under control, thinks he can handle Jake looking at him like he’s a stranger, like they didn’t mean the world to each-other once. But then a bird strike hits Jake’s plane, and Bradley proceeds to Lose His Fucking Shit.

oh and tagging @hanni-simp @decadenttragedytaleand and @chavivaelisheva who wanted to be be notified!

#hangster #hangman x #sereshaw #hangster fic #bradley rooster bradshaw #jake hangman seresin #finally i got this out of my system #it turned out way angstier than i intended #but i promise a very happy and very fluffy ending #javy and phoenix are overprotective best friends #top gun maverick

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superbattrash · 9 months

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Me, starting a new manga: ugh that sounds horrible… probably another fucking love triangle, ew… the art’s really nice tho… heard good things about the author… I’ll just—

Me, neck fucked up from sitting awkwardly for 4 hours without moving: w-wha..?

#god damn it #the ones that sound promising end up breaking my heart and the ones I don’t have high hopes for ALSO break my heart #why does this happen every time?#I need something fluffy but nooooo. my tbr only has sad and awful apparently #..huh. that might be why I’m writing angst these days #misha rants

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ichijokaoru · 1 month

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started drafting a post and realised i just was writing paragraphs upon paragraphs about godai and ichijou's cute hairstyles and which ones i think are the cutest for them and that that is a really strange thing to do

#rambles #kuugaposting #sorry. im normal about them. im normal. i promise i am NORMAL #this started cus while i DO think the idea of godai with logner hair needing a ponytail #which i've seen brought up multiple times IS sort of cute..#(i agree. i mean. godai is always cute so.)#i would Severely miss the tufty fluffiness of it that happens when it's on the shorter end of the godai hair scale #(and that is why ultimately i prefer it on the shorter end)#my personal fave is while he still has the fringe OR shortly after it's long enough to not have the fringe anymore but still quite choppy #because his hair is so cute and fluffy there SORRY #I amd not beating the weird about godai yuusuke allegations

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jamdoughnutmagician · 1 year

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A little snippet of something I'm working on...

#I swear it started fluffy #WHERE did this angst come from????#it'll have a happy ending I promise #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson angst

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alidravana · 1 year

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Fandom: Call of Duty: Advanced Warfare

Ship: Jack Mitchell/Gideon, Past Jack Mitchell/Will

Length/Rating: ~2.2K, Teen

Tags: Christmas Time Can Be Difficult, Supportive Friends, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Christmas Fluff, Past and Present, Angst and Romance

Summary:

Since joining Gideon, Ilona, and Joker's team with ATLAS, they had one rule - the team stays together at Christmas. Too bad not all Christmases work out that way.

A holiday gift for the amazing @samithemunchkin. Thanks to the wonderful @tokillamockingbird427 for editing!

Please enjoy reading (here on A03)!

#call of duty #advanced warfare #gidchell #gift fic #Christmas #emotional hurt/comfort #past and present #it ends fluffy #I promise

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quinn-of-aebradore · 11 months

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of blossoming hearts and glittering souls hit 60k words last night :3

#quinn writes things #if it’s within my power ch5 will be under 20k but I make no promises #this fic is proof that the wizards and their love cannot be contained #they’re just. so much #I’ve got about 7 more scenes to go before it’s done? roughly #gathering all my strength to finish it before the end of the month #then august is starry time baybeeeee #gonna be fun to focus on that as my sole long fic once blossom’s complete #tho I’m gonna miss the fluffy wedding shenanigans dearly

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leiawritesstories · 2 years

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could you write something for rowaelin for the song "before you go" by lewis capaldi? (p.s. hurt me please)

Hope this hurts, lovely anon ;)

word count: 1212

warnings: ANGST

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hey.” Aelin settled down into the rather comfortable armchair, plopping her purse onto the side table. “Sorry I took so long to get here, traffic was awful.” She tapped her foot absently against the beige tile flooring, one hand reaching for Rowan’s larger, tanned one, lacing her fingers with his. “I’ve missed you, my love. My buzzard. Home isn’t the same without you around all the time. Hell, I find myself turning around a thousand times a day thinking I saw you walk in, or heard you swearing from the other room, or felt your touch against my back.” Tears clouded her eyes despite her best efforts to keep her emotions held at bay. “Why, Ro? Why now?”

But the unconscious man in the hospital bed made no response.

She gulped back a sob. “I thought I was trapped in a nightmare when I got the call, you know. There has been an accident, Miss Galathynius. Of course, the damn EMT couldn’t quite pronounce my name, so it sounded like a child trying to make sense of the syllables.” With her free hand, she flicked the rogue tears off her cheek. “I keep replaying the last thing I said before you left that night, Ro. I keep hating myself for them.” She sniffled. “I told you I hated you. I hate you. I hate you. Nothing could have been farther from the truth. God, I’m such an insensitive fucking idiot. I knew what you were going through with Maeve, I knew that you’d been broken down time and time again at that awful woman’s hands, and I...I lashed out because I was stupid and insecure and fucking stupid.”

