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spiriteddreams · 2 years

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The Promises Which Hold Us Together

Pairing: Tighnari x Reader Warnings: fluff, slight angst with a happy ending Word Count: ~3.8k A/N: dedicated to @stellumi bc we both are living off of tighnari and cyno content, and thank you to @theblueskyofthedawn for beta reading and providing suggestions!!

I. To look out for one another Those who are unfamiliar with the Avidya Forest and its diverse ecosystem can always rely on the Forest Watchers to ensure their safety. Serving as the homebase for the rangers, Ghandarva Ville is almost always abuzz with activity. There are reports to be finished, experiments to be conducted, and a whole list of commissions to be completed as soon as possible.

“As soon as you’re done taking pictures of the blooming Lunar Lotuses, have them filed away in my office. Then take out the notes to my latest experiment and leave them on my desk.” Tighnari walks swiftly across one of the many hanging bridges, a trainee ranger nodding quickly as they note down what he’s saying. “Oh, and when you’re finished with those, find Collei and do a quick sweep of the perimeter. Note any abnormalities and signs of any Withering Zones, but do not engage.” The poor trainee could barely get a word in, stumbling over their steps as Tighnari’s eyes remained laser focused on his destination: his office. He isn’t usually like this, tense and rushed to get to places, but with the amount of work on his plate he’s had no choice but to enlist the help of the anxious trainees who simply want to graduate and become fully fledged Forest Watchers.

“Whoa there, slow down.” Tighnari nearly crashes into a figure who steps into his way. You stand in the middle of the path, hands held out in front of you and eyes raised as you look between a flat-faced Tighnari and an anxious trainee.

“(y/n).” The head of the Forest Rangers clears his throat, eyes darting away from you to look around before they’re finally brought back to your face. “Did you need something?”

“Actually, yes. I’ve been looking for you.” You put your hands on your hips, staring him down with a pointed look. You can’t help but let your eyes drag up to his ears, taking quick note of the way they twitch, too alert to every little sound around. He’s too on edge, too stressed, and while you’d never outright tell him, it’s part of your job, as his friend, to take care of him when he falls into these moods. “I left something for you in your office, try to check it out when you can?” You jut your bottom lip out just slightly and nearly grin with success when you see the way Tighnari’s shoulders begin to relax and his ears perk up at the mention of you leaving something for him.

“Right, of course, I’ll go see it right away.” He turns to the trainee but you’re quicker, tugging the young ranger towards you and throwing an arm around their shoulders.

“Don’t worry, you’ve given them more than enough to do.” You begin to turn their body in another direction, gently trying to push them away. The trainee’s eyes flicker nervously between you and Tighnari, almost as if they were afraid that an argument might break out for you. But to their surprise, they watch as a soft sigh leaves Tighnari’s lips and he hums in agreement, nodding for the trainee to begin their tasks.

You watch them scurry away and bump your shoulder against your oldest friend’s. “Go easy on them. And take a break, you deserve it.” You make your leave, unaware of the way Tighnari’s stare lingers on your retreating figure a bit longer than it should. And when he enters his office, he finds a neatly wrapped botany book of the latest edition sitting on his desk. And to his delight, you’ve made little notes along the margins, filled with inside jokes and pokes at the Akademiya. Perhaps he’ll think of something to give you in return.

II. To reassure one another “Master Tighnari! I can’t find (y/n) anywhere, I’ve searched all over Ghandarva Ville and asked around, but no one’s seen them!” Collei’s voice rises higher and higher in pitch as she bursts into his office, eyes wild and chest heaving up and down, a clear sign that she truly has been running all over the place. “They came back from their expedition yesterday looking upset but I wasn’t sure what to say to them. I thought I could talk to them today but no one’s seen them!” The young trainee continues to ramble, hands flying around nervously as Tighnari patiently waits for her to finish. When she finally does, with a heavy exhale, he offers her a small, but reassuring smile.

“I’ll go look for them, don’t worry.” He pats her head, “I’m sure everything is okay, perhaps they simply needed some time alone.” Already, he’s thinking about all the places you might be as he ushers Collei out of his office, sending her back towards her room so she can get some rest. He waits for a moment before turning away, quietly slipping away from the bright lights of Ghandarva Ville to the grassy outskirts. He follows a familiar path, one he’s walked down countless times until he approaches an old moss covered hut with a light flickering on from the roof. He finds you there, sitting with your legs hanging over the edge, back towards him when he reaches the top of the ladder. You’re half leaning against a crate, shoulders drooping as you stare ahead at Sumeru City.

“You’ve given everyone quite a scare, you know.” You flinch at his voice, sitting up instantly and turning to watch as he settles down next to you. His knee knocks against yours and he playfully kicks his feet at you.

You let out a huff, “Just wanted some space. Besides, I would’ve returned by sunrise.” Tighnari remains silent for a moment, taking the chance to look over your features. He can see the way your body tries to curl inwards, eyes downcast and hands limp on your lap. Even when you address him, there’s no hint of that smile he’s grown to be so fond of day by day.

“I don’t doubt that.” He chuckles softly and raises his head to stare up ahead at the city. “So what’s going on, talk to me. I’m all ears.” You can’t help but let out a tiny laugh when you notice the way his ears perk upright. Tighnari ignores the way his cheeks flush when he hears the sound escape your lips and settles closer to you, waiting as you collect your thoughts.

“From anyone else’s perspective, the expedition was a success. We collected enough data, stopped two withering zones, and made it back alive. But so many of us have injuries because I couldn’t properly assess the situation. It makes me question my position as a Forest Watcher, sometimes I don’t think I’m cut out for this job.” Tighnari listens without interrupting, too aware of the way your voice gradually gets dimmer. He waits until you finish, the burden finally seeping off of your shoulders and into the rising moon.

He waits for a moment, allowing you to take in the silence before speaking up again. “I think you’re a wonderful Forest Watcher. In fact, I think you’re one of the best we’ve ever had. No one else quite knows how to navigate the forest like you do, in fact, you tend to spot more things than I do during expeditions. What happened wasn’t your fault, no one was expecting a group of rogue Eremites to ambush you. I think you handled the situation as best as you could, and I know everyone else thinks so too.” You don’t reply to his words, but Tighnari watches a tiny smile appear on your lips. You don’t have to say it aloud, but when you lean closer to him, resting your head onto his shoulder, he can feel just how thankful you are for him.

III. To apologize the morning after a fight “Archons above, you can be so irresponsible!” Tighnari snaps. There’s no teasing tone, no poking words or playful twitches of his ears. Instead he’s standing with a rigid pose, composure flying out the window as his words seem to echo in the space around you. Your home suddenly feels too small, with his presence far too overwhelming. His eyes are hard and furious, hands clenched as he glares you down as if you were an insolent child. “Apparently, I can't trust you with anything! If you see a Withering Zone you report it, you don’t dive head first into it. It doesn’t matter if you’ve been able to handle it before, it takes one chance for something to go wrong. What if I wasn’t patrolling that area as well, what would have happened, huh?”

“I’ve handled things like this on my own before, you’ve watched me do it! Since when did you lose trust in me this fast?” You shoot back, hurt, bleeding from your words. Admittedly, trying to take on a Withering Zone wasn’t the best decision to make, but you had handled them well in the past.

“Sometimes I wonder how you become a Forest Watcher if you act like this so often.”

It hurts, more than he’ll let himself believe, as he watches your face crumble at his words. He wants to apologize, to move closer and pull you into a hug and promise you he didn’t mean any of it, especially when he sees the tears already gathering in your eyes.

“Right.” You take a deep breath and clear your throat. Your voice breaks when you say it again and you look up at him, desperately hoping the tears don’t fall. “I think you should leave.” Tighnari doesn’t move. No, he doesn’t want to move.

“Go. Please.” You look towards the door. He says your name softly, as if ready to make his apologies but you’re shaking your head, turning around so you can’t see your expression as the words start to dig deeper into you. “I don’t want you here, right now. So leave, please.” The shakiness in your tone is enough to get his feet moving, and he finds himself leading his body away from your home, away from you. And when his ears twitch when he hears the first sob break through your lips, he pauses. But he keeps going, and forces his head down, refusing to look back.

As a new morning dawns upon the forest, Tighnari is the first to wake, running through his typical morning routines before swinging over to your home, knuckles rapping against the door as he patiently waits for you to answer. He knocks again when there’s no answer, rocking back and forth on his feet, straining his ears to see if he can hear anything.

“(y/n)?” Nothing. “I’m coming in, I hope you’re not asleep!” He smiles to himself at the words, already imagining you still buried under the warmth of your sheets, groans slipping past your lips as you complain about it being too early to be up. But when he pushes the door open, he’s greeted with nothing but silence. You’re not there. It takes him a second for the realization to sink in before he’s scanning the small room, searching for any sign of you. Your travel pack is gone and bed neatly made, clearly indicating you hadn’t stayed the night. Tighnari swallows thickly as he recalls the words he had said in his moment of frustration and curses himself as he walks outside, nearly running headfirst into Umm.

“Oh? Master Tighnari, what are you doing here?” She tilts her head, hand holding a pad of paper with notes on whatever medication she was working on.

“I was going to visit (y/n), we had a disagreement last night. Do you know where they went?” He asks hopefully but his heart only sinks when she tilts her head in confusion.

“I thought they had gone on ahead and told you? They came by the medical hut last night to see if we needed any help. Turns out we were running low on Vasanti Grass and the nearest merchant is at Port Ormos. They left last night and said they would let you know since it’s rather important for us to have. It must have slipped their mind, I wouldn’t worry about it, they know how to protect themselves well.” Umm smiles warmly at him, patting his arm in comfort before she continues on her path towards Collei’s hut. Tighnari stares back at your now closed door, his heart squeezing in his chest. His apology would have to wait, but Archons why did it hurt this much to see you gone?

IV. To (try to) stop Tighnari from tripping on mushrooms Avidya Forest is home to so many living beings, from fungi, calm and dangerous, to lurking spinocrocodiles and the many different species of flora that thrive in the environment. But Avidya Forest has also made itself home to the many Forest Rangers who adore its wilderness. And after nearly a week of being gone to barter for Vasanti Grass at Port Ormos, returning back to the forest feels like a warm blanket of comfort settling over your shoulders. The other rangers call out excited greetings, waving from their posts and asking how your journey was.

Still, there’s no sign of Tighnari, and while you knew he was busy, a small part of you had hoped throughout the entire trip that he might be waiting for you. The trip to the port had allowed you the chance to think about the relationship shared between you and Tighnari. It was a precarious dance, with precise footwork, never to step forward too much, or pull away too fast. It was shared stories beneath the sun, and whispered secrets beneath the moon, a story of two friends who toed the line towards something more. And under the light of the moon, each night you could only wonder how he was faring, and if he was thinking of you too. But you brush it off as a foolish thought, after all, you had been the one to leave unexpectedly in the middle of the night without a word or any sign of your departure. Perhaps the fight was still present in his mind.

“(y/n)! You’re back!” A smaller figure crashes into you, arms wrapping around your middle as green hair fills your vision. You can’t help but grin at Collei’s excitement, returning the warm sentiment as you apologize for leaving so abruptly. She speaks rapidly, brushing off your concerns as she attempts to catch you up on the wellbeing of everyone else over the past week. She rambles about the experiments and patrols she’s taken part of, the new skills she’s learned as an archer, and all the little things that you can’t help but laugh at when she pouts.

“Oh! I completely forgot!” Her hand grasps your wrist and she tugs you across one of the bridges, towards Tighnari’s hut. “Umm said to find you when you returned because Master Tighnari isn’t feeling well! She said something about mushrooms and you having Vasanti Grass?” You paused outside his door. Mushrooms?

Ah. Mushrooms. Tighnari and his bad habit of trying the wild plants of Sumeru.

“I’ll check up on him, don’t worry.” You force a smile to your lips in an attempt to reassure Collei. She stares at you for a moment, as if she could sense there was some unresolved tension between the two of you. “Go on ahead and let Umm know that I’ll bring her the rest of the Vasanti Grass when I’m done.” The young trainee ranger is off in a matter of seconds, calling out a wish of good luck as she stumbles away. She leaves you alone, standing outside Tighnari’s door with a wall of unsaid words seemingly trying to push you away.

“Tighnari? Hey, are you awake?” You push open the door gently. His hut is cool, no doubt from the opened windows that invite the morning breeze in. Tighnari lies on his bed, ears flat against his pillow as he groans and turns over. His eyes are hazy and his mouth parts when he takes sight of you.

His words are slow, almost slurred when he asks, “(y/n)? Is that you?” You grimace at the sight and immediately set to grinding some of the Vasanti Grass. He’ll need it when whatever he’s eaten wears off and he’s left with a headache and the groggy feeling of trying to remember what happened.

“No… they’re still in Port Ormos, I think. Hey fake-(y/n)?” You bite your lip to stop yourself from laughing. You’ll hold this over his head later when he whines about not remembering everything. “Can you tell the real (y/n) I miss them? I didn’t mean what I said, I miss them.” Your hand tightens around the pestle as you brush the grass.

“I fought a giant mushroom today because I thought I heard their voice asking for help. I thought I had lost them to the Withering.” Tighnari’s words are slower, his voice lower, and you want to believe that he sounds sad. “I can’t lose them, can you tell them that?”

You turn around quickly, a strained smile on your lips as you lift your hand to rest on his forehead, fingers itching to scratch at his ears which twitch at your movements. “Why don’t you tell them when they return, yeah?”

“Sure, I guess. I hope they come back soon, I miss them.”

V. To always forgive one another When Tighnari wakes the next morning his mouth feels dry and his head is a mess. He pushes himself up from his bed, sleepily reaching for water at his bedside table when another hand pushes a cup into his hand. He manages out a grumbled thanks before sipping at the cool drink, closing his eyes as he tries to remember everything from the past day. To his luck, he remembers nearly everything, which is a success for his research. It means this type of mushroom isn’t detrimental to the memory, and it only prompts hallucinations. Right, he hallucinated you had come back.

“Archons above.” He groans and with his eyes still closed he swings his feet off the bed and pushes himself up quickly to grab the journal on his desk. But before he can move far, scrambled hands push him back towards the bed, snatching the cup out of his hand before it can splash all over him and his bed.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” Tighnari’s eyes snap open and he has to blink multiple times for the world to come into focus. And to his shock, you stand in front of him, irritated expression on your face as you stare him down.

“You’re back.”

“What? Yes, I’m back, I’ve been back since yesterday morning!” Tighnari’s brain is still trying to process everything, his mind running to catch up with him.

He gapes at you, “Wait, since yesterday morning? So then you were actually—”

“How many times have I told you to stop trying mushrooms? You know you’re going to end up bedridden when you eat them so why do you keep trying them? And don’t say it’s for the sake of knowledge!” You snap at him and immediately apologize softly when he winces at how loud you are. His ears droop atop his head and you instantly feel bad when he starts to pout. That feeling disappears when his head shoots up to look at you, eyes narrowed in confusion before they widen dramatically.

“Wait, so the fake-you was real? You heard all that?”

“You remember all that?”

“Please tell me you weren’t there yesterday morning.” He brings one hand up to run over his face, his last few words muffled into his palm.

“Is it that bad if I was?” He can hear the hint of hurt in your tone. Silence stretches between the two of you. He shakes his head and takes in a shaky breath, readjusting himself and gesturing for you to sit down next to him. He hates the space that’s between the two of you, aware of the way your arms seem to press closer to your body as if ready to help you push up and away.

“I’m sorry about what I said the other day.” He apologizes, head hanging low. His hands sit in his lap but he can’t help but fiddle with his fingers out of nervousness. “I missed you, a lot. I know you can take care of yourself, I just get so worried sometimes. I just wish that you wouldn’t try to take everything on your own. I’m here too, you know?”

Your body relaxes, shoulders dropping as you sigh. “I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have tried to take it all on my own.” Tighnari nods as silence fills the tent again. It almost feels awkward, the tension still present, and he’s not quite sure how to cut through it.

“I forgive you, I forgave you the first night I left.” And just like that, the tension melts away, carried away by the breeze and out of the window. His ears straighten up again and he turns his head to smile, only to see you glaring at him.

“That doesn’t mean you can get away with trying mushrooms again. I’ve told you over and over not to, and here we are again!”

VI. To love each other forever There are certain spots in Avidya Forest that you and Tighnari have discovered together. Secret entrances to hidden areas and quiet places that are devoid of wildlife and mortals. Atop one of the huts just on the outskirts of the forest, you sit with him on the moss covered roof with the sight of Sumeru City in the distance. The sun has already begun to set beyond the horizon, tendrils of light in shades of orange and gold spreading across the land as if trying to hang on before night falls over the nation.

“If I was a worm—”

“Do not start with another, ‘if I was a Sumeru wildlife creature, would you still love me?’” Tighnari glares up at you playfully. He lies down with his head in your lap, your hands running through his hair and occasionally scratching his ears. You can’t help but coo whenever you notice the way his tail seems to swish against the roof with delight.

“Okay, well, will you still love me in a hundred years?” You lean over him, cupping his face in your hands as you watch his features change. A smile takes over his lips as his eyes flicker between your eyes and your lips as you lean closer.

“I’ll love you forever, that’s a promise.”

You both finish his sentence at the same time, “And we never break our promises.”

“Thank you for loving me.” Your lips press against his, soft and gentle, reluctant to pull away. But when you do, you can’t help but stare down at Tighnari and the warmth that dances in his eyes. What isn't there to adore about him?

reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! <3

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #tighnari x reader #tighnari #genshin impact tighnari #genshin impact tighnari x reader #genshin #spiriteddreams writing #spiriteddreams

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ikemenlibrary · 7 months

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Fingerprints (Ikémen Prince)

Pairing: Leon Dompteur x MC (can be read as Belle or pre-Belle, or post-Belle with considerable canon diversion) Summary: In the quiet of the night, with foreheads pressed together, they admit to each other what they've always wanted

Word count: 2.6k

Warnings: Spoilers for Leon's route if you squint, pining, mentions of bruising (nothing negative)

A note from the author: First piece for my untitled playlist series, based off of the song 'fingerprints' by Lilli Furfaro, written for @kokorokai

There was something so peaceful about the quiet of late night, when everyone and everything else besides the sky was asleep. She was able to use the time to admire Leon. their breathing intermingling at every breath; when she inhales, he exhales, and vice versa. She felt his shoulder brush her own with every rise and fall of his chest, and the panging in her heart reminded her that he was just being kind, she may never be allowed to lay with the prince like this once more. Yet, it also reminded her just how much her body craved his.

He had fallen asleep on his stomach; one arm under the pillow, the other under his head. She suspected he hadn’t meant to fall asleep. He was in the middle of a sentence, telling her about the first time he ever snuck out of the palace as a kid. He had just gotten to the part where he made it to town when his words tapered off, and his breathing evened out. She hoped that he’d remember the rest of the story once he woke up.

They had spent the day together in town, ending in a tavern for a late dinner and a drink. She could still hear his laugh clear as day, and picture the way his eyes crinkled along with his charming smile as she admitted to him she may be far more drunk than she had originally thought possible. He had carried her on his back to the little inn off of town, where he would stay with her when they had spent a long day together.

Normally, they’d book a room with two beds, or sometimes two rooms, depending on availability. Leon didn’t like to go back to the palace without having breakfast with her, and he knew if he went back for the evening, Sariel would put him under lock and key and it’d be a bit of time before he could sneak back to see her once again. This time, however, the owner of the inn smiled full of regret as he relayed the information to Leon: that due to the time of the year, he was extra booked, and wouldn’t be able to provide them with two rooms or beds; a queen size bed was all he could give.

Leon was a gentleman, and kind enough that he’d refuse to let a woman relax without something more comfortable to wear, and so he stripped down to his under clothes, unbuttoning his white long sleeve and handing it to her, turning around and refusing to look again until he heard her flop back down on the bed. He had approached the bed, sliding onto his stomach as he tried to make her laugh, and succeeding, and then had kept talking to her late until the night as he grew more and more weary with every word.

She was sober now, and still awake. She could still smell the sweet honey mead on his breath, temporarily unable to move away from the intimacy of their position. Days like this, she wanted to savor every moment. She never got much sleep during her time with Leon, and yet no matter how sleep deprived she ended up, she always couldn’t wait for more. She’d count down the days until he showed up at the doorstep of her bookshop with a smile on her face, ready to whisk her away like one of the princes in the fairytales she spent countless lonely nights reading.

Even in the dim moonlight, she noticed the light scars littered on his skin, and the freckle that was on his back - right near his spine. She wanted so badly to reach out and touch the bare skin, tracing every line to memory, so that when she closed her eyes on the lonely nights, it was like he was still next to her, even when he wasn’t.

They were just friends, although all the time they spent together brought a pit of nervousness to her stomach, the kind of feeling that you read about in books when the main character meets the person they’re supposed to end up with in the end. She’d never admit this feeling to Leon though; he relied on her for a sense of normalcy. She was the one person who knew his secret, and although she found out on accident, he still appreciated her knowing and keeping it safe, yet giving him a chance to live out what could have been.

The close proximity to his warm body was almost suffocating, the feeling of his shoulder rubbing against hers with each breath was almost enough to drive her mad. She couldn’t stand being this close, and yet not being as close as she wanted to be. Not in the late of the night, and not when heavy rain was pouring down, reminding her of when he told her of his past. It made her yearn to touch him, and smooth back the hair that had fallen into his eyes as he dropped all of his facades while he slept. Here, he could just be Leon. The Leon that she loved and adored with all of her heart. The Leon that would be left in this little room once morning came, and not to be seen again until they made it back here, maybe weeks from now - or maybe months from now.

Pushing the quilt off of her, she slipped out of bed and crossed the small room, perching on the chair set by the window. She was grateful Leon had fallen asleep before he could move himself to the chair; she knew if he got what he wanted, he would’ve slept sitting up, his arms crossed over his chest with his neck cranked awkwardly one way or another. She also knew that he wouldn’t even complain the next morning about the uncomfortableness, even though she knew that every time he turned his head, a shooting pain would creep up his neck. He’d hide his grimace with a smile and ruffle her hair to try and dissuade her worries; she could read him like an open book, that alone wouldn’t be enough to keep her from fretting. The best case scenario was that he slept in the bed all through the night, and she kept watch by the window.

She pushed the curtain aside, watching the rain pour down for a few moments, her fingers tracing the water down the glass. She pressed her hand against the cold glass, watching as it fogged up around her warm hand. Her gaze fell on Leon’s sleeping form, the rise and fall of his back bringing her a sense of peace and longing. How she wished she could press her fingertips to his bare skin, not hard enough to leave a mark, but enough to leave a piece of her on his skin for the days they were apart. Every time Leon hugged her goodbye and his hands would gently grip her waist, she felt it for days afterwards, when she closed her eyes at night in her bedroom all alone, if she thought hard enough about it, it almost felt like he was holding her, and that alone was enough to warm her bed on cold rainy nights, much like tonight.

She loved him. She loved Leon, the prince side, the commoner side, and everything in between. Even from across the room, her heart didn’t feel like it could take much more of the love that she held for him. She knew soon, it would burst. She would end up telling him one way or another, and she would probably never see him again after that. She knew she needed to keep it to herself if she wanted to keep Leon close. She couldn’t lose him, and she wouldn’t let him lose the side of himself only she was allowed to see. She liked the vulnerable and emotional Leon; she didn’t want that side of him to disappear once he realized that she had fallen in love with him. He was her friend; she couldn’t take advantage of his kindness for anything more than that. Not when they both had everything to lose by her feelings becoming less than private.

“Hey,” Leon’s voice came out low and groggy. He had rolled over and pushed himself up, his muscles in his arm tensing from his weight. “What’s wrong?”

He knew her too well. She knows she doesn’t hide her emotions well, everything was written on her face. She didn’t think he’d wake up, and even if he did, she had hoped the room was dark enough he wouldn’t be able to see her features clearly. And yet, even in the dark night, Leon could tell that her brain was working a mile a minute, especially when the creases in her forehead were highlighted by the moonlight creeping in the window where she had pushed the curtain aside.

“Nothing,” she smiled, suddenly feeling small in the arm chair. “It’s okay.”

Leon rubbed his eyes, and she took that moment to admire him, the saliva in her mouth going dry as she tried to memorize the smooth planes of skin. He was like porcelain; beautiful to look at, but fragile to the touch. She knew commoners shouldn’t even dream about touching a prince in this sort of setting, yet that was all she could imagine at that moment.

“If you’re sure,” Leon acquiesced, scooting over on the bed to leave his warm space open for her. “Why don’t you come get some rest?”

She wanted to say no, to keep the distance between them. She knew that being as close to him as she was before would only force the ache in her heart to throb harder. And yet, when he opened one of his arms as an invitation, she found herself standing, his shirt that she was wearing dropping to her knees, and she was aware that she was more bare in front of him than she had ever been in front of a man before. She crossed the room, their eyes never leaving sight of the other, and as she lifted the covers to slide in, Leon’s arm wrapped around her, pulling her into his chest.

He was cold, she felt the goosebumps against her cheek as her head fell into the center of his chest, his arm never leaving her, only slipping down to her waist, and as he accidentally grazed his fingers against her bare thigh, she stopped breathing for a moment. Skin on skin; he left his fingerprints on not only her heart, but her body now, in a place that no man had ever touched before. In a place that she dreamed no other man besides him would ever leave fingerprints on.

Hesitantly, she brought her hand up near her head, using her fingernail to trace patterns on his chest. Leon’s breathing faltered, and for a second, in that one brief hitch in his breath, she had hopes that he felt the same way for her as she did for him. Much like she did to the glass, she pressed her fingers onto his skin, this time on his chest, right where his heart lay. Leon used his free hand to tilt her chin up, and when her eyes met his, she found the intense look in his gaze hypnotizing. Everything about him made her dizzy.

His touch was gentle as his thumb rubbed circles on her waist. He was careful where he touched her - always the gentleman - and yet the heat in his gaze was enough to make her feel like she was on fire. She was hyper-aware of every movement, and she was afraid that once she took her hand away from his heart, the spell would be broken. But even so, she used that hand to trace up his collarbones, to his neck, to cup his cheek, thumb gently caressing his cheekbone.

Leon closed his eyes, leaned into her touch, and she felt her heart throb more intensely than before. He was beautiful like this, completely open and relaxed. She loved him like this. She loved him any time, but especially like this. Wordlessly, his hand slipped under the shirt she had borrowed, and his fingers resumed their place on her hip, like there were divots in her skin for them to lay; it felt like he belonged here.

“Leon,” she whispered, and he wordlessly turned his head, pressing a kiss into her palm. “I–”

“I know,” He responded, his fingers pressing a little more into her skin. She knew she’d feel him on her for months. This, right here, was enough to live off of if she never had to see him again. And yet, she wanted more. Maybe it was selfish but even if it was, she’d do it one hundred times over again; she moved her head to kiss his shoulder, her lips ghosting over his soft skin, and she felt a tremble wrack through his body. “I do too.”

She was going to tell him she loves him, that he was the reason that she loved romance stories so much, and she always pictured him as the prince in the stories she read in her bed alone at night. She was going to tell him she wanted to hold him like this for many more nights. She didn’t know what he thought she was going to say, but the throbbing in the pit of her stomach told her that he knew what she wanted, and he wanted it too. Maybe it was the darkness that gave her that confidence, or maybe it was the way their bodies melded into one another as he held her close, his fingers on her skin so sure of himself. Either way, right here, and right now, she knew that Leon wanted to hold onto her the way she always dreamed he would.

He opened his eyes now, their gold still dazzling in the darkness, studying her face. She gazed back, her thumb resuming the soothing strokes on his cheek as he lowered his head, pressing his forehead against her own. He came closer, his nose nudging her own, the sweetness of his breath fanning over her lips. This was the closest Leon had ever been, and yet she was selfish once more, moving her hand from his cheek to cup the back of his neck just to pull him slightly closer, her fingers pressing there as well. If he was allowing her to touch him like this, she would leave as many fingerprints on him as he could, so maybe, he too, would feel her touch when he went to bed on his own the next night.

“I wanted to say it first,” Leon whispered, his lips almost brushing her own.

Her full heart burst, and without responding, she weaved her fingers in his hair and closed the tiny space between their lips. His grip on her hip tightened even more as he met her lips just as eagerly, and she hoped his fingers would leave small bruises on her hip, just so that she could convince herself that after tonight was over, that it actually happened. Physical concrete proof that Leon Dompteur adored her in this moment, in the tiny inn, during the middle of the night in a rainstorm.

“I love you,” Leon breathed into her mouth, his lips never once leaving hers as he continued to repeat it over and over, like a mantra. “I love you, I love you.” And she met his chants with her own, a repeat of his confession sliding off of her tongue and onto his.

#my writing #ikemen prince #ikepri #ikepri fanfic #ikemen prince fanfic #ikemen prince fanfiction #leon dompteur #ikemen prince leon #ikepri leon #leon dompteur fluff #leon dompteur fanfic #ikepri leon fanfic #ikemen prince leon fanfic

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doberbutts · 2 years

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I just wanted to thank you for talking about the Rings of Power series. I haven't watched it yet because I'm not mentally in a place where I can consume new media. But as someone who loves the books I'm making room for it on my future lists.

I almost bought into what I now see as racist propaganda to not watch it. So thank you for your reviews of it and talking specifically about why it was getting the push back it did.

I hope you have a lovely weekend weekend.

I appreciate the kind words anon and I hope when you do have the energy to pick the show up that you enjoy it!

It is really very difficult to say that all the negativity isn't based at least somewhat in racism (whether purposeful or thru ppl falling for propaganda) when I see a hideously negative post, check the poster's blog, and immediately find multiple rants about how black people in such-and-such fantasy setting don't make sense. Or I don't find that but do find that the poster often reblogs from those people or uses their sources. It becomes very telling to me. Literally one of the people who started the "amazon is fudging the numbers!!!!" reaction HAS THE URL "feminism is still a hate movement" for fuck's sake.

Currently there's an outcry of trying to use liberal talking points but using them in such a blatantly obvious way. People saying Sauron is "straight-washed" and it's "biphobic erasure" (for a character in which canon never shows romantic or sexual interest in anyone, whom does NOT have a romance plot in ROP), people saying it's misogynistic because many elf women are wearing veils and head coverings (so I guess we're forgetting PJ's Arwen's nun look and the various veiled female elves in the background of the movies), people calling Sauron an incel (1: you do understand he's THE villian yeah, 2: he spent 99% of the plot asking to be left alone and then decided to try manipulation idk how that is "incel"), people saying it's not diverse enough (because the Bad Guy Race includes white people when in the books it didn't), and... weirdly, people acting like Bezos himself wrote the script and directed it himself when in reality he visited the set during production once and otherwise stayed out of things besides providing money.

