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hops-hunny · 3 years ago

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Just a Flight Away

Pairing: Neville Longbottom x Ilvermony!Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Request N/A

Summary: Neville has a cutie who lives in America but no one seems to believe him.

Warnings: None!

A/N: This isn’t a request but it’s based off of me rambling here and slightly off of the vibe telepatia by Kali Uchis gives off.

If there was one thing Neville was thankful was it was the absolute goddess he got to call his girlfriend. It was funny the way they first began talking to one another. (Y/n) had been trying to contact a friend at Hogwarts but after the long trip from Ilvermony to Hogwarts, her owl was quite exhausted and ended up bringing the letter to Neville instead. Neville saw the poor bird, giving it a bit of bird seed and water that he kept in the green house before he set off to find the rightful owner of the letter. Luckily he had 3rd period with the girl who thanked him before excitedly yanking the letter from his hands. When Neville went to go check on the owl, he saw that it had already left, leaving a heart shape in the bird seed.

After that day, Neville hadn’t really thought about the incident that much. Well, that was until he saw the same owl fly towards him with a letter in its mouth. He smiled fondly at it rubbing under its chin with his finger before going to give the letter back to the owl until he noticed it had his name on it. He ripped it open, careful to not damage the envelope before reading the letter.

Dear Neviile,

Thank you so so so much for getting the letter to Gwen! Gwen is a good friend of mine who I had been missing dearly and if not for your kindness she would have never received my letter.

As you may be able to tell from the seal on the letter, I attend Ilvermorny school of witchcraft and wizardry. I've heard of how grand and great the infamous Hogwarts is, is it true? How is England in general? I've never had the pleasure of traveling out of America.

Oh yes! The main point of this is as a thank you, I've attached a package of my favorite American sweets as a token of my gratitude. The package is enchanted which is why it's so small. To restore it to its original state, place it on a flat surface before tapping it with the tip of your wand.

Sincerely,

(Y/n) (L/n)

Neville felt his face grow warm at the girl's kindness. (Y/n). 'What a beautiful name..' he thought to himself before pulling out the galleon sized package from the envelope. He pushed aside a few plants on the table in front of it before placing the package down, tapping the top with his wand. He gasped, watching in amazement as he saw the package expand. Neville wasn't quite familiar with this enchantment, perhaps he'd ask her about it in his response. His cheeks turned a brighter red. Response?

Did she want to speak to him more? He didn't want to assume but by her letter and her asking questions, it made it clear that this wasn't the last exchange she wanted to have. Was this a prank? Were the Weasley twins up to this? There was only one way to tell. Neville reached a shaky hand forward, opening the package as he closed his eyes expecting something to pop out at him but when he opened his eyes there was nothing but a box of snacks he had never seen before. He let out a sigh of relief, ignoring the racing in his heart.

After that, Neville and the girl started to talk quite a bit. Months had turned into years and he couldn't have been happier. It felt nice to have someone he could talk to, someone far away from all the hustle and bustle of the castle. To her he wasn't the kid with unfortunate luck or the "cowardly" boy in Gryffindor. He was just Neville, her boyfriend. Neville, her kind boyfriend in another continent, far away.

(Y/n) loved Neville just as much. It wasn't that she never had suitors approach her. In fact, she had quite a few. (Y/n) was what you could consider popular, not that she cared. She was kind, smart, and beautiful. Who wouldn't want that? However, she always felt like none of the men who'd approach her got her. They all just saw her as a beautiful woman instead of what she was, a normal girl deserving of love. That's why she liked Neville so much. No matter what he always treated her with the utmost respect and that hadn't stopped when they started to date either.

When the two had first exchanged photos, Neville was stunned. He had been talking to that beautiful of a girl? He couldn’t believe it. It was as if Olivander himself had sculpted and carved her out of the best of wood. She had glowing (s/c) skin, soft healthy looking (h/c) (h/c) hair, and a smile that could compete with the sun on its brightest of days and win. And when he found out she was single? He would’ve been a fool not to make a move. Angels as sweet as (Y/n) didn’t come around that often.

And although their relationship was as great as can be there was the underlying sadness: they lived across the world from one another. Every time either of them would see a couple hug or kiss in school, they’d feel a twinge of jealousy pierce their hearts. It wasn’t fair that the most perfect person in the world was off enjoying themselves in their respective countries. Although (Y/n) tried to ignore it, Neville was the type to bring it up. He’d describe in the most beautiful of words what he’d do if they were together. How he’d hold her in his arms and show her off to all of his friends. Where he’d take her on a date, the plants he wanted to show her as they were both herbology geeks. Meanwhile she’d end each of the letters discussing this topic with the same phrase as usual. ‘You know I’m just a flight away. If you wanna I could take a private plane.’ He could never ask that of her though. As much as he’d love everyday to be filled with his flower, he wouldn’t wanna rip her away from the things she had going on in her own life.

It wasn’t all bad though! After the girl had taught him the charm she used when she first sent him something, they both would send each other gifts back and forth as much as possible. Neville sent her sweaters with his scent embedded, charmed flowers, chocolate frogs, anything she wanted was hers. She’d send her own things to remind him of her as well. Her favorite stuffed animal, loads of photographs, little crochet hats she made for Trevor, more...unsavory things as well definitely not her underwear. Despite the increase in objects Neville owned, none of his friends had questioned it until he started to wear a necklace with a heart shaped piece of onyx on it with the letter (Y/f/i) carved into it.

“Oi! Neville. Where’d you get that necklace from?” Ron questioned his friend who sat across from him in the Gryffindor common room. The boys had all decided to study together which of course turned into Neville studying as they goofed off. Neville tensed as his cheeks heated up turning a pink color.

“O-oh um..it’s from my girlfriend.” He said, saying the last word as soft as possible. He prayed to Merlin that his friends hadn’t heard him but unfortunately for him they had. It wasn’t that he didn’t want anyone to know about her. It was far from that. He was just a bit protective, he didn’t want anyone to try and steal her from him. Even though it was impossible since they had no contact with her, he never knew when it came to his friends. They always found a way to make the impossible possible.

“What year is she in?!”

“Who is it?!”

“No way, is she fit?!”

He finished at the chorus of voices, trying to calm them down so he could speak. They all scooted closer to him, looking up at him expectantly. “Well you see..” he trailed off, looking away as he played with the pendant around his neck. “She doesn’t go here. She attends school in Ilvermorny. But to answer your question, yeah she is bloody fit.” he responded, turning his attention back to the scroll of paper in front of him. Dean, Ron, and Seamus exchanged a look with each other trying to suppress their laughs.

“Yeah I’m sure she does Nev.” Dean said sarcastically as he joined the other two in laughter. Neville looked up at his friends confused at their behavior.

“Yeah Nev, if your nan sent it you could’ve just told us! Better than saying you’ve got a girl halfway across the world.” Ron said, pushing the boy slightly as he continued to laugh at him. Seamus was doubled over, snorting with laughter as fire whiskey shot from his nose causing the other two to howl with laughter.

“It’s not from my nan! My girlfriend really did send it to me.” he exclaimed, smacking Ron on the back of the head, before doing the same to the other two men. “Besides, you have some fucking nerve accusing me of lying when none of you have birds yourself.” he sneered, causing the boys to quiet down some.

“So harsh Neville, you didn’t have to go there mate! Well what’s this ‘girlfriend’ of yours called.” Seamus asked, doing air quotes as he mentioned the topic at hand. “You’d think it was a bit strange too if your friend suddenly mentioned a girlfriend who lived all the way in the states too wouldn’t you.”

“(Y/n). And I’ll have you know this isn’t a new thing. We’ve been dating since around 2nd year. Sure, I’d find it a bit strange if you mentioned a girlfriend in America that you had never brought up prior, but I wouldn’t find it impossible! Now if you excuse me, I have to go.” he quickly stood up, packing up his materials as he stormed off to the direction of his dorm. He sped up, ignoring the protest and begging of his friends to come back and continue to hang out with them. He had enough of them and he wasn’t gonna sit there and let himself be called a fucking liar by Hogwart’s biggest ones.

--------------------------------------------

“Did you guys hear? Students from Ilvermony are supposed to be coming to visit!” Ron said, running up to the other four boys. “I’m just picturing how hot all the girls from the states are gonna be. All hot and leggy with those bloody accents. I could combust just thinking of it!” he exclaimed, flopping down on the couch. Neville gasped softly, looking up. Did he hear him correctly?

“Where’d you hear that from? I didn’t hear anything of the sorts.” Hermione questioned, looking up from her book at the interesting news she had just heard. However, Neville was still frozen. Was this true? And if so, why hadn’t (Y/n) mentioned it. No, no it couldn’t be. She surely would have told him.

“I just overheard it from Dumbledore himself. They should be arriving in a few minutes! They’re staying here for a few months. It’s a part of this new thing that they’ve set up. Something about wanting the students to learn different methods and what not. They decided it’d be a good idea since summer is coming soon.” he said nonchalantly, looking over at Neville who hadn’t moved since the news left his mouth. He went to question what was up with him before his eyes lit up, recalling the conversation they had a few months ago. “Hey Neville? Didn’t your supposed ‘girlfriend’ go to Ilvermony.” the boys all suddenly interested began to ‘ooo’ exchanging looks with each other.

“See Neville, this is why you don’t lie. Lies will always come back to bite you in the rear. Perhaps Ronald i-”

“I wasn’t lying, Hermione! She really does go to Ilvermony.” he exclaimed, standing up as he wiped his hands on his pants. All of a sudden, there were the sounds of a bunch of American accents speaking which caught all of their attention. Many different students in Ilvermorny uniforms (some without them) roamed freely to explore the large and intense castle.

“God you weren’t kidding Ron, the girls are bloody fit.” Dean muttered, eyeing some girl who gave him a wink before giggling and running off with her friends. “Woah look at that one, are you kidding me? She’s a fucking goddess!” Neville’s curious hazel eyes followed his friend's words as he saw a familiar shade of (h/c) hair styled in the way his girlfriend wore it. Wait, was that his sweater?

“That’s not just some fucking girl, that’s my girlfriend!” Neville exclaimed, standing up from his seat.

“No chance.”

“You couldn’t pick a more believable one?”

“Prove it then.”

Neville went to say something before the girl turned around, locking eyes with him. She gasped, tearing up some as she pushed through the crowd of people running to him as quickly as possible. “Nev! Neville babe, is that you?” she exclaimed. Neville’s face flushed brightly taking in the girl’s appearance. She had worn the first sweater he had given her, a mossy green sweater with an obscure pattern, with a pleated skirt pairing it with a pair of boots. Neville nodded his head quickly, holding his arms out as the girl ran into him almost knocking him over. He picked her up, spinning her around quickly before setting her down, holding her soft face between his hands.

“W-what are you doing here?! You never told me you were coming to visit!” he exclaimed, wiping at the stray tears that had left her eyes. He moved his hands from her face securing them around her waist as he stared down at her. God she was even more beautiful in person.

“I wanted to surprise you! I actually found out a few weeks ago and let me tell ya, it was SO hard not to tell you!” She giggled, reaching up to stroke his cheek. He leaned into her touch, smiling at her. “I didn’t think it was possible for you to get even more handsome but bloody hell. You’re so fucking hot, Nev.” she said, feeling her face heat up. Neville flushed a bright red before leaning down, kissing the girl on the lips. She pulled him down more, wrapping her arms around his neck as she kissed back. The kiss was full of the love and affection they had both been craving from one another. (Y/n) tangled her hands in the back of his hair as he deepened the kiss, moaning softly. They both jumped away from one another at the sound of someone clearing their throat. “Ah sorry! Nev, are you going to introduce me to your friends?” she asked looking up at him as she intertwined his large hand with her smaller one.

“I suppose I will, even though for some reason they thought you weren’t real.” he quipped, glaring at the four boys who looked away ashamed. “From left to right there is Harry, Ron, Dean, and Seamus. And over there,” he said pointing to the big arm chair in the corner. “That is Hermione.” he said as they all muttered ‘hi’ and ‘sorry’ from some of them. (Y/n) giggled some, waving at them all.

“It’s very nice to meet you all! Nev talks about you guys all the time in his letters. Oh!” She said, eyes looking at his chest. She reached a hand forward, grabbing the engraved onyx in her hands. “The necklace I gave you!! You like it? I think it looks really good on you.” she exclaimed with a smile, happy her boyfriend enjoyed the gift she gave him. Neville once again looked at his friends chuckling some at their wide eyes.

“Of course I do, petal. I wear it everyday, everywhere I go. Right guys.” he teased, watching as they all stuttered out ‘yes ‘yep’ ‘sure does. “Come on flower, I’ll show you around the castle. I know you’ve been looking forward to that for a while. Also, you look quite cute in my sweater.”

“Thank you. I wear it quite often, even though the smell of you has worn off it still brings me good memories.” she said, playing with the slightly worn out sleeves of the sweater. “I’d love to!! Can we check out the greenhouse first? I wanna see that plant you were talking about. Maybe we can work on identifying what species it is!” he nodded in response, taking her hand once again as they began to walk off. Before they turned the corner, he quickly turned his head around using his unoccupied hand to flip off his friends before turning his attention back to his lover.

“Who would’ve thought? Longbottom with an absolute fox.” Ron said, slumping back down as he frowned. Hermione took the book she was reading smacking him upside the head.

“Maybe if you knew how to treat women you’d be with one too.”

#Neville Longbottom #neville longbottom x reader #neville x you #neville longbottom x you #neville x reader #harry potter imagines #Harry Potter #harry potter imagine

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gliphyartfan · 3 years ago

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@yandere-linked-universe @stars-for-thought @linked-heroes @ice-cream-writes-stuff

@imprisioned-in-the-hole I loved your prompt and couldn't resist! Hope I did it justice!

Wind has a strong presence in this one, that wasn't planned by the way.

Enjoy!

'I'll be fiine guys.'

She totally should have saw this coming.

'This is Wars' era, wandering the market won't that bad.'

Yep— these past few days had been too damn calm for the all of them,

'I'll be gone for an hour! Two hours tops! Promise!'

Of course something like this was going to go and happen.

'This. fucking. sucks!' She grunted, slowly slide down the rope she made out of the sheets in the room she was trapped in.

This is what happens when you jinx yourself.

'Everything will be fine!' Oh suuure, the first hour was delightful.

Saw some items,

Chatted with some folks,

Even got to pet a few dogs!

But the second hour-

'His Grace wishes to discuss some things with you.'

'Sorry, you got the wrong person. Plus I don't feel comfortable with-'

'That wasn't a request.'

'...-!!'

She should have know there would have been someone behind her.

It's always when it's out of your mind that it happens.

And now she was trying to escape her own wedding. And the crazy Duke that wanted to marry her.

She wasn't a hero damnit!

'I'm gonna get lectured so badly after this!' She grunted as she reached the end of the rope, her feet dangling in the air for a moment as she tried to figure out what to do next.

'Damn you laws of physics and gravity!' She whispered to herself.

Physics and gravity decided to take her insult personally as the rope loosened its hold on the railing, causing her to fall into the bushes two feet below her.

'Urk-branch! Branch!' She hissed in pain, reaching underneath and removing the branch poking at her back.