Rhythmic, steady beeping from the machines hooked into Rowan’s body was the only answer she got. His heartbeat pulsed across one of the screens, a slow, constant electric green blip the only indication that the love of her life was there behind the ugly gown and the mottling of injuries.

“Why couldn’t I just pick up the phone?” she whispered, voice cracking as that sob broke through her barrier. “Why was I so stubborn and insistent that I’d been in the right? Why couldn’t I see how badly you were hurting, how badly I needed to pull my head out of my ass and read the words so clearly scrawled across your face?” No longer bothering to stem her tears, she reached up to his achingly handsome face, the face that no amount of bruises and scrapes and scars would ever change that she loved. “Remembering the way you looked at me right before you left--it kills me, Ro. Every time.” She choked out another rough sob, tasting the salt of her tears. “They say time heals all ills, but I’m so, so scared it won’t heal this one.

“My Rowan.” Lifting the back of his hand to her lips, she pressed a teary, tender kiss to the inked skin. “My buzzard.” Another kiss. “Please, don’t leave me.” Breaking into pieces by the last pleading words.

She watched his chest rise and fall in rhythm with the tube pumping oxygen into his lungs, helping him breathe as his ribs and bruised lung healed. Watched the blips and beeps of his pulse, his brain activity, his blood flow pulse across the screens as she clutched his hand, the familiar warmth leeched away as he slept.

“Would this have happened if I hadn’t been so closed off?” she breathed hoarsely into the silent, sterile room. “Would we be here like this if I’d just fucking talked to you for once?” Hot salt tears dripped onto his hand, her grief pouring out into the hospital bedsheets. “All I want are answers, Ro. Even if it’s just a ‘no,’ even if you tell me to fuck off. I just--” Her breath hitched. “I just want to hear your voice again, buzzard. I just want to see you smiling. I’m so sorry, baby. So fucking sorry. I did this to you--I was an idiot and I yelled at you and I made you leave and gods, I’m the reason you were in that crash.” Sobs shook her shoulders, the full force of her emotions unmasked for him. Only for him. “I love you, Rowan Whitethorn. I will never stop loving you, even if you never know it again.” Raising that hand to her lips, she pressed a soft, teary kiss to his knuckles, careful to avoid the IV.

Finally, hesitantly, she loosened her grip on his hand, letting go before she cracked into pieces all over the hospital floor. She pushed her chair back, still with her fingers touched to his, and stared at his still, sleeping body, the pale undertone of his tanned skin. Her fingers twitched.

No.

His fingers twitched.

Gasping, she raised her eyes to his face, barely believing that any of this was happening.

Pine green crashed into turquoise, silent tears pooling in the depths of Rowan’s eyes.

Awake. He was awake. He could hardly move, save for twitching his fingers against hers, and he was still under heavy pain medication and sleepy from the sedatives, but he was awake. Staring at her. Alive.

Chest heaving, Aelin pressed the nurse call button, lacing her fingers with Rowan’s, her eyes not leaving his. The nurse burst into the room in less than a minute, rushing to the bedside.

“He’s awake,” Aelin croaked, beaming through her tears. “He’s awake.”

“He’s awake,” the nurse echoed, hurrying to check Rowan’s body functions on the monitors. Two more nurses rushed into the room at her words, talking to each other rapidly about Rowan’s vitals. “Breathing seems normal, heartbeat is steady, BP a little low but not dangerous...” The nurse who’d first entered turned to Aelin, smiling widely. “He’s perfectly fine, Ms. Galathynius.”

Aelin could only smile wider, gripping Rowan’s hand. “What comes next?”

What came next was a slow, steady recovery. Rowan went under sedation again the next day to have the breathing tube removed, so the next time Aelin visited him, he was propped up in bed with an oxygen tube under his nose, more coherent than he’d been when he first awoke but still unable to speak. The doctors had warned her that he’d be silent for a while as his throat recovered from having a breathing tube, but she didn’t care. All that mattered was that he was alive, awake, and recovering his motor function, despite the fractures, the bruises, the bandages and casts on his body.

He’d recovered enough function in his good arm that when she arrived and sat down at his side, heart bursting with all she wanted to say, he pulled over the whiteboard a nurse had left for him and slowly scratched out three words.

I love you.

“I love you, Ro,” she breathed.

He erased and wrote again. I heard you, you know.

“You did?”

Yes

“I’m such--”

I forgive you. Setting down the whiteboard, he closed his hand around hers, every ounce of his love for her shining in his eyes. I forgive you, I love you.

Hesitantly, she pulled herself closer, leaned gingerly over his body, and pressed her lips against his. “I love you so much.”

“To...whatever...end,” he mouthed, forming the words with some effort.

To whatever end.

~~~

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#my writing #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #rowaelin #angst #AAAAAANGST #lovely anon #answered prompt #someone say angst?#with fluffy ending #i promise #just gonna post this and run away and hide

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