It's blatant and transparent and it's WEIRD that people keep falling for it.

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that-foul-legacy-lover · 3 years

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i am BEGGING you for a part two oh my god i am in shambles…. i am too weak for angst 😭😭😭 THE SOFT GLANCE??? BYE. I AM GONE. /lh

- 🍒

eeeee i'm excited because i had a lot of ideas for this and i think it came out pretty good!! it diverts from canon (obviously) but i'm proud of how it came out >:)

did this get out of hand? probably but it's FINE because it's good <3 dw comrade i'm weak to angst too

Part One is right here!!: Golden House is Falling Down

~ * ~

The Sky's Tears (Part Two to "Golden House is Falling Down") Foul Legacy Childe x Reader Gender Neutral (pronouns not mentioned) Hurt/Comfort Warnings: Descriptions of pain, injuries, blood, rain, thunder, lightning, fear, anxiety, mentions of death, crying, diversions from canon

~ * ~

It was the rain that woke you. Seeping between the cracks of stone above you, it dripped and fell, landing with a small splash on your cheek. You had frowned in your unwilling sleep, your body urging you to stay unconscious. Then it had happened again, and again. The single drop had strengthened into a small stream of water trickling onto your face, persistent in its endeavor of waking you. You groaned in irritation and wiped at your cheek, but the miniature waterfall was stubborn, more stubborn than you ever were. You couldn’t blame it. Water always goes down after all. With a frustrated string of select words, you crack your eyes open and find yourself face-to-face with a large slab of stone. You furrow your brows, confused- you don’t recall falling asleep in a cave. The stone was smooth- much too elegant and orderly to be part of a regular cavern. What was it? Part of a building? Then why were you just getting rained on? The rain sounded rather close- you can hear it pattering on the roof of whatever structure you were inside. The ground was damp and gritty, a stark contrast from the polished walls around you, and dim light filtered in from the side your back was facing. Curiouser and curiouser, you prop yourself up on your elbow to roll over. Only to gasp and jerk as pain shoots up your legs. You fall back to the ground immediately, eyes wide with shock and horror. As your flesh and bones become re-accustomed to one another, you’re made increasingly aware of the dull pain settled in your body, flaring up whenever you do more than move your head. Memories resurface, paining your mind as well as your limbs. There was a fight in the Golden House, between the Traveler and Childe. You were there. You watched as some foreign power took control of Childe’s body and turned him into a monster, and as a burst of electro energy combined with hydro to strike you unconscious. Then everything had gone dark. Now there was no one- only you under a mysterious ruin, barely protected from the icy rain. Gingerly, you feel around your stomach for a gash or injury, only to find a firmly wrapped bandage. Your eyes widen, then you sigh in relief. Thank goodness for the haste of the Traveler- although they were nowhere to be seen, you were sure they had made sure to at least wrap your wound before being pulled away to something else more important. Your worries for them were next to none- they were the Traveler, savior of Mondstadt and quite possibly Liyue. They could take care of themself. You smile for a moment, but then your mouth drops into a worried frown. Childe- where was Childe? You can’t remember what happened to the Harbinger. You need to find him, even though he nearly struck you dead. Inhaling a deep breath, you stiffen yourself and force your body to turn over, to face the weak light shining through the rain. Your bones sing out in pain, as if they’ve been stiffened and frozen so they’re brittle, so brittle they’d snap at the slightest movement. But they don’t, even if they feel like they should. You drag yourself into a standing position, using the slippery walls as support. As you limp out of the curious cave, the heavy rain chills and numbs your skin, washing away any semblance of warmth you might’ve collected from sleep, and you look around to get your bearings. All around you are the crumbled remains of the famed Golden House. You quickly clap a hand over your mouth to suppress a scream, but nothing comes out, your voice seemingly gone from the feeling of dread in your stomach. The eternal vault and world’s supply of mora, gone. Rubble beneath your feet. You swallow thickly and shake your head, letting your gaze wander to try and calm the anxiety in your veins. Something vaguely shining catches your eye, and you shuffle closer to have a look. A thick, sticky liquid coats the ground underneath more ruins, a blue dark enough to be black and oddly glinting, like tiny stars flashing through the night sky. There’s more before you, a disjointed trail that leads into the trees, the rest of it washed away by the storm. You have a sickening idea of what it might be.

Gritting your teeth, you straighten and stand again, following the starry patches into the nearby forest. Here the path is more clear, a bold arrow of deep blue and dancing lights pointing your way. It’s a long journey up and down and around, the trees providing you constant support through your own pain. The slash on your stomach stopped bleeding, but the dried red still mocks you as you take one step after another. The sky occasionally flashes with lightning and thunders at you threateningly, but too distant to reach you. And the rain never relents. The scattered stars lead you to a cave- a real cave, good and proper- that offers you shelter from the crying clouds above. But you see nothing, and feel like crying yourself. Something blinks at you. You squeak in fear, jumping away from whatever it is- you can see its claws, sharp and true- and press yourself against the wall, unwilling to go back out into the rain. One eye stares and creeps closer, and you vaguely wonder if it’d be blinking or winking. There’s a deep, rumbling growl from the darkness as it approaches, and you shut your own eyes, too weak and injured to fight. A warm, clawed hand gently cups your face, and your breath hitches. A thumb carefully rubs your cheek, and the growl filters into a strong purr. And suddenly, you know. It’s him. It’s him. Your eyes open as quickly as they had closed, and you find yourself staring up at an enormous, monstrous Childe, almost the same as he was in the bottom of the Golden House. Up close, you see differences. What you thought was a cape is now a pair of sparkling wings, laying flat on his back, and dried cuts litter his body. He’s kneeling towards you instead of floating, and his mask has changed just barely, but enough for you to notice. He’s smiling, looking at you with a soft, fond expression. You reach up to hold his face as well, and he leans into your touch, purrs becoming steadily louder. A single tear rolls down your cheek, and he whines in concern, but you simply wipe it away. You can’t cry. Not now. A silent question hangs in the air, and when you look up, you ask him with your eyes. What happened? He simply shakes his head- he doesn’t know. But he can’t change back. Suddenly he leans in and presses his face to yours with a quiet whimper. He’s scared, just like you are. But you offer a moment of respite to calm him, although you can see how his claws clutch the ground and how his shoulders tense. Snuggling closer, you bury one hand in his fluff and place the other in his own, humming at how warm he feels compared to your rain-slicked skin. You feel his hand gently clasp yours, and the other curls around your waist as he carefully sets his head on your shoulder. As you pet his fluff and make your way up to his mask, you can hear his purrs resume as he and you both begin to drift into a cozy, peaceful sleep. Outside, the windy rain becomes a dancing melody, and the world allows a brief moment of bliss.

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spencers-renaissance · 3 years

Text

you know that a boy who likes boys is a dead boy

Summary: Spencer's gay. He joins the BAU and befriends the team, but it is 2003. It's a secret he has to keep. He just didn't expect it to be this hard.

Tags: gay!spencer, coming out, hurt/comfort, insecure!spencer, misunderstandings, angst with a happy ending, dad hotch, protective!hotch, protective!derek, childhood trauma TW: one instance of explicit homophobia, but it is referenced a lot, as is Spencer's internalised homophobia at the start of this fic. A shit ton of heteronormativity but tbh that's just canon lol

Pairing: Spencer Reid/OMC, Spencer Reid & Derek Morgan, Spencer Reid & Aaron Hotchner, The BAU Team & Spencer Reid

Word Count: 6k

Masterlist // Read on AO3

Consider this my contribution to pride month 😌 I've waited so long to post it and I'm so glad I'm finally doing it because it's definitely one of my all time favourites <3 Gideon is here somewhere but just like with all my early season fics he's not really part of the plot I combined my moreid and gen taglists bc it was hard to know the audience for this, but just ignore it if you're not interested!

you know that a boy who likes boys is a dead boy, unless he keeps his mouth shut, which is what you didn’t do, because you are weak and hollow and it doesn’t matter anymore. — richard siken, a primer for the small weird loves

Spencer has only told one person in his whole life.

His mother guessed. For as long as he can remember, she’s used gender neutral pronouns when talking about his future partner, read him all the gay literature she could find, promised him that he’s perfect just the way he is.

The trouble is that Spencer only believes her until the first grade, when Ryan Sampson shoves him over in the playground and calls him gay. His mom had only ever used that term in a sweet, loving way, taking care to associate such words with positivity, as long as his dad wasn’t around to hear. When that word comes out of Ryan Sampson’s mouth, it is not said with sweetness and love; it is said with venom, and Spencer learns quickly that his mom is wrong. He is not perfect just the way he is.

And so, he keeps it a secret. When his mom notices him getting uncomfortable at the mention of future partners, she stops bringing it up, though she refuses to give up the diverse education she provides for him outside of school. His dad tells him that one day he’ll be a strapping young man and marry a nice girl in a church, and Spencer nods along. He ignores the way his stomach turns with anxiety at the thought. Ignores the screaming match his parents have that night. Ignores the fact that it started because Diana chipped in with ‘or boy’.

He’s in high school by the time he’s twelve, and the only part he’s grateful for is the absence of pressure to get a girlfriend. His dad’s out of the picture now, and Spencer tries not to let himself think that maybe if he wasn’t like this he might have stayed. Diana’s so out of it most days that she doesn’t remember what she noticed about him when he was a child, only recalling the last few years of shoving himself so far back in the closet he can hardly see the door anymore.

It feels like he’s lost his last ally.

(He hates that a small part of him feels relieved she doesn’t remember; that he almost feels assured by the fact that the last person to know who he really is has forgotten. There is only this version of Spencer Reid now. No other exists.)

He makes the mistake during his second undergraduate degree. He’s just turned eighteen but he is already a doctor and, fortunately, this alienates him from most of his peers, but someone manages to slide past his defences. Ethan Miller is twenty, in the second year of his (first) undergraduate degree in Chemical Engineering, and he’s nice. Spencer doesn’t have a lot of experience with friendship, but they get on well and Ethan makes him laugh. For the first time, he feels comfortable in the presence of anyone other than his mother.

They slip into an easy friendship: waiting for each other after class — Spencer back in the undergraduate buildings now he has his first PhD under his belt — and going out for ice cream and pizza and Thai food. Ethan goes to parties while Spencer studies, and then they reconvene to watch Doctor Who and play cards.

For almost a year, Spencer keeps his secret carefully locked up, hidden behind the mask he’s perfected after so many years. Even though he’s eighteen, nearly nineteen now, he doesn’t try and explore that side of himself. No, that’s far too risky. He doesn’t try and pretend any other way either, he just stays silent and lets people’s assumptions lie for him, but he can’t help the longing that claws up his throat when he locks eyes with a passing guy on campus. One time, he’d seen two men kiss on a bench in the city, and he’d run back to his dorm and had a panic attack. Why couldn’t he have that?

The feelings don’t stop, and he doesn’t know how to make them. He hates that he isn’t normal, but still longs for the touch of a man, the feeling of being wrapped up in strong arms, of being kissed by dry, chapped lips, and falling asleep to a heartbeat approximately 11% slower than that of a woman’s.

It’s a constant battle inside him, emotions raging, and he struggles to control it, suppress it, tame it.

He pays a sorry price.

Ethan makes him feel comfortable, and that turns out to be a detriment. He relaxes around the other boy: he tells him about growing up as a pre-teen in a high school, about how a child feels living 260 miles away from home, even about his mother’s illness.

And one day, it slips out. They’re on the beach, lying on towels as they look up at the blue sky, talking about what their futures will look like: Ethan will be a successful chemical engineer in Berlin, and Spencer will work for the FBI, profiling serial killers.

“You’ll have to marry a German girl,” he tells Ethan. “It’ll be tough to convince an American girl to move all the way to Germany as soon as you graduate.”

“Yeah, and what about you? You’ll be off fighting crime around the country, not much of a life for a family.”

“Oh, I imagine my husband will be the type to—”

“Husband?”

Spencer freezes. It shocks him as much as it shocks Ethan. He doesn’t even pay much attention to Ethan’s disgusted face and his outraged tirade. He hears slurs and insults, hears him say that he can’t believe Spencer tricked him like this, that he was probably waiting to make a move on him, that he was never to look in Ethan’s direction again, but Spencer is frozen in time.

He’s never allowed him to think much about what his personal life might look like in the future, but he’d said ‘husband’ on instinct, without thinking, and it’s clearly something he actually wants. Ethan’s words sting, but the moment brings about a realisation Spencer is thankful for; it instigates a journey of self-discovery and self-expression, of the joy of living as your true self.

He loses his first and only friend, but he gains something much more valuable. He visits gay bars — nervously sipping a non-alcoholic drink in the corner at first, before soon becoming confident enough to respond to the men who sidle up to him and ask for his name. He lets go and dances the night away, sometimes going home with one of the many dance partners he acquires during the night, sometimes heading back to his own dorm happily alone.

Makeup and dresses and skirts and heels make their way into his wardrobe, and he befriends girls and drag queens and other gay men who encourage him to be exactly the way he is. And the best part is, he never has to come out to any of them. All of them know, and that’s good enough for everyone.

The fun comes to a sad sort of slow, however, when he joins the BAU. Everyone knows law enforcement’s relationship with the LGBT community is less than adequate — Spencer’s seen it with his own eyes: butch lesbians and men in dresses getting roughed up by angry police officers for ‘lewd behaviour’ or ‘drunkenness’ when they’re just being themselves. It’s not safe for him to tell anyone, so he doesn’t.

He still goes out with his friends when he’s in town and wears makeup and dresses and crop tops when he’s at home, but presents as rigidly straight Dr Spencer Reid to his team at the BAU.

The hardest part about it is that he loves his team. He’s known Gideon for years — and he wouldn’t be surprised if he suspects something after coming over to his house unannounced one night, only to have a man other than Spencer open the door — but he settles into a comforting dynamic with Hotch. He can’t help but see him as something of a father figure, and he knows Hotch has a soft spot for him, always looking out for him and taking him under his wing without a moment’s hesitation.

Elle, JJ, and Penelope all take a shine to him, too, teasing him without a hint of malice in their tones, only the kind of playful kindness that reminds him of his mother. He forms a special bond with Penelope and they spend hours watching Doctor Who together and geeking out on all the areas their interests overlap, and the comfort he feels with her matches the comfort he’s found with his new group of queer friends.

(She doesn’t hold a candle to Ethan, he decides one night, after he’d cried at a movie she’d made him watch and she felt so bad she made him hot chocolate and jam toast and cuddled him until he felt better.)

Derek becomes a brother to him. He puts him in a headlock at least once a day — which Spencer has been reliably informed by multiple sources is a very brotherly thing to do — and teases him relentlessly, while simultaneously being fiercely protective of him. Enough so, that Spencer sometimes wonders if he even has Hotch beat in that department.

He loves his team and his team loves him. It should be simple. It is still 2003.

He comes in one morning late for a briefing, his shirt buttoned wrong and his hair is a mess, and he’s fairly sure that his attempt to cover the hickey at the base of his neck with concealer has been ultimately unsuccessful. It’s obvious why he’s late. Gideon is too engrossed in the case file to notice, but Hotch raises an eyebrow, an amused look on his face as everyone else immediately takes to teasing him.

“Who’s the lucky lady, pretty boy?”

Elle raises an eyebrow to match Derek’s shit-eating grin, “Someone definitely got some strange last night.”

“When do we get to meet her, Spence?” JJ asks, smirking as he takes a seat.

He’s bright red — as if he needed to look any more debauched — and Spencer tries to ignore the hurt that seizes his chest at the reminder of his need to stay quiet. This team respects him, and he can’t throw that away just because Spencer gets too comfortable.

God, he wishes Penelope was here.

“None of your business,” he mutters, trying to keep his tone light. He fails.

Naturally, Hotch notices and swiftly moves the briefing on, and Spencer keeps his gaze locked on the case file, not missing the absence of a reprimand from his superior. He’s constantly thankful for the older man, but in this moment, he wishes he could hug him.

(A voice that sounds dangerously close to Ethan’s rises up and taunts him in his ear: he wouldn’t want a dirty homo like you anywhere near him—)

Derek doesn’t let up on the case, continuing to bug him about the special lady in his life. He does concede that it could’ve been a one night stand, which is one front he’s right on, but a couple more concessions are necessary before Derek comes close to the truth of last night.

Eventually, Derek stops, and Spencer notes that the cessation of comments comes suspiciously close to the last time Derek and Hotch were alone together. He doesn’t have it in him to feel angry at Hotch for stepping in when he had it handled; doesn’t have the energy to act as though his pride is wounded, because really, neither of those things are true, and he doesn’t need to add another item to ‘Spencer Reid’s List of Things He Pretends to Be.’

The situation is forgotten, and time moves on.

Things change when he finds his first proper boyfriend. He doesn’t know what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t the giddying rush of emotions it turns out to be, and Spencer spends his days smiling as he daydreams his time away.

His name is Oscar Wilkins, a History professor at Georgetown University, and Spencer falls quickly in love with him. Ever since their mutual friend had introduced them at a gay bar one evening, they’d spent all their free time together. He’s kind and gentle and understanding of Spencer’s hectic and unpredictable job, and he finally has the chance to experience everything he quietly and shamefully longed for as a teenager.

The only downside is the silent breaking of Spencer’s heart that the most important people in his life can’t meet his boyfriend. He longs to show Oscar off, to hold hands in front of his team, lean up to press a tender kiss to Oscar’s lips. He wants to put a framed picture of the two of them at the Washington Monument on his desk to remind him of why he needs to get through the hard days; he doesn’t want to have to sneak out of the hotel room he shares with Derek to whisper hushed, loving goodnights over the phone.

But he’s too scared. Too cowardly.

It’s different being who he is with his gay group of friends littered with wlws and drag queens and other gay and bisexual guys. They understand.

But Derek and Hotch are two extremely masculine, alpha men: Derek’s a ladies’ man and Hotch is married to a woman he met in college with a baby on the way and both have a strong and dominant energy that still sometimes manages to intimidate Spencer even after all these years. And Elle and JJ are lovely — some of his closest friends, really — but sometimes they remind him a little too much of the mean girls he went to high school with.

The hardest person to keep his secret from, though, is Penelope. She’s his best friend and he desperately wants to give her all of him, but he’s so scared. He’s lost a best friend to this secret before, and even though he’s certain she’d be fine with it, what if she accidentally let it slip to Derek? What if Hotch found out and didn’t see him in the same light anymore? What if the girls started teasing him? What if Gideon didn’t want to mentor him anymore?

The fear paralyses him. And it’s a cycle he doesn’t know how to break.

Fear, though, doesn't stop everyone from noticing his daydreaming, his dopey smile when he checks his messages, his urgency to get home where he would’ve stayed until the small hours of the morning before. As excellent as he is at hiding his sexuality, he’s fucking terrible at hiding the fact that he’s in love: it was easy enough to pretend he was straight, but hiding something this all-consuming is an impossible ask.

Derek comes over to perch on the edge of his desk one afternoon, sighing as he sits down. “Pretty boy, this is getting ridiculous,” he says, snatching Spencer’s attention away from his phone. “You’ve been grinning like an idiot for the last twenty minutes as you’ve texted Future Mrs Reid. When are we going to meet her?”

(He hates the new nickname the team has given his mystery significant other, although Oscar had found it hilarious. “It’s funny because when we get married, we’ll hardly be able to tell,” he’d argued through his laughter. “Neither of us will change our name because of our academic profiles, and we’ll both still be ‘Dr’. Our wedding rings will be the only indicator.”

Spencer hadn’t argued back, because he’d been too tongue-tied and flushed pink at Oscar’s use of ‘when’ in regards to their hypothetical nuptials. It was only made bearable by Oscar kissing him gently and tucking him under his arm, not embarrassing him any further as Spencer had sort of anticipated, warmth settling over his chest at the thought of their future together.)

“You won’t,” he replies, perhaps a little too curtly.

Derek starts at that, clearly not expecting it. He definitely should’ve tried to play it off as a joke. “What— should I be offended, pretty boy?”

You wouldn’t call me that if you knew who I really am.

“That’s up to you, Derek,” he says calmly, although he still can’t meet his eyes, “but you won’t meet the ‘Future Mrs Reid, so I think it would probably be best if you left it alone.”

“Damn,” Derek mutters under his breath, clearly pissed off and probably more hurt than Spencer ever intended. “Suit yourself.”

And with that, he gets up and leaves his desk. Spencer’s only solace is the text message he sees on his phone when he picks it back up: I love you so much. You know that, right?

The light-hearted ridicule comes to an abrupt halt after the incident with Derek, and it’s clear that he had been the biggest contributor to the teasing. He’s thankful that the jokes have stopped, but he wishes desperately that it didn’t come with the growing distance between him and his team. Loneliness takes the place of his previous irritated anxiety, and he isn’t sure what’s worse.

It all comes to a head at the end of a case in Michigan. They’re stuck in the lounge of the small inn they’d stayed in the last few days, a snowstorm having blocked them in and grounded the jet, although Gideon had long since retreated to his room. The fire’s going and they’re the only guests around, so it’s cosy enough, but Spencer can’t help but feel sick at the idea of another night away from home.

It’s only been two weeks since he’d snapped at Derek, but the chasm between him and the team is only widening with each passing day. He knows it’s not a case of ‘pick a side’, but the team’s morale relies on light-hearted banter and teasing, and him not being a part of that anymore has only brewed awkwardness. Everyone’s trying to give him space when space is the last thing he wants.

Oscar’s keeping him company over the phone at least, but it’s not quite enough to quell the loneliness swimming around his stomach, and the 'discrete' sideways looks he gets from the team only make him feel worse.

“At least it’s nice and toasty in here,” JJ sighs as she takes a sip of the hot chocolate the kindly inn owner had made for them all.

Elle hums in agreement. “There are worse places to be grounded.”

“I dunno, man, I just wanna get home,” Derek says, not taking his eyes off the fire. Spencer can’t help but agree.

“Oh, come on,” Hotch muses, considerably more jovial now the case is over, “we’re here, and that’s not going to change any time soon. We should make the most of it.”

“It’s at least nice to be somewhere sort-of Christmassy now it’s December,” Elle points out. “We could be stuck in a dingy police station like we probably will be next week.”

“Ooh, I noticed that Jemimah and Kiran started planning the Christmas party last week,” JJ says, smiling at them. “I offered my help, but they seem to have it covered.”

Hotch raises an eyebrow“That’s probably a good thing. You don’t need more work on your plate.”

“Not gonna argue with that,” she murmurs, smiling as she brings her mug to her lips again.

Spencer doesn’t miss that Derek is still stewing on the opposite side of the room.

“Are you looking forward to the Christmas party, Spencer? Will you come?” Hotch asks, clearly trying to rope him into the conversation, which he appreciates. He’s been making a lot of effort with him the past few weeks, and it’s just about the only thing that’s getting him through each day.

Before he can reply, though, Derek erupts from the other side of the room; an already pissed-off man being pushed over the edge. “He won’t even let us meet his fucking girlfriend, Hotch, he’s not gonna want to come to the Christmas party!” he yells, throwing his hands in the air as he glares at Spencer with a stormy expression raging across his face.

Suddenly, Spencer can’t stay silent anymore, and his retort shocks himself just as much as it does everyone else. “I don’t have a girlfriend!”

It might be the loudest he’s ever shouted in his whole life. He’s always been quiet and restrained, the type to state his feelings as calmly as possible no matter how he’s feeling on the inside. Even in the biggest fight he’s had with Oscar, his voice was barely loud enough to qualify as a shout.

There’s a brief stunned silence, but Derek quickly slices his way through it, voice raising to meet Spencer’s fiery emotion, fierce and loud. “Oh, don’t even go there, Reid, you’re really gonna try and argue that? You’re gonna lie about her as well as not let us meet her? What a boyfriend you are.”

“I don’t! I don’t have a girlfriend!” he repeats, voice catching this time as tears rise unbidden to the backs of his eyes and all the emotions of the journey he’s taken with his sexuality over the years flood him in a wave of intensity he’s not prepared for.

“You’re fucking lying—!”

“I have a boyfriend!” he yells. “Alright? I have a boyfriend. I’m gay.”

The anger and emotion quickly dissipates, and he’s left standing alone in front of the team he’s put so much effort into hiding this from, watching shock spell out across everyone’s expressions. He’s never felt smaller than he does in that moment, and he quickly grabs his phone before running upstairs to his room, locking the door behind him.

“Oh God, Oscar, I fucked up so bad,” he cries over the phone as soon as his boyfriend picks up.

“Hey, hey, breathe, baby,” Oscar says gently, but Spencer can hear the anxious concern in his voice, “it’s gonna be okay, I promise. I’m here. Do you want to tell me what happened?”

“I just— Oh God, I just told the team.” A new wave of horror rolls over him as he realises what he’s done. Times might be changing, but it’s still only 2006, and he doesn’t know each and every nuance of his team members’ political positions and, fuck, he hates that his existence is a fucking political position.

Oscar’s been so understanding of his reluctance to not tell the team, even though Spencer’s met pretty much everyone in his life. He isn’t sure what he’s done to earn such a gracious and understanding boyfriend, but he’s not about to question it.

“Baby, I know it’s scary, and I know you’re really worked up right now,” he counsels, voice soft and reassuring, using the nickname he knows Spencer loves the most to make him feel as safe as he can from 700 miles away, “but it’s probably not as bad as you think. From what you’ve told me about the team, they love you so much, and even in the case that in the past they've had some issue with gay people, I can't imagine they’d ever actually think of you any differently when it comes down to it, Spencer.”

He’s crying too hard to reply, and Oscar understands immediately, gently transitioning into a story about his day that slowly starts to calm him down, and by the time he’s wrapping it up, his tears are starting to subside.

“Thank you, Ozzy,” he whispers into the phone, lifting himself up off the floor and making his way to sit on the bed instead.

“You know I’d do anything for you, sweetheart,” he murmurs warmly. “Do you want me to stay on the phone for a bit?”

“Yes please,” he whispers again, holding it as close to himself as possible, drawing all the comfort he can from his boyfriend’s voice.

He lies there listening to Oscar’s voice and trying not to think about the disaster downstairs for a good ten minutes before there’s a tap at the door.

“Oz, there’s someone here,” he says, voice panicked.

“I think you should probably speak to them, baby,” he urges. “I’ll stay on the phone with you while you do, if you like?”

“Please.” He gets up from the bed gingerly, keeping his phone tightly gripped in his right hand as he slowly unlocks the door with his left, revealing Hotch on the other side.

“Hey, Spencer. Do you mind if I come in?”

He’s riddled with nerves, but Hotch is smiling warmly, and he’s never said a harsh word to Spencer, so he steps aside and lets him into his room.

Hotch quickly notices the phone in his hand, visibly still on a call. “Is that your boyfriend?”

Spencer nods.

“Do you mind if I talk to him?”

His brows knit in confusion and his lips part slightly in surprise, but it’s all he can do to hand the phone over, watching Hotch carefully.

“Hi, Spencer tells me this is his boyfriend?” Hotch inquires politely into the phone, his tone still warm. “I’m Hotch, Spencer’s boss.”

He can vaguely hear Oscar speaking on the other end of the line, and he worries slightly that Oscar will somehow give away the familial feelings he holds for Hotch, but the conversation doesn’t last long enough for the anxiety to really take over.

“Everything’s fine here, I just want to have a conversation with Spencer, so is it alright if we hang up and I talk to him alone for a minute? He can call you straight back afterwards.” After a brief pause in which Oscar says something, Hotch looks back up at him. “Are you okay with that, Spencer?”

He nods hesitantly, and Hotch says a quick goodbye to Oscar before surging forwards and wrapping Spencer in a hug. It catches him off guard, but he doesn’t waste any time in burying his face into Hotch’s neck and soaking in the comfort and warmth that always radiates from his father figure.

“Come on,” Hotch says softly as they pull away a good minute or so later, “let’s sit down, shall we?”

“You’re not mad?” Spencer can’t help but ask, the question burning his tongue as anxiety — however quietened from Hotch’s hug — still swims around in his stomach.

“There are many things that could make me mad, Spencer,” he says earnestly, “but this is not one of them. I would never be angry at you for being who you are, okay? I might… I might be overstepping here, and if I am, then tell me and I’ll back off, but I’ve always seen you as a mentee, and over the years that’s developed— well, I see you more as a son these days. And part of that is wanting to protect and support you no matter what you do or say or who you are.”

Spencer wastes no time in diving back in for a hug, clinging onto Hotch for dear life as he hugs back, rubbing his back gently.

“I’m so sorry you didn’t feel like you could tell us sooner, Spencer,” he says in a voice soft with affection and regret. “But I’m so glad you’ve told us now.”

He only presses closer at that, tears springing back to his eyes. “I didn’t want to lose you.” He knows what he’s implying, and even in a roundabout way, he’s glad he’s telling Hotch.

“Oh, Spence,” he sighs sadly, “you couldn’t do a single thing to lose me. I’m in it for the long haul.”

“Really?” he asks, hating how insecure he sounds.

“Really,” Hotch promises, pulling away as Spencer does. “Now, you have a whole team of agents downstairs who are feeling very sorry for themselves and really want to see you.”

Nausea rolls in his stomach and panic springs back up as he looks at Hotch, desperate for some sort of grounding. “Are they angry at me? Do they hate me now?”

“No one hates you, Spencer,” he says firmly. “I promise you that. Everyone just wishes that they’d made you feel more welcome and comfortable. We all hate that you felt you had to lock up something so integral to who you are, and we can’t help but feel we played a part in it.”

“No,” he protests — the last thing he wants is family blaming themselves when it has nothing to do with them, “it’s not your fault, it’s just…”

Hotch nods. “I understand, it’s okay. Now, do you want to go down and see them? You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but it might help ease your mind to see that they really don’t hate you.”

Spencer pauses, taking a moment to think. “Can I see Derek first?”

“Of course,” Hotch says understandingly, and the comforting smile that crosses his face makes Spencer feel safe and taken care of. “I’ll send him up?”