As she rubbed the area, brushing the crumpled sheet from her head, she checked her hand to make sure she wasn't bleeding.

Before she could plan her next move, she stilled as she heard the heavy thuds and clanks of armour approach nearby.

The movement came closer, she used her place in the bushes to keep hidden. Slowly parting the leaves next to her with one hand, she used what visibility she had to discover that yes, it was a pair of guards and the conversation that flowed through the air confirmed they weren't Hyrule guards.

Drat.

'Is the Duke really gonna marry that girl?'

'Seems to be the case. He's been very pleased with himself too. Looks like he's trying to get the wedding done by tonight.'

Double drat.

'I don't blame him, you've seen that girl? Bet he's eager for the wedding night.'

Okay. NO.

'Haha! A beauty like that for a wife would be quite the status boost.'

The guards walked past the bush and it's hidden occupant.

Had they looked back, they would have seen a displeased glare directed their way.

(y/n) huffed and looked around, trying to remember where the exit was.

With another glance around, she picked up her dress and slowly made her way out of the bushes, pausing momentarily before taking off the heels she was forced to wear

'I can't run and climb in this dress.' Trying to think about what to do next, she looked down at her clothes.

'Hmm...'

'WHERE IS SHE.'

'Link please-'

'Don't tell me to calm down Zelda!'

Wind bit his lip as Warriors marched up to the princess' face and growled.

'Impa is having her men search the castle and surrounding areas, we will find her.' Zelda tried to reassure him, taking a step back when he glared.

'It's been a WEEK and you have nothing to show for it!' He ran a head through his hair, taking a deep breath to calm down.

'You know I've been busy with-'

'With the Grand Duke of the farther kingdom who is here as a token of peace and unity between kingdoms.' Warriors recited irritably. 'Yes, very understandably important when someone went missing under the watch of YOUR men.'

'She was last seen in the market, we have blocked the gates and are inspecting every individual leaving the city.' Zelda gave Warriors a look.

'And might I remind you that they are also your men?'

'Apparently not anymore with how you let them slacked off!'

'Excuse me-'

Wind sighed as they started arguing again.

They were getting nowhere.

'This is going nowhere.' Wind turned and saw Hyrule coming up next to him, watching the arguing duo.

'Any luck with the others?' He asked quietly, not surprised when Hyrule shook his head.

'Twilight is using Wolfie to catch any scents but the storm has made that difficult. Time is with Legend and Wild speaking to the merchants and Four is with Sky speaking with the guards.' Hyrule replied, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

Wind felt the same way.

None of them were able to sleep well since she went missing. The only reason they slept at all was because they needed to be rested enough in the event a fight comes their way.

But the lack of her presence was deeply felt.

'Any luck here?' Hyrule asked hollowly, already knowing the answer but still asking.

Wind simply gestured to the still arguing duo.

'Is she even still in town?' He couldn't help but ask, not wanting to think of the possibility that she was far away, but it was necessary.

'She has to be,' Hyrule reassured,smiling weakly. 'The town went on lockdown almost immediately.'

Wind returned Hyrule's smile with a weak one of his own.

They turned back to the duo, feeling more tired as they listened to the princess justify her duties.

'I am already dealing with the Grand Duke and I can't give anymore of my attention to this than I already have.' Warriors just gave her a look.

'I wouldn't be bothering so much if you allowed me access to his guest quarters.' It was Zelda's turn to glare at him.

'You know I cannot do that, he is a guest and has nothing to do with her disappearance.' Only Wind and Hyrule noticed the way Warriors hand twitched, as if desiring to reach for his sword.

Not that they could blame him.

'I am not accusing him Princess,' he said through gritted teeth. 'I am merely requesting-'

'That I allow you access to his quarters.' The displeased expression on the princess' face only matched the captain's.

'Annnd they're arguing again.' Wind muttered, watching them fall back into another verbal brawl.

'The only place we haven't looked is the guest wing.' Hyrule whispered, wringing his hands.

'You think we should sneak in?' Hyrule looked at the arguing pair and nodded.

'Yeah...it's better than assuming nothing is there.'

'Alright...Wars!' The angered captain looked at them, a scowl on his face.

'Rulie thinks he has a lead at the market so I'm heading out with him.' Wind kept a casual look on his face, staring Warriors in the eyes.

Warriors was quiet for a brief moment before he grunted and turned back to arguing his case with the princess.

But he was less tense than he was a moment before.

He understood what they were going to do.

'He'll keep her distracted.' Wind murmured, tugging Hyrule out of the room.

'And Impa?' Wind sighed and rubbed his shoulder.

'Still searching the market place I bet, we gotta be quick.'

And with that, they both headed to the guest wing of the castle.

---

The guest wing wasn't too far away, probably for the convenience of whatever foreign guests came to visit.

But it was walled off and the Grand Duke's personal guard was patrolling the area, forcing the duo to sneak their way in.

'I really hope we find something.' Hyrule whispers, the two stilling as a guard passed by their hiding place.

'Best place to look is the most obvious place.' Wind reassured. 'And the most obvious place is a area that's being guarded by enemy guards.'

Hyrule didn't correct him about the guards.

If she was here, they were enemies.

'Let's look through the rooms! Top or bottom floor?' Hyrule hummed.

'We're good at escaping from higher levels, and there's only two floors, let's start low and move up.'

They worked together, both alerting the other when a guard was close.

Soon they snuck passed the majority and reached the first set of rooms.

Then the second set.

Then the third.

They moved up to the second floor and quietly searched through each room.

It was in the Grand Duke's room that they found incriminating evidence on his desk.

'I can't read this language,' Wind whispered harshly as he glared at the papers in front of him. ' but I know (y/n)'s name anywhere!'

'Take it, we can sure it to the princess.' Hyrule whispered back, keeping watch at the door. He tensed when he saw a couple of guards round the corner. 'We need to go!'

'This is the last room and we haven't found her!'

'We found evidence and that's a better than what we had before, now move!'

It took some time to shuffle out the window and climb down, but they were successfully able to make their escape from the guest wing without notice.

'A lead, that's good.' Wind gasped, hands on his knees as he caught his breath.

'But still no (y/n)' Hyrule bite his thumb nervously. 'I hope she's okay...'

'We can't lose hope!' Wind grunted, stretching his back and sighing.

'Let's go, we need to show these papers to the others before we give it to the princess-'

The sailor went rigid, eyes snapping forward, widening.

'What's wrong Wind?' Hyrule asked worriedly, hand on the younger teen's shoulder.

The teen bit his lip to keep his expression from crumbling and his breath was shaky,

'(y/n)...?' Hyrule's own eyes widened and his head snapped to look when Wind was staring.

There, in a torn dirty white dress, no shoes, and messy hair, was their beloved goddess looking around, visibly distressed.

'(y/n)..?' Wind raised his voice, hope as visible in his tone as it was in his eyes.

Hyrule's heart felt such relief as their beautiful goddess' head snapped in their direction.

The smile she gave them was simply magnificent as she immediately ran toward them.

The moment she was close, she wrapped her arms around the both of them and began to cry, relief filling her.

'You have no idea how happy I am to see you two!' She hugged them closer.

'WE'RE happy to see you!' Wind sighed happily, resting his head in her shoulder, both him and Hyrule hugging her as tightly as she was hugging them.

Just having her in their arms was a blessing they treasured so much.

'Where have you been? How did you escape?' She sighed and shook her head.

'I'd rather tell it one time.' She looked around.

'Please tell me the others are near by?' She whispered, absolutely exhausted and didn't want to deal with any more drama.

'Well...no. They are looking for you in town. We snuck into the guest wing to look for you.' Hyrule answered apologetically, heart clenching when she sniffled.

Wind frowned for a moment before he gasped in excitement.

'I'll rally them up!' Hyrule and (y/n) looked at him in confusion as he reached into his pouch.

'Wild has the slate! And if he has the slate-' he pulls out what he was searching for.

'Then we can reach him with this!' (y/n) tilted her head.

'A...stone?' Wind grinned at them, the pirate's charm dangling from his fingers.

'A COMMUNICATION stone!' (y/n) gasped in delight and gave Wind another hug.

'Call him! Call him!' Wind laughed and activated the stone.

'Um, I've been meaning to ask...' Hyrule quietly said to (y/n) who looked at him innocently. '...About your..outfit...'

Wind ignored them for a brief moment as Wild's tired voice came from the pirate's charm.

'What is it sailor?'

'Guess who me and Hyrule found!' Wind grinned as he heard gasps.

'You found her?! Is she safe?!'

'They found her?!'

'She's okay! We're by the-'

'HE WANTS TO MARRY YOU?!'

Wind turned his head so fast, he winced at the pop he felt, the loud yells coming from his charm filling the air.

'WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU GUYS?!!' (y/n) winced as she realized the panic she just caused

'Uh-'

He couldn't help it, Wind laughed, soft and just a little hysterical.

Of course an insect had to pop up when they let their guard down.

---

'Where is she.'

'Sir, we have our men searching for her this very moment.'

'I want her found by TONIGHT, the wedding will go as planned.'

'Of course sir!' The Grand Duke scowled as his guard walked off.

He is so close to raising his status.just another day and he would have been on top of the social world. He sneered, like a child, storming down the halls of the guest wing.

'Should have simply left with her when I had the chance.' He ran a gloved hand down his face.

To think he had one of the heroes of legend in his grasp only for her to have slipped through his fingers.

He'll have to make sure to teach her a lesson.

'Sir!' He sighed irritably, turning to see another one of his guard approaching him.

'What is it? Did you find her?' The guard looked nervous.

'Sir, Princess Zelda is requesting your presence in the throne room at once.' The Grand Duke tensed and stared at the guard.

'Are you sure?' The guardsman nodded, stepping back when the Duke growled.

'Of all the times...' He looked back at the guardsman. 'Continue looking for the girl.'

After the guardsman nodded, he decided to get it over with and headed to the throne rooms.

'Grand Duke, thank you for coming at such a short notice.'

'Your Highness.' The Grand Duke bowed to her, as he rose he noticed the nine gentlemen standing to either side of her.

The heroes of legend.

The Grand Dukes greed brought to mind the rise in his status at what might be a possible meeting with the legendary nine.

He was to arrogant to realize the cold looks he was receiving from them.

She smiled, nodding in greeting. 'I apologize for disturbing your day Grand Duke, I understand how frustrating it can be, but I heard of a strange rumor recently and I had hoped you would clarify it for me?'

'Please rest assured Princess, I will do all that I can to assist you.' He said, smiling openly, the perfect gentleman.

'Splendid. Now,' She dropped the smile. 'Did you conspire to abduct the heroes' companion and force her to wed you?'

The Grand Duke froze, paling as the question registered in his head.

'Wha-'

'Ah. Before I continue, allow me to properly introduce the gentleman before me-'

'There is no need your Highness,' calmly interrupted Time, coldly gazing down at the nervous Nobleman. 'He is as aware of our identities as we are aware of his.'

'I-'

'And you seem to be very aware of the identity of our most dearest companion.' Legend hissed from his place next to Time, glaring daggers at the unsettled man.

The Grand Duke's expression twisted into fear, anger, and panic.

His hands clenched into fists at his sides as he cleared his throat. 'I'm sure I don't know what you're speaking of.' He calmly answered.

'Perhaps a misunde-'

' A misunderstanding? I'm sure.' Warriors scoffed, looking at Zelda with a raised eyebrow.

She sighed "Lets not fool ourselves here, we all know what this is about.' She stared sternly at him. 'You abducted the young woman known as (y/n) and were conspiring to wed her for...status?'

'She isn't very happy about being kidnapped.' Wild said casually, as if he was not wishing he could jam a bomb down the Grand Duke's throat and detonate it.

It seemed the arrogant man could barely handle being talked down in such a way. His clenched fists trembled in anger.

'I will not allow such accusations to be made against my person!' He looked at Zelda, face flushed in anger.

'If you believe that our kingdoms will be allied after this, I assure you that-'

'If your kingdom is full of noblemen like you, than Hyrule would benefit by NOT allying with you.' Warriors interjected, ignoring Zelda's stern look towards him, looking down his nose at him.

'You have no proof!' Warriors sighed and nodded.

'I suppose I don't.' He was silent until the Duke looked smug before he matched his expression with one of his own, pointing behind the Duke.

'But she's proof enough.'

'Oh, so I'm demoted to proof now, am I?'

The Duke went rigid, his mouth snapping shut on the words just spoken as he slowly turned his head-.

An dispassionate look directed right at him.

'Apologies my Angel.' Warriors smiled softly at her. 'No insult meant.'

'Hmm.' She raised an eyebrow, a brief glance at Warriors before looking at the Grand Duke.

'(y/n) I ask for complete honesty.' Zelda commands. 'Was the Grand Duke the man behind your abduction with intention to force you to wed him?' (y/n) nodded.

'Yes your Highness.' Zelda closed her eyes and sighed.

'Very well, I will arrange for his departure tonight.' The Grand Duke's face a unique combination of red and enraged yet also paling.

'T-This will not stand! When my king hears of this-.'

'We have already sent your king the information of your crimes.' The princess proclaimed to the unsteady nobleman.

'Y-you-'

'You are no longer welcomed within the borders of Hyrule Kingdom and are henceforth outlawed from ever returning. Impa shall escort you to the guest wing to retrieve your belongings.'

Zelda then turned and strode away, but not before sending an apologetic glance at Warriors.

He simply returned her look with a blank one.

(y/n) walked passed the royal knights that now surrounded Grand Duke and made her way to the group.

'I'm so glad you guys found me.' She said with relief in her voice.

'You ended up saving yourself dear.' Time chuckled, reaching up and cupping her cheek. 'And we were panicking like we lost our minds.'

'I was panicking when Wind and Hyrule popped up.' She admitted. 'Trust me, I was so happy and relieved to be found by you guys.'

'We'll always find you (y/n)!' Wind chirped, wrapping his arms around her waist, causing her to giggle.

'Well I guess it has it's uses.' She clapped her hands.

'I'm hungry and demand all the cuddles! I hated this week!' Wild was already pulling out his slate and looking through his inventory.

'I'll make a meal that'll taste so good, you'll forget this week ever happened!' (y/n) grinned in delight.

'That's what I want to hear!'

The Chain surround her as they guided her out of the throne room, the angry cries of the Grand Duke not worth notice.

Yet two members of the group lingered behind.

And they were eyeing the fuming nobleman with calculating eyes.

'We could have been a bit more...hands on with his punishment... ya know that don't you old man...?' Wind commented, his treasured wind waker in one hand.

'As enjoyable as it would be, I don't want to spend a moment longer away from Her.' Wind sighed but nodded in agreement , crossing his arms, tapping his wind waker against his chin.

'So the storm will kill him?' Time nodded, inspecting his Ocarina casually.

'I have more than enough magic to conjure one strong enough.'

'You've already had Wild damage parts of the ship correct?' Wind nodded. 'Than once I summon the storm, make sure the winds finish the job.'

Wind hummed. 'Kay.'

They both looked at the shrinking form of the dead man walking.

'Ugh, I hate bugs.' Wind huffed, a disgusted look on his face.

Time stared at the Duke until he could not see him no more.

'Hm..So do I...'

That night, the group of nine celebrated the return of their most beloved member, lavishing her with their affection and as she requested, all the cuddles she asked for.