Spencer nods and Hotch hugs him once more before leaving the room almost reluctantly. He wastes no time in picking up his phone and sending a text to Oscar. You were right. Hotch is fine. He’s just sending Derek up before I go and see the team but he says that no one’s angry and I think I believe him. Thank you, Oscar. I love you.

Not even half a minute goes past before his phone lights up with a text back. I’m so glad, baby. Call me later, okay? I want to make sure you’re okay before I go to bed. I love you more.

Before Spencer can argue that actually, he is the one more in love with the other, a hesitant knock sounds on his door. Nerves suddenly flip his stomach, and he clenches and unclenches his fists a couple of times before forcing himself to cross the room, revealing a very worried and regretful-looking Derek.

“Oh, pretty boy,” he says sadly, before crushing Spencer in a warm and tender hug. Immediately, he relaxes into the arms of one of his best friends, and relief courses through his blood at Derek’s reaction. “I am so sorry that I ever made you feel like you couldn’t tell me that you were gay or had a boyfriend. That’s completely on me. I don’t care who you love, Spencer, I just want you to be happy, okay? And if this guy makes you happy, then that’s fine by me. But if he ever lays a hand on you or—”

“Derek, Derek,” he laughs, “it’s fine I get it. Thank you, though, I’m… I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you earlier and for snapping at you in the bullpen that time…”

“I understand, Spence,” he promises. “It’s in the past, okay? And I’m sorry for pushing so hard. I mean, I’d love to meet him but if you don’t feel comfortable or you don’t want to, that’s fine, too. It’s your life, man.”

“No, I… I think I want you guys to meet him. It’s been so hard to keep him away from the people I consider my family, you know?”

“Yeah, I know. Maybe after Christmas, we can all have dinner or something.”

Spencer smiles shyly. “Well, Oscar’s a great cook, so I reckon we could work something out.”

Derek grins, throwing an arm around his shoulders as he immediately jumps back into teasing him as they make their way to the door to go downstairs and see the rest of the team. “Ooh, lover boy’s got him a chef, hey? What else does this Oscar have going for him?”

Spencer chatters eagerly about his boyfriend to Derek, barely skipping a beat when he joins everyone downstairs, his friends taking his cues and joining in with the conversation seamlessly. He’s had enough fuss for one night, and the warmth and understanding on everyone’s faces tells him everything he needs to know.

“Do you have any pictures of him?” JJ asks, raising an eyebrow with eager expectancy as they all settle back into their seats by the fire, a warm and unbelievably happy feeling settling in Spencer’s stomach.

He blushes, digging out his phone from his pocket and unlocking it. “More than a few, I think.”

He finds the most recent picture of his boyfriend — a candid shot of him cooking in the kitchen, spatula aloft, and a huge grin on his face — and hands the phone around.

“Oh wow, you like them buff, huh, pretty boy?” Derek teases as soon as he gets his hands on it, and Spencer’s stomach twists in a sudden bout of fear, expecting to see some hesitancy or even disgust on his friend’s face. What if he thinks that Spencer has a crush on him? What if he’s uncomfortable around him now?

But if Derek’s having any of those thoughts, they don’t show on his face. He’s smiling widely and openly, all the pent-up anxiety and frustration borne from hurt gone from his body language, and he looks completely comfortable sat next to Spencer, his arm stretched out behind him on the back of the sofa.

They sit happily around the fire for a couple of hours, settling into a happy, intimate familiarity Spencer hadn’t realised was missing when he was hiding something so integral to his being from his family, and he’s still smiling when they finally part ways to head to bed, the clock ticking closer and closer to 1 am.

He gets ready for bed quickly, brushing his teeth and throwing on the top he’d stolen from Oscar the first time he’d stayed at his place; a welcome change from his worn and wrinkled suit. As soon as his teeth are brushed and the lights are all off except for his bedside lamp, he pulls out his phone, knowing there’s one more thing he has to do before he goes to sleep.

“Spencer?” Penelope’s voice sounds down the line, clearly concerned. “It’s almost 2 am here, are you okay?”

“I’m gay,” he says, getting straight to the point. The main reason he ever kept it from her was because of his fear of it accidentally getting out to the team rather than fear over her reaction. After all, multiple of his drag queen friends are also hers.

“Oh my God,” she says in that small voice she uses when she’s not actually talking to you, before finally actually replying to me. “Spencer, I’m so happy you told me!”

He doesn’t miss her choice of words, or the way she says them and he tilts his head suspiciously. “You already knew, didn’t you?”

She sighs. “Yeah. I’m sorry, a couple of months ago I saw a text from Oscar on your phone when you went to the bathroom during one of our Doctor Who marathons, and it wasn’t hard to figure out the relationship.”

“And… wait, you’re not mad at me for not telling you sooner?”

“Spencer! Of course not. I was waiting for you to be comfortable enough to share it with me. I felt awful that I knew without your consent but I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want to catch you off guard or make you feel uncomfortable. It’s fine that you waited, baby genius, I’m just so happy you told me now. What finally gave you the courage?”

“Well, it might have slipped out in front of the team this evening,” he admits sheepishly, “and the only reason I never told you was because I was scared that it would slip out somehow — accidentally, of course, I didn’t think you’d tell anyone on purpose — and now everyone knows. It’s been killing me not to tell you, Penelope, it really has because I love you so much and you’re my best friend and I trust you with my life, it’s just…”

“Whoa, slow down, Spence,” she laughs fondly, “you don’t have to explain yourself to me, I understand. But I’m glad you finally told everyone and you can be yourself completely with us, now. We all love you no matter what, you know that right?”

“I do now.”

“Good. You should get some sleep, baby boy, it’s late and you’ve had an emotional evening.”

Spencer smiles. “Yeah, I know. You should, too, Pen. I’ll see you when we can finally make it home, okay? Love you.”

“Love you, too, 187,” she says softly, and Spencer can hear the smile in her voice. “Goodnight.”

As soon as he hangs up, he settles down into the bed, turning off the light and pulling the duvet up over his shoulders before dialling one more number.

“Hey, baby,” Oscar says, voice as gentle and caring as it always is, although thicker with tiredness now. “I take it everything went okay?”

“Yeah,” Spencer murmurs, already feeling tired as the safety he always feels at the sound of Oscar’s voice settles into the fibres of his being. “It went so well. I can’t wait for you to meet everyone.”

“I can’t wait either, sweetheart. Are you in bed now?”

“Yeah,” he sighs. “Can you talk to me as I fall asleep?”

“Anything for you, Spence,” he says softly, before transitioning seamlessly into a story about the professors on campus, and his gentle comfort and the knowledge of the unconditional love his family has for him finally lulls Spencer into the best sleep he’s had in weeks.

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sehunniepotwrites · 3 years

Text

AS YOU WISH | J.JH | ONE

cover by @seostudios

SYNOPSIS. He was a boy, she was a girl— can I make it any more obvious?

But actually, she was a cursed genie of two thousand years who longed to be freed of her gilded cage and he was a modern but lonely boy who hoped to free her. He just didn’t expect to fall in love with her in the process.

GENRE. angst, slow burn, romance, genie!au, reincarnation!au, royal!au, thief!au PAIRING. jeong jaehyun x female genie!reader MINOR CHARACTERS. mark lee, moon taeil, jeong sungchan WORD COUNT. 10.6k+

WARNINGS. stealing, mentions of cuts and wounds, blood, physical beating, derogatory name calling

ONE: PAST | TWO: INTERLUDE | THREE: PRESENT

2000 YEARS AGO, THE KINGDOM OF NEIHO

“Stop, street rat!”

Heavens, how you hated that name. You ached to yell a taunting insult back but you were afraid of the royal guards catching onto your identity by hearing the sound of your voice.

“Grab that lousy thief!”

The calls of the guards continued to sound throughout the pathway as you ran for your life. The heavy bag of riches slung along over your shoulder pounded against your upper back as you felt the wind in your hair. The extra weight was beginning to weigh you down but you did not falter. Your strained legs propelled you forward and you stole a quick glance behind you— the burly men with swords were gaining on you and you could not let them.

“Wait— there are two of them!”

You cursed when your partner was spotted. From the corner of your eye, you caught a flicker of his cape turning a corner. You were supposed to be the diversion. The blazing sun burned your skin through your hooded cloak but you had to keep pushing. For them.

You would do anything for them, even give your life for them, just as your mother did before you.

Apologizing as you passed, you threw down displays of fresh produce to throw the guards off. You would come back to help clean up later.

You pulled the cloak down to better conceal your face before sprinting into a hidden nook in the village center. The bolstering guards ran past your hiding spot moments later, their leader barking commands to his subordinates before they all went their separate ways. Peeking behind a wall, you watched as their backs grew smaller and smaller and let out an audible sigh.

You made it another day. With a wide-eyed grin, you pushed yourself out of your hiding spot and walked an easy path to the outskirts of the kingdom where people were waiting for you.

If the guards were smart enough, they would have easily found you by they searched the outskirts of the kingdom’s stone walls. There was an opening in the walls, big enough for one person to fit through. You frequented that small hole often with a large sack hauled over your back. As soon as you passed that point in your path, you tossed your cloaked disguise into a nearby bush before trekking on to your final destination.

The path was lengthy but at least you were in the shade instead of under the blazing sun. The clanking of your stolen riches kept you company as you navigated through the many trees. It wasn’t long until you reached an open area filled with a variety of people. Lousy tents made of the thinnest cloth and held up by fallen branches surrounded the field and in the center was a large fire pit. There were clotheslines, cooking supplies, and a short supply of food scattered around the makeshift camp.

The plentiful conversations hushed when you dropped the sack at the end of the path. A shuffling of footsteps and the tinkling sound of coins clanging against each other reached your ears before another figure plopped down beside you, his body falling splat onto the soft grass.

“I refuse to do that again,” a boyish voice groaned beside you. It came from a boy around your age, give or take a few years, with messy brown hair and the cutest set of doe eyes. His thin face and sharp jawline were lined with dirt but he was still what you considered handsome.

“Minhyung, stop your fusing,” you scolded as you ruffled his hair. The boy whined at your actions, moving away to escape your teasing. “You say the same thing every single time we do this, however, you keep coming back to help me.”

“They almost caught me this time around,” he told you. “I barely escaped— one guard grabbed me by the ends of my cloak and almost saw my face! I thought you were the distraction!”

“I was,” you fired back.

“And yet, they still found me,” Minhyung reported dramatically, swinging an arm over his eyes. There was a beat of comfortable silence as the breeze came rolling in.

“But was it worth it?” you asked with a soft voice.

A pair of dirtied feet appeared in your vision. You and Minhyung tilted your heads up to find a small child, not even five years of age gazing at you expectantly. The child’s body was extremely malnourished and their cheeks were horribly sunken in. They looked bashful as they outstretched an arm towards Minhyung.

He sent the child a tiny smile, his mouth curving up at the ends, as he produced a small loaf of bread from beneath his cloak. The child’s eyes sparkled in delight as they snatched the piece of food from Minhyung’s hold and eagerly bit into it. You patted the child’s head lovingly as you hand them a grip of gold coins. They shuffled back to their family who gave their thanks.

As the other people in the open field started to line up to receive their share, Minhyung simply replied: “Yes, yes it was.”

You grinned at your fellow thief— you thought it was worth it, too.

Your gaze shifts to the high towers of Neiho’s palace peeking from behind the treetops. But sometimes, you pondered over how effortless life must have been when living like royalty— was it easy when everything was provided for you?

Unlike what most people assumed, living the life of a royal was far from easy.

Jeong Yuno, the Crown Prince of Neiho, had a sudden urge to bang his head against the library wall. He refrained from doing so, the action being far from princely. He looked up from his pile of parchment paper with glazed over eyes, the ink from his quill drying from the lack of writing. There were rows of untouched books lined up at his desk and none of them were of his interest. They skirted on the topics of Neiho’s history and politics; although it was something he was already versed in, he hated the subject unlike his younger brother, Chansung, who excelled and loved it.

Yuno longed to touch the atlas that was stationed on his tutor’s desk. He wanted to study it, chart a course to another far off land, and mark it with ink as he visited place to place. But instead of traveling, the crown prince drowned in his studies while his tutor looked down upon his distracted self.

“Prince Yuno, have you heard a single word that has left my lips or is your head still up in the clouds?” Moon Taeil, the kingdom’s main historian and tutor, scolded. His wooden stick struck the surface of Yuno’s desk and the shocked boy jumped. From his own desk, Chansung snickered behind his thin hand.

“My apologies,” the crown prince bowed his head, his ears turning crimson from being caught by the snippy tutor.

“Well, since I have gained you back from the skies, might you list Neiho’s past rulers and achievements in order?”

Yuno bit back a loud groan. He was in desperate need of a sweet escape. His gaze floated out the window and onto the blooming marketplace below. It seemed like the liveliness was calling his name.

One of the things you loved about your mother was her storytelling. You heard stories of all kinds of love while growing up on the fly. She painted clear pictures of people falling at first sight, of hate turning to overflowing affection, and so much more. Your mother sold you tales of star-crossed lovers that found their happy endings before she passed; her fables of love sounded nothing more than poppycock and folly.

That is, until it occurred to the unsuspecting you.

It was a usual day for you in the city— hood up, cloak flowing in the wind with a sack beating your back as you were on the run from the royal guards stationed in the marketplace. You weaved in between the townsfolk, your nimble body easily pushing through nooks and crannies when you bumped into something— or rather, someone strong.

“Oof!”

“Oh!”

The large sack you carried added some extra weight, leading you to topple over the stranger that ran into your smaller build. The stranger was about to mumble a quick apology before you heard the bellowing of the persistent guards.

You cursed. There was no room for hesitation when you were caught in a tight spot such as this. With staggering breaths and a pounding chest, you grabbed the man’s hand and navigated through endless alleyways and store fronts. You mastered the art of escaping at a young age while he had trouble keeping up with your speed.

And so, your first adventure with the man you would soon learn to love began.

Your hurried steps brought you to an unattended rooftop. You put one foot on the ledge and leaned your body over to glance at the commotion in the market. Down below, the guards were scrambling through the bustling crowds in a failed attempt to find you. Watching them struggle on their search sent you into a laughing fit that your then mysterious companion echoed.

With a heaving chest and rushing heart, you finally looked up at him for the first time and saw the most beautiful man you had ever laid your eyes on. Despite only seeing him from his place on the balcony or painted portraits before, you immediately knew who he was: The Crown Prince of Neiho. He had deep chocolate eyes and jet-black hair that highlighted his sweat stained skin. His cheeks and ears were flushed with a rosy red as he gasped for air. He was dressed in a horrible excuse for a disguise; the high-end material he wore and golden shoes were purposefully stained. It was as if the prince wanted to be found.

You quickly retracted your dirtied hand from his soft one and immediately dropped to your knees. “My sincerest apologies for placing my soiled hands on yours, Your Highness. I ask for your forgiveness,” you said with a bowed head, your disheveled hair covering your embarrassed face.

Yuno let out a hearty laugh, one that was deep but still sounded like the lightest bells in your ear. “Please, none of that,” he said, helping you to your feet.

��If anything, you helped me escape from those wretched guards,” he sent you an angelic smile and you swore the heavens were smiling down on you at that moment. “I should thank you.”

He placed a gentle hand on your shoulder as you felt your face flush with an unfamiliar heat.

“May I know the name of my savior?” Yuno questioned teasingly, his eyes looking deep into yours.

“Perhaps another time, Your Highness,” you said quite cheekily before running back into the crowd.

The second time you met Prince Yuno, you were both on the run once again. In a way similar to what you had done in the past, his hand slipped so fluidly into yours before you sprinted through the town square. You knocked a fruit cart down as a diversion and the guards struggled making their way through the mess. Through your hooded cloak that flowed in the breeze, you turned over your shoulder to chuckle at how helpless the so-called protectors looked.

“We must stop meeting like this, Highness,” you breathed out as you kept up with his speed.

“Why? I quite enjoy meeting like this,” he threw back at you with a sheepish grin. There was a glimmer of adventure in his eyes and you chuckled.

The hood of your cape fell back, revealing your face for a quick moment before you tugged it back up. It was too late, though, for he had seen your face. Having only heard your voice before, Yuno’s steps faltered at the sight of you. Taking charge at that moment, you overtook him and jerked him into an unpaved path.

You took him over and under until you found a safe haven on top of a building— your makeshift home. Ratty cotton sheets were tied to poles for shade and a pile of pillows was bunched together to make a bed. Random trinkets were scattered along the rooftop along with a scarce supply of food and sacks of stolen treasures leaning against a wall. You wordlessly made yourself comfortable, pouring yourself two cups of water from a jug and handed one to the stranger in your space. He took it graciously and gulped it down, his prominent Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he did so.

“From the bottom of my heart, I thank you, my dear savior,” Yuno spoke to you for the second time that day.

“It was nothing, Your Highness,” you responded, waving him off as you sat at his feet.

“I feel like this was fate or destiny calling,” Yuno suggested out of the blue.

“This?”

“Us, meeting again,” he answered smoothly, his voice as melodic as a mother’s lullaby.

“I suppose it is.”

“Seeing as destiny brought us together, might I know your name?”

Despite being of a higher status, he didn’t seem as selfish as you thought he would be—Yuno seemed kind and trustworthy. You let down your walls and stuttered out your name. The dark orbs that you got lost in flashed with recognition and you wondered if you made a wrong move by revealing your identity.

“You!” he shouted, his voice booming loudly. “Yes, I have heard many things about you.”

You glared at him with panicked eyes and you rushed to cover his soft lips. “Are you insane, Highness? Speak like that and they will surely find us here!”

“My apologies,” he replied, tugging at his earlobe in embarrassment. “My excitement got the best of me.”

You snorted at his answer, “Excitement?” you probed. “What is there to be excited about?”

“It is not everyday you meet the infamous thief that steals from the rich to give back to the poor,” Yuno grinned with dimples sinking into his soft cheeks.

He was not wrong; you did steal for a living to help the less fortunate. Unlike many others your age, you were able-bodied and felt the mighty need to provide for others who needed extra support. This had been the fifth time the guards had almost caught you but it didn’t matter. As long as the children on the street did not starve, you would risk your life over and over again.

Your mother, compassionate and altruistic as one could ever be, had done so in the past and you were determined to carry her legacy. You wanted to make her proud.

“Are you going to arrest me then?” you challenged with a brow. You took a large step back, ready to be on the run if the situation called for it. “If that is your intention, Your Highness, it is in my best interest to leave you.”

“Oh, no! If anything, I agree with your actions,” he relayed, arms shooting out to keep you in his reach. The Prince’s touch pierced your skin with comforting warmth and you shudder at the odd sensation.

“The Royal Advisor, Rowena, insists on high taxes and taking from the poor while feeding the rich,” he started to explain, taking a seat on the dusty steps.

You hummed, recalling the many times you had laid your eyes on the advisor— she held her head high and wore a permanent, almost sinister smirk on her gorgeous face. Her eyes were as red as blood and hair as black as night. She was beyond intimidating, more so than the Royal Family and their guards.

“What she is doing to the people out here, it isn’t right,” Yuno added on. “They are suffering and I feel as if it is my duty to stop her.”

“I feel as if it is mine as well,” you replied.

“I tried to tell the King of how Rowena’s suggestions have been affecting the community outside the palace walls but it is as if she has him under a spell. He hears not a thing I say,” he explained exasperatedly.

He let out a defeated sigh as you crouched next to him. You let him speak, seeing how distressed he was by the whole situation. “He only listens to her and my younger brother, Chansung; he is the smarter sibling. I am nothing but a pretty face that represents the kingdom,” the prince chuckled darkly.

“Highness—” you tried to intervene, not enjoying how he was belittling himself. He stopped you before you could even begin with a mere glance.

“It is not I who deserves the throne, it is Chansung. I can barely do a thing when my mind is elsewhere. How can I rule when my mind is not focused on the needs of my people?”

You place a tentative hand on his knee to ground him before his thoughts send him spiraling.

“I apologize,” the runaway prince blurted suddenly. “I do not know you and here I am, spilling out my innermost thoughts. You must think I am a fool.”

“No, it’s quite alright. I imagine you have no one to discuss this with within the palace,” you comforted him with a kind smile. You encouraged Yuno to continue, hands urging him on. “But if your mind is not here, then…”

Yuno shot you an empty grin, the upturns of his lips not meeting his reddening ears. “I have been trapped inside the palace since birth. Raised inside these walls all my life. I am safe and sound with a set future here and yet…” his voice trailed off, looking at the overview of the kingdom. His stare then gravitated beyond the kingdom walls.

“And yet?”

“I want to go beyond our borders. I know there is more the world has to offer. I have read about it in books but I want to experience it in person, write it down, and bring back what I have learned to better Neiho.” There was a sense of longing in his voice and you could almost relate to his yearning.

You took a seat next to him, your knees touching his. Your body turned towards him, torso leaning forward to give the prince your undivided attention. “What have you read about so far, Your Highness?”

“Please call me Yuno,” he said gently, clutching onto your hand. You tried to tug it away, flustered from the sudden contact, and he only tightened his clasp.

“Yes, Your Highness,” you replied, “I mean, Y-Yuno.”

The instant his name left your lips, he sent you the most dazzling smile, his pearly white teeth perfectly framed by the pink of his lips and the curve of his dimples. Whiskers appeared around his closed eyes and his nose scrunched up in the most adorable way and you found yourself falling down the rabbit hole one called love.

Ever since that fated day, you arranged countless meetings in random nooks and crannies of the marketplace. Yuno taught you the many things he had learned from his readings while you showed him places he had never been before. He brought you books and taught you how to read. You taught him how to fend for himself in the forest.

You often found yourselves weaving through crowds as the guards attempted to follow your trails. Laughter bubbled through the prince’s chest as you tugged him along with intertwined fingers. Your heart leaped huge lengths across your chest every time he glanced your way through his fluttering eyelashes and you wondered if he felt the same.

Your days with Yuno always ended on that same rooftop, overlooking the beautiful sight that was Neiho, and you adored every second of it.

One night, you blurted out, “Do you ever wonder what life would be like if things were different?” Yuno glanced up at you from your lap, head tilting with curiosity. Your fingers were tangled in his soft, clean hair as his hand played with the ends of yours.

“Do you?” he countered. The point of your elbow dug into his toned stomach and he winced.

“I asked first,” you said and he laughed at your argument.

“And I am the Crown Prince,” he threw back and you pouted at his response.

You were quiet for a moment, gathering your thoughts together before answering your own question. “Yes.”

“And what do you wonder about?”

“There are times I wish for a life where I am comfortable, where I’m not breaking my back for someone else’s sake.” Feeling a bit vulnerable, you drew your hands away from his head and wrapped them around your waist— it was your first time to reveal this hidden thought of yours.

“It’s not that I want to stop helping them,” you explained tentatively, “I just wonder what it would be like to start living just for me, without the weight of the world on my shoulders.”

Yuno only hummed in reply. You shook your head, snapping yourself out of the daze you were in. “Your turn to answer,” you pushed the heavy question onto him.

“I suppose so, yes,” he mused simply. “I would like to be a traveling scholar, see the world through my own eyes. I often wonder about a life of travel, you know this.”

You did know this—Yuno told you this many times.

“There’s another thing I wonder about, though,” he slipped in.

“And what is that?”

“I often wonder what life would be like if I had you by my side.”

You coughed at his sweet words, not at all expecting to hear a statement like that. He reached up to pat your back as you choked on air, giggling at your antics. Your breathing returned to normal and his fingers found their way to yours. With entwined fingers and hearts, he called your name endearingly as his head rested against your lap. You returned his earnest stare under the light of the moon with the same intensity, “Yes, my prince?”

He rolled his eyes at your response.

Yuno, hidden in a ripped cloak, brought your hand against his plump lips and looked into your eyes as he kissed your knuckles. “I arose from bed this morning with a sudden realization.”

“Have you come to the conclusion that Chansung is the better looking royal?” you poked. He gave you a look of betrayal and you giggled at his furrowed brows and flared nostrils.

“It was nothing but a joke, dear,” you laughed, running your fingers through his thick locks of hair. He huffed loudly, turning away from your playful gaze.

“My attempt to confess my love and she makes a fool out of me,” he mumbled under his breath but you could not catch his words.

“You would make a great jester,” Yuno added with another roll of his gorgeous eyes.

“I don’t think I would enjoy being the laughing stock of nobility,” you answered, poking at his soft cheek. He swatted your hand away in annoyance but your fingers were persistent. You continued to sink your finger into the skin of his cheek until he caught it and nibbled on your fingertip. Yelping, you drew back your hand and narrowed your gaze at the prince.

It was his turn to laugh at your reaction, blessing your ears with the sweetest melody. “My darling, you would never be a laughing stock to me.”

Although your finger throbbed, you were happy to see the playful side of the prince— he often had a stoic expression when addressing the people of Neiho from the palace balconies. The sight of his bright smile was enough to light the whole kingdom tenfold.

“What would I be then?” you asked mockingly.

Yuno shifted to face you, his ethereal features glowing in the starlight and captivating you in ways you could not explain. There was a fluttering feeling in your stomach and an intense pounding in your chest as Yuno gave you the simplest answer, “The love of my life.”

His words sent your heart soaring to the highest of places.

In that moment, it mattered not who you were and where you were because you were the love of his life just as he was yours.

Arriving at the clearing deep in the forest, you released the bag of stolen goods from your hold. Panting out breaths, you did your best to steady your heartbeat. The racing palpitations of heart felt different somehow, maybe because for once, they were not caused by the adrenaline of running away but by the highs of being deeply in love.

A gorgeous smile broke out on your face and you hadn’t a care if you looked like a crazy loon.

“Where have you been?” A familiar voice blasted from above you. Looking up, you saw Minhyung seated on a tree branch. He leaped down, landing directly on his feet with a playful smirk.

You coughed the grin right off your face. “I had to take a little detour is all.”

“A detour?” Minhyung questioned.

“Yes, a detour.”

Your friend circled you, throwing an arm around your shoulders. “Quite unusual for your detours to last until sundown,” he teased, “and you look like you’re walking on air.”

You tried to bite back your grin and you failed. You could never hide anything from Minhyung, he had seen you through it all. He was your brother after all— not by blood but nevertheless, he was family.

“I met the Crown Prince,” you muttered under your breath.

“Do speak up, you know how I hate when you mumble,” Minhyung teased, using the words you often fired at him.

“I said, Minhyung, I met the Crown Prince,” you repeated with a louder voice.

You watched as Minhyung’s eyes widened like saucers and how they gleamed with intrigue as he squeezed you closer to him. “You met Prince Yuno?!” he gasped. “How— why? What?”

“Keep it down, will you please?” Clamping a dirtied hand over his mouth, you tried to shut him up. He simply licked your palm to which you smacked him across the head.

“Well, this isn’t our first time meeting. We’ve met many a time before,” you started off, going down your short history with the prince. Minhyung listened attentively— his admiration for the Royal Family, much like many of the other Neiho citizens, ran deep.

“How is he in real life?”

“Nothing short of wonderful,” you sighed, head turning back to face the city. You wondered how he was doing, if he made it back through the palace gates without any trouble from the guards he was escaping from. “He is like the brightest star I have ever seen, so beautiful and radiant but still so far out of my reach.”

Remembering the sound of his laughter and the look in his eyes, another soft smile appeared on your face. It was a smile Minhyung had never seen on your features. You appeared as if you were the star you just described, shining brightly for one person and one person alone. The light in your eyes was almost too blinding, he wanted to look away but Minhyung couldn’t.

It had been so long since he had seen you this happy— the last time you smiled so cheerfully was with your mother so many years ago. You adopted a harsher look throughout the years that Minhyung was beyond ecstatic to see that happiness still existed within you.

“Is that so?”

“Yes,” you answered gently. “He told me to call him Yuno.”

“And did you?”

“Of course, Minhyung,” you said with a chuckle, “it would be wrong to not obey royalty.”

“Yes, you’re quite right,” Minhyung hummed back.

“He is filled with kindness and loyalty to the kingdom, which is admirable.”

“But?”

Thinking back to the conversation you had with the prince, your eyebrows stitched together when recalling his dreams. “His heart aches for adventure and knowledge, things he cannot find here if he is to be King.”

Minhyung searched your face for a glimpse into your head. “Isn’t that what you’re looking for, too?”

Looking your best friend and fellow thief straight in the eyes, you were posed with a thought that hadn’t even crossed your scattered mind. “I suppose it is.”

Minhyung laughed as you came to the realization. The two of you sat in silence as you breathed everything in.

“The Prince isn’t that far from your reach then,” Minhyung posed with a childlike grin. “He is much closer than you think.”

The first time Yuno kissed you was underneath the setting sun. Hidden behind the stone walls of the palace, he pressed you into a dark corner where no one could catch sight of your unlikely pairing.

It was a long day for the both of you— you had snuck into the houses of nobles, stealing their smallest treasures to sell in order to feed the hungry while he shadowed his father during his audiences with the people of Neiho. Your secret rendezvous started with exchanging stories about your eventful day with shared laughter and the sweetest of touches. Yuno’s smooth hands ghosted against your dry ones several times, each touch sending tingles down your spine.

His arms caged you in between his strong body and the hard stone wall as his face hovered in front of your own. Your breath hitched as his intense stare shifted from your eyes to your parted lips. It was the dead of winter but you had never felt hotter under his fiery gaze.

“May I kiss you?” you found yourself asking as his plump bottom lip grazed against your own. You were shocked by your own bravery and you knew he was, too. Your heart pounded loudly like a beating drum and you swore the prince could hear it as well.

“Do as you wish,” the prince replied almost breathlessly, captivated by the way your eyes kept flickering to the lack of space in between your bodies.

“But is that what you wish for, Yuno?” you countered with a sultry tone. He gulped loudly at how confident you were and nodded almost too eagerly, lips barely brushing against your dry ones. “Yes. Yes, it is.”

“Then, your wish is my command,” you smile before closing the distance between. A light press of your lips onto his was all it took to send your world spinning round. Yuno deepened it by leaning his body against your smaller build, a hand tilting your jaw up in a different angle.

He held you so gently, making you feel as if you were royalty. Hands in his hair and his arms around your waist, his kiss made it seem like you had chased the blowing winds and touched the pastel sky. His love rose you to the heavens above and you soared with a rush of freedom you had never felt before.

You kissed as the sky cast a golden glow upon your bodies, too lost in each other to realize you were the focus of someone’s envious gaze.