(That night, reports were received by two kingdoms that notes a vicious storm appeared as the Grand Duke's ship sailed beyond the Hyrulian sea borders. Destroying the ship beyond recognition. There were no survivors.)

#timeline two au #linked universe #linkeduniverse #yandere linked universe #lu #lu hyrule #lu time #lu wild #lu legend #lu artemis #lu wind #lu warriors #y/n

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lovely-ateez · 4 years ago

Text

Favorite Place~

ꕥPosted: 3/8/21

ꕥGenre: College!au, Angst, Fluff

ꕥPairing: FemReader! x Emo!Hongjoong

ꕥWord Count: ~4.8k

ꕥWarnings: General angst (happy ending), Unknown man being creepy to reader, Characters insulting reader behind her back, Alcohol intake, Driving with a few sips of alcohol (please don’t drink and drive), Implied violence, Language, Oral (f recieving), Unprotected sex, Corruption kink, Language

ꕥA/N: Reader is a girly-girl bc we need more rep that isn’t hella negative and to actually be portrayed as smart and hardworking for once 😤 You👏can👏be👏both👏 ANyWay—thank you for bearing with me while I wrote this

I ran my hands along the open science textbook laying upon my desk, eyes scanning rapidly over the information. The pages were thin and flimsy, clearly showing the book’s age. If I wasn’t careful, the pages would rip with ease. Not that I had time to actually think about that.

In less than five minutes I, along with the twenty five other poor souls who took this class of their own volition, would be handed our last final for the class. A hundred and ten questions in an hour and thirty minutes.

The class was basically academic suicide and had I been told that, I would have stayed far, far away from the class. But no. No one bothered to run that by me.

A whiff of familiar cologne filled my nose and against my better judgement I looked up to find the class genius, Hongjoong Kim. It was bad enough that he was smart as a whip and never needed to study, but on top of it all he was a dangerous, handsome, irresistible bad boy.

He gave me a wink, a sly smile resting on his lips. I gave him the same reaction I always did: a blank face. There had been multiple times he had tried to rile me up, whether that be say something flirty or wink, or “accidentally” touch my shoulder, and I refused to give him the satisfaction of any reaction. I would keep a blank face, hoping that he would leave me alone.

I wasn’t immune to his charms. I felt butterflies in my stomach every time he looked at me just like any other girl he tried it on, but I didn’t want him to know that. The biggest reaction I had given him was an eyebrow quirk at most.

I could tell it bothered him. I knew he was frustrated that he couldn’t get me to blush or stutter my words, and that may have been part of why he kept up his antics. Probably the entire reason, knowing him. Had he not been a fuckboy, I might have fallen for him. Might have.

I returned my eyes to my book and heard his footsteps walk past me, headed to the very back of class. His usual spot.

“Alright ladies and gentlemen,” A loud clap could be heard from the front of the room, our professor signalling the start of class, “It is time for your final. I hope you all are well prepared. I ask that you remove anything from your desk aside from a pencil and I will begin to hand out the tests. You may leave as you finish, just make sure to hand me your tests before you leave. Good luck.”

Book already off my desk, I gripped my pencil, hoping six hours of studying was enough.

“Thank you.” I muttered to my professor as he placed the stack of papers on my desk.

Here goes nothing, I suppose.

I handed in my test with a smile, hoping that I’d pass. Taking a deep breath I stepped out of the classroom, seeing a familiar face. At the noise of my footsteps Hongjoong looked up from his phone with a devilish smile, eyes staring me down. I must’ve not noticed he turned in his test before mine, not that I was surprised. He always finished his test the quickest out of all of us.

“How’s it going, pretty-in-pink?”

Pink was my favorite color and and I wore pink clothes often, unfortunately it had earned me several unwanted nicknames, all coming from Hongjoong.

I barely bothered him a glace, “I have a name.”

“But your nicknames are so unique to you. Don’t you love them?”

“Can’t say I do.” I walked away, not interested in entertaining him any longer than I already had.

“Farewell, princess.” He fleeted me with a honey-like voice.

Suppressing an eye roll, I gripped the straps of my backpack, ecstatic to get away from him. The more time I spent away from him the better. The less time I was with him meant there was less of a chance for me to get attached to him. I refused to let that happen.

After I left the building I grabbed a coffee and walked to the library, bracing the cold weather. I only had one final left and I needed to make sure I studied enough. Just one last push before I was done for the semester. Taking the elevator up to the third floor, I saw a familiar face who smiled at me and I sat down at his table.

“Hey! How do you think you did on the final?” Lia asked me as I took my laptop out.

“Honestly I don’t know. I don’t want to say I passed because knowing my luck, if I do I’ll fail it. I knew the majority of the answers though, so there’s that.”

“That’s a positive.” She cocked her head, observing the way my eyes were glued to my laptop, “So what are you studying for now?”

“Criminal Psychology. I don’t take it until late tomorrow but I wanna get some studying in.”

“You’ve been studying for hours, you’ll be fine. Let’s just go shopping instead.”

My ears perked and I slowly raised my head, “Damn you. You know I’m not gonna turn you down.”

A wide smile formed on her face as she placed her hands behind her head, “What are friends for?”

“Oh don’t look so cocky.”

“Why not? I’m pretty sure I’ve won here. Now let’s get going.”

Lia stood up and slid on her backpack, a smile still plastered on her face. Just as I was placing my laptop in my own backpack I heard a string of male voices and a mention of my name.

I gave Lia a look and, curiosity taking over, I snuck closer to the direction of the voices to see a group of men at a table hid behind a large stack of bookshelves. There were four of them, not a one of them sitting properly in a chair. Two were sitting on top of the table, another with his legs propped on the table, the other sitting upon a backpack which itself was on a chair. I could only see two of their faces and didn’t recognize either.

“We’ve gotta invite the token good girl, right?” A tall man with dark hair smiled, leaning back on the table.

A man with distinct dimples, clad in all black scoffed, “Y/n? Like she’d go to a party anyway.”

“She might.” Hongjoong tiled his head, allowing me to see him, black earrings swaying as he looked at the man with dimples.

Oh. He’s there, too.

“She dresses like she still believes in the tooth fairy.” A man with a blonde ponytail scoffed, “You think she’s gonna come to a party with people like us?”

I grabbed Lia’s arm to prevent her from storming over. She was upset, I was too, but I wanted to keep listening. Still, I couldn’t deny the pang of hurt I felt as I looked down at my pink skirt and cropped top. Was it a crime to like the color pink?

And I thought I looked cute today...

“You should be the last person to judge someone over the way the dress, Yeosang. You never wear anything but black. If she likes it, then she likes it. Fuck you.” Hongjoong bit back.

I felt tears welling up in my eyes. I didn’t know why he defended me, maybe he was just defending fashion for fashion’s sake and it had nothing to do with me, but it was still nice of him.

Yeosang smiled, “Damn someone’s aggressive, huh? Someone might almost think you’ve got feelings for the girl.”

Hongjoong remained silent.

“Ooh is she still not reacting to your desperate attempts to woo her?”

Hongjoong quickly became defensive, “Listen, I’m not-”

“Okay we’re not getting into this. Just invite her, you never know what she’ll say.” The dark-haired man said to Hongjoong, “And invite her friend, too. She wouldn’t go alone.”

“Yeah that’s a fair point. I’ll talk to them next time I see them.”

I turned to face Lia, whispering in her ear, “Let’s go. Please.”

Her face told me that she would much rather confront them, but changed as my eyes began to water once more. She nodded and put an arm around me, leading me out of the library.

A tear fell down my cheek as we walked. I raised my hand to wipe my face when Lia did it for me. She pulled me into a tight hug, running her hands through my hair.

“Don’t you think for a second that you’re any less of amazing. Fuck them for not seeing it.”

As she spoke more tears began to fall and my breath hitched, “But-t they-”

“No. There’s no excuse for being shitty to you, especially when you haven’t done anything to wrong them.”

I nodded, trying my best to believe her and steady my breathing.

“What can I do for you? What can I do to help?”

Releasing Lia from my tight grip I stepped back and looked in her eyes, “Nothing. Let’s just go shopping.”

My friend nodded and slipped her hand into my own, something she would always do when I needed comfort. I squeezed her warm hand, following her footsteps as she led me to her car.

“So...you’re not gonna go to the party are you?”

“Yeah I don’t think so.”

She let out a hum in approval and nodded, opening the car door for me.

As much as I wanted to take my mind off of the boys’ words, I couldn’t. No amount of retail therapy seemed to help that. I knew Lia was doing her best to make me feel better and I felt a bit guilty for bringing down the mood. She scoffed when I told her, making eye contact and emphasizing that she simply wanted to make me feel better.

Sooner than I liked, we had to part. Lia had a class in thirty minutes and I had to help out in an on-campus activity. She gave me a tight hug and a small smile, bidding me adue.

I was the Vice President of our Activities Planning Board and as such was in charge of setting up an Academic Bowl for the competing students. Unfortunately, I was having trouble setting up the large tables and my small frame just made it harder. I was confident anyone around could see that I was struggling and I huffed, hoping no one would look my way. It didn’t help that I was outside in the middle of campus, where anyone just walking by could see me.

“Do you need any help?”

I turned to find Hongjoong with his dark backpack slung over his shoulder, a concerned look on his face. Had I not desperately needed help, I would have refused.

“Yeah I do. Hold this, will you?” I nodded at the opposite side of the table I was struggling to hold.

He appeared shocked that I accepted his offer, but I didn’t dwell on it and instead lifted the table. We worked in silence aside from a few words of instruction I gave him, and I was thankful for the lack of distraction. When we set up the last table I placed my hands on my hips, looking at the tables.

Hongjoong crossed his arms, “Why were you doing this alone?”

“No one else signed up to help for the Academic Bowl, so I did it myself.” He gave a confused look so I clarified my position.

“Of course you’re the Vice President.” Hongjoong muttered.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I faced him, feeling slightly offended.

He shrugged, “I know you’re just involved in a lot. I’m not surprised.”

Ignoring his comment, I took the conversation another direction. “Why did you help me?”

“You needed help, princess.” He answered simply.

I nodded, ignoring the nickname. “Well...thanks.”

A moment of silence followed until Hongjoong broke it, “Hey listen, there’s a party this weekend I want you to go.”

“Why?” I cocked my head.

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t know anyone that will be there.”

“You know me.”

“That’s not exactly an incentive.”

He scoffed in mock offense, “Okay first of all, ouch. Second, what if I sweeten the deal?”

My eyebrows raised, lips forming a smile, “Oh yeah? What could that possibly be?”

He faltered for a moment, his voice lowering seemingly without intent, “That’s the first time I’ve seen you smile. You’re beautiful.”

I turned from him, trying to will any semblance of a flustered expression off my face. “You were saying before?”

Hongjoong chuckled, “I’ll drive. You can even invite your friend if you want.”

“Lia?”

“Yeah. If it makes you more comfortable.”

At first, I wanted to say no. At first, I wanted to continue my streak of refusing any advance he made on me. But looking at his kind eyes, completely devoid of any malintent, I felt my heart flutter. When my mind thought back to how he had defended me in the library I felt a warmth bubbling in my chest. I pretended to ponder for a moment, even though I already knew my answer.

“Okay but I don’t...I don’t think I should tell Lia.”

“Why’s that?”

“She kinda hates you.”

He looked taken aback, “Might I ask why?”

I sighed, crossing my arms, “Don’t worry about it. So where is this party?”

He filled me in on the details and I did my best to keep up my neutral façade. I wouldn’t admit it, but I was ecstatic to see him outside of campus, my will of staying away from him faltering by the minute.

I stood in front of my closet for what seemed like hours, desperately trying to find something that would match the occasion. I laughed a bit to myself as I looked at the section of black clothes I had. I went through a bit of an emo phase in middle school and I just couldn’t bring myself to get rid of any of them. I debated avoiding black clothes all together, but the words of Yeosang rang in my head and I bit the inside of my cheek.

Fine. I’ll change it up. But I’ll be damned if I give up on pink.

Taking a deep breath I slipped into a light pink leather skirt reaching mid-thigh with black fishnets. I put on a black leather jacket over my black see through shirt exposing my lacy bra underneath, my pink shoes on last.

I took several deep breaths and observed myself in the mirror. It was a change, definitely. I didn’t mind black, but I wouldn’t wear just black alone. I wanted it to be more feminine.

I heard a car horn outside my apartment much sooner than I expected. Bracing for Hongjoong’s reaction, I stepped outside. I was greeted with a smug smile, the man adorning it seeming as confident as a god until he observed my clothes, his eyebrows raising.

Hongjoong’s eyes scanned over me, taking in my abrupt fashion change, “I still wasn’t entirely certain you’d go. Much less looking like this.”

My lips quirked into half-smile, “Well I can’t show up looking like I normally do.”

“Why not?”

My heart swelled at the genuine confusion evident on his face. “Some people don’t care for the way I dress.” I took a breath and continued, “I heard you and your friends in the library.”

I forced myself to look him in the eyes. I could see the gears turning in his head as he put the pieces together, a scowl forming on his face. “You don’t have to change a goddamn thing. You look great, don’t get me wrong, but you look great in pink, too. And I’m sorry if he made you feel otherwise.”

I shook my head. “It’s alright, I actually kinda like it.”

“You definitely make it work.” He swallowed, voice lowering.

“Then maybe I should wear a bit of black more often.”

The man gave a thousand dollar smile, quirking a brow that left my panties feeling slightly damp. He motioned to the car door, “Hop in, cutie.”

A friendly string of conversation followed us as Hongjoong drove. I felt my nerves starting to dissipate, his smile I once despised now bringing me comfort. And really, he was much funnier than I had believed. I found myself laughing with him more than I had in a long time. I knew my walls were falling, but I wasn’t trying to fight it anymore.

Why the hell not? He’s kind enough, and he isn’t even close to being hard on the eyes.

The car drive was much quicker than I expected, although how quickly I was unfamiliar with my surroundings through me for a loop. The trees around us became more sporadic and the sun set quicker than what seemed normal. I fidgeted slightly, prompting Hongjoong to look over at me. He intertwined my fingers with his own and I smiled, secretly welcoming his touch.

“Hey, don’t worry. I’m right here with you, okay?”

I nodded, grasping onto his hand tightly. Before I knew it, my eyes locked with the building in front of us. I took in the abandoned building in front of me, eyes widening slightly as I observed its poor condition. Large windows were shattered, vines were growing around pillars, grass peaking through what once was concrete.

“This is the most sketchy place I’ve ever seen in my life.” I spoke, feeling slightly alarmed by the building but comforted by Hongjoong’s presence.

“Oh come on, it’s not that bad.”

“I literally just saw a rat run out a broken window.”

Hongjoong suppressed a smile and let go of my hand, opening his car door and telling me to stay in place as he walked around and opened the door on my side. I hesitated as I exited the car, a bit afraid of what could possibly be inside the building.

“We can leave at anytime. If you don’t want to go in we can leave right now. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

As sweet as he was being, I felt the need to prove to him that I was brave enough to enter, even if it did look like he was leading me to my death.

“Thank you, but I’m okay. We can go in.”