While you flirted with the life of crime, Yuno made his way through the hallowed hallways of Neiho’s palace. His heavy steps echoed throughout the empty path but he couldn't even hear a thing— his mind was littered with scattered thoughts. He marched his way to his younger brother’s quarters, determined that would be the day he would reveal his heart to his kin. The crown prince groaned in frustration, decorated hands messing with his jet-black hair as he tried to piece what to say.

How did one even start this conversation? Yuno never had a conversation as deep as this with his sibling before. The only person he poured his heart to was you.

Does he start with not waiting to take the throne or with his dream of travel? Should he begin with his skepticism over Advisor Rowena and the poor conditions of their people?

Yuno stopped in place— Rowena. He cringed at the thought of her. He heard the rumors swirling around the circle of nobility. The servants in the palace could never keep their mouth shut at the whispers. There were tales of the King making the advisor his betrothed for the sake of a flourishing kingdom.

He couldn’t fathom how his father came to this as a viable option for the betterment of Neiho.

Yuno thought traveled back to you and what you stood for: how your gigantic heart only thought of others. He recalled how your body was drenched with wounds and scars and yet, you still kept going for the people that had everything to lose. He wanted to find ways to make your life easier but he knew he couldn’t find them inside Neiho’s borders. He had to leave in order to find that solution.

Yuno had no idea how long he contemplated in front of Chansung’s room before the door burst open. Yuno let out a shocked yell as his brother cocked an eyebrow at his older sibling.

“Brother, how long were you going to stand outside my door before simply coming in?” Chansung leaned against the wall as Yuno placed his hand over his rapid heart. He tried to catch his breath much to his brother’s amusement, but he was a bundle of nerves.

“Chansung,” he exhaled, still clutching his chest, “how did you know I was here?”

“It is impossible to not hear your stomps and groans through the wall,” the younger prince poked. “I imagine the townsfolk down below could hear your pacing.”

“Of course,” the older prince said with a roll of his eyes. His younger brother wordlessly invited him in by opening the door to his chambers wider and he breezed through, taking a seat on Chansung’s plush mattress. Chansung closed the door behind him to find his usually composed sibling with his head in his hands. A symphony of defeated sighs left Yuno’s lips and Chansung set a comforting hand on his brother’s back.

“What ails you, dear brother?” The younger implored.

“Chansung.”

“Yes, brother?”

“Have you ever felt like there was something more out there in the world, just waiting for you?”

Chansung paused at Yuno’s question, retreating his hand from his brother’s body. A silence surrounded the room as the younger sat next to his sibling.

“I suppose I haven’t,” Chansung answered with a hum. He turned to face his brother, finding the crown prince’s face contorted with furrowed brows and sucked in cheeks. “I knew that my place was always here in the castle and I have always taken that role seriously.”

This was true. Chansung always buried himself in his studies, gathering enough knowledge to to soon overtake the place of Yuno’s future advisor. He studied religiously to not let his people down, just as his Father and Rowena currently were.

The older nodded silently, the black strands of his hair shifting to hide his eyes as he did so. He tugged on his earlobe, a habit he picked up when he was deep in thought or stressed beyond belief. Chansung caught sight of Yuno’s tell-tale and his lips pursed on trying to figure out as to why his brother was stressed.

“See, Chansung, that’s the difference between us,” Yuno broke the deafening silence.

“What is?”

“You are the one who deserves the throne, not I.”

“Brother!” Chansung shouted in defiance. “Why would you say that? You would make a great king!” He pushed with such force. Yuno smiled, his brother always had seen the best in him.

“Chansung, one cannot deny the truth,” the crown prince smiled at his sibling. The upturns of his plump lip showed the prince’s fondness for his brother and a twinge of regret for not being the royal people expected him to be.

“I have known what people have expected me to be and I have tried my best to live up to those expectations but...” Yuno began. He stood up and walked towards the open balcony, Chansung following in his wake. The elder leaned against the railings, hands resting on the cold stone as his sibling chose to press his back against it.

Townsfolk caught a glimpse of them from down below and enthusiastically yelled for the royal duo’s attention. The younger greeted them with matched excitement, bringing his hand up for a wave while the elder just nodded at them with a forlorn expression taking over his handsome face. He stared at the crowd a little longer than he should have, his mind wandering to the thief that stole his heart. His deep chocolate eyes traced the busy streets and alleyways, through the ways of the marketplace and the housing area until he could no longer see the outlines of the path.

“But you feel as if you belong down there,” Chansung finished for him with a hint of understanding.

“Yes,” Yuno breathed out.

“Brother, you have always had a knack for escaping,” Chansung joked lightheartedly to ease his brother’s troubled heart. It was not everyday a royal revealed he wanted to be one of the people after all.

A hearty, deep rumbling laugh escaped the crown prince’s lips. “I suppose I was not as discreet as I could have been,” he said with the shake of his head, “I was too busy running away from the guards to leave quietly.”

“I suppose not,” the younger chuckled along, the sounds of their laughter drifting with the winds.

“But Yuno,” Chansung’s voice called, “will you be alright?” His voice grew faint towards the end of the question and Yuno caught what his sibling was implying. Would the crown prince be alright after leaving a life of comfort?

“Yes,” Yuno smiled, his eyes shining in a way the second in line had never seen before, “for I will be happy.”

“Will you really be happy?” Chansung asked softly, his voice choking at the thought of his brother leaving him behind. He shook the sadness away and grinned widely at his sibling.

“You are leaving your favorite person behind after all,” he teased, barely dodging a playful punch to the chest. Yuno slung his arm over Chansung’s broad shoulder, bringing a hand to ruffle the other’s neatly styled hair.

“When have I ever called you that?”

“Come, Yuno,” the younger man said with a proud smile, “we have much to discuss before we bring this to Father.”

Yuno laughed once more, his heart bursting with an infinite amount of joy. He was one step closer to being free.

Nothing could take away his happiness, or so he thought. Neither brother realized the person lurking in the shadows, hanging onto every word with disdain.

“He wants to abdicate the throne for a measly street rat? How could this be?” Rowena asked herself as she stormed into her secret hideaway within the palace walls after hearing the conversation between the siblings. The fabric of her robe flowed behind her and the mighty jeweled staff pounded against the floor as she rushed her way down steep steps.

“All these years of scheming my way to the top will be wasted if he leaves with that peasant,” she spat harshly. Passing by the mirror hanging on her wall, Rowena paused in place to admire her looks. Running a hand through her shining black locks and stroking the sharp line of her jaw, she wondered what you had that she didn’t.

She had the looks, the intelligence, and the kingdom in the palm of her magic hand while you merely survived by committing to a life of crime. Why wasn’t the prince in love with her?

“Yuno and the position of queen was to be mine,” the advisor hissed, hazel eyes darkening with envy with each word she spoke. “I have not wasted my energy spelling the king only to settle for the second born.”

Her reflection disappeared from her view, a bundle of smoke and clouds hiding her away before dispersing into a sweet image of you and the prince together.

A terrifying shriek left her lips at the new reflection. Picking up the closest item within her reach, she hurled it into the mirror projecting that horrifyingly romantic image. The crack of the glass echoed in throughout the room and it fueled her bubbling ambition.

As her grip tightened against the length of her staff, she felt a new plan hatching in her head and dark magic coursing through her veins. “Prince Yuno and Neiho will be mine, make no mistake about that.”

You thought your love was too good to be true and he tried to convince you otherwise— you were a mere village thief and he was the Crown Prince. You came from practically nothing while he was of royal blood and yet, your fragile heart couldn’t help but fall for the lost man behind the crown and jewels. Your relationship was against the fates and the aligned stars but the prince had the strongest urge to rewrite them just to keep you by his side.

“I have scheduled a private audience with the King tomorrow.”

“And what will you discuss with him, love?” You stroked his fringe away from his forehead before cupping his cheek in your gentle hold.

He nestled into your palm, sighing at your warmth. “Renouncing the throne,” Yuno announced casually.

“I beg your pardon?!” You almost screamed into the night.

The prince ignores your little outburst, continuing his explanation. “The life of a royal is not the life I wish to live. I want to live a life of travel and adventure.” He sat up to clutch your hands in his. “I want to live a life with you, if you will have me.”

“With me?” You managed to mutter. “Out of all people, why with me?”

“Because I’m in love with you. Any day with you would be an adventure.”

“But I don’t have anything— no riches, just rags,” you swallowed the lump in your throat. He took you in, dirt smeared face and ripped clothing, and still looked at you like you held the world in your hands. Yuno saw the stars, the sky, the whole entire universe in your eyes. He didn’t need anything else— he just needed you.

“I love you more than anything else in this world but all I have to offer you is everything in me. I’m not sure if that is enough,” you bit your lip, teething gnawing down on your sensitive skin out of nervousness. He was the boy who had everything and he was willing to give everything up for a life with you.

Yuno brought your injured knuckles to his lips. He kissed them gently, holding your gaze with a soft one of his own. “My love, that is more than enough. You are more than enough.”

“But what about the villagers? What will happen to them if I were to leave?” You sputtered out, worrying about others rather than yourself.

He smiled at your selflessness. “I have already discussed this with Chansung. He is aware of the village’s situation and is willing to make changes to better their livelihood.”

“I can’t leave them behind,” you pulled your hands away. “They need me.”

“He is willing to work with your partner, Minhyung, to reach out to our people. No man left behind,” he replied with a smile. “We thought of all the options.”

You wanted to go with him but they were all you knew. Protecting the villagers and providing them with hope was always your number one priority— you had never thought of anything else. Would your mother be disappointed in you if you left them all behind or would she be happy to know that you have found a potential shot of happiness?

“Please, just think about it, my darling.”

“And Minhyung, he asked me to think about it!” You shrieked while running through the trees, a sack of gold hitting the small of your back. You looked behind you to see your younger partner-in-crime giving you the smuggest smile.

“Well, are you thinking about it?” He questioned, curiosity burning in his doe eyes. He wiggled his brows to tease you and you wanted to slap him with your heavy sack.

“What is there to think about? I’m not leaving you behind.”

“Why is that?” Your friend pushed.

“Because you need me, they need me.”

“Do we really need you or is it you that needs us?”

You frowned at him, not understanding his words. “What do you mean by that, Min?”

He laughed, nose coiling up cutely as he did so. “You have been stealing all your life, it’s all you know how to do. It’s familiar.”

“I do not see where you’re going with this.”

“You love him and you want to go with him but you’re scared.”

“Of what?”

“The unknown.” Minhyung gestured to all the riches you’ve stolen gathered by your feet. “This is all you’ve known but wouldn’t it be nice to do something more?”

“But this is all you’ve known too, Min,” you countered defensively.

“True, but by working with Prince Chansung, I can broaden my horizons.” There was this proud glint in his eye. “I can help more people. And you—”

“And me?”

“— you can finally be free to see what’s out there just like you’ve always dreamed of doing with nothing holding you back.”

Your friend grabbed hold of your hand, his larger one clasping over your own. Minhyung’s grip tightened around your palm to reassure you. “You can be selfish for once, to think only of yourself, and it will be perfectly fine.”

“Min, I want to be selfish but I’m frightened of everything— life beyond the walls and forest. What if everything out there is not what I think it is? What if I’m not prepared to leave this familiarity?”

Minhyung whispered your name as you began to spiral down a road he could not follow.

“And being in love with a prince for that matter! Love could be fleeting. Any given day after I leave with him, Yuno may not want me. He could turn his back on me and leave me to die. He has options, Min. I, for one, am not that lucky.”

Your friend squeezed firmly on your shoulder before reaching down to take hold of your hands. He crossed your arms over your chest and placed each hand on a shoulder, leading your fingers to tap against your skin. Minhyung encouraged you to follow along as he began to guide you through deep, calming breaths.

As your heart rate and thoughts began to settle, you wondered when Minhyung grew up to be the strong boy who stood beside you.

“Life is frightening. We know that more than anyone, flying by the seat of our pants,” Minhyung said with a chuckle of his own. “It’s alright to be scared of the unknown but it should not stop you from living your life the way you wish to live it.”

As you took another breath, you nodded to acknowledge his words.

“Do you want to live a life with the Crown Prince?”

“More than anything in this world,” was your firm reply.

Minhyung grinned at you, “Then that should be enough. Your love will be enough.”

Tugging him into a hug, you tucked your head into the crook of his neck. The act of affection was a “thank you” you cannot express with words. You only hoped your friend would understand the meaning behind the gesture. Luckily, with years of experience being your partner-in-crime, the young Minhyung was able to between the lines.

“Will you be alright?”

“Of course,” he said, placing a faint kiss against the crown of your head. “You’ve taught me everything I need to know.”

Minhyung, the younger and more energetic one of your thieving duo, ran ahead of you into the clearing to make the first drop of goods. You laughed at his excitable demeanor— you knew he would be the person you would miss most once you hightrailed out of the kingdom. He was the only family you had left but there he was, happy that you were finally setting yourself free.

The upward curve of your lips dropped when you heard his voice yell out for help. Heart racing, you let go of your sack, legs running faster than ever before to come to your best friend’s aid.

Once you caught a glimpse of him, your heart dropped to the floor, right by your soiled and tattered coverings you called shoes.

Minhyung was fighting against the hold of the strong guards that always chased your tail. His hands were handcuffed in chains and tears were running down his sunken cheeks as one guard repeatedly abused his small frame. You screeched at the vulgar sight unfolding before you— your little brother was being beaten to a pulp.

Three rough strikes to the stomach was all you could witness before you went flying towards him, hands outstretched to catch him as his body fell to the floor. You never reached him, another pair of guards preventing you from doing so. They immediately cuffed you and pulled your struggling frame towards them. Your shouts and frantic cries for the injured Minhyung were hushed when a restricting feeling took over your vocal chords.

Opening your mouth, you tried your best to make a sound but you found yourself mute.

A horrifyingly disturbing laugh came from behind the trees and you scuffled to find the source through your tears. The tall and sleek figure, dressed far too nice to be caught in these parts, approached you with the most evil smirk. Her back was straightened, chest puffed out, and head held high with pride as she used the tip of her staff to lift your head.

“So you are the one who caught the crown prince’s eye,” the figure said, her voice as piercing as her glare. “The little thief.”

“You,” came your choked reply as she released the spell she casted on you.

“Oh, so you know of me?” she laughed haughtily. “Say my name then, child.”

Refusing to do what she said, you turned your head to look at the unconscious Minhyung who was slumped across the grass.

“I said,” she hissed, using her hand to force your gaze back at her. “Say my name.”

“Rowena,” you growled. “What do you want from me? I have nothing you want.” Her sharp nails dug into your skin and you winced at the pain. The royal advisor clearly did not appreciate your snark.

“That is where you are wrong, my sweet child,” Rowena almost purred back. “You possess the thing I long for most.”

You scoffed at her answer. “And what would that be, witch?”

“Be careful with your words, street rat. I can end your friend’s life in an instant if you fail to hold your tongue,” a nail scratched your cheek, leaving you with a new cut. A thin stream of blood flowed down your face, dripping onto your tattered clothes as Rowena watched amusingly. “You are in possession of Prince Yuno’s heart when it was destined to be mine.”

You fought the urge to laugh, “You are doing this out of jealousy?”

“Hold your tongue, riff raff. You forget who is in control here, I can easily command my men to strike another blow on your poor fri—”

“No!” you yelled, cutting Rowena off, suddenly desperate to get on her good side. “Don’t hurt Minhyung; he has nothing to do with the situation!”

Minhyung weakly called your name and you ignored his cries.

“But he is a thief and it is a great crime to steal in this kingdom,” Rowena drawled on teasingly, like a cat playing with a hopeless mouse.

“No, please,” you begged. “You mustn’t hurt him.”

“Then you must do something for me in return, peasant,” Rowena laughed at how easily she had you wrapped around her finger. You appeared to be strong, but your overly selfless heart was weak.

“I will do anything you ask me to if you leave Minhyung alone,” you petitioned. You couldn’t let anything happen to Minhyung— he was the only family you had left. “He’s a brother to me.”

Minhyung’s head shot up at his new title while he gasped for air. Locking eyes with him, you smiled painfully. He was always at your side, protecting you when he could. Now, it was your time to protect him.

“I will let the boy live if you come with me without a fight,” Rowena schemed, grin growing wider by the second. She had you in the palm of her hands. “He is of no importance to me.”

“He is of the utmost importance to me,” you said, the familial love seeping through your veins. Though physically far apart from him, you hoped he could feel the love you had for him. Minhyung violently shook his head, as if to tell you not to go. He refused to let you sacrifice yourself to let him live, you had done enough for him as is.

“I will go with you, Rowena. Just allow me a moment to say my goodbyes.”

The guards holding you and Minhyung back looked at their commander for an order. With a roll of her eyes and a wave of her hand, you and your friend were freed of your confinement. You quickly shuffled to your feet and Minhyung fell into your arms as you sunk to the ground.

“Oh my stars, Min,” you sniffled as you took him in. Sandwiching his fallen face in between your hands, you stroked his cheeks and pushed back the strands of hair that stuck to his sweaty forehead. “Please tell me you’re alright.”

“I’ll be alright if you stay here with me,” Minhyung replied with tears welling up in his soft brown eyes. Minhyung was always the crier between the two of you. He cried more at your mother’s death than you did but this time, you let your tears cascade down your cheeks, knowing this was the last time you would see your best friend.

“You know I can’t do that. I can’t let anything happen to you, you have gotten yourself hurt because of me,” You gather enough strength in your shaking hands to squeeze his cheeks, something you always did to cheer him up. “I refuse to be the cause of your pain.”

“And I refuse to let you go,” Minhyung raised his hands to hold onto yours.

“I have made my choice,” you whispered harshly, “and that is to keep you and the others safe.”

You take a moment to hug the younger boy in your arms, trying to commit the feeling of Minhyung in your memory. Flashes of your best friend growing up by your side ran through your mind as your fingers stroked through his hair. Pressing a lingering kiss to the top of his head, you shut your eyes and bit back a sob. “Do me one favor? Find your happiness, wherever it may be and never let it go, alright?”

When you released him from your hold, Minhyung whined at the loss of warmth.

“You’re my brother, Minhyung. I love you,” were your last words to your thieving partner before you turned away from him and his heart wrenching sobs and willingly stepped into your doom.

It wasn’t supposed to end like this.

What started off as secret meetings and stolen kisses in alleyways was ending with you chained to the floor of the palace’s throne room while your lover watched helplessly from the side. He screamed your name and struggled against the hold of his guards but you shook his head to silence him.

Stop, you begged in your head, make it stop.

The King and Prince Chansung did nothing to help you or their kin, only staring blankly at the chaotic scene unfolding in front of them. They had no choice; they were bewitched to be at the sorceress’ beck and call, just like the many guards that protected the kingdom. If only Prince Yuno had realized it sooner.

“Why are you doing this?” Yuno yelled, his deep voice booming throughout the large room. His harsh glare, a look you had never seen on him, was focused on the lady seated on his father’s rightful throne.

“Why?” Rowena echoed. “My darling prince, I did this because of you and your wish to renounce the throne for her.” Her extreme distaste for you was apparent as she hissed the last word.

She left her seat, leisurely sauntering over to Yuno with a smile as if it was a casual meeting when the situation was far from it. Rowena squatted down to reach his level and Yuno hastily turned his head to the side, refusing to meet her eyes. His jaw tightened and his teeth grinded against each other as she forced him to look her directly in the eye. “Marry me and crown me as your Queen. Only then will I let her go.”

Instead of answering the witch with words, he chose to spit in her face instead. “Never, you hag. You are not worthy of ruling Neiho, nor will you ever be.” Yuno’s voice was ruthless and unwavering, just as a prince’s should be. Even in a moment like this, your heart swelled with pride at his bravery.

“Long live King Chansung,” he jeered, which only set Rowena off. “He is the next, rightful ruler of the kingdom.”

“If this is how you want to play, so be it, Prince,” Rowena laughed in his face. The sound of her cackles made shivers run down your spine and cold sweat broke out in a number of places. You were scared of what was to come.

Using her staff to help her back up to a standing position, Rowena made her way towards you with a menacing stare. The curve of her lips grew wider as you flinched back in fear. You heard the clanking of metal chains as Yuno wrestled against the guard’s hold. “Don’t you dare do anything to her!”

“And what will you do, Yuno?” she threw back. “There is nothing you can do to help her now.”

Only a few steps from you, she points the end of her staff in your direction. A gleaming emerald jewel taunted you as you sucked in a breath. “You, peasant, have always given selflessly without expecting anything in return so selfless you will remain,” she started to say, a gust of wind bursted out the end of the jewel. It first surrounded her figure, then you, before spreading throughout the room.

A golden lamp appeared out of thin air, floating in front of your face before you felt the spark of dark magic course within you. It released you from your physical binds only to leave you immobile. A pair of gold cuffs materialized on your wrists and tugged you closer to the lamp.

“No longer will you be able to act selfishly for you are bound to this lamp and to these chains until a master wishes you free,” she explained. The taunting laughter that would soon haunt your memories echoed in your ears as ideas for a curse were thrown into the wind. “It will be at least two thousand years until you have the chance of seeing your precious prince again, that is, if Prince Yuno finds you first.”

“What? No!” Yuno howled across the room as you were slowly consumed by a dark cloud. Calls of your name were heard but you could not respond as Rowena began to chant,

“Golden lamp of antique old, Bind her body, mind, and soul. May she obey her master’s whim, Turn her future dark and grim. Freedom comes with just one wish Unless it is a true love’s kiss.”

The smoke spread throughout the room, leaving the surroundings in a haze. As the evil enchantress concentrated on the curse, the hold on the others in the room fell through. The king and Chansung snapped out of their daze only to watch the horrific separation begin to take place.

“Brother, what is the meaning of this?!” Chansung shouted to get his sibling’s attention, bringing an arm to shield his eyes from the powerful gusts. His father gripped at his youngest’s sleeve as the gale turned into a hurricane with you in the middle.

Yuno failed to hear his brother’s questions, eyes zoned in on you as your freedom was slowly stripped away from you. The sight of you crushingly accepting your fate tugged on his heartstrings. This wasn’t the ending he wanted for you. This was far from it.

"Remember me! You must remember me," he yelled over the commotion. You watched him struggle over the smoke as you cry out for him.

"How could I ever forget you?" you reassured him with a broken smile. You felt the tail end of your body being pulled inside your new cage and tried to fight the unbreakable force.

Yuno screamed your name once more. You locked eyes across the room, his dark orbs spinning with love and desperation. You wondered if your wet irises looked the same as his.

"I will find you! I will search until the ends of the earth until you are by my side again.”

You wanted to laugh at his hopeful optimism— how did love get you into this situation?

As much as you wanted to believe Yuno would find you, the situation was bleak.

Rowena’s body rumbled with a laughter so sinister, so piercing that you flinched at the sound as her dark magic ran through your veins. “I would like to see you try, my prince, but until then, you and the throne belong to me,” she sneered.

Ignoring the enchantress’ claims, his eyes continued to search for your disappearing figure. “I will come back to you, I promise!” Yuno’s deep voice rang into your ears.

“I hope you will,” you whispered a defeated reply back.

“If not in this life, then I will find you in the next! Mark my words!”

“Yuno…”

“In any version of reality, my darling, I will find you and I will choose you every single time. Do you hear me?”

You nodded vigorously as you choked back your sobs.

Just as the last bits of your being slipped through the spout of the lamp, Yuno broke free from the guards’ hold and rushed to your side. You reached out a hand and his fingertips grazed yours.

“Don’t forget me,” he mumbled through choked up sobs. His shaking hands grabbed at the dreaded lamp, clutching it to his broad chest like it was the most precious thing on earth.

The sight of him so desperate before you was reminiscent of the star-crossed lovers you heard about during your younger years, the ones that ended in the worst of tragedies. You pondered if this was your own personal tragedy, if this particular scene would haunt you for the rest of your cursed life.

You exchanged one last glance. One last touch.

Your hand clutched his cheek like it was made of the most fragile glass and the pad of your thumb stroked his soft skin. Yuno leaned into your touch, wanting to soak in his last moment with you. A spark flickered the place of contact, a sizzle of bright dust oozing from your fingers— your first dose of magic and you couldn’t even use it to keep him by your side. A glittering tear fell from your cheek and landed on his skin.

It was then you muttered your last words to the man who claimed your heart before being completely tugged into your golden cage, “As you wish.”

author’s note. hello, my darling readers! i know many of you have been waiting for this release for the longest time. this is the first of three (or four) parts. this part has been done for quite some time now; i’m just struggling to get the rest of it out.

but i thought it was too good of a story to just sit there in my google docs. i had this need to finally put part of it out into the world so here we are! i’ve been writing this since october and i would like to thank the many people who have helped me with the plot so far: kira, my chaotic gc, allex, and joyce!! ily all!! <3 this is for you!!!

part two is finished and i’m in the process of editing it! will it be out soon? who knows?

taglist. @rindomo @yshbaewenjun @hannie-dul-set @itsapapisongo @babyyynatty @notnctu @w0nni3wrld @yuta1forme @lucyinthesunshinee

i lost my original copy of the taglist so i’m sorry if i missed people! (especially since it’s been so long!) please let me know if you would like to be added to the list for future parts!

#neowritingsnet #cznnet #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct x reader #jung jaehyun #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun fic #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun angst #as you wish

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luminois · 3 years

Text

— 𝐡𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐣𝐢𝐧;

𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡, 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫

𝐰: 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝, 𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐮𝐥𝐭 (𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭), 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬 (𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐮𝐧𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐱, 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐝𝐧𝐢).

𝟒𝟓𝟏𝟑 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬, 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫.

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭.

𝐩.𝐬.: 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 ･:*✧ 𝐬𝐨 𝐰𝐡𝐨’𝐬 𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐢𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫.

the needle poked the pad of your finger, making you squeak as droplets of blood fell on the scarf you’d been sewing, patching it up out of kindness. the wool was now stained with red.

“shit,” you hissed through gritted teeth, throwing the unfinished piece in the corner of the small room before sucking on the bleeding finger.

the curse had slipped from your lips easily, and you’d done nothing to stop it. you’d discovered it made pain more bearable in a way you couldn’t explain, and your heart didn’t feel heavy because of it. sentences that sounded centuries old resonated in your mind, warning you about your teeth falling off upon speaking such unkind words. you chuckled bitterly, letting your head fall back until it touched the wall. how could you have fallen for such childlike threats? the archangels must have been sure you were nothing but a fool, and at the time they’d been right.

you’d believed their lies, listened to them preaching of saving poor innocent souls from an evil bigger than them, an evil that they couldn’t have understood. but humans knew about sin more than you could have, kept in the dark and fed distorted versions of the truth like you had been.

the truth, the real unadulterated truth, was that the world wasn’t as simple as they wanted you to believe. sometimes war was necessary, it was liberation and revolution, and more often than not peace wasn’t enough. sometimes the only way to do good was to use despicable means, and that was because life isn’t fair. they’d taught you who your enemy was without mentioning the infinite amount of shades of grey existing between the light and the dark, showing you an idealized version of the world. now reality had knocked the air out of your lungs and you were left unarmed, gasping on your own.

in the dark of your room, the metallic taste of blood met your tongue and you were reminded of crimson eyes and searing skin. you smiled at the irony of it all. the only one who had been honest with you, who hadn’t lied to smooth out the edges, who had deemed you strong enough to handle the truth, was your supposed enemy.

in a way, hyunjin had ruined your entire existence. you didn’t have a purpose anymore, you were lost and confused and unable to do your job without thinking of how hypocritical it was, to pretend to know what was best for others without having ever experienced pain yourself. he’d shattered the pink glasses perched on your nose and made you see how diverse the world truly was.

most importantly, hyunjin hadn’t left you alone. you hadn’t ever noticed how fucked up it was that the highest sent their angels all alone to wander through a world they barely knew, without any help or guidance, until hyunjin had refused to leave you by yourself. he had held you and dried your tears, hushed you softly and forced himself to tell you about how sometimes life was also bright and full of wonder. you could tell he’d been struggling to find examples, his handsome face contorted by furrowed eyebrows, but you’d believed him anyways. how could you not?

hyunjin had followed you when you’d wanted to close the bakery and lay down in the shade of your room, only a small window letting the sunshine in. your sheets still held his scent, from the way he’d held you until you’d fallen asleep. you had woken up alone, but wrapped in a sweater too big to be your own.

your eyes traveled to the small desk on the opposite side of the room, where the sweater was placed on a chair. you looked at it for a long second and then got up from your bed, swiftly slipping on your shoes before crossing the space in quick strides. the soft material fell on your smaller figure disgracefully, and you adjusted it until it was hiding the cotton shorts you slept in. you made yourself smaller as you stepped out of the building, wrapping your arms around yourself. earth had become too cold now that you’d gotten used to a demon’s heat.

you wandered through the deserted streets without a destination. some shops had started to open up again, but you’d done nothing more than help clean up the streets, so it wasn’t anything you could be proud of. the town still wasn’t close to being considered a welcoming place but you figured things were just going to work out on their own. your services had never really been needed. you wondered if you’d ever had any other role besides providing temporary relief.

loud noises and shouts had just grasped your attention after turning a corner when a young, disheveled woman ran towards you. you recognized her instantly as the gentle young woman who had helped you revive the unkept communal garden weeks prior. her cheeks were crossed by tears, and the shirt she was wearing had been teared up and was now pathetically hanging off of her figure. she took your hands in a bruising grip, and the panic you saw in her eyes made you tremble.

her voice was broken by sobs and fear, but you managed to make out a sentence between her confused mumbling. “he’s going to kill him, you have to do something!”

“it’s okay, you’re okay,” you said, putting aside your confusion to try and calm the poor woman down. “breathe with me, please.”

she gulped and nodded feverishly, her ragged breaths slowing down as she followed yours, her eyes locked on you as if you were her last lifeline. when she was finally able to talk without difficulty, you asked her to explain what had happened.

“i was walking home, the sun was still out so i thought it was safe, but then a man,” she stammered out, having to take a deep breath before continuing. “he grabbed me and i screamed but he put his hand over my mouth and tried to…”

a sob made her voice break and you hushed her gently, rubbing your hands with hers comfortingly. her next words made goosebumps arise on your skin.

“if it hadn’t been for that boy… oh, i don’t know what could’ve happened.”