He smiled, leading me to an out-of-the-way entrance which seemed to lead to a different building entirely. I gave an involuntary “woah” as we entered the building. As horrific as it looked on the outside, it was gorgeous on the inside. Perfectly up kept brick walls hugged the sides of the building, lights were strung from the ceiling, arcade machines and dart boards were huddled in a corner, and of course, there was a bar with a seemingly unlimited amount of liquor. People were scattered all throughout, socializing and being generally loud. Everyone wore about the same color clothes as Hongjoong, dark as they could possibly get.

“How did you even find this place?”

“My friend Yeosang and I were just driving around and we found it one day. Decided to make it our hangout spot.”

I looked at him confused, still amazed at my surroundings. Hongjoong led me over to his familiar group of friends, assuring me that they wouldn’t bite, and introduced me to the seven men, four of which I hadn’t seen prior. I saw the color drain from a few of their faces as they saw me, likely from their words in the library, but I didn’t comment on it. Overall, they were much friendlier than I expected them to be.

“I’m gonna get a drink,” Hongjoong nudged me, “You want anything?”

“No that’s okay. I think I’m gonna check out the pinball machines. They look kinda cool.”

“You sure you don’t wanna stay by my side? I won’t take long.”

I shook my head, “I’ll be okay.”

He chucked, “Alright. I’ll grab a drink and I’ll head right over, princess.”

I bit my lip at the nickname and wandered over to the machines, surprisingly feeling comfortable in the environment, despite everything being so unfamiliar. All of the games were being used, some people clearly playing better than others.

I got lost in the artwork on the side of a particular pinball machine when a gruff voice caught my attention. “What’s a pretty thing like you doing here?”

I turned to meet a tall man with grey hair. He was young, likely in his mid-twenties, and reeked of cigarettes and a foul smell I couldn’t place.

A flash of fear ran through me and I tried to make my voice as confident as possible, “I was invited.”

“Well...that’s certainly a shame now, isn’t it? I wasn’t invited, but I decided to show up for a bit of fun anyway.”

He came closer to me, our height difference incredibly prominent as he leaned over me, “How about you give me a kiss, little thing?” I ran away as soon as the words left his mouth, hoping that he wouldn’t follow me but assuming he would. I dashed around quickly and sporadically around people, hoping I would lose him.

I looked around desperately for Hongjoong, sighing when I found him surrounded by his friends, laughing at something one of them said. I ran up to him and grabbed his arm, gaining his attention.

I hope this fucking works.

“I need you to kiss me.”

A look of confusion flashed in his eyes, “What?”

“Please kiss me.” I begged, eyes wide, disregarding the stares of his friends around us, hoping that if the man saw I was taken he’d leave me alone.

Without hesitation he wrapped his free hand around my waist—a cup of alcohol still in the other—and pulled me close, pressing his lips to my own. He kissed me hard, biting my bottom lip slightly and letting out a growl only I could hear. He wasn’t my first kiss, far from it, but no one had ever kissed me like he did. Just a kiss had never left me feeling weak at the knees. Just a kiss had ever made me feel so submissive, making me want to beg him to take me right on the spot, regardless of the fear in my veins. Even with the taste of alcohol still on his lips, his scent overtook me.

He pulled back, eyes darker than before, and raised a brow, “Care to tell me what that was about?”

Just then I realized my hands had been gripping his leather coat, pulling him just as close as he was pulling me. I looked over in the direction of where the man was before, not seeing him.

“A man was following me and he was trying to get me to kiss him a-and I didn’t know him...I just wanted him to leave me alone.”

His eyes narrowed at my words, a rage I hadn’t seen before taking over them, “What did he look like?”

“I-I don’t know he was tall and had grey hair and-”

He cursed under his breath. Keeping me just as close he turned to the men around him, their eyes narrowed as well.

“You heard that?” He asked his friends.

“Loud and clear.” San said, cracking his knuckles, a scowl on his face that scared me, even though I knew I wasn’t the one it was directed at.

“I thought we told him to never come back here.” Jongho snarled.

“We did.” Hongjoong said.

Seonghwa looked at me, nodding to Hongjoong, “Keep her safe and take her out of here. If he’s here I’m sure he’s brought friends. Yeosang, lead everyone out. We’ll take care of him.”

Hongjoong looked conflicted, obviously wanting to stay and fight, but gave into the older man’s command. “Be fucking safe,” he barked, but I could see the fear in his eyes as he looked at me, “Come on, we’re going.”

Seonghwa mumbled something to Hongjoong and he nodded in response, tossing his alcohol to the ground. I didn’t have time to ask questions as he led me out a back door, the darkness of the night equally horrifying and comforting, and quickly pushed me into his car, apologizing the entire time. He entered the key into the ignition and the car sprung to life.

“Uhh...maybe it’s not a good idea for you to drive. You’ve been drinking, right?”

“I had maybe two sips. I’ll drive safe, promise.”He gave me a small comforting smile, “Put your seatbelt on. Hold on tight, sweetheart.” His voice was calm but firm as he spoke. I nodded and did as he said, bracing as his car sped off, my heart beating in overtime.

The ride was a blur, the only things I could remember being Hongjoong’s calming voice, periodically reassuring me that things would be okay. We arrived at a foreign building which Hongjoong called his house, and only then did I let myself fall apart. I felt tears streaming down my face as my hands quivered, my head beginning to pound.

“Hey, hey look at me. You’re safe. You’re safe with me.” My teary eyes met his and I felt my heart break at the way he was looking at me, as if he had made me cry himself.

“Here, come on. Let’s get you inside, okay?”

My tears slowed as he carefully led me inside his house, sitting me down on his bed. He crouched down in front of me, wiping the tears from my face.

“I’m so sorry, princess. I didn’t realize he was going to be there. I never should’ve made you come along I’m so-”

“Who was that?”

Hongjoong sighed, “He used to be a friend of mine. We had a falling out and he became violent. One time he showed up at one of our parties with some friends of his to start a fight. We won and told him to never come back. Looks like he did.” He looked off into nowhere, regret clear on his face.

“You didn’t know,” I sniffled, “You couldn’t have known.”

I watched the muscles in his jaw tighten, his agitation still visible. I brought a hand out to reach his own, trying to comfort him. The loud ding of Hongjoong’s phone made me jump and he apologized profusely. As he took out his phone from his pants pocket I looked around his room for the first time. It looked exactly as I had expected, solid black furniture and so many band posters decorating the wall I could hardly tell what color his bedroom walls were.

Hongjoong spoke up, “I just got a text from Seonghwa. There were two other people there with him. My friends took care of them don’t worry, you’re safe.”

I nodded, pulling him into a hug and burying my face into his chest. “If you’re comfortable with it,” He started, “I’d like you to stay here. I want to know you’re safe.”

My eyes met his as he moved a hair out of my face, “I’m not pressuring you. If you don’t want to I understand.”

A hand of his ran up and down my back, tracing little patterns here and there, and I realized just how much I wanted to be with him.

“If it’s alright with you, I’d like to stay.”

He laughed, “What do you mean ‘if it’s alright with you’ I asked.”

I bit my bottom lip and looked down, a bit embarrassed.

Hongjoong laughed, “Hey, look at me.” He said in a commanding yet sweet tone that made my thighs press together. I glanced back up at him, his handsome features making me feel dizzy.

He chuckled, “What’s that look for? You got something to say to me?”

I hesitated, “Actually, I do have a question.”

“Which is?”

“Why did you chase after me?”

Hongjoong smiled, “You never gave a reaction to anything I tried. It confused me and piqued my curiosity. So I began to watch you and how you interacted with people. You’re gentle and sweet. You’re innocent and haven’t let the world tear you down. I admire that.”

He leaned closer to me, his lips brushing my ear, “And it turned me on beyond belief. I wondered how I could ruin you, thought about how I could turn you into a quivering mess as you beg for me.”

I shivered and pulled back slightly to look him in the eyes. His beautiful, dark eyes. Hongjoong let out a dark chuckle as he sat on his bed, lifting me on his lap. He gave an eyebrow raise and a crooked smile as my breath hitched while looking at him, taking him in.

How did I never notice how his dark hair falls to one side when he cocks his head and how he looks so endearing when it happens? How did I never pay attention to his soft pink lips that give way to his gorgeous smile and how much I’ve been dying to kiss them all this time? How did I not see the way his eyes form crescents when he smiles, making my heart grow ten times over?

Why did I never think to take note of how his deep voice makes my stomach do somersaults? Why was I so unaware of his tongue piercing that was leaving me wonder how it would feel on my skin? Why didn’t I observe the black painted nails of his that were currently dancing along my thighs, giving me goosebumps?

How and why did I never notice him?

“You’re such a good girl.”

And for the first time around him, I flushed.

He chuckled, “Oh? You like that?”

I nodded quickly and he said it again, smiling as my face heated up once more.

“It’s so good to see you react to what I say. I wonder...” Hongjoong leaned closer to me, “How will you react when you’re underneath me? Squirming and begging for me to touch you?”

I gave him a look of desperation and balled his shirt into my fist, trying to move him closer, “Please.”

Hongjoong lifted me off of him, quickly discarding my clothes followed by his own shirt. My eyes were guided down by his abs and I ran a hand across them without thinking, whimpering quietly.

“Is my baby girl getting needy?” He cooed.

I closed my eyes, once again nodding in embarrassment.

“How about we take care of that?”

He laid me down on the soft sheets of his bed, leaving me in anticipation as he pinned my hands above my head with a hand of his own. My eyes widened and he chuckled, running a single finger along my folds.

“You’re so unbelievably fucking wet...do I turn you on that much?”

I let out a small “yes” and he hummed in response. Placing a few kisses upon my lips, Hongjoong slowly entered two fingers into me and my back arched. His fingers curled, hitting a spot inside of me that’d I’d never been able to reach. I spread my legs as far as they could go, pleading for more, feeling tears prick my eyes.

Hongjoong spoke, his voice already dropping several octaves, “Keep your hands here, understand? I don’t want you moving them.”

I nodded, willing my hands to stay in place as his own moved to my hips, leaving kisses along my inner thighs.

“Hongjoong please.”

“Please what, princess?”

“Please touch me.”

“Oh, I think I can do better than that, don’t you?”

His lips attached to my core, tongue running through my folds and nose hitting my clit as I moaned pathetically. His hands held my hips down as I tried to buck them up, barely able to keep my hands above my head. After what felt like years, his mouth finally reached my clit and I cried out as his lips attached to it, sucking hard and leaving kitten licks. My high built up quickly and I came hard, my hands leaving their spot and pulling slightly on his hair.

“Thought I told you to keep your hands above your head, no?”

I mumbled an apology and he leaned over to kiss me, “You’re forgiven, darling.”

He seemed just as impatient as I was and without much begging the rest of his clothes were off, his dick teasing my entrance.

“God Hongjoong please I need you so bad.”

“I need you too, y/n.”

He fully entered me, cursing as he did so. I was so caught up in the feeling of him inside of me that I didn’t even register him asking me a question until he laughed at me.

“Feeling good, baby? Can’t even speak?”

I whimpered, nodding seeming to be the only thing I could manage to do. I felt his member twitch inside of me and I pleaded for him to fuck me, to give me anything. Hongjoong growled and jerked his hips up into me over and over, leaving me a moaning mess.

“Taking me so well, aren’t you? Such a good girl for me.”

The amount of praise he gave me caused a few tears to fall from my eyes, not realizing how bad I needed it until that moment. My walls clenched around him every time, causing him to groan and snap his hips into me even harder. Hongjoong’s eyes grew hazy, his dark hair sticking to his forehead.

“I’m close, darling. Be my good girl and cum for me”

His hand trailed down to my clit, rubbing tiny circles. My back arched as I came in time with him, our breaths synchronizing as we gasped for air.

He slowly pulled out of me and ran to the bathroom to grab a towel, cleaning me up. Hongjoong giggled and I raised a brow at him.

“I never thought you’d give me a chance. It’s almost like I’ve corrupted you.”

“You have. Aren’t you aware of the party I went to because of you? I almost died.”

Hongjoong laughed as he crawled into bed and pulled blankets over the both of us. He ran a hand through my hair, looking at me fondly, “You did not almost die.”

“Okay yeah but I could have. That’s what we should be focusing on here.”

“I think there’s something else I’d like to focus on.”

Hongjoong pulled me into a deep kiss, hand slithering down to my waist. His kisses trailed to my ear, a slight chuckle leaving his lips, “My pretty princess.”

I looked at him with doe eyes, slightly in awe of him, and wondered how I could’ve pushed him away for so long. I knew for certain that I had no intention of doing so ever again.

When I told him he smiled, “Good. You’ve had a grip on my heart since day one. I’d be a fool to let you get away from me.”

I blushed slightly, much to his entertainment. We snuggled up to each other in silence, listening to the sound of our synchronized breathing as I lulled to sleep, our warm fingers intertwined. My dreams filled of him.

“Sleep well, my princess. I’ll be right here when you wake.”

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starfirette · 4 years ago

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dating seung~gil lee

a/n: YOU KNOW WHAWT FUCK IT, I’M WRITING FOR MY YURI ON ICE BOYS AND YOU CAN’T FUCKING STOP ME

masterlist | request more Yuri On Ice you cowards

Seung~Gil is often mistaken as a stoic person, or even a tsundere type. He keeps to himself mostly; this is often because he is in his own mind, and doesn’t really pay attention to things that are not directly affecting him. If he’s got his mind on something, he doesn’t like to be bothered. This makes your first meeting a little bit awkward. You were somewhat ticked off to having been snapped at by someone you didn’t know, especially for something as little as running into him by accident. The instant he looked at you, and saw how he’d reacted, he immediately apologized.

Progressing through the relationship, you begin to become someone that Seung~Gil considers to be part of his innermost circle. He doesn’t have many people he considers to be this close to him. I imagine that maybe some of his relatives can be close with him. Although, that makes you entirely special. He’s never had someone like you. You’re so special to him.

He lets you in on mostly everything that crosses his mind. He is likely to consult you with everything when it comes to his programs and career. Seung~Gil in general is a quiet person. He prefers dates like going to a nice restaurant, visiting a museum, or even just staying in and eating take out. He absolutely is physical person. He will sit close so your thighs touch. He will want to be holding your hand.

While sleeping, he likes when you just sort of attach yourself to him. Arms and legs around his waist with your face nuzzled into his chest. He’ll curl over and kiss your hair.

Seung~Gil finds it extremely important that you allow his dog to sleep on the bed with him.

If anyone else out there has a big ass dog that likes to sleep in bed with you, then you already know what’s coming. Big ass cuddle piles. Sometimes the dog just lays on your feet and keeps you nice and warm during the winter. Cuddle piles are common. Cuddle piles in bed while watching movies is Seung~Gil’s go-to feel better remedy.

After failing to reach the final of the grand prix, he became sort of depressed. He was incredibly disappointed and fell into a silent zombie ish state. He wouldn’t say anything or ask for anything. It’s honestly up to you, here. Seung~Gil secretly enjoys the affection and attention. Hearing that you have complete confidence in him is what he needs to get back on his feet.

You’ve always been on Seung~Gil’s side. He’s never been the sort to cater to his fangirls. That’s what you really like about him! His routines are always meant to focus on his strengths. Besides, why would he need to cater to anyone when he’s already hot as hell?