“a boy?” you asked.

the woman nodded, her eyes widening with restlessness. “yes! people say they’ve seen you two together, that’s why i came searching for you. he saved me, but now i think he’s going to kill that man, you have to do something!”

she pulled at your hands and repeated her words while you tried to take a decision. could letting that monster die mean that justice would’ve been made? it wasn’t hyunjin’s place to be the judge of his actions, but what if he was none other than the executioner chosen by the highest? your internal conflict was reflected in the furrow of your eyebrows. what was right, and what wasn’t? mere days prior you would’ve answered that question without hesitation, but now things were different. you were different.

at last, you nodded wordlessly and let the woman guide you towards the rowdy noises of the fight. a small crowd had gathered, people shouting and enjoying the display of violence, as if it were a show made purposefully for their entertainment. you had to jostle your way to the front of the circle, elbowing people left and right until you had a clear view.

hyunjin sat on the man’s midriff, keeping him down with his body weight and a hand around his neck. he was holding his throat so tight his knuckles had turned white and the man’s lips were starting to become blue. his other hand was balled in a fist, relentlessly hitting the man’s already destroyed face. his nose was broken and he was bleeding from multiple spots, his blood staining hyunjin’s hands and the concrete below them.

that was hyunjin’s truest form. a demon with his black hair falling over his eyes and sticking to his nape, sweat running down the sides of his face and neck as he bit his lips and breathed hard through his nose from the exertion. his eyes burned with wrath and his inked arms displayed all of his strength. once again, you weren’t scared of him even if you knew you should have been.

he wasn’t taking out the violence nested inside of him on an innocent victim. he was punishing someone that was more monstrous and revolting that hyunjin himself could’ve ever been, and you weren’t sure about wanting to stop him. but a murder wasn’t something you could just walk away from. the people witnessing the scene weren’t going to call the police over an aggression, but if someone died something would have to be done, and you found yourself terrified at the idea of losing hyunjin in such a way. he would have gone back to hell to escape and you weren’t ready to be left alone, without him.

hands tried to hold you back but you pushed them away and stepped inside the circle, calling hyunjin’s name. his fist stopped midair and he turned to look at you, his shoulders raising and dropping as he regained his breath. “angel?”

his eyes followed as you got close to him and grabbed his arm resolutely, making his grip around the man’s throat loosen up. you didn’t seem scared like he thought, but you’d always been full of surprises. he let himself be pulled on his feet, and a smirk curved his lips when you stepped on the unconscious man’s genitals hard enough to make him wail in pain, before leading hyunjin away from the crowd.

——— ･:*✧ ———

hyunjin’s place was anonymous, nothing could suggest that there was someone living in it, except for the bed. you observed the sheets in disarray and then looked up to the headboard. the dark wood was chipped, little pieces of it had come off and the wall behind it was worn out, as if the headboard had hit it repeatedly until the paint had started to break. you looked back at hyunjin as he closed the door behind him and the confused look on your face made him chuckle. he raised his eyebrows and you felt your cheeks starting to burn, so you turned away to not let him see. sex, of course.

“i know you’re blushing, angel, no need to hide,” hyunjin said, walking closer until you felt his breath hit your neck. “you look pretty when you’re shy.”

you sucked in a breath as you felt the ghost of his hands on your hips, before he moved to the side and went to sit on his bed. he groaned as he did so and you remembered the task at hand.

“i need towels, and painkillers.”

“there’s towels in the bathroom and i don’t fucking need painkillers, i’m a demon.”

“you’re human right now,” you reminded him as you opened the door to the small bathroom.

“humans are stupid and weak, their bodies are useless,” you heard him say as you ran a couple towels under the sink. “well, except for one thing.”

you turned the water off and walked back to him, gasping as hyunjin took off his shirt. the dark material had hid it well, but now you could clearly see the blood spilling from his ribs.

“is that a fucking stab wound?!” you shouted as you dropped the towels on the bed and kneeled in front of him to look at the injury.

“he barely scratched me, that’s just- wait,” he said, his smile getting bigger as he realized what you’d said. “did you just say fucking?”

you ignored hyunjin’s words and pressed a towel over the injury to stop the bleeding, until he grabbed your chin and made you look at him.

“it’s just a cut, angel, i moved away before he could seriously hurt me or that woman,” he reassured you, stroking your cheek with his thumb. you sighed in relief and leaned into his touch, your skin getting stained by the blood on his hands, unaware of the turmoil building in hyunjin’s chest.

you, his pretty angel kneeling between his legs, caring for his injuries and saying the bad words you’d picked up from him after kicking a man in the balls. forgotten feelings were filling his stomach and making his cold heart beat faster than anything else could, faster than any random fuck or any fist fight. hyunjin had always known you were different, the weirdest angel he’d ever met, and it made you unbelievably beautiful in his eyes. you made him want to be gentle, to make you happy, and it made him want to ruin what was left of your angelic innocence, too. but he could never hurt you, so, for the first time in his centenarian existence, he was going to be soft, just for you.

“is this my sweater?” he asked, running his finger along its neckline.

you nodded, picking up a towel to clean your bloodstained cheek before doing the same with his hands. “you left it at my place.”

“it looks better on you,” hyunjin said, smiling as he saw you bite back a smile of your own.

once his hands were as clean as you could manage and the cut on his ribs had stopped bleeding, you searched for other wounds. the only one you could see was the little cut on his nose bridge, and you figured the man had gotten in a punch before getting his face destroyed. you reached up to clean it but hyunjin’s hands were on your waist before you could do anything.

“get up from the floor, angel,” he said. his voice was almost a whisper as he lifted you up without needing your help.

you sat on his lap with your legs on either side of him, the closeness making your head spin. you watched your hand tremble as you moved his hair away from his face, hyunjin’s hands caressing your back. he now had to look up at you and he felt all of his smugness wash away, his lips parted as he took in every small detail. perfect, from the last hair on your precious head to the tips of your toes. how could you be so perfect for him?

you felt shy under his gaze, the softness in his eyes unknown to you both. “hyunjin?”

“i want to kiss you so bad,” he said. his voice was low and you shivered, your hands tightening where they were placed on his shoulders while his traveled up your back until he was holding the back of your head, fingers carded through your hair. “do you want me to, angel?”

you did, and you didn’t need to think about it. this wasn’t a demon trying to corrupt an angel. it was you and hyunjin, uncaring of the laws of the universe saying you should hate each other, in love. because you could feel it, the earth-shattering love growing between you, could’ve even touched it had you been in your angelic form. the only physical manifestation of it you had right there was your gasping heart and the emotion in hyunjin’s eyes, and it was enough.

hyunjin’s lips swallowed your inexperienced ones, pulling whimpers from you as he bit and licked and overwhelmed you with new sensations. his hands roamed down your body and pulled you impossibly closer. he sucked harshly on your bottom lip and then left a trail of wet kissed down your neck as you gasped for hair, hugging his neck tightly. he bit and sucked on the sensitive skin, and you felt his smirk when he found a spot that made you yelp. angry red now adorned your throat, and the demon looked at his masterpiece with satisfaction before kissing you again.

his hands disappeared under your sweater and hyunjin leaned back to look at you with a glint in his red irises. “what were you thinking when you left your house like this, angel?”

your cheeks burned red as you remembered the cotton shorts you’d been wearing the entire time. they were a flimsy, baby blue material, barely covering your bum while you slept, and the same went for the matching top you were sporting as well. one of your hands flew to cover your mouth as hyunjin’s slender fingers reached your left nipple, toying with the hardened bud while his eyes never left your face. he grabbed your wrist and uncovered your mouth, drinking in your flustered expression. under you, the tent in his pants was now poking your thigh unashamedly.

“were you thinking of me, mmh? going out half naked and covering up with my sweater, such a bad girl.”

hyunjin grabbed the hem of the sweater to pull it off and you swiftly raised your arms to help him, impatient to have his lips back on yours. addictive was one word to describe the way he kissed you, and suddenly you wanted to find out what else he could do to make you feel this way. the fastest way to do so was pushing his buttons, and you’d spent enough time around him to know just what to say.

the sweater hit the floor and you cupped hyunjin’s face. “i’m not a bad girl, i’m your little angel.”

his hands on your thighs slipped under your shorts to grab your butt cheeks, hard. “you are?”

he raised a challenging eyebrow at you before leaning in and mouthing at your covered breasts. you moaned as he sucked on it and then moved up, kissing your collarbones while moving your top’s strap down your shoulder.

“i am,” you stuttered out, “i thought of you so much these days, i even t-touched myself while thinking about you, hyunnie.”

you felt him smile against your skin and come up to kiss you properly, now hugging your waist. you melted at the way his tongue danced with yours, a weight lifted from your shoulders. you’d sinned because of him and you didn’t regret it, knowing he liked it made you feel proud.

“did you like it, angel? did it make you feel good?”

“i don’t know,” you admitted. “it felt a little good but… weird? i don’t think i did it properly.”

hyunjin laughed, and the burning feeling he was laughing at you had your cheeks going red in embarrassment. “my pretty girl can’t even touch herself properly, mmh? that’s alright, i’m gonna teach you how to do it.”

you squealed as he picked you up and let you fall on the soft mattress, your hair spread around you like a halo. his shirtless form hovered over you like a vision as he took off your shorts and pried your shaking legs open. he smirked at the wet patch on your panties before subtly dragging his knuckles over it, making you gasp and tremble.

“look at you, so wet and sensitive for me already.”

hyunjin laid next to you on his side, propped up on his elbow so he could see all of you. you looked up at him with wide eyes and his smile turned soft. “give me your hand, angel.”

he took your right hand in his and led it down your body, from your useless top to your bare stomach to where you needed it the most. you came in contact with the damp spot on your panties and pouted at the uncomfortable feeling, raising your hips to kick them off and they joined the little pile of clothes gathered on the floor.

“close your eyes,” hyunjin said, guiding your hand between your legs, “and think about me.”

you complied, and the first touch made you gasp. your free hand flied to grasp any part of hyunjin you could reach, ending up scratching at his chest as images of him flooded your mind. he whispered instructions in your ear, and a new wave of arousal gushed out of you as he pressed your middle finger on a hard nub. you screamed, your toes curling up at the pleasure.

“feels good, mmh?” he said, making you draw circles around that heavenly spot. you nodded, unable to think straight, but it wasn’t enough. “words, baby.”

“it f-feels good.”

“that’s where you wanna touch when you’re by yourself, but you’re with me right now.”

you opened your eyes and looked up at him, confused by his words. hyunjin chuckled and kissed your temple, endeared, and brought your hand lower. the burning sting of both yours and hyunjin’s fingers pushing into you made you cry out and hide your face in his neck. he hushed you softly, whispering sweet nothings in your ear and leaving pecks on your clammy forehead, letting you get used to the stretch.

“it hurts,” you whined, tears threatening to slide down your cherub cheeks.

“i know, angel, but it’s going to hurt even more later if we don’t do this now,” he reassured you. “be my good girl and tell me when it gets better.”

a minute passed until you finally started to relax, and from then on it felt incredible. countless of your moans and whines, muffled against hyunjin’s skin, filled the room as he added a finger and then another one. your tears started to fall when you found that first spot again, pressing against it while hyunjin stretched you open. it felt like your pleasure was building up, your sounds progressively getting louder as you trashed around on the mattress, and then it was over.

hyunjin’s long fingers slipped out and he grabbed your wrist to keep your hand away. his lips drowned your complaints as he hugged you close, your bodies sweaty and burning up against each other.

“why?” you whined, letting your damp cheek rest against this chest. hyunjin’s heart was beating fast and strong, his big hands stroking your back reassuringly.

“i can give you something better, angel,” he said, sitting up before helping you out of your top.

“better than that?” you asked in disbelief, now laying completely naked in the middle of the bed under hyunjin’s hungry gaze. he laughed at you again and your thighs rubbed against each other, instinctively trying to create some friction.

“you have no idea how good i can make you feel, that’s not even half of it, baby.”

you watched mesmerized as hyunjin took off his pants, the clinking of his belt as it fell on the floor making you shudder. every time you saw him you thought he couldn’t get more gorgeous, and he proved you wrong every time. your half-lidded eyes got drunk off how perfect the demon looked standing there, arrogant in the way he touched himself, a moving work of art. his gaze licked down your own body as if it were an actual touch, and you smiled at how beautiful it made you feel.

your legs went willingly when hyunjin’s hands grabbed your thighs gently and made a space for himself between them, but they started to shake when you felt him prod at your core. his fingers had hurt before, you were afraid of the pain you were about to experience.

“angel, look at me,” hyunjin said, smiling softly at the way you were holding your hands close to you in an attempt to reassure yourself. he leaned down to kiss your lips, your noses bumping together and making you giggle. “don’t be scared, it passes quickly and then it feels good.”

“really?”

“you know i don’t lie to you.”

you felt the pain as he was kissing you again, swallowing your cries and pecking away your tears. hyunjin waited for you to relax under him, something he’d never done for anybody else, and held you close as you left marks on his back.

“breathe, baby,” he said, caressing down your sides. “tell me when you’re ready.”

true to hyunjin’s words, it didn’t take long for the tension and hurt to melt away, your flesh going lax as you sighed in relief. he settled deeply inside of you, the sting from the stretch still present but you found it strangely pleasurable, and you hugged his neck before whispering. “you can move.”

“that’s my good girl.”

the demon’s eyes sparkled red and then he set a pace that was brutal, eliciting screams and noises you’d never heard yourself make before, hyunjin’s own moans quickly joining yours. your fingers got tangled in his hair, now wet with the same sweat that was falling on your skin in droplets, his skin absolutely searing.

you wrapped your legs around his waist and your eyes rolled in the back of your head when he changed the angle, finding just the right spot. a string of words barely resembling hyunjin’s name left your throat as he wrapped an hand around it, pressing just enough to make you lightheaded.

“you’re perfect, angel,” he said, his voice low and breathy as he panted. he took your hand in his and brought it to your stomach. “you’re doing so well, you did this, my good girl. right here, feel how well you’re taking me.”

you looked down between the two of you, still gasping for air when you felt it, him moving under your skin, and something loosened. a shudder washed over you and your hands tightened around hyunjin’s neck, both keeping him close and pushing him away as you screamed.

hyunjin only slowed down for a minute, barely letting you catch your breath before picking up the pace again. you whined as the feeling got so intense it started to hurt but he only hushed you down, singing your praises and sweetly torturing you at the same time. you had to endure the same high times and times again before hyunjin started to lose his rhythm, and then you felt warmth flooding you and his body fell on you, covering you completely as his muscles trembled violently.

kisses smothered your wet cheeks, when did you start to cry again? your mind was hazy with exhaustion and still high on the most intense and sublime sensations you’d ever experienced. you noticed how dark the room had gotten and wondered just how much time had passed, but you didn’t really care. every bone in your body ached and hyunjin was still inside of you, contributing to the uncomfortable feeling of laying on a bed dirty with your own blood and sweat. but that was the best place on earth, where the heavy smell of sex met the heavenly scent of your lover.

you stroked hyunjin’s dark hair and he turned to look at you, eyes full of wonder. “how were you the best?”

“the best?” you repeated dumbfounded, your voice scratchy from all the screaming. “you’ve been with people far more used to it than me, i’m sure of it, hyunnie. it’s impossible i did better than them.”

“none of them lives up to you, i’m ruined for everyone else now.”

“you’re ruined?” you said, “what am i, then?”

hyunjin smiled. “you’re my little angel.”

do you want to read more?

banner by @blueprint-han

taglist: @sleepylixie @bobateastay @orphic-chan @aliceu @softieyn @riel-precious @witchylixie @tulipsandfire @anskiie @tpwkjerii @blackkacchan @fournia @parachuuuus @inlovewithasa @skzshortcake @lmxral @peachy-maia @iwanttobangchan @virgothicc @joy-salem @chans-baby-girl

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creativeashproductions · 3 years

Text

Welcome to Our Hell // Charlie Gillespie

IN WHICH: Charlie asks the reader a simple question that leads the man to fall down a rabbit hole of reading. Despite the panic you felt along with your fellow writers you still introduced and helped him navigate the pool of fanfiction.

Warnings: None (it’s actually possible with me??)

Words: 1k

A/N: I couldn’t resist making a tiny blurb about the revelation that Charlie has read fanfiction, that he enjoyed reading it. I actually talked about how Owen and Charlie would react to jatp fanfiction so sorry for manifesting 😬

ALL FICS MENTIONED ARE TAGGED.

TO BE TAGGED SEND AN INBOX/ASK PLEASE!

Masterlist

Your eyes slightly glanced up from your computer to where a certain someone was humming along to an Eagles song. His hips swayed as he slipped the egg in the pan, unaware of your eyes following him. He was entirely in his own world while he left you to finish up what he was led to believe was just school work.

The innate cheerful aura the male gave off regardless of the landscape had always been one of your favourite things about him. He saw the joy and good in things most people tended to overlook. It didn’t matter if he had his guitar in his hands or a cooking tool; he’d shoot that smile that melted your heart.

“Whatcha doin’?” Charlie questioned, peering over the island in the apartment you had rented in the city.

“Just doing some work.” You replied, beginning to type once more with a sudden burst of inspiration. You barely noticed he had slid the egg onto the plate before he was at your side.

“Are you writing for Tumblr?”

That one sentence froze you. Fingers stiffened above the well-loved keyboard of your computer you’d invested a fair amount of money on. Goosebumps swarmed every inch of your skin that suddenly lost a few shades.

Your skittish gaze found purchase in the warm ocean of hazel that bore no judgment, “Did you just say Tumblr? H-how do you know Tumblr Charlie?”

The Canadian hummed in response with a thoughtful expression, “I saw this really cool artwork, and it had a link. I followed it to Tumblr. It’s such a cool site.”

“It’s a hell site.” You deadpanned at the young actor who held no contempt for the different creativity methods unleashed in the fandom. Your e/c irises stayed stuck in a battle of colour with his own eyes.

“If it’s a hell site, why do you go on it?”

“It’s like a car crash or a burning building. It’s horrifying, but you stay to see which outcome ends up winning.” You had to carefully find the words to eloquently describe why you kept returning to a site that was frustrating at times.

“There’s so much diversity from songs, traditional art, poems, dances, covers and now writing. It’s insane.” Charlie chucked as he nudged the plate of breakfast he’d cooked for you, “I’m really digging the ‘90s Lalex books-”

“Fanfics. Fics for short.” You offered the man who held a slight expression of confusion that quickly cleared up, “And the writing has been going on since the series dropped. I’d be rich for every fic that referenced Luke’s aversion to sleeves.”

The boisterous laugh filled the room as Charlie hunched over. His arms wrapped around his midsection.

“Don’t you find it weird that there are fics about you?”

“Weird?” Charlie spoke, scrunching up his nose adorably. His hazel eyes lightened further, “Y/N, I’m not weirded out. I’m honoured that I made enough impact to have people writing about me.”

A small smile broke across your face, “You totally have a secret account, don’t you?”

“No. NO.” The whisper come in the dark of the bedroom where both sides of the couple should be sleeping. You had been before Charlie whined with his phone attached to his hand.

“Baby?” You groaned, turning to find him still invested in the world of fanfiction. His hazel eyes, tear-filled, raised to meet yours, “What are you doing up at-3am?”

“I just finished reading this adorable fic about Willex. The euphoria had me reading the next fic without reading the summary.” Charlie cried to the bedside light you’d turned when his sniffles woke you up. The near distraught man didn’t fight as you gently took his face out of his hand.

“Oh, Char.” You hummed, bringing the brunette into your arms as he mourned whatever was in the fic.

“Luke died with his girlfriend waiting in the Orpheum. She lived and began a life with Bobby..er Trevor.” Charlie whispered against the soft comforter you’d only recently bought, “They never got to say goodbye. As Luke’s portrayer, I just know the double betrayal took him to his knees.”

“Ah, you found @losttinwritings ‘See you Again’. That one is a doozy.” You winced, remembering the heartbreaker, “You, however, need sleep.”

Charlie’s eyes quickly met the phone sitting in between you two, “But-”

“Here.” You handed over your own phone after clicking your secondary account, “It’s one of my all-time comfort fics when I’m feeling sad. @dream-a-little-bigger-x always nails it out of the park but ‘Love Shack’? Immaculate.”

Charlie’s eyes flickered between the phone in his hand to your eyes twinkling in the albeit shitty lighting the cheap lamp offered. The vulnerability in your eyes at offering your blog took his breath away. This was a place where you were safe in your thoughts with no judgment.

“Oh! And @cherrymaybank created ‘A Romantic’. A beautiful story in the eyes of a hopeless romantic Luke and the stoic, independent reader.” You offered with a grin and sigh of happiness, “I’ll have to start tagging you in the ones I adore. Definitely gonna introduce you to @merceret’s work; it’s always amazing regardless of how long the fic is or the distance between work. I’d wait a thousand years for her.”

Charlie’s lips spread to reveal that smile that always had you falling back in love over and over again. It even eased the panic you felt viewing Charlie’s rather honest confession he put on his Insta story. He’d caused panic within the writing community as he boldly announced his pride, awe, joy and love for all the fandom provided creatively.

Next thing you knew, you’d started sending each other fics you’d think the other would enjoy; it often ended up with the same fic being sent. Charlie didn’t address the topic publicly to allow the buzz of panic to die down. He also never discovered your personal writing blog either, well, that you knew about.

Sometimes you’d find him sniffling over a story where Luke discovers his girlfriend was unknowingly pregnant and never got to see him child grow up. That one also tore your heart apart and you’d been the one to write it. Just a secret you’d be taking to your grave.

Tag List (PLEASE SEND AN INBOX TO BE ADDED! I CANNOT GUARANTEE YOU WILL BE ON THE LIST VIA POST COMMENTS!)

@safehavenmuse @siennanoelle01 @whiterose291 @mell-bell @blackhood5sos @ficrecsideblog @ifilwtmfc @deadpoolgirl23 @crappy-unicorn @sunsetcurve-h @elioelioeli0 @lovesanimals @popcrone818 @lolychu @deepsleepnat @tenaciousperfectionunknown @aunicornmademedoit @just-a-writer-here @simp4reggie @faithiebrock01 @overlyhypedup @differentsoulrascalsalad @aesthetic-lyss @versaceapa @carleywhittaker @lostgirl219 @itsalexx21 @elllaoo4 @merxxleighann @mediocremunge @fantomlovesjuke4ever @dpaccione @oswin05 @kaylinfayezink @aberette13 @faithie-brock-gillespie01 @eharvey0218 @overlyhypedup @benstormy @auriandthepussicats @sarcasticsagittarius1998 @whothefuckstolemykeds @siriuswvrld @princessvader15 @xoxbloodreinaxox @heimdoodle @joshy-obx @lovesanimals @oopsiedoopsie23 @am3l1a-24 @flying-solo-without-you @jaskiers-sweetkiss @lostrandomfangirln @must-be-a-weasley-92 @jatp-holland @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch @dxlanhxlland @dasexydevitt13 @ifilwtmfc @arianagrandes-things @kinda-really-lost @marinettepotterandplagg @ssprayberrythings @morgandamrose @thedarkqueenofavalon @zukoshonourr @crybabyddl @spooky-season-bitch @kcd15 @morganayennefertyrell @magnet-girl @all-in-fangirl @kinda-really-lost @tenaciousperfectionunknown @badwolf00593 @blowakissbabe @talksoprettyjjx @thesweetestsinner @kaitieskidmore1 @writerinlearning @aiofheavenandhell @sageellsworth05 @link-102 @thesweetestsinner @merceret @imsydneywalker @sunsetcurvej @nicoledawson5604 @merceret @kexrtiz @biqherosix @lukewearingbeanies @dangersolns @soverignparker

#charlie gillespie imagines #charlie gillespie fanfiction #charlie gillespie x reader #jatp fanfic #jatp luke #luke patterson imagines #charlie gillespie #luke patterson #charlie gillespie imagine #caitsy and ash productions

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sylvies-chen · 3 years

Text

You Make Me Feel So Young

Summary: Tim shows up at Lucy's apartment after struggling with some guilt, and finally gets that dance she'd saved for him.

Warnings: none

Words: 2.6K

A/N: For day 1 of the Chenford Fanfic Week 2021 organized by @therookiebook!! I'm so excited to participate, I hope you guys like this oneshot <3

AO3 link

++++++++

He feels guilty.

Lucy knows he does, even before he tells her. After everything at Angela’s wedding went down, after she and Jackson had been taken and nearly died, after the dust had settled from that entire stressful day, Lucy can feel the guilt oozing out of him.

Only Tim Bradford shows up at her door to talk about it, and it’s about the last thing she expects to happen.

Like, ever.

“Hey,” he blurts out as soon as she opens the door.

“Hi.” Lucy doesn’t know what to say but she knows the hand that’s holding onto the edge of her door feels numb all of a sudden and her breath gets caught in her throat.

“Can I come in?” Tim asks, trying to seem nonchalant. Lucy sees right through it, knows that him coming here alone, out of the blue, must mean something’s wrong. But she doesn’t say anything because she knows Tim takes a while sometimes to be able to open up. So instead, she nods.

“Yeah, of course.” Jackson’s out, so she lets Tim in without hesitation. Not that it’d matter if he were here, really, but she sees that broken, guilt-ridden look in Tim’s eyes and knows it’s best that they’re alone.

He plays it cool at first— out of self-preservation, she thinks— and looks around the apartment as she lets him in.

“This place looks a lot nicer than the last time I saw it,” he starts out.

“Yeah, well Cujo’s not around to tear up pillows anymore so I’d say it’s a big improvement,” she jokes meekly.

His hands are shoved in his pockets stiffly as he walks around her living room, glancing over to Jackson’s bedroom.

“Jackson’s not here?”

“No, he went to check up on Angela. I’m surprised you aren’t there too,” she adds.

“Why’s that?”

“Because it’s where you’ve been for the past week,” Lucy explains simply, glancing at him expectantly and waiting for him to talk. Not this kind of talk, not small talk or dancing around what he really needs to get off his chest, but for him to actually, really talk.

All does is stand by her couch, less than ten feet away from her, and avoid her gaze. She swears she can see his fists tensing up in the pockets of his jeans. “I didn’t realize you were keeping track.”

“I wasn’t.” She was . “I just know how worried you were about her when she was taken. I don’t blame you for not wanting to leave her side.”

“Just making up for what I didn’t do the first time, I guess,” he grumbles under his breath.

Lucy sighs, cutting their small talk short and getting to the point. “Why are you really here, Tim?”

Her bluntness surprises him, she thinks, because he blinks at her. “What?”

“Why are you here?” She repeats. “You’ve never shown up at my place randomly while off shift. Hell, I didn’t even think you’d remembered I live here. I know this past week has been intense but clearly you need something or else you wouldn’t have come here. So would you just tell me whatever it is you want to say so that I can help you?”

He exhales quietly, his chest shaking as it falls. “It’s my fault. Angela and Jackson nearly died, she nearly lost her baby, they were put in danger at her own damn wedding, and it’s… it’s my fault.”

“No, no,” she replies sympathetically, shaking her head. “It’s not. What happened to them happened because of La Fiera, not you.”

“I was her man of honour,” he explains with a dry and slightly sarcastic chuckle. “Where’s the honour in failing to protect the bride?”

“If you really felt that, you wouldn’t have come here. You knew,” she tells him, her voice determined and fierce. “You knew I wouldn’t let you sit here and feel sorry for yourself. If you wanted to sit around feeling sorry for yourself you would have gone to a bar, alone. But you came here, which means somewhere deep down you know you couldn’t have done anything to stop it.”

For one of the only times since Lucy’s known him, Tim Bradford is speechless. He looks for words but finds none, huffs, and sits down on her couch, fiddling nervously with his thumbs. Her heart sinks at the sight of it. This guilt of his isn’t going away with anything she says, she knows that now. Healing takes time, so all she can really do is just be there for him.

She sits down next to him on the couch, leaving only an inch of space. “You don’t have to carry the weight of everything, you know,” she continues gently. “You take on so much, you don’t always have to feel so responsible for every bad thing that happens. That’s no way to live.”

“I’m a cop,” he shrugs painfully. “I became a cop because I wanted to keep helping people, protecting them. So sure, it might make me a more serious person, but I do it because it’s supposed to be what I do best.”

“I get that. But no one’s perfect. I’m not perfect, even with all of your Tim tests,” she teases meekly. “That doesn’t mean you did anything wrong. You fought hard to get both of them back and you did. You did that. Angela’s home now, she and the baby are safe and alright. That’s what matters.”

He looks at her, stunned but greatly appreciative. “Thanks,” he offers, slightly begrudgingly, after a moment. “I just... thanks .”

“I think I have something of yours,” she tells him gently, changing the subject to lighten the mood. Because if she can’t assuage his guilt then at the very least, she can make him feel better; feel happy again.

Tim’s brows scrunch up, sending a confused look her way. Lucy wordlessly moves to pull out her phone, connecting it to the small wireless speaker on the coffee table. The buttons crisply click as she turns up the volume, pressing play on the first ballad she finds in her list of varied songs. (But her taste in music isn’t actually as diverse as she’d like and is really just filled with K-pop tracks).

The music streams through the speaker and throughout the apartment, audible but still quiet so as not to disturb the other tenants. Tim stays seated as Lucy stands up, still confused but shifting to the edge of his seat as if being drawn to her by an unnamed force.

Lucy finally extends her open palm, giving him a shy but cheeky grin. “Your dance, Officer Bradford?”

Realization hits and Tim’s shoulders relax a little. “I don’t know, I’m not in the mood for dancing right now.”

“Come on,” she pleads. “It’ll make you feel better, I promise. Or, at the very least, it’ll give you something to tease me about at work.”

Tim gives a hearty chuckle, smiling widely as he accepts her hand. It makes Lucy smile too. Why shouldn’t it? He’s always so surly and serious, making him laugh would make anyone proud and giddy. Right?

“Alright. After you, Officer Chen,” he replies as she pulls him off the couch and onto the rug in her living room. His hand is warm. They’re calloused, and bigger than hers to the point where her fingers get swallowed up in his as he gives her hand a squeeze. But god, they’re so warm and safe . Her mind can’t stop coming back to that observation, no matter how much she knows she shouldn’t.

Tim’s other hand finds her waist, his grip gentle. Her hand flies to his chest, pulling him in until her chin is inches away from resting on his shoulder.

Up until now, space hasn’t really been an issue for them. The only time there’d been this much physical contact between them was last year when Caleb had buried her alive. Even then, the situation had allowed for a special exception. She’d needed all the physical and emotional support she could get at that moment, and Tim had provided it for her.

Now though, there's no exception, no special circumstance, no excuse. They’re dancing while wrapped up in each other solely because they want to be, and that change is enough to terrify Lucy. She doesn’t move though, only keeps swaying to the music and letting out small, shaky breaths.

What can she say? She never was one to back down from something that scared her.

“You’re a good dancer,” Lucy points out quietly.

“You’re not half bad yourself,” he replies, his breath catching onto her neck and sending a delightful shiver down her spine.

“Is it safe to say you’re enjoying yourself? You feel more relaxed, I daresay you’re having fun,” she tries teasing.

“I’m just surprised,” he counters. “I was prepared for my toes to endure some serious stomping.”

“Oh please, like my tiny toes could ever harm you.” Her nose scrunches playfully as she feigns a threatening look, which makes Tim smile again. What is it with that smile of his killing her softly?

“I don’t know, you’re a lot tougher than you look.”

“Was that a compliment?” She asks teasingly.

“Don’t tell Nova, she’ll get jealous,” he jokes back, continuing to sway to the music.

“Yeah but I bet she’d love this,” Lucy remarks. In her head, she adds that the line between herself and Nova is getting blurred but it goes unspoken and, eventually, ignored.

“Nova’s not the only one,” he risks replying. “You’re right. This is… nice .”

Tim leans back a little to meet her eye, the swaying decelerating until they’re standing in her living room. Alone. With an intense and inviting gaze piercing into her eyes.

“It is,” Lucy agrees. Her voice is barely audible and before she can think twice, she blurts out probably the worst thing she could ever think of: the thing she means with every fiber of her being. “I wish we could stay like this forever.”

She really does mean it. She wants to stay there forever, where everything feels good and safe and right . Only she hadn’t meant to say that out loud, per se. To her surprise though, he doesn’t react poorly to it. Instead, he flashes the smallest smile and nods in agreement, swallowing hard. "Me too."

He looks so young like that, something juvenile and exciting radiating off of him like a breath of fresh air. For a second, she almost thinks he’s the same age as her.

And oh fuck , something just clicks after that.

His lips part only slightly, his eyes glimmering with something intense and hopeful. Her skin is on fire, her heart is racing, and every neuron in her brain is telling her to look away but she can’t. She can’t escape his eyes. Lucy doesn’t know what this thing between them is, only that one minute, they’re dancing and the next, they’re… doing something else. The swaying stops and everything comes to a glaring halt as the song starts to come to a gradual end. They’re left with nothing to do but stand there and look at each other. It’s almost like he’s listened to her and that somehow, he’s made them become completely frozen in time so that maybe, just maybe, they really could stay here forever.

Admittedly, terrifyingly, Lucy would have no complaints about that.

They’re holding each other too— god , she almost forgot about his hands on her wait, on her back. They’re strong and massive and yet so gentle. And before she knows it, they’re pulling her in closer and closer.

His face is inches apart from her, their lips so close. She shouldn’t be thinking about his lips, about any of the things she’s feeling right now, but she can feel his breath and it makes it impossible to think of anything else. Her chest is almost pressed against his and she wonders if Tim can feel the shaky rise and fall of her chest against his.

They get closer again, and closer, and closer…

Then, the door clicks and swings open, sending her and Tim jumping apart.

The moment ends before it ever has a chance to start.

“Hey, I’m back,” Jackson calls out as he walks in, checking his phone. “So fire up the next episode of Love Island and put in the popcorn because I am ready to g—”

Jackson stops mid-sentence once he looks up from his phone and finds Lucy, standing next to Tim as they both look away from each other with flushed cheeks and awkward coughs from their throats. The music on her phone has stopped now, thankfully, but the light from the speaker still flashes to indicate it’s on and Jackson soaks in the whole scene. He meets it with confusion though, his brows furrowing.

“Uhh… What’s going on here?”

“I was just about to leave,” Tim announces, looking down at the floor as he makes a beeline for his coat.

“Right, yeah,” Lucy nods. “I’ll see you tomorrow then, I guess?”

“Yeah, of course. Uh, bye,” he replies awkwardly, his eyes meeting Lucy’s one last time with something that she daresay looks like disappointment— like yearning. Jackson’s still there though, and so the moment is short-lived. Tim’s hands fly back into his pockets, just as stiff as they were when he first came over, and he leaves. The door shuts behind him abruptly.

Lucy stares at the door where Tim used to be, her shoulders sagging in a disappointment of her own, but she turns to see Jackson staring at her and knows she has no way to explain… well, to explain whatever the hell just happened.

“You want to tell me why Tim was here?”

“He felt guilty about what happened with you and Angela,” she explains, a little defensively. “I was just talking it out with him.”

“Sure, yeah,” Jackson nods with an unconvinced laugh, “that’s why you two jumped apart like frogs as soon as I came in.”

“We did not jump apart ,” she protests.

“Ok, if you say so,” he concedes, his hands up in surrender. “Besides, whatever you two were doing here, I just—… don’t want to know.” He lets out a small chuckle after that, shaking his head as he moves to grab a pack of unpopped popcorn out of the cupboard and put it in the microwave.

“It was nothing,” she mumbles quietly. “Nothing happened.”

It’s the first real lie she’s told that night. Jackson drops it after that though, and she sighs to herself as she sits back down on the couch.

She closes her eyes as the microwave buzzes and Jackson starts to ramble about his visit with Angela, slowly transporting herself back to that dance with Tim.

Maybe she’s wrong for this, maybe she’s completely insane and unprofessional. But as she plays it over in her head, her own words ring through her head and she realizes that maybe she really did want to stay like that with Tim forever.

Oh, screw it . She knows she did. It’s not a fact she can necessarily scream out to the world, but she did.

To Lucy, there are much worse things to want to be.

#Chenford Fanfic Week 2021 #chenford fic week 2021 #CFW 2021 #chenford #the rookie #lucy chen #tim bradford

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drabbles-mc · 3 years

Text

Take A Little Ride

Angel Reyes x F!Reader

Request from @bishopslosawife: What if one of the Mayans’ S/O was an NFR professional barrel rider from the south? Like S/O plans a trail ride for everyone to get them to relax and someone recognizes her and asks her to show off her moves? Maybe S/O has a horse boarding at the stable?

Warnings: language

Word Count: 4.3k

A/N: (Sorry if this is the second time you’re seeing this fic! I’ve had some issues with posts disappearing from my blog and the tags and I’m trying to get everything back on track haha.) I know we talked about this fic forever ago, and I’ve been thinking about it ever since lol. We threw around a lot of ideas and I tried to fit as many into this fic as possible without it feeling cluttered. Also, I know this is technically an Angel fic, but we get to see a lot of our boys in this story. Hope you enjoy! xo

Angel Taglist: @mayans-sauce @encounterthepast @helli4nthus @lilacyennefer @angelreyesgirl @everyhowlmarksthedead @starrynite7114 @rosieposie0624 @queenbeered @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo @sincerelyasomebody @mijop @sadeyesgf @xladymacbethx @thesandbeneathmytoes @blessedboo @appropriate-writers-name @holl2712 @tomhardydallasstarsgirl @multiyfandomgirl40 @sillygoose6969 @beardburnsupersoldiers @louisianalady @gemini0410 @paintballkid711 @chibsytelford @yourwonkywriter @sesamepancakes @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @georgiaaintnopeach @plentyoffandoms @twistnet @themoonandthewicked @garbinge @bucky-iss-bae @enjoy-the-destruction

“Oh come on,” you pleaded as you sat in Angel’s lap, “It would be so fun!”

He chuckled, shaking his head, “Yea, for you maybe. I’d have no fuckin’ clue what to do.”

“It’s really not that hard,” you reassured him.

EZ sat down across from the two of you, “What is Angel fighting you about now?” he smirked.

You laughed, “I was saying that we should go for a trail ride sometime soon—all of us. It’s such a good way to unwind.”

“What’s the issue then?” he was clearly confused.

“She means a horseback trail ride, Boy Scout,” Angel piped in with a shake of his head before returning his gaze to you, “Anyone besides you and Taza even know how to ride?”

You paused, trying to think back on your conversations with everyone. Truthfully, now that he said it out loud, you couldn’t say for certain if any of the guys knew how to ride. You didn’t want to cop to that, but you weren’t a good liar, “I have no idea,” you chuckled, “I mean for some reason I wanna say that at one point Riz said something to me about it but I’m not sure. You guys could learn, though! It’s not like we’d be competing or anything, just a nice mellow trip. Like a hike! Besides, it’d be good for you boys to learn something new.”

“Y/N,” Angel started, “I’m not gonna fu—”

EZ cut him off, “I’m game,” he was genuinely interested, but he also loved being a little bit of an instigator when it came to things like this between you and Angel.

Your eyes lit up, “Yea?”

“Bro,” Angel shook his head, “What the fuck?”

“Put it to a vote!” you said excitedly, “That’s what y’all do, right?”

EZ laughed, nodding, “Yea, that’s exactly what we do.”

“What, we gonna go to Templo for this?” it was getting more and more difficult for Angel to keep a straight face.

“We’ll do it right here,” you leaned forward and grabbed your empty beer bottle off the table, rapping it on the wooden surface a few times to get everyone’s attention, “Hey! Boys! I have an offer for ya.”

If Angel had the ability to melt into the couch cushions, he would’ve. The guys could see the look on his face and it only made them more interested in what you were going to say. EZ was sitting back with a smug grin, extremely invested in where this was all going to go.

“What’s the offer?” Taza asked with a soft smile.

“So,” you got up off Angel’s lap, “I know y’all have had a rough couple of weeks. And I think it’d be good for everyone to get out and unwind,” they were all nodding along in agreement so far, “I just so happen to know of a really great ranch about forty minutes North of here. What would you guys say to a day trip and a trail ride? Switch things up a little.”

Taza’s response was immediate, “Sounds good to me.”

You could see the apprehension on some of their faces, so you tried to reassure them, “If you don’t know how to ride, they give you a rundown of the basics. Plus, the horses that they have there are all push-button—absolute gems.”

“How do you know about this place?” Bishop couldn’t help but to ask.

“I’ve been boarding my horse there since I moved to Cali,” you paused, “So, what d’you say?”

Sure enough, everyone started to speak up in agreement. You had never felt so excited. You looked back at Angel, who was shaking his head trying not to crack a smile. He had a feeling it was going to go this way.

“Majority vote,” Bishop said with a laugh, “It passes.”

“Yay!” you clapped, “Alright, I’ll call and get it all set up for this week. It’s gonna be so much fun, trust me.”

As the week passed by, Angel and a few of the other guys asked you questions about just what exactly they had gotten themselves into. They all knew that you rode, but they never thought it would have any crossover with their lives.

You all met up at the clubhouse late Saturday morning. You had your jeans and boots on, along with a tank top. You’d packed a backpack with water bottles and a few snacks, as well as your riding helmet. There was a palpable sense of excitement in the air, along with nervousness.

“You guys might not wanna take the bikes,” you warned with a laugh, “Your legs might be a little sore afterwards.”

They all stood and thought about it for a moment before deciding to take your word for it. They split up and piled into the few trucks they had, allowing you to lead the way since none of them knew where you were going. It was one of the very few times that Angel ever rode shotgun and let you take the wheel. You’d seen EZ crack a smile as his brother begrudgingly handed you the keys.

You rolled into your parking spot at the ranch, instantly jumping out of the truck once it was in park. The rest of the guys weren’t far behind, their vehicles falling into line with yours. You waited for them all and then waved for them to follow you as you confidently strode across the grounds to the barns. A few of the other people there smiled and waved to you, recognizing you from your frequent trips there.

The man who ran the ranch came out of one of the barns, arms out wide as he approached you, “Y/N, so good to see you,” he gave you a hug, “I was excited when they told me about your call.”

“Who’s this fuckin’ guy?” Angel murmured to EZ under his breath, elbowing him when he saw his brother trying to bite back a laugh.

You hadn’t heard the exchange, but you turned around to introduce everyone regardless, “Boys, this is Matthew—owner of this fine establishment and also one of the first people to help me settle in when I moved here to California. Matthew, this is my crew,” you laughed, “Best group of troublemakers you’ll ever meet.”

He laughed, nodding in acknowledgment, “Gentlemen, it’s a pleasure. I’m here to help and get you guys up and running, but you’re in good hands with Y/N here. She knows the trails out here like the back of her hand.”

“Well,” you chuckled, “I wasn’t gonna say it, but he’s totally right,” you clapped, “Let’s get you boys all saddled up and ready to go!”

It was refreshing to see them a little out of their element, with the exception of Taza, and surprisingly enough Coco seemed rather comfortable in the barn. You didn’t comment on it, wanting to see just how much he knew. But so far he had gotten all his tack on without much of an issue, and he seemed really comfortable with the horse they had provided for him.

You went back and forth with the guys about wearing helmets. Angel was adamant that he would be fine without one, “You’re not even gonna wear one! Or Taza!”

You laughed, “And when you’ve clocked as many hours as we have, you won’t have to wear one either. But for now, you’re gonna have to. Deal with it.”

“Yea,” EZ chuckled as he clipped his on, “Gotta save all the braincells that you can.”

“Shut up,” Angel shoved him as they both broke down in laughter.

Your horse was waiting patiently in her stall, all tacked up and ready to go. You were thankful that she was so mellow and patient, because you didn’t have to worry about her while you got everyone else situated. Up until that point, you had never realized just how diverse the ranch was when it came to breeds of horses. Most of them were rescues in some capacity, bought at auction when they weren’t competition or breeding material anymore, but they still made great companions, especially for beginners.

The fact that Taza let the boys struggle on their own a bit wasn’t lost on you. He was already perched atop his horse, waiting for the rest of them to get their acts together. You were certain that it was the most entertained that he had been in a while—you could see it in his eyes. To make up for the lack of Taza’s guidance, you were running around helping however you could.

“C’mon,” Coco taunted as he hoisted himself up onto his horse with ease, “What’s takin’ you guys so long?”

“Since when do you know anything about horses?” Angel said with a hint of bitterness to his voice.

“Psh, you don’t know everything about me, ‘mano. Don’t worry about it.”

Once everyone was on and ready to go, you finally went back to bring your own horse out. She was waiting patiently as ever in her stall. You slid the door open and stepped inside, gently resting your forehead against hers. It was exciting to be able to share this part of your life with all of them, even if it was going to be a little extra chaotic the first time around. You hoped, though, that they would enjoy it enough to want to come back and do it again. You thought that it would be good for them, because it certainly was for you.

You led your horse out of the barn, not that you really needed to be holding onto her reins anyway—she’d follow you wherever you went almost without question. You had her stop so you could slip your foot into your stirrup and hoist yourself onto her. The guys looked on in slight awe, not able to believe that it was so easy for someone of your height to climb up that easily onto a horse that was so tall.

Once you were situated in your stirrups and adjusted your backpack, you turned and looked around at your crew with a wide smile on your face, “Everyone feel like they sorta know what they’re doing? Matthew give you an overview of the basics?” there were various mumbled of agreement as they nodded their heads and you had to laugh, “You’ll be fine. Just remember, gentle on the reins—it’s attached to their mouths. Squeeze with your legs and nudge with your heels if you wanna go faster. These horses are super well trained so you shouldn’t need to kick, or be loud with them at all. Just use a clear voice,” you paused, “We should probably do a couple laps around the arena first before I take you guys off-roading,” you laughed, “Follow me.”

Admittedly, you were pretty impressed at how well the guys were picking it up. A lot of it had to do with the horses that they were riding, but still. It was the first time you could ever remember Bishop seeming out of his element and you had to admit that you found it amusing. Angel and Gilly found themselves struggling together while EZ practically rode laps around them, of course.

“Show-off,” Angel said with a laugh and a shake of his head as he shifted slightly in his saddle.

“You’re just mad because I’m already good,” EZ chuckled as he made his way over to where you and Taza were watching the rest of them.

Once you started making your way towards the trail, you and Coco found yourselves side by side. You glanced over at him and had to smile at how comfortable he seemed. For a man who seemed to be a little jumpy at baseline, he seemed really calm.

“I have to admit,” you said as you glanced back to make sure you didn’t lose anyone yet, “you surprised me a little bit with all of this,” you gestured to him and the horse.

He laughed, “Yea, I’m full of fuckin’ surprises.”

“You ride for a long time?”

He shrugged, “Not in a while. Started when I finished my four years. One of the guys who came back with me told me to try out equine therapy. Seemed kinda pointless but I really wasn’t in a position to be sayin’ no to anything—I was pretty fucked up. And it helped. Stopped when I started getting in with the club.”

You nodded, unable to hide how invested you were in everything that he was telling you, “Got it. That why the guys didn’t know?”

“Yea. Plus, they don’t gotta know everything,” he chuckled.

The topic fell by the wayside as the group of you continued on your little adventure. It was peaceful, and it was nice to hear all of them laughing and joking around with each other. You felt like you were constantly turning around to make sure that you hadn’t lost track of anyone, but you really didn’t mind it. It was hard to not be a little amused at how out of sorts Angel still seemed. The downside of being as tall and lanky as he was, is that it’s impossible to miss when he is feeling uncomfortable or out of his comfort zone. It was written all over his body language.

You looped around so you could land yourself next to him. You smiled over at him as he focused intensely on his reins, “Still getting the hang of it?”

“You guys make it look so easy.”

You laughed, “We’ve got years of practice. You’ll pick it up.”

“Gilly wants to know why he’s the only one that didn’t get a horse,” Angel laughed.

You chuckled and shook your head, “Mules are great, he’s got nothing to complain about. They’re strong, and smart, and a little stubborn but that’s just like the rest of you guys so it should be fine.”

“I know I’m not good at this shit,” he shifted slightly in his saddle, “and I dunno if I ever will be. But it’s nice to see you enjoying yourself like this. I don’t think I’ve ever really seen you like this.”

You smiled, feeling your face get warm, “Well, now you know,” you paused, laughing, “Plus I think this is one of the only times that I’ve been better than you at something.”

“Couldn’t let it be a sweet moment, could you?”

You chuckled, “Is this how you feel all the time with me?”

“I’m not better than you at everything, querida. Stop bein’ dramatic,” he smiled.

“Cooking and horseback riding are the two things I definitely have over you. And I’m holding onto those for dear life,” you laughed.

“I’ll let you have them. Just for you, I promise I won’t get any better at this.”

“For me?” you pressed a hand to your chest with a smile, “You’re too sweet.”

You nudged your horse onward so you could get back to the front of the pack. You’d ridden the trails hundreds of times but they never got any less beautiful. They were different than where you used to ride back home but the change was nice. The trail that you had taken them on was one of the easier ones—no crazy inclines or anything like that. It was a slow but steady ride up one of the smaller peaks that surrounded the ranch. The view from the top was beautiful—you could see for miles. You had a feeling that the guys were going to love it.

“We’re almost to the top,” you called back over your shoulder.

Within a few minutes, the whole group of you had made it to the clearing at the top of the peak. They were all letting out their own murmurs of approval and you felt so proud of yourself. A few of them hopped down, wanting to get a little closer to the cliff edge so they could look down over it. There was nothing but the sound of the breeze and the screaming of the birds while you all stayed there and took in the view. It was the most peace that they’d probably felt in a while.

“Pretty great, right?” you looked over at Angel, who had managed to guide his horse to they were right next to you.

He nodded, “Beautiful. Had no idea any of this was out here.”

“This is what I used to do with pretty much all of my free time when I first moved here, back before I really knew anyone.”

“You gave this shit up to hang out with us?” Angel chuckled as he gestured to the rest of the guys.

You laughed, shaking your head, “I didn’t give it up. I still come out here at least once every weekend, if not more during the week if work allows for it. I still make the time.”

“I love you,” he had a starry look in his eyes as he gazed over at you.

You smiled, “I love you too. Thanks for doing this—I know you weren’t really all that thrilled about it.”

“I’m glad I did. It’s nice to see something that means so much to you.”

After a few more minutes of lingering, chatting, and getting photos of everyone, it was time to complete the loop and head back towards the ranch. You were glad that the guys had pacified you and allowed you to do a little impromptu photoshoot of them with their horses—it was a moment that you wanted to remember. They were quite the diverse pack and you couldn’t help but to smile.

The ride back down was smooth. It was evident that for the most part, the guys were starting to feel more comfortable in their saddles. There weren’t as many, “oh fuck’s” said under their breath. There was a little more talking and joking going on and it made your heart feel fuller.

Cutting through the quietness of the trail was Angel’s voice, “Shit, fuck, oh fuck,” he wasn’t yelling but you could tell that he was worried.

You whipped your head around to see what was wrong, and you had to bite back your laughter as you watched the scene that was playing out. Angel’s horse had bumped up from a walk to a jog and clearly it wasn’t Angel’s doing. The panic that was on his face was priceless. Realistically, the horse wasn’t even going that fast, but it was enough to send Angel into panic mode.

“I’m just gonna fuckin’ jump off.”

You laughed, “Do not jump off. Just apply a little pressure to the reins and tell him to walk. He should slow right down. They don’t understand curse words.”

He did as you instructed, and sure enough the horse dropped right back down to a leisurely walk. You were trying not to laugh but the rest of the guys weren’t as kind and forgiving as you. You knew that that was going to be something that he wasn’t going to be living down anytime soon.

The rest of the descent was uneventful. The whole squad made it back down to the base of the trail unscathed. You hopped down off your horse and began to help all of them to do the same. You told them where to go and put all of their tack once they took it off, and also told them that if they could walk their horses for a couple minutes just to help cool them down it would be appreciated. It wasn’t the most intensive ride but it would still be good for them. Besides, it would be good for the guys and their legs too.

You were getting ready to bring your horse in when a girl came walking up to you, trying to politely get your attention. She couldn’t have been more than seventeen or eighteen. Her t-shirt and jeans were streaked with dirt but there was a giant smile on her face as she walked up to you and your horse.

“Hi, excuse me, are you Y/N?” her voice was quiet, shy.

You nodded, slightly confused, “I am. Everything alright?”

“Yea! I just, um, god sorry I don’t mean to be weird. I used to watch you race, though. I went to almost every NFR circuit event for a few years back when we still lived in Nevada. They said you moved but I had no idea it was here and I,” she stopped herself, “Sorry, I’m rambling.”

You shook your head, smiling, “Don’t be sorry. I don’t think I’ve ever had a fan before,” you laughed.

“Well that’s not true,” the girl laughed. She paused for a few moments, “Would it…would it be weird to ask if I could see you do a run?”

You raised your eyebrows, “A barrel run?”

She nodded excitedly, “Yea.”

You laughed, “I mean, I don’t see why not. I’m a little out of practice but I think we can still manage it,” you patted your horse on the shoulder.

“Oh my god this is so cool. The big arena inside is already set up—I just finished my lesson.”

The two of you walked together, your horse following behind without you having to hold too tightly on the reins. You listened to her gush and talk about riding and it made you miss what it felt like to be training for competitions. You didn’t regret stepping back from it to live the life that you have now, but there was nothing quite like that rush of adrenaline.

The guys had heard the entire interaction and all of them had since gotten their own horses situated so they could come and see what was about to happen. EZ and Angel were leaning against the side of the arena, their voices carrying in the echo chamber it created.

“You know she used to compete?” EZ asked as he watched you hop back up onto your horse.

“Yea, I mean, she mentioned it,” Angle replied, “Didn’t know that she was a fuckin’ celebrity, though.”

“Paparazzi is gonna show up any minute,” Bishop materialized next to them, chiming in with a laugh.

You settled into your saddle, getting both you and your horse positioned so that you could start your run. You could tell that she felt the shift in energy as the two of you stood at the entrance to the arena. You could feel her starting to get a little antsy, a little wound up. It had been a long time since you ran the pattern, but you had no doubt that it would be like riding a bike for the two of you.

As soon as you nudged her with the heel of your boot, your horse took off. You couldn’t stop the laughter that erupted out of you as she flew around the first barrel, gliding seamlessly into the turn. You could faintly hear the guys from the sideline over the sound of the wind in your ears. You felt your hat fly off your head and you didn’t even care. You’d almost forgotten how fun it was to neck-rein at that high of a speed.

You looped around the second barrel, and the third, and your horse all but flew down the center of the pattern as she ran out of the arena. You sat back in your saddle, trying to get her to slow down but you didn’t really want her to. It had to have felt just as good for her as it did for you—the two of you hadn’t done more than a light canter in a while and she was clearly itching to get out some pent-up energy.

Finally she slowed to a walk as you turned her around to head back towards the arena. The young girl came running out of the building with a huge smile on her face, your hat hanging from her fingertips.

“That was so cool!” she handed your hat back to you.

You hopped down off your horse with a smile, “That was the most fun I’ve had in a while, I can’t lie,” you laughed, “I’m glad you asked us to run it—that felt amazing.”

“Do you board here?” she looked at you expectantly.

You nodded, “I sure do. Here every weekend, pretty much. Not that we’re really training to compete anymore, but you know.”

“If we’re ever here at the same time do you think that you could give me some pointers?”

You nodded, feeling your heart swell inside your chest, “Absolutely.”

“Yes! Oh that’s so awesome. Thank you so much. I’ll, um, I’ll let you get back to your friends. But thank you so much.”

You smiled, “Of course. I’ll see you around.”

She bounded off, an excited spring to her step. You chuckled and shook your head as you started to lead your horse back to the barn so you could take off her saddle and bridle. As the two of you meandered, Angel and the guys all came out of the arena, looks of surprise all over their faces.

“What the fuck was that, querida?” Angel laughed as he shook his head in disbelief.

“What?” you feigned ignorance.

“When were we gonna find out that you know how to do all that?” EZ piped up.

“I told you guys that I ride!”

“That,” Angel threw his arm around your shoulder, “was not just riding. That was insane! You guys were fucking flying.”

“Shoulda seen how fast we could go when we were actually training for it.”

“Also, didn’t know that you were apparently a celebrity,” there was a smirk on his face as he pressed a kiss to your shoulder.

You laughed and shook your head, “Not a celebrity. The horse world is a small one.”

“You gonna be able to teach us how to do all that?” EZ asked with a laugh.

“Not a fucking chance,” you smiled over at him, “But you guys are more than welcome to come here with me any time.”

“Well now we definitely have to,” Angel said, “Gotta see what other moves you’re holding out on.”

“Oh,” you laughed, “you’ll see. Don’t worry.”

#mayans mc #mayansmc #mayans fx #mayans mc imagine #angel reyes #angel reyes x you #angel reyes x reader #angel reyes imagine #angel reyes fanfic #my writing #drabblesmc #fanfiction

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starfast · 3 years

Text

So you want to write an autistic character

So I watched the trailer for Sia’s movie just to see if it really was that bad. Spoiler alert: Yes it is. It made me feel like Sia was making fun of me for two and a half minutes. But it also made me really fucking angry because there’s not autism representation to begin with, and most of what we do have isn’t really that great, which is what drove me to make this post. I don’t have many followers so even if like 3 people see this, then at least that’s 3 people who have seen this.

What would I like to see less of

Literally incapable of detecting sarcasm: “Wait,” you say, “But Starfast, there are autistic people out there who are like this!” Sure, there might be, but for me personally detecting sarcasm is a lot less difficult than literally every autistic character has made it out to be. Yes, there are times where it goes right over my head but those times are usually when there’s not enough context for me to figure out whether the person is being sarcastic or not. Some of us actually are able to tell when you’re being sarcastic, it usually depends on context.

The “Sheldon Cooper”: Autism is really diverse and yet I feel like 99% of autistic characters are basically all just carbon copies of Sheldon Cooper from BBT. They’re maybe overly formal, blunt, or have a hard time picking up social cues. And while these are all things that are commonly associated with autism (although this type of character rarely shows any major downsides to having autism, more on that later), like I said earlier, autism is different for everyone. Not all of us are going to feel represented by this type of character. Honestly I don’t even relate to a lot of autistic characters because they just keep reusing the same autistic stock characters and that’s really disheartening to me. It’s almost like they’re not making autistic characters for autistic people.

The Burden: This probably doesn’t need to be explained that much but it was the one thing that really pissed me off about S**’s movie. In the trailer, I really got the very distinct impression that the older sister saw Music as a burden. Her life was just oh so difficult because she had this autistic sister. No one wants to be thought of that way. And idk if you neurotypicals know this but autistic people have feelings and we hear it loud and clear when you say these kinds of things and it hurts.

Using autism as a punchline: I think it’s fine to have an autistic character to provide comic relief, BUT! if your comic relief involves laughing at an autistic character’s very autistic behaviour then you’re doing it wrong. This kind of goes back to my first point- the reason why I hate seeing the “incapable of detecting sarcasm” character is because it’s almost exclusively played for laughs. Please stop making fun of us.

What would I like to see more of

Diversity: I feel like this doesn’t really need much explaining. Autism can affect anyone regardless of age, race, gender, sexuality, etc. And yet most autistic characters I’ve encountered are straight white guys. Let’s see more girls, more POCs, more LGBT+ who are autistic.

Obvious drawbacks/struggles: When I talked about the Sheldon Cooper-type character I mentioned that this type of character doesn’t really seem to face many challenges that are directly related to autism. What I mean by this is that sometimes they’ll maybe just miss the odd social cue and it’s kinda embarrassing but it rarely gets worse than that. An autistic character is going to face challenges that a neurotypical won’t ever have to deal with and if you don’t acknowledge that then you’re not really properly portraying an autistic character. Show more autistic characters struggling to make friends, having meltdowns or experiencing sensory overload, having a hard time articulating themselves. The list goes on, honestly.

Actually saying it: Have you ever seen it where there’s a certain character and a bunch of people go “hey, that character seems like they could be [insert literally any minority] and then the creator goes “Oh, yeah that’s totally what I intended!” I personally don’t really like this, because it feels kind of disingenuous. If you’re going to write an autistic character, it would be nice to have that brought up within the story. Autism isn’t a dirty word, you’re allowed to say it. The only exception I can think of would be if you’re writing a historical fiction or some other setting where autism hasn’t been recognized but most examples I can think of don’t fall into that category whoop there it is.

Literally just anything that isn’t a stereotype. This seems to be setting the bar pretty low, but it still needs to be said. Autism looks different for everyone and just because someone doesn’t fit the mold for a stereotypical autistic person doesn’t mean they’re not autistic. No one wants to be represented by a stereotype.