He likes the idea of you being possessive. Whenever he’s recognized by a fangirl on the streets, you make it subtly clear that he’s your man. Though, that’s not to say you don’t appreciate his fans! You absolutely adore them. Most are normal, though. You love the praise and unconditional support they give him.

In Seung~Gil’s eyes, however, you’re the only fan he needs. He would never say this out loud!

Seung~Gil is definitely a show-don’t-tell kind of guy. He makes his love for you clear through gestures and other actions. He doesn’t bother asking what you want for holiday gifts; he’s done such a good job at watching and learning about you. He always knows exactly what you like.

Seung~Gil would not mind you being clingy, to be very honest. He’s rather mellow when it comes to this. Being that you’re one of the most important people in his life, he doesn’t see why he should mind if you’re clingy or not. He sorta likes it sometimes. He enjoys small tokens or gifts, and small displays of affection. He very much loves hearing that you care about him. He doesn’t want you to go overboard with it, because then he’ll become a bit shy, but he really likes hearing the small affectionate phrases.

Seung~Gil absolutely adores you. He thinks you’re the sexiest being on the planet!

He wouldn’t have any cheesy nicknames for you. Jagi or jagiya is about as far as he’ll go. He wouldn’t necesarrily argue if you wanted to call him something embarassing like Honey Bun or Love Dove or anything similar. DON’T DO IT IN PUBLIC!! He refers to you by your name in public or with anyone else, even his parents or his coach.

He quietly thinks of you as a good luck charm, not that he’s ever been suspicious. Though you often suggest to stay back home to take care of the dog and the house, Seung~Gil prefers you being there to watch him.

You’re always on the sidelines rooting for him. When he comes off the rink, he goes to you before his coach, much to her dismay. He’s made it clear that he values your opinion over all else. He always asks for your honest thoughts and he expects you to give them. Do not lie to him! He wouldn’t want to hear it, even if it’s in an attempt to make him feel better.

#starfirette writes #seung gil lee #seung gil lee x reader #seung gil lee imagine #seung gill lee #yuri on ice #yuri on ice x reader #yuri on ice imagine #yuri on ice fic #seung gil x reader #seung gil imagine #yuri!!! on ice #yuri!!! on ice x reader #yuri!!! on ice imagine

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purrincess-chat · 4 years ago

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Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s Spite Playlist: Remix CH8

You guys have made it! Starting next chapter this story is going to look much different. This chapter also includes a couple never-read-before scenes, and the end of this one changes the course of this story quite a bit. I hope you’re all ...ready for it?

---------------------------

Previous First Next AO3

Chapter 8: Say Amen (Saturday Night)

“I’m impressed, Adrikins.” Chloe crossed one leg over the other. “It’s not like you to go on the offensive.”

“I don’t like seeing my friends get hurt,” he said while Jean Luke poured their tea. “Lila has gone too far.”

“I’m so glad you’re seeing things my way. With you on my side, I think we can have her running back to Italy in tears by next Tuesday,” Chloe said with a crooked grin.

“Well,” Adrien drawled in his token wishy-washy tone that Chloe hated. “I want to stop her, but I don’t want to humiliate or hurt her.”

She should have known.

“Adrikins, we have got to do something about that moral compass of yours.” Chloe rolled her eyes and took a sip of her tea.

“Just because she’s mean and selfish doesn’t mean she deserves to be completely mortified. There has to be another way.” Adrien chided.

“What if we send her a fake letter saying she won an all-expense-paid trip to Jamaica for two years?” Chloe suggested. “Then we have our pilot strand her in the middle of the jungle.”

Adrien gave her a disapproving frown.

“What? I’m just brainstorming,” she said. “All I’m saying is that I will spare no expense to make her disappear.”

“No harm, Chloe.”

“I liked you better when you were spineless,” she grumbled. “Where has all this new-found courage come from anyway?”

“I just thought about what you said.” He reached for a madeleine. “…And Lila confronted me.”

“I suppose I give you an A for effort.” She applauded him slowly. “If you could convince that bakery brat to join us, then we might get somewhere.” Chloe’s eyes narrowed when Adrien averted his gaze. “I can smell your guilt from here.”

“I don’t want Marinette to know about this,” he said. “I want her to continue to move on and be happy.”

“Why do you care so much about Dupain-Cheng? I’ve known you two were friends, but I didn’t think you were that close.” Chloe eyed him.

“Lila has caused her enough grief, and she’s my friend.” He shrugged. “She’s important to me.”

His newfound protectiveness didn’t sit well with Chloe. She turned her back for a few days, and now Dupain-Cheng had Adrien eating out of her hands. She would have to keep an eye on them.

“So, that’s why you want to do something about Lila now? To help Dupain-Cheng?” She asked, doing her best not to sound offended. “And here I’d thought you couldn’t stand to see me being unjustly ignored.”

“You’ve known Marinette longer than I have. Do you think she deserved to be treated that way by her friends?” Adrien asked.

Chloe shifted her gaze to her cup, taking a long, thoughtful sip. “No,” she said, “as much as I hate her, she didn’t deserve that.”

Adrien’s eyebrows raised in surprise, but a smile curled on his lips. “You’ve changed.”

“Don’t think for a second that I care about her,” she scoffed. Her cheeks burned when Adrien leaned against his fist with a smug grin.

“I like it. It suits you,” he said. She puffed her cheeks out stubbornly, prompting a laugh from Adrien.

“Well, if you’re not going to let me do things my way, and you don’t want Dupain-Cheng to know about this, then I’m going to need some time to think and pull resources together,” she said, getting back to the matter at hand.

“Thanks, Chlo.” He leaned back and took a deep breath. “Although…”

“Don’t ‘although.’” Chloe groaned.

“I just feel kind of bad for yelling at her like that,” Adrien said.

“Why? She deserved it.” She snatched a bonbon from the tray and popped it into her mouth.

“I know, but…” He clasped his hands together between his knees. “It still feels mean.”

“Your passion was short-lived, Adrikins.” Chloe rolled her eyes.

Adrien pursed his lips, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “I’ll talk to her again tomorrow and give her one last chance.” When Chloe shook her head, he added, “If she says no, then we can figure something out. Something safe and not needlessly cruel.”

“You’re such a goody-two-shoes. Always thinking everyone can change and be nice.” She stuck her tongue out with a gag.

“Well, I never gave up on you, and now you’re a superhero,” he said pointedly.

Chloe flipped her ponytail over one shoulder to hide her smile. “Fine. Do whatever you want, but I’m still going to think up plans for revenge for when you inevitably fail.” She waved him away.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” He crossed the room to kiss her cheeks in farewell before taking his leave.

Chloe clapped for her butler the moment the door shut behind him. “Jean Rousseau, how quickly can we have a case of live lobsters delivered?”

♪♫♪ Kaleidoscope Eyes ♪♫♪

“Wait, what happened?” Adrien asked that night over video chat. His Chinese notecards were scattered across his desk, abandoned the moment Marinette’s picture flashed on his screen.

“Clara Nightingale wants me to design for her! She came by in person and everything,” Marinette said. She laid prone on her chaise, legs kicking as she chewed her nails. “I’m so nervous, but she thinks I’ve got what it takes.”

“Of course, you do. You’re awesome.” Adrien assured her.

“Thanks.” She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “So, how was school for you today? Anything exciting happen?”

“Uh, just same old, same old. Lila being Lila.” He averted his gaze. “Nothing noteworthy to report.”

“That’s good, I guess,” Marinette said. “I take it Chloe hasn’t made a move?”

“Nope.”

“Give her time.” Marinette rolled her eyes. “By the way, my new friends still want to meet you.”

“I’d be happy to,” he said, thankful for the change in subject.

“Macy invited me to hang out at her house on Friday. Maybe you could come along if you aren’t busy,” she suggested.

“I’ll beg my father.”

“Awesome!” Her blue eyes sparkled when she smiled. She seemed so relaxed and carefree. Just as she should be.

He tapped his fingers on his desk, his conscience loud in his ears. “You know I’d do anything to help you, right?”

“What? I, uh, yeah I mean, we’re friends, so I’d do anything to help you too,” she stammered, cheeks pink. “Why?”

“No reason, just if you need anyone to bounce ideas off of for Clara, that’s all…” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, I should get back to studying.”

“Right, I’m sorry for calling and distracting you!” She scrambled to sit up.

“It’s fine. I’m glad you did,” he said. “Talk to you soon.”

“I’ll let you know how designing goes,” she said. “Good night, Adrien.”

“Yeah, good night…”

♪♫♪ Dancing With a Wolf ♪♫♪

“Did you finish filing those papers Mme. Mendeleiev asked you to do?” Alya asked after school the next day.

Lila suppressed an eye roll, cupping her hands to her cheeks. “Oh no, I didn’t, and I totally forgot that my mom set up a meeting for me with some ambassadors about a new idea I have to help special needs kids in third world countries!” She clasped her hands together. “I know you’re busy, but would you mind finishing that up for me? I will totally make it up to you!”

“No worries, girl,” Alya said. “Go save the world.”

Lila smiled triumphantly as she sauntered toward the locker room, looking forward to her afternoon off. The students here were so gullible. She’d never had such an easy time pushing her work off on others, and now that Marinette was gone, she could do whatever she wanted. Rounding the corner, she found Adrien standing by her locker with a solemn expression.

“Hey, Lila,” he said. “Can we talk?”

“Are you going to apologize for how you spoke to me yesterday?” She crossed her arms over her chest with a humph.

“I am.” He nodded.

“Well, go on then,” she said.

“I’m sorry for yelling at you,” he said.

Her shoulders relaxed, and the smug grin returned to her lips. “Apology accepted. I’m so happy that you see things my w-”

“I’m not finished.” He cut her off. “I’m sorry for yelling at you, but I’m not sorry for what I said.” Her eyes narrowed, so he continued, “If you continue lying to everyone and using them, you’re only going to hurt yourself in the end. People are going to figure it out eventually, and they’re going to be angry with you.”

“These people are blind. I’ll get away with it for as long as I want.” She brushed past him to open her locker.

“I know you think that, but you’re wrong,” he said, and Lila could see where this speech was going. “I’m going to give you one last chance, Lila. Tell everyone the truth.”

She rolled her eyes as she shifted her books. “Or what, Adrien?” She turned to him and cocked a brow. “What are you going to do? Tell everyone that I’m lying? Good luck. You see how well that went for Marinette.”

Her name sparked something in his eyes, and Lila smirked when his jaw clenched.

“I’m not going to expose you.” Adrien shook his head. “You’re going to expose yourself, and I won’t help you when you face the consequences.”

“We’ll see about that.” She reapplied her lip gloss before shutting her locker. “Sooner or later, you’ll see things my way, and when you do, I’ll be waiting.” She strutted past him with a wink, hips swaying.

“Is that your choice?”

She turned over her shoulder with an amused grin. “Oh, Adrien. One day you’re going to learn that not everyone in the world wants to be nice,” she cooed.

He nodded thoughtfully. “Suit yourself.”

At that she rolled her eyes and paced from the locker room. Adrien didn’t scare her because he was all talk and no bite—just one thing that she loved about him. Boys like him were easy to manipulate, and it was only a matter of time before she had him under her spell just like everyone else. All she had to do was wait.

♪♫♪ Cinderblock Garden ♪♫♪

Come to my garden.

When Marinette received the invite from Adrien, she swore she was dreaming, but the gates opening before her were the pinch in the side she needed. This wasn’t a dream. Adrien really invited her to his house! She should have changed schools ages ago.

“Marinette! This way,” Adrien called from the front door, a bright smile warming his face.

“This is the first time I’ve been invited to your house. I’m a little nervous…” Marinette admitted as Adrien’s bodyguard shut the door behind them.

“I had to beg Nathalie, but I think I have something that can help you with your designs for Clara.”

Adrien led the way through the large house, and Marinette soaked in as much of it as possible. It was the first opportunity she had to peek into Adrien’s life, and she wasn’t going to waste it.

Colorless walls and floors were sparsely decorated with lavish couches, untouched from the moment they were placed. Towering portraits spanned the walls, watching over each room with their solemn expressions. Goosebumps trailed up Marinette’s arms. Every object was meticulously placed, and each room resembled a museum display more than a home. She half expected an alarm to go off if she touched anything.

They passed enough tall doors to make anyone dizzy, though all of them were closed, barring Marinette off from what lied beyond. The Agreste mansion hid many secrets, some that even Adrien probably didn’t know. Adrien’s house felt more like a fortress than a home, designed not only to keep the rest of the world out, but to keep the family locked in. It was hard to tell from the outside, but moving through one gray room after another, Marinette started to see the house for what it was: a cozy prison built for a boy. No wonder Adrien was always eager to leave—it was easy to feel alone in a house like this.

She’d never considered what other barriers stood between her and Adrien. How many doors were between them? She liked to think she’d made it through a few, but the tall walls of the mansion with its many locked doors reminded her just how little she knew the boy in front of her. Would those doors ever open for her? And was Adrien even capable of opening them? She didn’t know.

“Your house is very…” Marinette searched for a word.

“Depressing?” He turned to her over his shoulder.

“I wouldn’t say that-”

“It’s okay,” he said. “It’s true. My father is a brilliant designer… of clothes, but his interior décor makes funeral homes seem cheerful.”

“Lonely,” she said. “I was going to say I can see now how you get lonely.”

“It’s not all bad,” he said as Gorilla opened the brown double doors, and they stepped out into the backyard.

The dreary aura of the house gave way to warm sunlight, and Marinette welcomed the change, taking a deep breath of fresh air. Rose bushes lined the yard, vines trailing up the house in knotted tendrils while dozens of butterflies fluttered between the flowers. Despite the ever-present roar of the city beyond the walls, the garden was a tranquil place.

“It’s beautiful,” she murmured, dumbstruck.

“My mother loved to spend time out here, and somedays I catch my father sitting on the steps with his tablet. I thought that maybe it could inspire you too.” Adrien rubbed the back of his neck, and when Marinette turned to him with a smile, he gestured to the stairs. “Come on. It’s even better down there.”

Adrien beckoned for her to follow, and she trailed her hand along the smooth stone railing, head leaned back to take in all of the greenery. Sunlight trickled through the trees, casting speckled, glowing patterns on the ground. Birds chirped in the bushes, the occasional tiny head peeking out between the branches. Everything was so lively here, living in perfect harmony—a direct contrast from the dissonance inside the house.

They came to stop in front of the statue at the center—Adrien’s mother immortalized in stone. Much like the rest of the portraits in the house, it was beautiful, but also sad. Marinette couldn’t imagine losing her mom the way Adrien lost his. He put on a cheery face, but Marinette knew that he was still mourning deep down.

“My dad loves having images of my mom around. It’s like she’s still here with us,” he said. “It probably sounds silly, but I like to sit out here and talk to her sometimes. It’s comforting.”

“I don’t think that’s silly.” Marinette shook her head. “You really miss her.”

“Yeah,” he said softly. “But I know she’d want me to be happy, so I try to keep my head up every day.”

Marinette hesitated, her fingers twitching toward his. It wouldn’t be out of line to take his hand. She just wanted to comfort him…as a friend. Despite convincing herself it was an innocent gesture, her heart still skipped when she finally mustered the courage to slip her hand into his. He welcomed it, giving her hand a tight squeeze.

“Thank you for bringing me here,” she said, “and for sticking by me through everything.”

Adrien turned to her, the sunniness returning to his smile as he shot her a wink. “I’ve got your back, Marinette. You’re one of my best friends, and I’ll always be here for you.”

Her cheeks warmed, and she turned back to the statue. It was strange. Normally hearing Adrien say such things would have sent her straight to cloud 9, and she would have spent hours replaying those words in her head. But her heart couldn’t seem to get off the ground. The light fluttery feeling was weighed by a heavy darkness as if it were still trapped in the house, unable to escape into the peace of the garden.

Then I guess we shouldn’t consider ourselves bffs if there’s so much we don’t know about each other.

Maybe we shouldn’t.

“Marinette?”

She blinked, and something hot slid down her cheek. Adrien stepped closer as she batted at it with a shaking hand, a wet sheen glistening on her fingers.

“It’s okay.” He pulled her into his arms.

She clung to him as more tears spilled over, burying her face in his shoulder. She hadn’t intended to make a habit of crying in the arms of the boy she loved, but given the circumstances, she couldn’t help it. Her tears came when they wanted and refused to surrender once they started. Luckily, Adrien was so perfect and understanding that he always held her close, whispering soft encouragement until her sobs quieted.

Marinette loved him with all of her heart.

“How can anyone live with themselves when they inflict this kind of pain on others?” Adrien murmured into her hair. “Lila Rossi really is evil.”

♪♫♪ …Ready for It? ♪♫♪

Chloe wasn’t surprised to see him that evening—she didn’t even pause her yoga when he entered. It should have bothered him more that she predicted he would cave, but Chloe had known him a long time. She knew better than anyone what his limits were.

“Have you thought about my request?” she asked, shifting into downward facing dog.

Adrien chewed his cheek, Marinette’s tears now dried on his shirt, and steeled his resolve. “If you and I were to plot revenge against Lila…what do you have in mind?”

#mdcsp #mdcspr #marinette dupain-cheng's spite playlist #marinette dupain-cheng's spite playlist remix #my writing

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paperbodiesamongthestars · 4 years ago

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The Farm Stand

Days 10-11: peaches, hug

Read it on AO3 here!

It was Steve’s idea. Billy could have said no, obviously. He was a grown-ass adult, and now that he had his own apartment and a hefty government stipend and never had to see Neil again, he generally did what he wanted. But it was Steve’s idea, so he said yes. He complained a lot about it, but he also got up at the ass-crack of dawn and pulled up in front of Steve and Robin’s apartment half an hour before he had to. He knocked on the door. When Robin opened it, he held up the tray of coffees in his other hand.

“Oh thank God,” she said. “Steve can never figure out that stupid fancy coffee maker until he’s had at least one cup of coffee.” Billy raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, it’s a real catch-22,” Robin said, eagerly taking the coffee he handed her. Billy followed her to the kitchen, where Steve had just resorted to banging his forehead against the cabinets above the coffee maker. Billy crossed the room, tentatively grabbed the back of Steve’s t-shirt and pulled him away from the cabinets, and handed him the hazelnut-flavored abomination he always ordered. Steve stared at it for a long moment, and then took it, raised it to his face, and inhaled deeply.

“I love you so much,” he breathed out, eyes closed, and Billy knew he was talking to his dumb coffee, but it still sent a little thrill through him. Apparently it was enough for him just to be in Steve’s general vicinity when he said it. God, he was pathetic.

“Are you actually going to be ready to leave in half an hour, dingus?” Robin’s voice was skeptical. Steve swallowed the huge sip of coffee he had just taken and looked at the clock on the stove with wide eyes.

“Half an hour?” he asked, alarm in his voice. Robin stared at him.

“You were the one who said that we absolutely had to leave by six thirty. ‘Otherwise we’ll miss all the good produce, Robin,’ you said with your stupid huge Bambi eyes. I swear to God, if you’re not ready to leave at precisely six thirty, I will—“ Steve didn’t wait to hear the rest of the threat. He took his coffee and vanished down the hallway toward the bathroom.

Heather knocked on the door fifteen minutes later, far too energetic for how early it was. Billy leaned on the counter, sipping his coffee and watching Robin and Heather shoot little smiles at each other until Steve reappeared at six twenty-five. He had on one of his dumb vests, and his hair was only partially tamed, and Billy wanted to call off the whole trip and steer him straight into his bedroom, and into his bed. But the trip was Steve’s idea and Billy was probably never actually going to follow through on his feelings, so he got into the passenger seat of Steve’s car instead.

The ninety-minute drive was surprisingly bearable. Steve had chosen music that did not completely offend Billy’s sensibilities, and Robin and Heather mostly kept their hands to themselves in the backseat. Conversation flowed easily, and Billy wondered once again how exactly he had ended up as a part of this little friend group.

Shared trauma creates bonds, he could hear his therapist saying, but was it really shared trauma when he had been the source of it for everybody else? He tried to shut down that particular line of thinking, and was grateful a few minutes later when Steve pulled him back into the conversation. The four of them were in the middle of a spirited discussion about where they were getting lunch after this (Billy and Heather were voting for pizza, while Steve and Robin were dead-set on burgers—they were absolutely going to end up getting burgers, but it was still fun to argue about it) when the car slowed and Billy was surprised to see a faded wooden sign announcing that they had arrived at The Farm Stand.

Steve pulled into a parking space and got out, stretching out after the drive. He glanced around the parking lot and nodded approvingly at how empty it was.

“I’m telling you,” he said, “this place is going to be jam-packed in half an hour. Good luck getting any morels or peaches then.” Robin shook her head as she climbed out of the backseat.

“It’s way too early in the year for peaches, dingus. I can’t believe you made me get up this early for out-of-season produce.”

“Just you wait,” Steve said. “I’m going to make a peach-rhubarb cobbler that is going to blow your mind.” Billy followed them toward the produce stand, taking in the expanse of fields beyond it.

“Have you ever been here before?” Heather asked, falling into step beside him. Billy shook his head.

“It’s nice this time of year,” she said, “although this is the first time I’ve been in years. We came out here every year during elementary school for apple picking, so I was pretty over it after that. But they have all kinds of animals, and beehives, and they do tours of the orchards and stuff.” Billy hummed in response. He didn’t care all that much about fresh produce or farm animals, but he did care about how excited Steve was to be here. He watched as Steve made his way through the produce stand, asking enthusiastic questions and seemingly buying a little bit of everything. Eventually, Steve was satisfied, though he kept tossing longing glances back at the few things he hadn’t purchased. With some difficulty, Robin persuaded him to leave his haul in the trunk of the car while they walked around the rest of the property.

“It’s not even supposed to get all that warm today, Steven. Everything’s going to be fine. Put your stuff away so we can go look at the horses.” After a final, token protest Steve did, and they wandered over to the paddock. There was a miniature donkey in with the horses, and both Robin and Heather cooed over it. They wandered around for a while, until Robin and Heather decided to go on an orchard tour, and Steve wanted to visit the beehives and sample some honey. Billy followed Steve because that was just what he did now, apparently. Besides, Robin and Heather were almost surely going to spend the whole tour finding places where they could sneak off and make out, and Billy didn’t want to cramp their style.

Steve was apparently just as passionate about honey as he was about produce, and Billy wandered off in the middle of his enthusiastic discussion with an equally passionate beekeeper about the different types of honey available for purchase. He eventually stopped in front of a large enclosure, which housed several miniature goats. There was a pair of baby goats running around with the others and as he watched them play-fight, Billy felt a familiar prickling behind his eyelids.

Come on, he thought to himself, not here. Because this was a thing that he did now. Crying about stupid shit. About nothing. He hated it.

Not about nothing, he heard his therapist say, voice calm and measured. It’s a kind of displacement. You refuse to grieve for yourself, for the things you’ve lost or never had, so those emotions find another outlet. Billy didn’t care what she called it—it was still dumb. Pathetic, even. And now here he was, crying actual tears over baby goats, of all things, right out in the open, where anyone could see him. Where Steve could see him. He sniffled a little and wiped a careless hand over his eyes, hoping he would be done before Steve reappeared. So of course Steve chose that moment to seek him out, as if summoned.

“Hey, check it out, they had—are you ok?” Steve’s voice was all concern, and it only made Billy’s eyes well up even more. “What’s wrong, B?” Steve asked gently. Billy didn’t know what to say, so he didn’t say anything. Steve, of course, kept talking. “Do you hate it here? I was worried you would hate it. We can go if you want to. I can find Robin and Heather…” Steve looked around, as though he was going to go get them right now, and Billy’s desire to reassure him won out over his dignity.

“Nothing’s wrong,” he said, voice choked with unshed tears. “I don’t hate it here. I just…do this sometimes now.”

“Yeah?” Steve asked carefully. Billy shrugged and gestured helplessly at the baby goats.

“They’re just so small,” he said, and then he was crying harder.

“Come here,” Steve said, and then he was setting down his bag of honey and his hands were on Billy’s shoulders and he was pulling him in for a hug, which wasn’t—they didn’t do that. Billy had been all over Steve Harrington in high school, constantly in his space, but things had changed. Now, after everything, he did his best to maintain a careful distance from Steve, largely because he no longer trusted himself to stop touching Steve if he ever really got started. It had only taken a week or two of Billy tensing up at Steve’s touch and Steve looking faintly wounded every time for Steve to start keeping his distance as well.

But now here they were, Steve’s arms solid and warm around Billy, and Billy’s arms instinctively coming up around Steve’s waist. Billy froze, expecting Steve to pull away fairly quickly, but he didn’t. He held on until Billy felt himself actually relaxing into the hug, melting against Steve and tucking his face into Steve’s shoulder. Billy figured he could let himself have this, just for a minute. Tears still slipped down his face, dampening a spot on Steve’s shirt.

“That’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen,” Steve murmured into his ear.

“The baby goats?” Billy mumbled. “I know.” Steve pulled back far enough to look Billy in the eye, and smiled.

“No, dumbass,” Steve said, voice full of affection. His eyes were wide and warm and he brought a hand up to brush away some of Billy’s tears. “You crying about baby goats.”

#harringrove #my writing #harringrove April challenge #a lil farm trip #just fluff

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ffxiv-angora · 3 years ago

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Day 22: Fluster

Featuring @caspianking 's Li'xala because I couldn't not write about them for this prompt lmfao

This also is the prelude to this screenshot set.

Originally Angora had planned to visit the Lion tribe at some point if she ended up on a job up north. Y’know, just to pop in and say hello! Maybe see a friend or two. Definitely not to see one person in particular. It seemed that fate would have her visit sooner rather than later. She didn’t hesitate for a moment to offer her aid once word reached her that the Lions would be going to war with another tribe. And not just any tribe. It was Caspian’s birth tribe. She wasn’t about to miss out on the chance to crack some skulls while also supporting her friends and their family.

So here she was...in her tent. Pacing in circles. She’d made a habit of bringing gifts to Li’xala each time she was in the area. It was usually just some herbs or a book that he usually wouldn’t have access to. Totally innocent gifts for a friend who really doesn’t get out much. But then she found out what that sort of thing meant to the Lions. Angora desperately did not want to overstep or send the wrong message. Li’xala never seemed to turn down the gifts. So was it okay??

“Gods above,” Angora groans, scrubbing her face with a wet rag from the basin inside her tent. Why were tribal customs so complicated? Clearly, the fault lies with Yera and Caspian since they put these ideas in her head in the first place. That had to be it. She turns to dig in the saddlebags she’d brought along with her. Inside was yet another gift. There’d been just enough time to grab it on her way north. Perhaps...she’d give it to him later. After all the fighting was done. Surely gifts were the last thing he wanted to be bothered with right now.

War had been officially declared earlier in the day when the Lynx leader showed his face at the tribe gates. The whole village was buzzing with excitement. But...Angora also couldn’t help but notice a heavy air of tension. This was likely the first time the younger Lions will have to take the life of another. Such is the way of war.

Yet another custom she’d learned about was how the Lions would braid each other’s hair before battle. Some kind of good luck charm. Friends and family could add a braid to your hair along with small charms and tokens. Braiding was not a skill Angora possessed. She somehow managed one for her own hair each day but that was about the most she could do. The styles that the Lions favored were much more intricate. So she’d need help from...someone.

Yera was far too busy trying to wrangle her children. Angora would honestly be lucky if she could track down the older woman to add a single braid. That left one other choice that she knew would do a decent job. Li’xala had done her hair for her before. What’s one more time? Though this all depended on the healer even having a moment to assist her. There was only one way to find out.

Angora sighs, slinging a small bag over her shoulder before pushing her way out of her tent. Little did she know that she wouldn’t need to search far. She hardly got a few steps away from her tent before she ran face-first into someone.

“O-Oh my goodness, I am so sorry. [Sorry! I didn’t see-]”

“...Mån tjej?”

Angora blinks. Then looks up and blinks again. Both her and Li’xala just stand in stunned silence for a moment before he speaks up.

“Braids. [I assumed you might need help. So I came to assist.]” The healer’s brow quirks ever so slightly when the only answer he gets is silence and a dumbfounded look from Angora. She finally coughs, gives him a quick nod, and tried her best to not give him an awkward smile. It mostly works.

“Right! Yes. The braids. [I would greatly appreciate the help.] I-I assumed you might be busy but I was actually on my way to look for you. You’ve done it before and Yera is far too busy so I figured you-” she cuts off her rambling when Li’xala motions to a clear patch of grass not too far from where they stood.

“Go sit. Will help.”

“I-...Okay. Sure. Got it.” Angora turns on a dime, ducking her head while marching her way to the designated spot. She could feel an icy blue eye watching her and could hear Yera cackling in the distance. It was pointedly ignored. Li’xala didn’t seem to notice...or was also choosing not to acknowledge it.

Gods help her.

#ffxiv #ffxiv rp #ffxivwrite2021 #ic things #Angora

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black-streak · 5 years ago

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Little Pistol - Nothing Personal

Chapter 2

First Previous Next

It'll be a minute before Tim is actually introduced here, by the way. Mostly because I'm not 100% certain who exactly I want him to be affiliated with and how he'll operate yet.

Which reminds me, I'm opening that to a vote that I'll post tomorrow. It's open to all, but anyone tagged in this should expect to be tagged onto that as well. I would like your input, please.

LP Taglist

@zalladane @moonlightstar64 @amayakans @elmokingkong @queen-in-a-flower-crown @karategirl119 @dreamykitty25 @danielslilangel @melicmusicmagic @xahriia @sassakitty

Permanent list

@naoryllis @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @my-name-is-michell @maribat-is-lifeblood @dast218 @novicevoice @shizukiryuu @princess-of-fangirls @bigpicklebananatree @pirats-pizzacanninibles @abrx2002 @breemeister @darkthunder1589 @thestressmademedoit @severelyenchantedwonderland @isabellemasen @multi-fandom-freak0221 @fantasyloversblog @bzz75 @cloudiedraws @jardimazul @orbitsvt @gingerdaile @sotheresthatthought @kadmeread @novaloptr @unabashedlyswimmingtimemachine @crazylittlemunchkin @18-fandoms-unite-08 @tiny-goddess-of-chaos @ladybug-182 @toodaloo-kangaroo @the-alice-of-hearts

~---~

The next battle came as a stark contrast to the normal. Chat still flirted, still tried to get close, but he kept fighting, kept helping even when she ignored him. Then, the most amazing thing happened. She got hit after getting distracted by one of his comments and instead of yelling at him for it and being pushed off in turn, he turned to the akuma. Without a word from her, he stopped his comments and went after the cursed object with a single minded focus she'd never seen from him before. Within ten minutes with minimal help on her part, he was presenting her with the blackened hair tie of the victim.