“I’m not autistic but I want to write an autistic character. Can I do that?”

I can’t speak for the entire autistic community when I answer this but my opinion is yes, it’s ok provided that you’re being respectful and doing research beyond reading symptoms off of WebMD. That being said, here’s my final advice:

Listen and talk to autistic people: If you’re not listening to the group you’re trying to represent then you’re not doing a good job. There are lots of people here out there who would be willing to answer your questions or be a sensitivity reader. There’s a lot of people here on tumblr who are willing to answer your questions (you can even ask me, but I’m just one person and I don’t have all the answers. I’d recommend talking to multiple people).

Autism Speaks is not your friend: There’s been a lot of talk about why this organization sucks, but it mostly boils down to trying to end autism and not actually helping us. So make sure you’re steering clear of them while you’re doing your research.

Reddit and Quora are actually great resources: Reason being is that these kinds of sites will give you lots of first hand information about being autistic, and that’s the best kind of information to have, usually. Most sites will just list symptoms, but the right reddit/quora thread will provide more insight about how these symptoms affect their daily life. Additionally, you’ll have multiple people offering their own views and since autism is so different for everyone it’s good to have more than one person’s opinion (psst... this tip works for writing other minority characters too!)

#writing advice #autism #actually autistic #writing #autistic characters #thank you for coming to my TED talk

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listentothelittlebird · 3 years

Text

So I wrote Waterbender Jason Todd and that was a blast (the series is Gotham’s White Lotus!) but I went through a ton of drafts for how Jason got reintegrated into the Batfam - and here’s one of the drafts!

Word Count: 2760 words

I like this one because it’s dramatic :) Enjoy!

(This draft essentially diverges directly after Burning Iceberg - some of the diversions can be seen in the tags!)

An explosion, Oracle’s words quickly filtering into their comms.

“I have eyes on the combustion bender. Looks like he’s still looking to complete his contract.”

Batman’s voice came next, barking an order for Robin to return to the Batcave.

“But-”

“Little bird, you should probably listen to the B-man,” Red Hood jumped in, “Seriously. Lay off this one for all of us, alright?”

Robin huffed, but obeyed.

The explosions followed Robin’s movements until Batman was able to intercept the bender. Red Hood dropped down soon after. Batgirl had taken to accompanying Robin back to the Batcave. Nightwing informed them that he was on his way to Gotham, likely to check up on Robin for his own assurance.

The blasts caused Red Hood to dart to one side, Batman to the other. Before the smoke filling the empty warehouse could clear, a blade was pressed to Jason’s neck.

“Where is my son?” the voice hissed. The Pit was long gone, but that did nothing to quell the snarl that answered the question.

“Nice to see you too, Talia,” Jason spat out. He could guess why Talia had come to Gotham - investigating the new mask that held his build, as well as the absence of one eight-year-old after his most recent mission.

“Where-” the sword dug deeper, “-is. My. Son.”

“Where do you think?” Jason snarked, “C’mon, Tals, you can’t be that much of an idiot. Detective it out yourself.”

Talia growled. “You poisoned my child’s thoughts,” Talia murmured darkly, “If not for you, Damian would have completed his mission successfully, and been ever closer to becoming a satisfactory Heir. I should have recognised your meddling from the start.”

Jason chuckled. The smoke was clearing, now, and from the comms, it seemed that Batman was apprehending the combustion bender. He hoped Oracle could hear him and had alerted the others.

“You kept Damian from his father,” Jason stated evenly, “The least I could do was tell the kid about his Dad and his brothers. You know, the brothers you never told him about? Not to mention his sister, too.”

“He is the blood-son.”

“He is the youngest son, and you’re gonna have to get through me and the rest of us if you so much as think of hiding him away again.”

Batman dropped down in front of them. Talia’s sword was still dangerously close to his neck, digging in slightly, nearly drawing blood.

“Back away from the Hood, Talia,” Batman growled, “This is between you and me.”

Talia stilled.

“You haven’t told him,” Talia realised.

Shit.

The sword was humming, growing warmer. Jason could feel the heat on his skin.

“You told me you wanted revenge. You told me you wanted your replacement gone,” Talia was on a roll, now, grasping greedily for control, “You told me you wanted him to pay. For not avenging you. For leaving The Joker walking.”

Jason shuddered at the mention of the Rogue. He could feel Talia’s shark-like grin at his neck.

“A shame,” she tutted, “You realised, didn’t you? That he never cared for you. No wonder you have yet to tell him the truth.”

Batman took a stuttering step forward. Jason tried to control his breathing, the blade heating up enough to burn. She was trying to get under his skin. Trying to…

Jason made sure to inject rage and malice into his next words, “You’re not the only one with tricks up your sleeve, Talia.”

Underneath his jacket was a flask of water for emergencies.

“Oh?” Talia hummed menacingly, “And what may that be?”

Jason moved, breaking out of the hold. The sword flared into flames.

The jet of water knocked Talia back several paces, but not before she could take a slash at his helmet. The material melted into his lenses, and Jason cursed, ripping off the helmet just in time to block her blade with an ice-coated arm.

“The spirits. That was you.”

“Bingo. Looks like the Pit didn’t melt out your brains.”

Jason met the flurry of attacks steadily, bending the broken ice into water blasts and back to ice once more, dodging the flames and ignoring the singed marks on his clothes.

Another explosion. Jason’s gaze darted just enough to see that the combustion bender had returned, hands bound but still conscious.

“I should have never helped you,” Talia stated, a tone of finality, “It’s only right I bury you again.”

A bout of flames aimed for his face, forcing Jason to roll backwards, just out of reach. By the time he got back to his feet, Talia was standing beside the combustion bender, who was already in stance. Another explosion sounded, right above him.

Jason only had time to curl up and erect a crystal of ice around him before the warehouse roof fell.

He could taste the smoke on his lips, the dust of wood and cement. He waited one, two seconds, straining against the weight of the building against the ice, before digging into his jacket, pulling out a small comms unit and stuffing it into his ear.

“-you hear me? Hood!” Oracle was yelling.

“I’m under the warehouse,” Jason gasped out, coughing up the smoke and dirt and dust, “I’m- I’m underneath. I- please. Please get me out. Fuck.”

He was trembling. The ice creaked, painfully loud in the silence.

“I can’t-” his lips moved without his permission, “-can’t do this again. Shit. I- don’t make me do this again.”

Distantly, he registered that his voice was no longer modulated, like it was in his helmet.

“I found him,” came Batman’s grunt, and if Jason had enough space within the ice, he would have keeled over in relief. The soil beneath him rumbled, but Jason had long come to associate this specific tremble with earthbending. The earth opened, and Jason gasped as he dropped into the ditch, which closed and engulfed him in darkness.

“B?” Jason whispered, the sound echoing. He was vaguely aware of someone approaching him as his breath quickened.

“It’s me, Hood,” Batman’s voice sounded, and Jason sobbed.

“I- shit. Shit.”

“It’s alright,” Batman soothed, “It’s-”

Batman cut himself off, coming to a stop just in front of where Jason was on his hands and knees, desperately trying to quell his panicked breathing.

A hand on his shoulder pulled him into an upright position on his knees. Jason flinched as a flashlight was shined on his face, then gulped audibly as Batman visibly jolted back in shock. The light stayed trained on his face, even as Batman reached out slowly, as if scared he would disappear. His hand first found Jason’s arm, then his neck, pressing to his pulse, and then reached to his face, peeling off the red domino mask with a fragile touch.

A beat passed, where Jason stared into Batman’s cowl, desperately waiting for a reaction.

“Batman, what’s Hood’s status?” came through the comms.

“Jason?” he whispered. He tugged off his cowl, and Bruce’s eyes shone with flickering hope and brokenness.

Jason sucked in gulps of air in between his hitched breaths, enough for him to rasp out one word, “Dad.”

The light moved away from his face, a black gauntlet grasping tightly onto his arm, nearly bruising in its grip, pulling him roughly forward. Jason lost his balance, tipping straight into a tight hug that knocked the breath out of him, just as it knocked the first tears loose.

“Dad,” he whispered again, the grip around him tightening somehow, “Dad.”

“Jason,” Bruce returned just as reverently, “Oh, son, why didn’t you say anything? Why didn’t you tell us?”

“I’m-” Jason sobbed, gasping, “I’m sorry. I-I didn’t know… how… how to tell you. Didn’t know what to say. I-”

Bruce shushed him quietly, and Jason dissolved into tears in his father’s arms.

“Jason?” Bruce had whispered, and then the words through the comms were too muffled to make out.

“Batman? Batman, are you there?” Dick tried again, sharing another concerned look with Tim. Bruce had gone silent, save for words that were too hard for them to make out. Cass placed a steadying hand on Dick’s shoulder, a silent sign of support.

“Tune into Red Hood’s comms,” Oracle chimed abruptly. Dick frowned, but did as told.

“-Dad,” the voice, unmodulated for the first time, cracked with emotion, and the two brothers froze. The voice bordered on familiarity, despite the lower tones and faint rasp.

Damian, who had been inattentive to the audio up until that point, straightened abruptly from where he had been scrutinising a batarang. He was by their side in moments, focused intently on the blank screen of the Batcomputer as if it could provide him the answers of the universe. Cass looked on with narrowed eyes, picking up the tension in their stances, tension for different reasons.

“I’m sorry,” was heard, dissolving into incoherent phrases that were shushed by another voice. Bruce, Dick’s brain supplied. That was Bruce comforting Red Hood- comforting-

“I’m not hearing things, am I?” Dick’s voice trembled, humour falling flat. Tim’s face was pinched beside him, vaguely pale, likely mirroring his own.

Beside them, Damian breathed deeply, in and out, and turned to them with a determined tilt to his frown.

“The brother I mentioned before,” Damian started, snapping Dick’s attention towards him, “The one who told me about the zoo, about hugs. He told me about you as well, Grayson.”

Damian met his eye with only a flicker of hesitation. “He told me you loved hugs, and other forms of physical affection. He told me you once ate a box of cereal and started doing cartwheels down the hallway. He said you taught him how to fly, and how to fall.”

“Prepare the medbay for smoke inhalation,” Batman’s voice intoned. Alfred had appeared on the steps to the Manor, already making his way towards the medical supplies. Tim and Cass shared a look, and followed.

“Jason Todd,” Dick blurted, Tim’s steps faltering, Cass freezing. Something clattered out of Alfred’s always-steady hands. “The brother you’re talking about. Is his name Jason Todd?”

Damian’s gaze, still wary and too-old from his childhood training, nodded with conviction.

Alfred paused at the bedside, taking a moment to stare at the absolute miracle in front of him, sleeping peacefully with the same expression he had once seen on a small malnourished boy. He had just managed to convince Master Bruce to wash up before staying vigil by Master Jason’s side, and Alfred was quietly glad for the moment to allow himself the time to take in Master Jason’s aged appearance.

Alfred rested a hand on Jason’s head, and allowed himself an indulgent brush through the young man’s hair, the tuft of white hair tangled into his raven hair.

“My dear boy,” Alfred whispered, “Words cannot describe how glad I am, to see you alive.”

Master Jason twitched slightly, eyes flitting open just enough to take in Alfred’s face. A small smirk made its way to his lips, a greeting as much as it was a sign of his relief. Master Jason hummed out something intelligible, but Alfred shushed the boy, and his eyes easily slid shut once more.

Jason jolted awake with a gasp.

“Jay,” came a soft rumble, “Jaylad. You’re okay. It’s okay.”

Jason flitted his gaze over the room, cataloguing everything he could see in the dim lighting, before familiarity met him with sudden certainty. His gaze drifted over to the speaker.

“It’s okay,” Bruce repeated softly, guiding Jason back to lying against the pillow.

“B-” Jason grimaced at his dry throat, “Bruce?”

Bruce offered him a cup of water. Jason squinted at it and lifted his hand, but Bruce’s hand lowered it before the water could so much as ripple. “No bending in the Manor,” Bruce huffed, his lips twitching into a small smile, “Alfred would have your head in no time.” Jason huffed a laugh as the cup was pressed into his hand.

When the cup had been emptied, Jason cast another glance over the room. It was Bruce’s bedroom, Bruce on a chair beside the bed, Jason in the bed, now propped up against the headboard.

“The bender,” Jason started, turning to eye Bruce, subconsciously checking for injuries. He had a nasty-looking bruise on his arm, but otherwise looked alright.

“He got away,” Bruce stated, “With Talia.” Bruce paused, visibly reigning himself in, settling for, “Jason… I have many questions.”

“I’m sure you do,” Jason agreed with a cringe, “There’s… a lot to cover.”

He blinked then, perking up once more, “Damian. Can I see Damian?”

“Talia let you meet him,” Bruce guessed. Jason nodded distractedly, shuffling himself out of the covers and inching towards the edge of the bed. He paused to sniff the baggy shirt he was wearing, and blinked at Bruce. “Am I wearing your clothes?”

“You are,” Bruce confirmed, lip ticked up in amusement. There was a concerned glint in his eyes as Jason stood up, swaying through a head-rush. Bruce’s hands stuttered towards him, but hesitated. Jason took the initiative and wrapped his arms tightly around Bruce, and Bruce hugged him back just as firmly.

“Damian’s having breakfast with the others,” Bruce spoke softly, “Are you… ready to see them? Or would you rather me bring Damian up alone?”

Jason hesitated.

“I kind of owe them all answers, don’t I? Let’s just get it over and done with. Rip it off like a band-aid.”

Bruce hummed, lingering in the hug for a long moment before finally letting his arms go loose. Jason pulled away with a small smile, Bruce brushing a hand over his face with an overly tender expression.

There was vague scuffling coming from the kitchen.

“Quick, grab the coffee, Dami!” Dick hollered with a laugh, easily swiping Tim into the air and holding him over his shoulder. Tim twisted with a feral kick at Dick’s face, which he easily dodged by maneuvering until Tim’s arms were pinned and his legs stuck out too far to hit anything substantial.

“Be careful, Masters,” Alfred called from where he was dealing with their pancakes, not once looking up to acknowledge the play-fighting.

Cassandra was watching from the side, the only one to acknowledge Bruce and Jason as they walked in, giving them a smile and a wave. She stepped towards Bruce first, pulling him into a short hug, and did the same for Jason. Jason froze unsurely, but Cassandra smiled into his collar and giggled. “Cass,” she murmured, pulling away to beam, “Hello, brother.”

Jason returned the smile tentatively. “Hello, sister,” he offered, Cass’ smile stretching wider. Bruce looked ready to burst with emotion.

Tim whined and slumped over in Dick’s grip as Damian, on Dick’s encouraging nod, poured away the coffee into the sink, “This is unfair! Absolutely unfair! It’s only been a week and I’m already suffering from middle-child syndrome. Unfair.”

Jason snuck up on Dick and pounced, tipping them both to the ground and grabbing Tim out of Dick’s hold. “Middle children have to stick together,” Jason nodded sagely, grinning widely as Tim stared down at him dazedly, from where he had ended up sprawled on top of him.

“Jay!” Dick chirped brightly, and Jason grunted as the older boy flopped on top of them both, “You’re awake!”

“Get off, Dickhead!” Jason managed to roll out from under him. One thing led to another, and suddenly Jason had himself wrapped in a Dick Grayson Hug that was definitely not stopping anytime soon. That was about the time he met Damian’s eye, and he gave the boy a warm smile.

“What did I tell you, Baby Bat?” he drawled, rolling his eyes and gesturing to Dick’s arms, “Dickie loves hugs. Can’t get away from him even if you tried.”

“Damn right,” Dick hummed happily, squeezing briefly, “You run now and I’ll hunt you down and hug you for even longer.”

Jason gave an answering pat to Dick’s shoulder in acknowledgement. To Damian, he shook his head in mock-annoyance. Damian stepped forward, then, and folded himself against Jason’s other side. Jason curled his arm around the boy, and Damian shoved himself more firmly against his side.

“Your eyes aren’t green,” Damian whispered.

“No, they’re not,” Jason agreed, “I… it’s a long story, but I managed to get rid of the Pit rage, and got my bending back, while I was at it.”

“We have time,” Tim pointed out, settling himself on the ground in front of the small pile of pressed-together bodies, “I don’t think you’ll be extracting yourself from Dick anytime soon, either.”

Jason huffed, smiling softly. “I’ll start from the beginning, then.”

#AU of an AU #Gotham's White Lotus #straight from the trash doc #batfam #Jason Todd #in this au Damian was sent to Titans tower and they both got blindsided by the combustion bender Talia sent right behind Damian #Damian was meant to take down Tim #but instead Damian Noped out of there with Tim's help #Jason was procrastinating getting back to Gotham by doing spiritbending as a White Lotus member #dark spirits were invading Gotham so he started being Red Hood on the streets while quietly spiritbending the dark spirits #I might share the other parts of the drafts eventually but this one's the main j u i c e #cw cursing #Jason gets buried under rubble #Talia al Ghul #bruce wayne #tim drake #damian wayne #Dick Grayson #Cassandra Cain #Alfred Pennyworth #honestly really happy with this part in particular but the previous parts leading up to it just didn't flow right for me #fanfic

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astriiformes · 3 years

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Fighting at least some of the “I’m annoying about my interests and should shut up about fandom things” brain angst by finally digging up and filling out an old fic writer’s meme that I was tagged in by @raemanzu way back in the laptopless wilderness days (and thus never got around to at the time), so uh, here goes?

How many works do you have on Ao3?

31, although if I can battle some brains by the end of the weekend, it might jump up to 32.... 👀

What’s your total Ao3 word count?

221,102 as of typing this, although again, I actually have two chapters of two different things that? Might? Get posted in the next 24-48 hours, so it may jump a little extremely imminently, even.

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

16 by Ao3′s count, but seeing as half of those are just different variations on Doctor Who, Star Wars, or LotR, the actual, like, diverse list is: Gravity Falls, Critical Role, Doctor Who, Star Wars, Pacific Rim, High Rollers, Hilda, Lord of the Rings, and The Owl House

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Gravity Calls (542)

To No Set Gauge they Make Us (510)

In Search of Antidotes (502)

Cups of Human Kindness (390)

Owl Whumptober 2021 (318)

Not wildly surprised that almost all of them are Gravity Falls fics; it’s one of the bigger fandoms I’ve written for. I’m actually not the proudest of most of the ones that chart here, in part because they’re almost all 4-5 years old at this point and I’m a much better writer now, but I’ve been writing less and for smaller fandoms since then. I am actually extremely happy/proud of the fact that my collection of Owl House Whumptober prompt fills made this list -- for a random set of mostly-unconnected oneshots in a much more mid-sized fandom, that’s pretty decent. Makes me hope that if I can manage to actually write some bigger/more real TOH stories, they could get some attention, too. :0

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I’ve been getting back into the habit and it’s good! When people leave really short ones (”I love this!” “Great!”) I tend not to know what to say, because I feel weird just repeating “Thank you!” but when people make even slightly more specific ones and I have more of an idea how to respond it can be really neat to dig into meta thoughts or chat about characters (or even just general fandom talk). I was having a lot of fun in the comments of my Whumptober fills, in part because I had some pretty awesome commenters. It provided a lot of motivation to keep filling prompts while I could!

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Not counting works that are just unfinished, probably “Dream-Land” which was peak mid-S2 Stanford Pines melancholy. I generally go hard on my whumpy fics being hurt/comfort proper, so most of the endings aren’t as angsty as the rest of them, but that fic was more like..... philosophical/existential hurt than physical, and is very much the kind of thing you write mid-season when you’re expecting the show to do the resolving for you. Angsty character study nonsense.

Do you write crossovers? If so, what’s the craziest one you’re written?

I used to; I haven’t actually written one in ages. Hilariously enough, while the fandom being crossed into (one Pacific Rim, two Gravity Falls) changed, the one constant is that they were all Doctor Who crossovers. It uh, lends itself to that.

The DW/Pacific Rim one was going to be pretty wild (bizarre alien speculative xenobiology nonsense my beloved, plus crossing over with the weird non-TV interim Doctor Who content with Eight instead of one of the modern Doctors) but alas ended up being one of my big unfinished regrets. Had some fun things planned though (as you do).

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

I don’t think so; I get the occasional weirdly lukewarm comment I never know how to interpret, especially if they critique one thing or another even as they compliment it, but I’m pretty sure all or the vast majority of comments I’ve ever gotten have seemed very good-faith, which I appreciate (especially as I often write on some fairly personal topics).

Do you write smut? If so what kind?

Oh I am far too ace for that.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

No, and it’s wild to me that’s even like, a thing. Does it happen to anyone else frequently?? Unfathomable.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes, which is so cool! Rainy_Elliot translated both Probably 100% Actual Biology and Siren Song both into Russian!

I could have sworn there were a couple more, but I may just be remembering some of FF.net holdovers (I had a few over there translated too, into a couple other languages iirc, but could not tell you any other details after all these years, and we don’t talk about those stories...)

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Combustion, one of my Gravity Falls fics, was written with a then-tumblr mutual. Other than that I’ve mostly written my own things, although these days some of my stories go through a wildly interwoven beta process with @scribefindegil since we share a number of fandoms and I can usually just hand her my laptop from the other side of the couch! I owe her a lot of elements of their plots too, just because talking out my ideas at another person is exactly how I best develop them.

What’s your all-time favorite ship?

This is obviously sort of a weird one for me; I haven’t really written any ships into my work (it’s the aromanticism -- I don’t even hate the idea with certain couples, especially canon ones, but I feel like I’d be so bad at it!)

Anyways I have two answers maybe. If I’m allowed to fudge the lines a little, I really love the way I’ve been writing Legolas and Gimil’s relationship in my massive aro!Legolas fic, I Breathed a Song Into the Air -- as a deeply close, committed platonic relationship barreling towards something queerplatonic ship-shaped, although with the messy hiccup that Gimli is romantically interested in Legolas, even if it’s not (romantically) reciprocated. It’s not exactly a classic ship dynamic, but it’s probably the closest I’ve come to writing one, and I actually really adore playing around with the boundaries of committed companionship like that, so if that makes me a “shipper” by proxy, there you go!

That said, I still super don’t see that one as a romantic relationship, so if you want me to pick one of those.... technically the only time I’ve intentionally written romantic interest between two characters has been with some of my really recent TOH stuff, and frankly, that might be the one that finally gets me in the conventional sense. I am in the process of plotting out a pretty long Owl House fic that would, among other character relationships, involve some significant Raine/Eda, which also feels like a fair answer -- although it seems really funny calling something I haven’t exactly written yet my “all-time” favorite! I do love them though. I can’t believe a romantic relationship finally properly lured me in. After all these years.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

Oh boy. Often it feels like all of them. But I do have some pretty significant motivation for a lot of the in-progress ones in my drafts that I’ve started in the last year or two, even if some have been slow going. (Someday, I Breathed a Song will update again, I swear...)

I think my answer has to be all 4 or 5 different multi-chapter stories on Ao3 there’s little chance of me finishing. I often feel pretty bad that I started things people got excited about and won’t get to see conclude. It put me off writing fic for a while, because I felt like it always happened when I tried to write long things -- and what I really want to write are long things! -- although these days I seem to be tapping into some much deeper wells of motivation, which is good, even if I’m still a slow writer.

What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue, for sure. It’s one of the main things I’ve always gotten compliments on, which makes me happy, because good dialogue is a hallmark of good fic, in my book. I think I also tend to be pretty good at plot, or at least the bones of it -- coming up with interesting directions for the story to go that are a little different than what everyone else writes, and and that tend to be really character-driven, and also at coming up with interesting symbolism/narrative metaphor and parallels like that. Together, that also makes me pretty good at foreshadowing, which is a LOT of fun when I can get it right and stick the landing.

What are your writing weaknesses?

I write so slowly, and I’m such a perfectionist, so getting stuck on small things and agonizing over sections that are good enough already really hurts me. I tend to have weak spots with things like cohesion between scene transitions or pacing as a result -- I’ll either drag them out too long or rush them because I don’t know what else to write or how else to get past them. Plus, it also keeps me from getting things written at all :P

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I think it can be done well, definitely, and also that it often is not, but that the latter tends to scare people away from figuring out how to do the former.

There are different thoughts on what doing it well looks like, but for my part I like to try to scatter in small pieces for a larger impact that usually can be figured out from context clues, and add something else that can’t be accomplished just by stating the dialogue is in a certain language. I’ve messed around a little to that effect with Sindarin in Tolkien fic, although I’m still figuring out how best to use more than just a word or two.

That said. I do think it’s something you should always, always find a beta for. If you’re not fluent or confident in a translation yourself, finding another fan who is in order to make sure you’ve done it right/respectfully doesn’t feel like an optional step to me, even though people often treat it that way.

(For an example: my favorite messing around with language I’ve done recently was contrasting a “Dios mío” from Luz with an “Oh, Titan” from Hunter in an Owl House fic -- with the joke being that it was representative of their respective cultural backgrounds, even if one of them is decidedly fantasy and not an Earth “culture” at all!)

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Going to go with a graceful pass on this one, just because I find some of my earliest forays into fic a little too embarrassing to admit to in retrospect. The first fandom that crossed over from FF.net with me to Ao3 though -- and one of my earliest ones -- was Doctor Who.

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

So far, it’s definitely I Breathed a Song Into the Air. It’s so personal, and has received such a phenomenal response -- and beyond that, it was my splash back into fic-writing that made me realize I still had it in me and that my skills had improved so much since I stepped away. I’ve also had the most fun planning it and giving it to Scribe to beta, and even just beyond that, I love writing the LotR characters and their relationships to begin with. I know it’s been a year since I updated it, which, oof, but I swear, I have a lot planned for it and it’s not tossed by the wayside. I hope people will still enjoy sticking with me for the journey with that one, because it means a lot to me.

#not tagging anyone but if anyone wants in please steal this from me!#my writing #long post

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blitheringmcgonagall · 3 years

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My Gallant Lad - Part 2

A wonderful anon told me this is their favourite Lily Rescues James fic, it’s part of my canon marauders fic We Can Be Heroes. But it works as a stand alone, so I’m posting it in four parts here. I hope you like it (Lily is very BAMF here but James here is the bravest I have ever seen as well as very clever so I think they are both fantastic), set during First Wizarding War during an Order mission gone wrong...

Read part 1 here :

TW: Lots of angst and violence...

Part 2...

Previously...

“Leave it to me,” he whispered.

Taking a deep breath, he turned and locked eyes with Severus Snape.

“Fuck you, Severus Snape! You absolute bastard! Stay the fuck away from my wife, do you hear? Don’t you dare go near her, you fucking piece of shit! I despise you, Snivellus! You fucking coward! Bastard cursed Death Eater! Stay the fuck away from her or I’ll kill you with my bare hands!” James screamed.

Voldemort had now reached them and was looking between Snape and James in confusion, and with not a small amount of displeasure.

“What do we have here then?” he said, turning to Severus Snape and smiling thinly. “Someone who is not a fan of yours, Severus? How very interesting. These two Dumbledore followers are clearly not aware whose presence they are in, or they would shut up and keep their heads low unless spoken to!”

Lily made a disbelieving noise at Voldemort. What the hell did that bastard think he was playing at, pretending never to have met them before, she thought.

James elbowed her sharply just as she was about to speak.

“Silencio!” hissed Voldemort, his face contorted with rage as two spells shot at lightning speed towards them. “I am the Dark Lord and I do not recall giving you permission to speak!”

Voldemort looked up at Mulciber, still wrathful, his wand pointed towards the Death Eaters in the room.

“My Lord,” Mulciber said immediately. “They clearly have no idea who they have been captured by.”

Voldemort’s face darkened.

“I am most displeased,” he hissed, so quietly that they had to strain to hear him. Who are these two?”

“I have never seen them before in battle, my Lord,” Mulciber answered quickly. “But I do recall seeing them in Hogwarts, both in Gryffindor, I believe they were Head Boy and Head Girl, graduated in ’78, James Potter and Lily Evans, blood traitor and mudblood.”

Mulciber was obviously lying, Lily thought, in order not to embarrass Voldemort. It was as though Voldemort had rewritten history, their previous capture and escape wiped out of their collective memories. Perhaps he had.

“I see,” Voldemort turned towards Snape, with a bored expression. “Lily Evans? Was that not the name of the mudblood you coveted, before you realised the error of your ways? Still do desire, somewhat, as far as I can recall?”

Snape’s face remained impenetrable, but he nodded his head minimally. James’ face blazed with fury.

“Oh dear, I think that the mudblood’s friend is upset by this fact, Severus, am I correct?” Voldemort smiled at James and Severus in turn.

“Potter has always detested me, my Lord,” Severus said, keeping his voice steady.

“They are married now, my Lord,” said Wilkes, interrupting the conversation.

Severus’ eyes widened for a split second. Long enough for Voldemort to notice. Voldemort’s smile grew.

“Oh Severus, how delightful!” he said, laughing lightly, and turning to look at James again. “I suggest you spend some time showing your friend, Mr. Potter, what happens to those who join Dumbledore’s side and fight against us? And afterwards, if you would be so kind as to visit Mrs. Potter in her cell, and do likewise, I’m sure she would love to see you?”

James looked like he was about to explode.

“Wonderful!” Voldemort said, pocketing his wand and giving Severus a forced smile. “I’m exceptionally pleased, Severus, I do hope you arrange an entertaining evening for us! We are sadly very bored at the moment, and your mudblood has provided us with a lively diversion! Don’t disappoint me, Severus!”

“I will strive to live up to your high expectations, my Lord,” Severus said, bowing low.

“Excellent,” Voldemort’s eyes gleamed as they rested on Lily’s white face. “Wilkes, Villiers – take the mudblood and lock her into one of the holding cells, they are currently empty. Mulciber, Rosier – escort Mr. Potter to the oubliette.”

Lily looked at James in confusion and terror, as Wilkes and Villiers began dragging her away.

“I fear the mudblood does not yet know what an oubliette is, Mulciber. Would you care to enlighten her?” Voldemort said, with a wide smile. “I have other more interesting and pressing matters to attend to.”

All the Death Eaters bowed low in front of him, and Voldemort strolled out of the room.

“Certainly, my Lord,” Mulciber’s eyes glimmered cruelly. “It is a dungeon that has only one escape route — through a trap door in its ceiling. Escape is of course pretty much impossible. In this castle it also doubles up as our torture chamber.”