"A token, m'lady," he bowed, but kept his eyes downcast.

"Thank you, Chat," she managed to get out in her surprise, taking the item and working her magic on it and the city alike.

"I'm sorry," he murmured at her side, "I distracted you and got you hurt. That's my fault."

"It is," she agreed, not wanting to lie and say it wasn't, but also fighting back her urge to comfort him, "You'll do better next time," she stated.

"Much better," he promised, peeking up at her in hope of forgiveness. She swallowed back her instinct to grant it.

"Good," she nodded and took off back to school.

…

She spent most of the school day comparing his attitude this time to the last akuma attack, startled to realize what a difference a single conversation could make. She did that. She managed to make him change. Sure, she was injured, but only the once and he even said he was sorry! Took responsibility for his mistakes. That was unprecedented. She couldn't help but wonder how much pushing it would take to stop him completely. To incite obedience. Not that she planned to push it to that level, but it was a curious thing.

As she pondered on the logistics of such an act, just for the fun of it, she stepped out of the classroom, intending to head out for the day, she noticed Chloe shooing Sabrina off. Probably to act on some offhanded whim of the blonde. Marinette can't help the niggling thought of how she could change that as well. What words would it take to set Sabrina free? What made Chloe tick?

As she passed Alya, the reporter talking to Nino, or rather, at Nino, she thought of how to switch the roles. How to encourage Nino to express himself more openly. To be comfortable in his own skin enough to confidently express it.

Her grin grew as she planned out exactly how each encounter went down, coming up with on the spot ideas and improvising at a drop of a hat for whatever response they might have. It reminded her of the thrill of figuring out a particularly difficult lucky charm. Plus, it was perfectly harmless to consider right? As long as she didn't act on it. And even if she did, it would benefit them all, so really, it didn't hurt to consider.

And if the outcomes were as good as Chat's were, even better. If she went through with it, that is.

…

A week came and went and as did another attack.

Chat waited until the akuma was caught and purified to flirt, ensuring she never became distracted by him or anything else for that matter. He called out any incoming projectile, caught her attention anytime anything happened that she might've missed. Took another hit for her. That frustrated her, but the rest was a needed reprieve from the stress of akuma's past. And then he started flirting.

"Chat, what are you doing?"

"Well surely, I've proven my dedication to you, m'lady. I figure we might celebrate?"

"You've proven nothing of the sort," she stated, head tilted in confusion.

"I did to! I made sure you weren't harmed, I took the attack seriously, I even apologized and caught the akuma for you last time!"

"That isn't proof of love, Chat. That's basic human decency. I would do that for any hero or civilian for that matter. If that's a show of devotion to you, I'd hate to see how you treat people you're indifferent to," Ladybug countered, lips pursed and eyebrows pinching in.

"I'm perfectly nice to people I don't know," he defended himself quickly.

"Oh," her expression swiftly morphed, eyes widening into a look of taken aback surprise, "So you treat strangers well, but those you care about are lucky to hear an apology from you? Thank kwami I'm a ladybug then, I guess."

"That's not what I meant, of course I apologize when I'm in the wrong," he backtracked.

"So you think last time was the only time you messed up with me," she clarified.

"Well no…" Chat hedged, looking down again.

"You've barely proven that you don't hold malicious intent towards me. Don't push your luck, kitty. Black cats don't have any," she stated, taking off to leave him alone with his thoughts once more.

…

Arriving home, she dropped the transformation, collapsing on her chaise and shaking her head, "I can't believe I said that. Oh my gosh, I actually said that," she stared off into the distance.

"Neither can I. That was very harsh of you, Marinette, I'm disappointed in you," Tikki spoke up from her knee where she sat glaring with a pout on her face.

However, instead of immediately groveling as she normally did, Marinette's eyes sharpened as they snapped to the creature, sick of the treatment she'd received from the goddess since she first implemented this new tactic, "Was anything I said a lie?"

"No, but you could've said it in a nicer way," she insisted.

"When has carefully and nicely ever worked with him in the past?"

Tikki opened her mouth, but Marinette swiftly cut her off, "Never. It always ends with you chastising me and me apologizing for something that wasn't my fault. Nothing ever changed. But this, being direct with him, it works. He's changing, finally," she felt relief in letting this out, especially in the face of someone so hypocritical in her expectations on her compared to that of her so-called partner.

"Marinette, you can't just change people into who you want them to be!"

"I'm not changing him. I'm telling him what I see and how I feel and he is reacting to that information how he sees fit," she corrected, eager now at the prospect once more.

Tikki frowned, considering this point, "That's technically true… I still don't like it though."

"It's okay Tikki, you'll see soon enough," she reassured.

…

As day shifted to night, she pulled out her tablet, checking for any news on her new favorite hero.

Nothing to discover today, though she did start making a few sketches of his suit, looking at possible redesigns. Adjustments or details that could be made to improve the overall look or functionality. Granted, it looked very functional already.

She was startled to discover that even she wouldn't change much in that aspect. It became blatantly clear that he designed the suit to accommodate him perfectly, playing up his strengths and drawing away from any potential weaknesses. It only further her admiration and assured her of her choices.

…

The next attack came sooner than expected, Hawkmoth apparently deciding he had more free time than them. As though that hadn't been obvious from the beginning. Surely, they knew that from the start and didn't need this reminder. Didn't the man have a job or something? Could he get back to it, please?

Speaking of, Chat was doing a remarkable job of trying to follow a purified white butterfly off into the horizon, wanting to please her by taking the hunt for the villain to heart. As though she hadn't tried that already.

You'd think he hadn't listened to a word she'd said before the way he retraced her own work over again. Rolling her eyes, she let him humor himself, waiting until he came back, tail tucked and ears flattened, to admit his failure.

Sitting down, she relaxed into her spot. This was going to take a while.

…

It was three am and she had pulled up the newest article on her Robin. She still hadn't found his official name, but she thrilled to see new pictures of him, though still shadowed and from such terrible angles. Apparently he had more recently been seen working alongside another. Something he hadn't done before as far as the city of Gotham knew, still so ignorant to him being their very own wonderful Robin. She couldn't really be bothered to look further into who he was seen working with, but something in the back of her mind twinged as her heart stuttered to know he was willing to fight alongside another.

Closing up the window and shutting down her tablet, she fell asleep with a smile.

#Dark!timinette #timinette #maribat #ml x dc #can yall see where this is going?

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thirstyforcharacters · 4 years ago

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3. Breaking the Ice

Part 3 of 4 of the Winter Storm Warning Series

Summary: After the resounding defeat of your foes at the ruins of the Hoth base, you and Poe realize that with the snowstorm raging outside, you're trapped inside the base. You're not looking forward to what comes after, but maybe it won't be as bad as you thought it would be.

Notes: And now comes the fluff! If you haven’t caught them: Chapter 1 is here, Chapter 2 is here, and Chapter 4 is here! There's only one more chapter left, and more than likely, there's gonna be smut (which I know is what the people really want; there’s been practically no one that’s read this so far, but I’m hoping that changes once the smut gets posted). Anyway, thank you so much for reading, and I hope you like this one! (use of she/her pronouns in future chapters, no y/n)

Warnings: the “there was only one bed” trope, but that’s it lol

WC: 1.9k

Because of your injury (and his guilty conscience, you believed), Poe decided he would scope out the base for a decent place to shack up for the night. A lot of the base was still collapsed in on itself, so there was a possibility that there were no bedrooms or refreshers for the two of you to use. In the meantime, you were attempting to get back in contact with the general to tell her that you were stuck. Unfortunately for you, no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t get a signal to go through. If only the rebel base was a little bit closer. You huffed, frustrated, but you kept going; it was the only thing you could do to be helpful right now since Poe refused to let you do anything else. It was just a broken nose, so you could walk around, but he said that he didn’t want there to be a chance that you would aggravate your injury. It kind of pissed you off that he wasn’t letting you do anything, but on the same token, you understood that it was just a desire to help you.

After yet another unsuccessful attempt, Poe returned.

Upon seeing your frustrated expression, he asked, “No luck?”

“No,” you grumbled, “the storm is too strong, I can’t get anything to go through. You have any good news?”

“A mixture of good and bad. Good news is I found somewhere we can sleep,” his expression then grew sheepish, “the bad news is, uh...”

You quirked up your eyebrow, “What?”

“There’s uh, there’s only one room that’s not collapsed. And, there’s only one bed.”

“Oh.”

You didn’t quite know what to do. You definitely didn’t want to sleep with Poe, but the bed was really the only comfortable option. You back already hurt just from sleeping against the wall for that short burst of time. But you knew that that would probably be the better option.

“You can have it. The wall is shockingly comfortable,” you joked.

“Absolutely not. It’s yours,” he rebutted.

“I’m already sitting here anyway. I’m chill with staying here,” you said, snickering slightly.

He rolled his eyes, “That was a terrible pun. But in all seriousness, you’re taking the room.”

“Nope.”

“You are. One, you’re injured. Two, it’s my fault we’re here in the first place. It’s only fair.”

“Why are you being so nice to me all of a sudden?”

The question seemed to throw him off guard, “Don’t you want me to be nice to you? I can go back to being a dick, if that’s what you prefer.”

“No, I definitely prefer you this way. I just want to know why. Especially because it was so sudden.”

“I thought it would be obvious,” he replied, “you suffered because of me, so I’m making it up to you.”

“And even after you’ve made it up to me, will you continue to be nice to me? Or will you go back to having an unfounded superiority complex?” you asked.

He scratched his head sheepishly, “Well, I am a better pilot than you. But yeah, I’ll play nice as long as you do.”

You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling, “Clearly, I’m the better pilot, since I was able to land in the middle of a snowstorm. But I wouldn’t mind being friends. It’s better than what we have going on now.”

“The landing was really good,” he complimented, making your smile grow a little wider.

“So, friends?” you questioned, holding out your hand.

He grinned, taking your hand and shaking it, “Friends.”

When you let go of his hand, you said, “And as your friend, I will be forcing you to take the room.”

“Like hell you are,” he shot back, scooping you into his arms.

“Poe!” you shrieked, “what are you doing?! Put me down!”

“Giving you the bed, Admiral,” he teased, “you’re injured, you need to rest up.”

“It’s just my nose, Dameron. It’s not like I’m gonna die.”

“You’re still getting the bed,” he stubbornly replied.

You huffed and allowed him to carry you to the small room. He gently deposited you onto the bed and straightened back up with a triumphant grin on his face.

“Oh, stop,” you groaned, smacking him in the arm.

“Hey!” he exclaimed, rubbing the injured area, “I’m giving you a gift, and this is how you repay me?”

“Yup.”

Then, you realized that while you were talking, you could see your breath in front of your face. In the hustle and bustle of the day, you forgot just how cold it was in the base.

“It’s fucking freezing in here,” you muttered, “there’s gotta be some kind of heating system.”

“Oh,” Poe said, “that was the other bit of bad news. I did find the heater, but it’s trapped under heavy debris, too much for both of us to move together. It’s super broken. We’ll be stuck here with no heat.”

“In that case, I sure hope that we can find some blankets,” you replied.

“I’ll take a look around, but I can’t guarantee anything.”

“Okay. I’ll try to get in contact with the general again, just in case.”

“Good luck.”

Poe exited the room, leaving you alone. You got your holo back out and attempted to contact the base once more, but once again, there was no response. Then, it struck you. Rey and Finn were on a mission on the nearby moon of Jhas Krill. Maybe if you were able to contact them, you’d be able to get them to relay the message to General Organa! Despite the blizzard, you were hoping that since the distance to Jhas Krill wasn’t very far, you’d be able to get through to them. The only thing left to do was try. You contacted Rey, and were rewarded when both her and Finn’s figures appeared on the holo.

“Rey, Finn! Am I glad to see you! There’s a really bad blizzard on Hoth, and I can’t get in contact with the general. Are you able to tell her that we won’t be able to be back until the storm clears up, until at least tomorrow?”

“Hey, Admiral! Of course we can,” Rey replied with a smile.

“Yeah, they’ll be back tomorrow if they don’t kill each other first,” joked Finn.

You rolled your eyes, “Very funny, Finn. And we’ve decided to be friends now, so hopefully that won’t happen.”

Rey looked shocked, “Friends? You and Poe? I honestly never thought it would happen.”

“Me neither,” you responded, “but I guess being the reason that we got captured and that my nose is broken has Poe singing a different tune.”

You saw Finn lean over and whisper something to Rey, who looked at you and giggled.

“What?”

“Nothing!” they both exclaimed in sync.

Of course, you knew that there was something, but you decided not to question it.

“Whatever. Well, if you’re going to keep secrets from me, I might as well go.”

“We have to go anyway, we’re about to head home,” Finn replied, “good luck with everything. See you tomorrow!”

“See you guys!”

You hung up, grateful that at least Finn and Rey would be able to get through to the general. But what had they been whispering about? You shook your head. There was no use worrying about it since they were never going to tell you.

Poe strode back into the room then, carrying a single, thin blanket.

“This is all I could find. Sorry,” he told you.

You waved him off, “It’s fine. Better than nothing. I have good news, though.”

“You got through to the general?”

“Nope,” you said, “but I got through to Finn and Rey and they said they could relay the message.”

“Oh, good,” Poe replied, unfolding the blanket, “that at least takes care of that.”

“What are you doing?” you asked.

“Getting the blanket ready for you,” he stated, draping the blanket over you.

You threw the blanket off of you, “Absolutely not. You’re literally sleeping on the floor, you need it way more than I do.”

He picked the blanket up off of the ground and gently placed it back over your body, “I’ll be fine.”

“You’ll freeze!” you contested, trying to throw the blanket off of you again.

He sprinted away from the bedside and disappeared through the door, “Goodnight, Admiral!”

You rolled your eyes. Stubborn as a mule, he was. But at least you’d be semi-warm tonight. Poe would definitely regret that later.

An hour later, and you still couldn’t fall asleep. You tossed and turned, but couldn’t get comfortable or warm enough to fall into an easy slumber, so you ended up on your back, just staring at the ceiling. If you were faring like that, you couldn’t imagine how Poe was doing. You felt a little guilty not forcing him to take the blanket, but he escaped before you could give it back, so he kind of did it to himself.

Not any sooner than you thought that did the pilot stumble sleepily into your room. His lips were turning purple and his teeth were chattering like crazy.

“Oh, Poe, you’re freezing!” you exclaimed.

“A l-litt-ttle,” he stuttered, the cold making his teeth clink together like ice cubes.

“Come here, Poe,” you told him, gesturing to the bed.

His eyes widened slightly, ‘W-with y-you? A-are you ss-sure?”