Lily’s wide eyes flew to James’ face, both still unable to speak. What if this was the last time she saw him alive? She had never gotten the chance to say she was sorry about their stupid row, to tell him how much she loved him, she couldn’t lose him now, they couldn’t hurt him, anything but that. She felt unable to breathe. A single tear tracked down her cheek. James looked back, a determined look on his face, she knew that look.

I’ve got this, I have a plan, his face said.

His eyes were burning, burning through to her very soul.

I need you, beautiful, I need you safe, she thought, her own eyes heavy with dread and fear.

James closed his eyes for a brief moment, and when he looked at her again, they were shining brightly, a warm smile, and almost imperceptible wink. She knew that smile.

Alright, Evans…

She tried to smile back.

I trust you, she thought, I trust you, James.

Then Mulciber and Rosier jerked James backwards, and her captors pulled her in the opposite direction, and their eyes remained locked until James reached the stairs leading into the dungeons, and Mulciber lifted his booted leg and pushed James down the stairs, hard.

“Stop it!” Lily screamed, unsure how she had overcome the spell so quickly, pulling so hard that she was momentarily free from the Death Eaters holding her.

They grabbed her again, looking stunned.

“A fall like that down stone stairs could kill him! If anything happens to him, God forgive me, I’ll come after whoever is responsible and-“ Lily was still screaming.

“How the fuck is she able to talk?” stammered Wilkes.

“No idea,” Villiers said, concentrating on trying to hold onto Lily, who was twisting violently in his grasp.

“James!” shouted Lily.

As they dragged her kicking and screaming into the holding cell, she heard the creak of something metal opening and after a few seconds, the sound of a sickening thud as something heavy hit the floor.

“Welcome to the oubliette, Mr. Potter!”

She could hear the cruelty in Mulciber’s voice.

“Wake up, Potter, stop being a drama queen, as usual.”

Snape’s nasal tones, filled with contempt, floated into his consciousness as soon as he awoke. He opened his eyes slowly, intense pain racking his body, making him wish he could sink back into oblivion. As his eyes accommodated to the dark, he noted he was chained to a freezing cold, damp wall, arms outstretched and unable to bear any weight on his feet, he guessed correctly that he must have fractured both his ankles when he was thrown down feet first. He was slumped forwards as a result. It was painful to breath, probably due to a few broken ribs. The difficulty in breathing appeared to be also due to the effort he had to make to lift his ribcage against his own weight. His shoulders were killing him, he wondered vaguely had they been dislocated. His glasses must have fallen off and he could feel bits of glass sticking into his face. There were torches in the corners of the room. And it was freezing cold, his jacket and muggle clothing gone, his teeth were chattering and his body shaking. Mulciber and Rosier were standing behind Snape, looking bored, leaning against the wall. Snape was standing next to a small table, wand in his hand, with a mask-like facial expression, revealing nothing. He concentrated on trying to breathe for a moment. He knew immediately that they had already used the Cruciatus on him a number of times, although he couldn’t remember much, if anything.

“The Dark Lord wants to know what you and Lily Evans were doing here today, Potter,” Snape said, curling his lip as he spat out his surname.

“My wife and I were going for a walk, before we were rudely interrupted by your friends, Snivellus,” said James, smirking openly as he saw Snape’s eyes darken at the mention of wife.

“Hardly credible, Potter,” Snape said, looking livid as he gripped his wand tightly.

“What Mr. and Mrs. Potter do in their spare time is frankly none of your business,” James laughed, his breathing laboured as he shot Snape a condescending look.

Snape’s nostrils flared.

“Sniv, you should keep your abnormally large nose out of this. Try to remember that Lily Evans hates your guts and that she never once returned your affections. You disgust her,” James said.

Snape appeared speechless momentarily. James saw his fists curl as he stepped closer to him.

“Do I need to remind you who’s in charge here, Potter?” Snape murmured through his teeth.

“You can’t make me tell you anything, Sniv,” James’ teeth were chattering so hard he could barely get the words out, but the utter contempt was clear.

“I can do what I want to you!” Snape’s voice was full of rage as his wand tip touched James’ right shoulder. “Crucio!”

The pain flashed through his sinews and his chest and ribs, stopping his breathing. All remaining colour drained from his face. He couldn’t even cry out with the pain, until Snape moved his wand lower and James heard himself scream in agony as he gasped for air, the pain in his legs intensifying dramatically. He couldn’t breathe and scream at the same time and he began to feel panicked, his pupils dilating.

“What were you saying, Potter?” Snape laughed to himself, glancing back at the two men who were now looking mildly entertained.

As the spell wore off, James looked up at Snape through the hair that had fallen over his eyes, dripping sweat and melting frost, every inhaled breath a struggle.

“I said… you can’t read my mind, I won’t tell you… anything,” he gasped, with a derisive eye-roll.

Snape’s face lit up.

“Wrong, Potter, I suggest you do your research a bit better the next time you say that to a Legilimens, but then you were always infinitely arrogant and stupid,” Snape was wearing the biggest smile as he plunged his wand into the base of James’ neck and intoned the spell.

The unpleasant tingling sensation behind James’ forehead, painful so closely following on from the Cruciatus, confirmed the spell was working.

Took you long enough, James thought, glaring at Snape.

Snape narrowed his eyes, his expression somewhat unsure. He could now read James’ mind completely.

Oh for Merlin’s sake, man, I’ve been hinting you use that spell for bloody ages. I need to talk to you, alone. It’s about Lily.

Snape’s mouth shut tightly as he listened to James’ thoughts, his wand now pushing against James’ Adam’s apple.

“Why would you possibly think I would be interested in doing that?” he said quietly.

Because you’re interested… in Lily’s fate? Because you don’t… want her to die?

Snape watched as James’ breathing became more difficult, as the man pursed his lips together tightly while exhaling through his mouth and inhaling through the nose with his mouth closed.

“Of course not!” Snape said, dread and fear making his fingers shake as he grabbed hold of James’ hair and lifted him upwards roughly.

James gasped a lungful of air as he watched Snape, knowing the other men wouldn’t know what he was thinking.

Please, talk to me… alone… for a few minutes, that’s all I ask… you can bring them back in… any time you want…

Snape let go of James and watched as his body slid downwards, groaning in pain, his weight hanging from his shoulders, his neck hanging down. Snape looked back at the two Death-Eaters, regarding him with mild interest.

“What did you find out, Snape?” Mulciber asked, stifling a wide yawn.

“Not enough,” Snape demurred.

He looked back at James, unsure.

“I need to question him, alone,” he said eventually, sounding displeased. “Leave this room, I shall call you if I need anything.”

“Are you sure?” Mulciber asked.

He sounded disappointed.

“Yes, for now. Stand guard above the trapdoor,” he said, his wand still pressed to James’ neck. “You shall be needed again shortly.”

James’ breathing seemed shallower once more.

Please hurry… we don’t have much time…

“You have very little time and talking to me will do nothing to change that!” Snape snapped back, as soon as he heard the trap door swing shut.

“Talk!” he ordered, removing the wand from the other man’s neck but keeping it levelled at him.

“Of course it won’t change that,” James’ voice was barely a whisper. “We both know I’ll be dead soon.”

“Obviously,” Snape said coldly.

“And if you don’t do something, Lily will die later today too,” James said, lifting his head with difficulty and looking straight at Snape.

Snape’s mouth went dry. He had been trying to avoid thinking about that possibility, probability, but it was true. And it terrified him.

“I…” he said.

Fuck you, Snape, if she dies, I will hold you entirely responsible!

James was making a strange noise as he breathed in, Snape could see that talking was too difficult for the other man.

“I won’t be the one killing her!” Snape whispered, his dark eyes molten. “You killed her, allowing her to be part of your futile resistance group! What kind of husband were you? Did you want her to die? Were you sick of her already?”

“Pah!” James made a dismissive sound in his throat and spat out some blood. “If she dies… it will be… because you failed… to rescue her!”

Snape looked at him furiously, his heart racing, feeling unwell. He didn’t want to hear any more, wanted no part in this entire awful scenario involving the love of his life. Wanted this to be a nightmare that he could wake up from. Most of all, he wanted James Potter to shut up and stop appealing to his conscience.

“I’m going to have to Crucio you again,” Snape said, placing the wand back onto James’ chest.

“Are you now? How astonishing,” James rasped, looking vaguely bored.

“It will appear suspicious otherwise. Wouldn’t want the others to guess what you’re trying to do, would you?” Snape said.

James’ face immediately changed, and he nodded.

“Do it,” he ordered.

Snape hated being told what to do, by Potter, as though he was Head Boy again, in this situation – how was that even possible?

Snape’s Crucio was excruciating and longer than the previous spell. By the time it wore off, James was flitting in and out of consciousness and shaking like a leaf.

Please…

Snape stared back at him.

Please…

“Please what?” he whispered irritably.

I’m going to tell you how you save Lily.

“I cannot ask Voldemort to spare her! Not now, not in these circumstances!” Snape hissed, swallowing hard.

Not the plan…

He could see James was wilting rapidly, his mind becoming progressively emptier.

“Oh for Merlin’s sake!” he said, throwing a powerful healing charm at James. “What are you talking about?”

James opened his eyes and took a few deeper breaths.

“I want you to go directly from here to Lily. Tell her I’m dead. Tell her you’ve had a change of heart and want to leave Voldemort’s forces. Tell her you’re going to save her, that you’re doing it because you love her. She has a portkey on her. Bring her to whatever part of the castle is accessible by portkey and get both of you out of here. You can decide on longer term plans after that. If you approach the others with Lily, looking for help, they will accept you. Lily will never agree to join Voldemort. Ever,” James whispered.

James was wrong, Severus was sure of it, if there was no option, Lily would cave and join Voldemort. But having Lily Evans at last? He was willing to risk everything.

“And you?” Snape said. “You know I can’t-“

James looked at him blankly.

What do you mean?

“You stay here,” Snape said.

“Obviously,” James said, mimicking Snape’s earlier statement and tone.

“Which means you-“ Snape said, narrowing his eyes.

Yes, I’m quite aware, Snape.

James lips had turned a bluish colour.

“Will she agree to… you know?” Snape said after a pause.

I can’t mind read, elaborate…

Snape tossed his head.

“You know exactly what I mean, Potter!” he whispered irritably. “Do I… have I any chance with her?”

He could see James struggling to think, his eyes closed.

“Maybe, yes,” he gasped. “But tell her… tell her you tried to save me… that I convinced you… to swap sides… she needs to believe that…”

Snape’s jaw tightened. He couldn’t imagine himself saying that to Lily.

“Snape!” James’ voice was fading but urgent. “You have to…”

She won’t go with you unless she thinks… you have… please…

The man’s thoughts weren’t even making sense now.

“If I do this, I shall be risking my life. If Voldemort finds out, I’m a dead man,” Snape’s words were clipped, anxious.

I know… but it’s Lily… your only hope… with her…

Snape stayed quiet.

If he finds… Blame me… Occlumens…

Snape vacillated. He was an excellent Occlumens. He could blame Potter, a trick he had fallen for, and then an opportunity to play Dumbledore? The fact that Voldemort knew about his past infatuation made it more credible, but also more dangerous.

She’s dead otherwise, Snape, dead!

Snape nodded slowly.

“Do you have anything I can say to her if she doesn’t believe that we discussed this? Any secret code or words?” Snape said, leaning down.

James’ whisper was barely audible.

“Graham’s number.”

Disbelief written all over his face, Snape turned to leave.

Snape!

He turned back.

Be good to her. Please.

His dark eyes widening slightly.

Get her out of here, Severus, I’m depending on you…

It was ridiculous and stupid and laughable. What would he have done, in the same position? Would he have sacrificed himself to save Lily if it meant Potter won in the end? She was better off without Potter. Lily would see that, she’d come around, she would come to love him, he knew it deep down, especially if she thought he had tried to save her husband. Potter was right.

Would he have done the same, though?

He shivered, impatient to rid himself of these thoughts. Get her out of here, Severus, always telling him what to do! Still, there was no denying the man was brave, braver than he had expected, if you valued that. He found himself compelled to look at James Potter one last time – shaking violently with the cold, his lips blue, his body covered in the pinprick rash of the Cruciatus, his breathing ragged, his face grey, unable to stand. Potter’s eyes made his stomach twist uncomfortably – there was pain there, and that glazed look that prisoners got. But there was fire still in his eyes, desperate light, and he knew why they burned.

“For Lily,” he said to Potter, nodding his head.

For Lily… Thank you.

Potter was unable to talk now. Without answering, Snape aimed his ebony wand at the trapdoor and intoned a spell to pull himself upwards, holding onto the rope ladder.

“Get Hugo Avery,” he said brusquely to Rosier and Mulciber. “Tell him he can have Potter. You can help him, of course.”

Mulciber looked mutinous.

“The Dark Lord’s wishes,” Snape said.

Mulciber stormed off, cursing under his breath.

Snape flew down the corridor towards the holding cells, his heart racing furiously, wand out. He had thrown a silencing spell at the oubliette. He hadn’t forgotten anything. This was a dangerous game. But he loved Lily Po- Evans, Lily Evans, with all his heart. It was worth it, if it meant he got to be with her for the rest of his life. He stood in front of the door to her cell, taking deep breaths and flicked some dandruff off his dark robes, before entering the room.

***

Severus pushed the heavy door slowly, almost reluctantly, now that it came to it. He looked uncharacteristically agitated, his waxy cheeks flushed. Relief swept over him as he looked at Lily. She looked upset but safe. She was shackled to the wall, her hands above her head, tied together. She was trembling and pale. There was no sign of the Cruciatus, or other dark magic.

“Are you alright, Lily?” He said, hurriedly throwing a potent heating charm at her. “What are you doing here?” Lily’s husky voice surprised him, he hadn’t heard her screaming.

“What happened? Did they hurt you?” Severus said, moving closer to Lily and regarding her anxiously. “They hurt me by hurting him,” she whispered.

Tears tracked down her cheek, and Severus wiped it with his thumb. “I’m so sorry, Lily,” he said, his voice trembling – he was slightly scared of her, and then there was unexpected guilt - guilt about lying, guilt about how James was going to die. “I tried to... I tried...”

He stopped and took a few breaths, looking at the ground.

“I tried to save him, I tried some healing charms and... and I sent the others away. I wasn’t sure what to do, Lily, but then I was called away and Avery had... I was too late, Lily, I’m so sorry.”

He couldn’t look at her.

“No, Sev, please, not James, please,” Lily’s broken whisper made Severus’ heart ache.

“I’m so sorry, I’m... you don’t know how sorry I am,” Severus whispered back. “I’m desperately sorry.”

Lily didn’t say anything, silent tears streaming down her face.

“He... James and I, he spoke to me, he thanked me for trying to save him, before he... he asked me to save you, to get you out of here. I promised him I’d do it. Do you understand Lily?” She was looking at him blankly, through her tears, her mind far away in some distant time or place. “Lily!” Severus whispered urgently. “Lily, he wanted you to be safe! He insisted I save you! He told me a code word - I’ve no idea what he meant, but he said to tell you - Graham’s Number.“ “Graham’s Number,” Lily repeated quietly, as though dazed. “James.” “Yes, James,” Severus said, trying not to sound impatient. “We have to leave now, I promised him I’d get you out of here! Do you understand?”

Lily nodded, still crying.

“My beautiful,” she said. “My gallant lad.”

“Yes, yes,” Severus said, eying the door of the cell. “We need to leave! Now! If Voldemort finds us, we’re both dead!”

Lily stared at him intently. After a few seconds she smiled vaguely.

“I’m so sorry Sev, let’s go, I just... it’s so much to take in, you know? I can never thank you enough, for trying to save him, for being such a noble person?”

Severus squirmed.

“It means everything to me,” she said, her red-rimmed eyes looking into his soul.

“It’s nothing,” he said firmly, refusing to hold eye contact and pointing his wand at the chains. “Frangit!”

The chains broke, and Lily collapsed into Severus’ arms.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “Can you help me? I don’t think I can walk?”

***

He heard the trapdoor groan, one at a time he heard the light footfall of young men jump down the rope ladder. He wouldn’t let himself think of her. She was safe. Lily - the kindest, bravest, truest person he had ever met. Their baby was safe. He had managed to keep Snape’s Legilimency away from those thoughts. Voldemort’s reaction to his rant, his own interaction with Snape - both had played out exactly as James had predicted, practically word for word. In another world, another future - he could see Lily and their two children, all four of them, standing in that field surrounded by wildflowers and joy. It was not to be. Not in this lifetime.

He looked up at Avery, ready. “Fancy meeting you here? I knew we’d get you in the end, Potter!” Avery laughed. “Looks like today is my lucky day!” He was rubbing his hands together with glee, his laughter loud and erratic, his eyes wide. He had changed drastically since James had last seen him in King’s Cross Station all those years ago. There was no trace of boyishness left in him, despite his laughter - his eyes were cold, lifeless, bitter. “What a pitiful way to die! This is how traitors die, Potter! How your friends will mourn! When I’m finished with you here, I’ll move on and kill your little mudblood. It will be reassuring for you to know what sort of death awaits her, won’t it?” Avery’s shrill laughter echoed around the dungeon. Please, if there is a God, let her be safe, he asked, closing his eyes. “Scribo per Ignem!” Avery cried, as a dark, liquid, ink-like substance poured out of his wand and floated in front of James, suspended in the air, shimmering as though molten. “Proditor!” Avery said, with a slash of his wand.

The liquid rearranged itself into the word “traitor”, that seared into the skin of James’ chest, sizzling as it burned, unbearable. “Crucio!” said Avery, placing the tip of his wand inside the burnt flesh.

James blacked out with the pain. He flirted in and out of consciousness, each time the pain overwhelmed him and he felt everything fade into blessed darkness, one of the three men threw a powerful healing charm at him, which kept him awake long enough for another Crucio. Mulciber and Rosier joined in, Sectumsempra one of the many spells they used.

He could feel his body weakening with the blood loss. Lily would have their child, a boy, Harry. Thinking about Lily would only endanger her safety, in case she felt his presence. His parents would be proud of him for saving Lily, and they would have a beloved grandchild. Sirius and the Marauders would make the most excellent uncles. Nobody was a loser. For a moment he thought of Sirius losing his blood brother, then losing him too. He closed his eyes and concentrated on his brother, ignoring the pain. I’m fine, Sirius old chap, this is how it ends. I wouldn’t have it any other way. I’m too weak to cope with losing any of you. You deserve a long life with Moony, the best man we have ever known.

He opened his eyes again and saw Mr and Mrs Evans standing beside him, smiling.

“I kept my promise, Sir,” he tried to say.

When he blinked, they were gone. He fought it, yet as he sank into darkness, all he could think about was Lily.

Lily, Lily, Lily…

#OUCH #canon jily #first wizarding war #canon marauders #WCBH one shots #lily recues james #BAMF Lily #BAMF James #fuck Sn*pe #not for you if you like sneep #jily angst #tw: violence #you haven't seen what Lily does yet...#happy to post next part whenever you want me to

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entishramblings · 4 years

Text

You Have Pretty Hair [Legolas X Reader]

A.N: so this one shot has some pieces from my fanfic (link in description) but I altered it for a legolas x reader formate cuz I figured you all would be interested because on wattpad so many users said they loved it! So if you recognize it....that’s why!!!

Request: none

Pairing: Legolas X Reader

Summary: (Y/N) is traveling with the fellowship and they end up drinking one night and Legolas has to take care of (Y/N)

Word Count: 2,270

Warnings: none

(gif not mine)

MASTERLIST

(Y/N), a young female ranger of the Dunedain and close friend of Aragorn’s, grinned when she saw a worn down sign that read: The White Lion Inn. She had chosen to accompany the fellowship on the quest to destroy the one ring, for her sword skills and healing abilities would provide useful. She had trained under Isildur’s heir for many years and was well aquatinted with the lays of the lands.

The weary members of the fellowship trudged through the door hoping for a comfortable bed, hot meal, and some quality ale. When they entered, the diverse group was immediately greeted by the sound of drunk humans and off-pitch tavern songs. Many uncertain eyes wandered across them for they had just demolished a pack of orcs so they were quite a sight to see. (Y/N) had a bloody head wound and was splashed with dark orc blood; Boromir, Aragorn, and Gimli had a handful of superficial cuts whereas Legolas was completely unscathed. Not to mention they were accompanied by a wizard and four hobbits. An interesting group indeed.

The wooden walls of the tavern were dimly lit by candles and lanterns while the room was filled with intoxicated, dirt covered travelers—not the most appealing of types. Furthermore, the stale air smelled of ale and three days old piss. But alas, it was better than the bone chilling coldness of outside and the threat of Sauron’s spies.

Gandalf suggested they get cleaned up before diving into drinking, but (Y/N) had other ideas.

She smirked at the sight before her. She loved taverns and she loved drinking. She hadn't had any alcohol since her arrival at Rivendell so she was quite deprived from the ensnaring numb sensation it provided.

The female Ranger immediately walked up to the barkeep and tossed a coin onto the counter, "One pint of the good stuff."

The bar tender glanced at the blood covered woman and raised his eyebrows, but he did not question anything for he often saw strange folk with strange business in this part of town. He plucked a glass from the shelves behind him and generously poured a tall tankard with bitter ale. He slid it across the counter towards her and she offered a quick thanks.

......

It was not long until most of the fellowship had started drinking. Gandalf, Sam, and Frodo had retired early for they were exhausted and had no interest in getting drunk. Merry, Pippin, and Gimli however had started a drinking contest while the two human men observed with laughter. Legolas only had two pints, which did absolutely nothing for him. (Y/N) on the other hand was on her 6th? 7th? She had lost track a long time ago and was completely utterly waisted.

Currently, the female ranger was on the top of the table dancing and laughing with the two hobbits (who were slightly less drunk). The three beings’ arms were locked and they were swinging around and around giggling uncontrollably. Merry and Pippin sung tavern songs terribly while accidentally kicking the bowls of peanuts to the floor with their large hairy feet. It was quite a sight, amusing to all onlookers.

Pippin nodded in Legolas's direction. The elf was sitting at the bar talking to the barkeep for he was the quiet type and preferred calm company.

"(Y/N), what do you think of Legolas?"

She stumbled and let out a loud belch before slurring out, "He's ssuper talll."

Pippin grinned, "I agree with you there as I am quite short as well! But he’s considered average if you compare him to Strider and Boromir.”

A confused look crossed the ranger's face for a moment before she giggled again.

“Oh....right....”

She then called out to Boromir sitting below her, “PASS ME ANOTHER PINT!"

The Gondorian immediately handed her another and she took a big swig from it.

With his elf hearing, Legolas listened in on the conversion. He couldn't help but smirk at the drunken stupidity of (Y/N). He observed that she had always been a carefree spirit and it seemed that alcohol brought that aspect out further. However, as soon as he heard her call for another pint he knew he needed to interfear. She was incredibly intoxicated and adding another drink to that would not be smart. Legolas left his stool and briskly walked towards the table of his friends.

(Y/N)’s grin widened when she saw the elven prince, "Legolas!"

Merry then insisted that he join their dancing and (Y/N) released another giggle, but the moment was interrupted as the female Ranger lost her footing and fell forward—off the table. She felt her body smack against something firm that smelled of pine and honey. Quite strange for something that smelled so good to be in this less than tasteful place. She squinted in puzzlement as the world around her distorted; it was upsidedown, twisted, warped.

What was going on?

Her gaze landed on bright blue eyes that stared down at her with uncertainty. That’s when the realization hit her. She was in Legolas’s arms. She frowned.....and her tunic was soaked wet? The alcohol must have spilled out of the tankard that she had been holding. She lazily examined Legolas and a giggle escaped her lips when she realized he was also covered in the ale.

(Y/N) continued to marveled at the blonde elf who was evaluated her drunken state. She laughed again. "You have muscly arms," she said with a slur.

Legolas sighed and made eye contact with Aragorn. The uncrowned king nodded, knowing exactly what Legolas was asking. They both silently agreed that (Y/N) had had enough.

“All right," the elf said as he put her down, "You're done." The last part of his sentence sounded stern, commanding, and showed that he was slightly pissed off—not that the drunk ranger could pick up on that.

Legolas didn't understand how she got so careless to drink this much while they were on a very important mission. Quite frankly, he was surprised Aragon had let it get this far as he had assumed the figure of older brother long ago; but alas, (Y/N) was a grown woman who was perfectly capable of making her own decisions.

The Elven Prince took the half filled pint from her hand and passed it to Boromir. Legolas then grabbed her arm and slightly tugged her in the opposite direction, but she reached out and snatched the unfinished pint from the Gondorian. She quickly took another big gulp before Legolas pulled the tankard from her hand once again. He firmly set it down on the table and shot Borimir a look.

The elf then pulled the grumbling ranger by her arm, more forcefully this time. He lead her to the barkeep and held her upright, "One room key please,"

The man looked at the state of the drunk woman and chuckled, "Good luck with that one."

He passed the elven prince the key and Legolas tugged (Y/N) to the crooked wooden stairs. He motioned for her to go up. She glanced at the step and let out another giddy laugh before lifting her leg. She was able to climb up a couple steps before falling back against Legolas chest. He easily caught her and held her waist until she regained some balance. She again lifted her foot but immediately stumbled. Legolas shook his head in frustration, bent down slightly, and scooped her up bridal style. He began to assend the stairs as she whined to go back for another pint. The elf’s ears turned light pink as he heard his friends snickering at the current situation he was in. He chose to ignore it; someone had to take care of her.

Legolas opened the door to the small room and sat (Y/N) down on the bed, her legs dangling off the side. He poured some water from a pitcher onto a towel and turned back to the drunk woman. He gently wiped her face with it, making sure to erase the dirt and dried blood from the outdoor adventure.

Legolas carefully began to clean the small wound on her head. He wished she would have done so earlier for an injury was not to be left untended; but alas, when she made a decision she stuck by it.

He watched as (Y/N)’s eyebrows furrowed and she tried to pull away from the cloth. "Cold, cold, cold," she grumbled like a child.

Legolas sighed, "(Y/N), don't make this difficult."

She groaned once more before letting out another giggle. The blonde elf raised his eyebrows in question.

"You," She slurred, "have prettyyy hair.”

She reached her hand out and grasped a handful of his blonde locks, “Can youu braid mine like that some day!?”

He chuckled, “Maybe.”

Legolas reached upward and carefully untangled her fingers from his hair for he was fearful that, in her drunk state, she would end up getting them stuck in it.

The Prince had dealt with a lot of intoxicated elves in his lifetime, but (Y/N)’s behavior was so innocent and seemed to be even more amusing. Humans—always an interesting species. He still was angry at her lack of self control when it came to drinking, but it was hard not to smile at her intoxicated actions and words.

The blue eyed elf's hands made their way to her hair. He gently pulled out the tie from the messily twisted bun, allowing her locks to cascade down her shoulders.

"(Y/N)," Legolas started.

She let out another giddy laugh.

Legolas sighed, "What is it now?"

"I thinks I had too many alcohols."

Legolas smirked at her improper grammar, "Yes, indeed you did."

She let out yet another giggle.

"(Y/N), your tunic is wet with ale and orc blood. Do you wish me to find a servant to assist you?"

She closed her eyes and shook her head while grasping onto his sleeve, "Youu just help me."

Legolas lips parted as he felt a blush creep up his neck and upon his ears. He cleared his throat, "(Y/N), I'm not su—"

The woman interrupted him, "You." She paused in attempt to gather her drunk words together, "I trustt you over some random strangeeer."

Legolas let out a nervous exhale but nodded.

He ruffled through her bag until he came across an extra black tunic. He grasped the soft fabric in his calloused hands and stood in front of her.

"Are you wearing anything under this?"

She nodded. Her words slurring as she spoke, "MHhmm, uunderrrgarments to coverr my brea—"

He interrupted her awkwardly, "(Y/N), I know how basic anatomy and clothing work."

Legolas gently took hold of the bottom of her dirty tunic and begun to pull it up and over her head, careful not to get any orc blood on her skin. He could feel his cheeks heating even more as her shirt rose; he was just grateful she was too intoxicated to notice. He gently untangled her arms from the disgusting fabric and removed it completely.

She sat on the bed with eyes closed as she begun to sway slightly. The blonde elf's gaze trailed down her body cautiously, taking in her appearance. Her undergarment encased her chest, covering what needed to be. However, it clearly accentuated the curves of her breasts and the shape of her torso. He watched as her skin and toned muscles rippled ever so slightly with small movements. She was utterly beautiful, despite her terribly drunken state. Legolas swallowed dryly. He felt the desire to touch her soft skin and inch his hands over her form crept into his mind; but he did not want that while she was intoxicated. Her well-being was his top priority. Besides, they were not courting. He doubted she even knew of his affections.

Legolas pulled the new, clean tunic over her head and assisted her in getting her arms through. He felt slightly relieved that it was over for the situation had been quite compromising.

If anyone had walked in......

If Aragorn had walked in.....

The elf’s mind wandered slightly at the thought of his friend. Strider made no move to assist Legolas with the intoxicated young woman that he had trained. It was almost as if he had let the elf take care of her on purpose.

Legolas blushed.

That cheeky bastard.

Aragorn had to have done that on purpose. Legolas remembered all the times Strider had paired him and the female Ranger to collect firewood and watch for Sauron’s enemies. The man’s twinkling eyes and mischievous looks......he definitely did this on purpose.

Legolas sighed once again before tuning back the (Y/N). He quickly pulled off her boots and then pulled back her covers. He then helped her climb into the soft comfort of the feathery bed. The Elven Prince sat on the edge of the mattress and gently ran his hand through her hair to coax her to sleep; and there he stayed watching over her.

.......

The female ranger walked down the stairs to the tavern. She was rubbing her temples and groaning with every step. Her head pounded like drums, the light blinded like white fire, and everything was just too damn loud.

She saw that most of the fellowship was all sitting around a table across the room, many of them with the same problem as her.

Legolas unexpectantly appearing near her and chuckled when she walked past him, "feeling better?"

She sent him a death glare and grumbled in response. She plopped down on the bench across from Merry and Pippin and next to Boromir.

The Gondorian nudged the female ranger, "Do you have any memory of last night?"

She groaned, "Why? What happened?"

At that moment Aragorn slid onto the bench next to (Y/N) with a big grin on his face. He spoke with a tone filled of taunting amusement, "Legolas took care of your drunk ass!”

(Y/N) groaned at that statement and put her head on the table.

Of fucking course.

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