“Yeah,” you replied, “I haven’t really slept either, it’s too damned cold. Maybe our combined body heat will help.”

He nodded and clambered over to you, not so gracefully removing his boots before laying down beside you. Since Poe was clearly freezing cold, you allowed him to snuggle into your side, and you gently wrapped one of your arms around him, holding him against you. His head flopped onto your shoulder, and you pulled the blanket up over the two of you with your free hand.

“Hopefully that’s better,” you murmured.

You felt him nod against your shoulder and he mumbled something that sounded like a “goodnight.” He closed his eyes and slowly, you felt his breathing even out until he was asleep. When you were sure he was, you glanced down at him. He was so close that you could see the grey hairs slowly starting to invade the brunet curls. A soft smile spread across your face. You had never seen him look so peaceful; usually the two of you only saw each other when you were stressed out of your minds.

Then again, you used to hate each other, so that might’ve been the reason behind that.

But he looked so… pretty.

You tried to shake that thought out of your head, but you couldn’t. Even when you strongly disliked hin, you had alway thought that he was handsome, but you were able to push it out of your head because of your disdain. Now, you couldn’t excuse your attraction away. You would never tell him that, of course. Since he hated you too, there was no way he thought you were good-looking.

You were finally able to break your train of thought when a big yawn fell from your lips. Maybe now you’d finally be able to go to sleep; you’d have a long day tomorrow full of hurtling through space, writing mission reports, and trudging through lots of snow. Your eyes fluttered shut, and if you fell asleep dreaming of the pilot beside you, well, at least no one would know.

#poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x you #star wars #sequel trilogy #star wars sequel fic #star wars sequel trilogy #poe dameron fic #poe dameron fanfiction #poe dameron fluff #x reader #x reader fluff #x reader fic #x reader fanfiction #there was only one bed #fluff

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chestnut-b · 4 years ago

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Himawari Chapter 9

In which Iruka gets a bit of a winter cold.

Chapter 9 of a Demon Slayer AU

“All right. Class dismissed!”

There was a small chorus of happy cheers, and the children gathered for a respectful bow before running off for their morning break. Naruto wasted no time, grabbing Lee’s arm and pulling him towards the courtyard for sparring. The rest, having braved the chill long enough, retreated indoors.

Iruka watched them go with an exasperated, fond sigh.

There was still some time before lunch, so he took the time to wander the school grounds, eventually coming to a stop outside the tea room.

Sliding open one of the doors, the room was dark, and his shadow, cast on the floor, was a solitary one.

He smiled to himself wryly before sliding the door shut. He walked, turning the corner in the hallway, but his ears soon picked up the sounds of approaching footsteps behind him.

“Oiiii, Iruka.” Came a familiar drawl.

Mizuki. He was dressed in his haori and outdoor sandals, his nichirin blade strapped proudly to his waist. He approached Iruka casually, his arms raised to brace the back of his head.

“It’s a sortie. We’ve just received orders to head out.”

That explained his attire, and certainly the smile that was plastered on his face.

Iruka bowed his head.

“I see. May you and your squad see victory on the battlefield.”

“Hmmm. Must be nice, getting to stay behind while we get sent out to die like rats.”

“Wha-,”

Iruka didn’t dodge the arm that shot out past his neck, pinning his body to the wooden post behind him. Mizuki’s gaze, seemingly nonchalant but laced with barely hidden disdain, bore into him.

“I’ve been wondering for a while, you’ve been here for over two years now, and I still don’t know your rank, Iruka.”

Iruka stood, still as stone. His fist closed into a ball.

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Just curious. They said you’d come as an apprentice of a former Hashira, but so far I haven’t seen anything to be impressed by.”

“Maybe there isn’t anything impressive about me to begin with?” Iruka raised his tone to match Mizuki’s.

“Heh. I heard when you came with that brat of yours, security got so much tighter. It’s still such a pain, to be honest.” Mizuki let down his arm, drawing back.

“The children here were all orphaned by demons. If we won’t protect them, who will?”

“If they get killed, it’s because they weren’t strong or lucky enough, that’s all. If they’re going to be that pathetic, they’d be better off digging graves with the rest of the Kakushi. I’ve seen you go on and on about how we’re here for them, but in reality, some of us are just here for the paycheck.”

Iruka felt the heat rise up his neck. His nails were biting into his palm now, but he couldn’t refute the statement. Anyone could take the selections, it didn’t surprise him at all that more than a few entered the corp just to survive.

“Maybe some of us are here for more than the paycheck then.”

Mizuki snorted, leaning back to rest his hand on the hilt of his blade. He was clearly bored of the conversation.

“Well, have fun babysitting. I’m off to slay some demons. With a couple more under my belt, I’ll get promoted by the end of the year. That’s something to look forward to in this god-forsaken dump.”

Without another word, the slayer made himself scarce.

Alone, Iruka took a moment to dust off his uniform. He passed another set of corridors, and found himself outside the room he and Naruto shared.

The tree that stood in the yard between him and the guest quarters was barren, its crown dotted by dry, empty nests against a grey, overcast sky. Months ago, when it was still green with life, he’d shared many conversations with a Hashira under its generous shade.

The birds that flew by then had long since moved south.

A week later, on a quiet night under a full moon, he found himself standing beside Naruto before the compound’s prayer box.

They prayed; for health, for each other, and for those they’d lost.

---------------------------------

The winter that came was harsh and unforgiving.

Iruka lay shivering in his futon, face flushed with fever. He’d never taken to the cold well, especially as a child. In his delirium, he thought he could feel his mother’s warm hand against his cheek, or his father’s rough, calloused palm resting on his forehead.

Being clear-headed was never more painful.

He’d moved to the tea room to make use of the closeness of the hearth. Naruto was as attentive as he could be, considering he’d been shooed away with Lee when he wasn’t delivering food or medicine. Sakura would peer into the room too, when she thought he was asleep. He’d open his eyes to see a cup of hand brewed tea at his bedside, smelling of herbs and flowers. Izumo and Kotetsu had taken up his duties in his absence, and he was never more grateful for them, as much as he disliked being away from the children.

He thought he was in the middle of another fever-induced dream when he heard a familiar bark accompanied by the sounds of light footsteps, amplified by the silence of the surrounding snow.

“Iruka-nii!” Whispered a dear voice.

He couldn’t help but smile, even if it did hurt his burning cheeks.

“Naruto? Do we have a visitor?”

Another bark.

“It’s Guruko!” Came the hushed proclamation.

Naruto’s small hands pulled open a space in the door just wide enough for the hound’s slim body to slip through, and was shut just as quickly to prevent the heat from escaping.

With effort, Iruka rolled to his side, resting his head on his arm to see the familiar red hound come to stand just above him. She was looking at him emphatically, and lowered her head to nudge him with a cold, wet nose. Iruka chuckled softly, patting the side of her face.

“It’s good to see you. I hope Kakashi-san hasn’t been overworking you guys.”

Guruko whined softly and gave his palm a few good licks before turning around. It took a bit of fumbling, but Iruka eventually managed to undo the buttons to her small satchel. His fingers found the slip of paper they were looking for, and Iruka focused his eyes on the inky characters on the page.

Iruka-sensei,

If this finds you in the right circumstances, it means we’ve both survived another year, maybe. Much like starting a new Icha-Icha novel, the provisions you sent were consumed with much reverence -

Iruka rolled his eyes, groaning. That didn’t stop him from continuing though.

And since you so kindly offered, I’ve sent Guruko to request for a little more than just your attention.

Regarding your souvenir, since you didn’t ask for anything reasonable, I’ve taken it upon myself to find something that could be worthy of your amusement. As I write this, I find myself holed up in a small fishing village on the northern coast. It is as miserably cold as you might expect, but the fish is delicious. Guruko was skulking around on the beach one morning and picked up a fine specimen. I’ve often been told you can hear the sound of the ocean if you hold it to your ear. Alas, on my first attempt, I nearly had mine torn off by a very unhappy critter. I hope you will have better luck with it than I.

It was signed off in the Hashira’s usual fashion.

Iruka paused. He dipped his hand back in Guruko’s satchel, and as he expected, found something solid and smooth.

Ah, no good. His eyes were already starting to sting.

A conch shell, white and spotted brown, fit warmly in the cup of his palm, like something he could have picked up outside his childhood home, when it was still an acceptable preoccupation for a four year old shinobi.

And though he certainly didn’t have to put it to his ear to remember the sound of the ocean, he thought he would amuse Kakashi’s efforts.

He closed his eyes, and surely enough, he saw the crouching figure of his child self, on the familiar beach, doing the same.

The sound rushing in his ears was no doubt, that of the rolling tide.

Iruka was pulled back to the present by a tongue lapping at his cheek.

“Sorry, Guruko. Your master’s a bit of an idiot.” He sighed.

There was a bark of agreement, and the hound curled itself on the floor within arm’s reach. Iruka tucked the letter under his pillow, but kept the shell in his palm. Exhausted, he closed his eyes.

If the letter was still there when he awoke, he’d go through it again then.

---------------------------------

Kakashi-san,

By the time this reaches you, the new year would have passed. As usual, the winters here are harsh, but Guruko’s presence was a welcome warmth.

As you may know, Jiraiya-sama visits from time to time. He is, under the right influences, generous with his anecdotes of you. Had I not known your acquaintance, it would have been hard to believe that even the Hashira have their bouts of rebelliousness.

Your souvenir was well received, and worthy of much more than just my amusement. Among other things, I’m reminded of the fact that Naruto has never seen the ocean before. It would be nice if he could, some day.

Besides the usual provisions, you’ll find a small token of thanks. We do not have priests here, so it is lacking in the divine benefits, and is filled with nothing but sentiment. Nevertheless, know that my thoughts go with you, and the hounds, of course.

Iruka

Under the warm, dim light of a paper lamp, Kakashi took a sip from a cup of tea. Guruko lay beside him, snoring softly.

In his palm, a small, hand-stitched omamori.

---------------------------------

Before he knew it, summer had come round once again.

He was making his way through a rice field when he’d received word from a crow;

The Lightning Hashira is to report to the outpost in the Forest of Death for yearly evaluations at his earliest convenience.

Watching the crow take off into the sky, he couldn’t help but recall a certain conversation.

When was the last time a crow brought you good news then?

The teacher’s grin when he answered was hard to forget.

Without meaning to, Kakashi had leaned on that memory, more than once. Covered in blood, in the wretched cold, on the darker nights.

Not that he’d ever admit to it, of course.

Yearly evaluations huh, that’s new.

He wondered if Iruka had already been informed. He wouldn’t know when he’d arrive exactly, and Kakashi found himself thinking that sneaking up on his friend might make for a fun challenge. Watching him turn red and bristle would be its own reward.

They’d exchanged letters only once more since Guruko had returned that winter. The long nights always meant an increase in demon attacks; he’d not been able to spare any of the hounds for more trips back. She’d returned that time noticeably more distressed than he remembered ever seeing her. Knowing Iruka, he could think of a few reasons why, but as long as he’d not been summoned on some emergency, there was little to be done. There were lives to be saved and demons to be defeated wherever he went.

Jiraiya being around brought him some ease of mind, at least.

The letter that came in spring, to Kakashi’s amusement, had the distinct smell of gunpowder on it. Someone was having fun. Iruka spoke of dabbling in the art of explosions, now that the air was warmer and drier, with an enthusiasm he’d not quite known the teacher capable of.

It was rather...cute.

Just as the thought entered his mind, the cry of yet another crow caught his attention. A bird soon landed on the scarecrow he had just walked past, and looked at Kakashi haughtily. It stuck out a leg without even bothering to speak. The man looked at the bird humorlessly, walked back towards it, and took the message.

Kakashi,

Oyakata-sama tells me you’re due to be sent back for another evaluation. I’d like you to come by the estate on your way there. You’d be doing me a big favour.

It was signed with the Sarutobi clan seal.

Jeez, now everybody wants a piece of me. Kakashi sighed.

He didn’t know what business the retired Hashira had with him, but in all likelihood it had something to do with his former disciple. Hiruzen was probably the only person alive who knew anything significant about the man, and that was enough to make him feel a little less unwilling to make the long detour.

“Tell Sarutobi I’ll be seeing him soon” he said.

The bird flew off with a shrill cry.

---------------------------------

End of Chapter 9

---------------------------------

A bit of an unintended chapter, this one, but certainly not one I regret writing. :D Naruto and Guruko are such cutie-pies! We’ll be seeing Sarutobi in the next chapter! (Artwork for that one is already all done, look forward to it!) I apologise for not being able to have any kind of consistency in the artwork (from my own hand, for my own story at that), I always just end up drawing however I feel like at the moment.

Just so you know, I consider the version of AO3 to be the ‘definitive’ version of the story because sometimes I’m a dumbdumb who has to go and re-write certain bits.

Again, thank you always for reading! I love reading your comments whenever I get them. <3

#kakairu #iruka #Kakashi #umino iruka #iruka umino #iruka sensei #Demon Slayer AU

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milknette · 4 years ago

Text

day 03 - time travel

this time we had, i will hold forever.

tumblr month: @auyeahaugust

links: ao3 | ff.net

BUNNYX warns him that he shouldn't stay for too long.

It's a simple mission, after all— get in, ensure Master Fu meets Marinette that day on the street, and him outside the school, and that the two of them receive their Miraculous. All he really has to do is maybe put up a roadblock or a stop sign, but he can't find it in himself to leave so soon.

Instead, Adrien Agreste walks toward the Dupain-Cheng bakery.

"What are you doing?" Bunnyx's voice rings in his ear— a telepathic talent she'd developed over years of training in costume (and one that he personally finds quite irritating).

"Calm down," he replies instead. "This is all part of the plan."

"No, Chat, the plan is that you get Master Fu to the bakery. Not you." She sighs, and her voice shifts to a softer tone. "Look, Adrien, I know you want to see her but you can't do this. It's too dangerous."

Adrien's eyes shift downward, and he takes a deep breath in. "I won't do anything," he says. "I swear. Besides, I know for a fact that she won't be there yet." He laughs softly to himself. "It's too early; she'll still be asleep."

"But we can't take that risk. What if her parents recognize you?"

"It's been almost fifteen years, Alix. I doubt they'll recognize me now. And at this point in time, I haven't even met them yet." Adrien tips his shades downward, and shifts the tie along his black trenchcoat. "I'm disguised, too. Trust me, I just need to order something to get this plan moving, okay?"

He hears her sigh, audibly exhausted, but she caves. "Fine," Bunnyx finally says. "Just be quick, alright? And no small talk either." Her voice quiets down. "This is important. Please don't do anything to jeopardize this."

"Thank you," Adrien replies. There's still a lot of things left unsaid, things that hang heavily in the air, but they choose to ignore it.

Now isn't the time.

He enters the bakery.

It's the smell that hits him first—

That unique blend of scents from freshly-baked goods and sweets that waft pleasantly across the room. Sure, the bakery still stands years into the future (something he's always been thankful), but there's something new and at the same time nostalgic about entering the place it was years before.

And he sees them: a small, tout, woman lightheartedly berating her husband, an almost-gigantic man who would've been intimidating if not for his kind smile and altogether too-sweet demeanour.

Adrien's mind flashes back to a few years later, with him bowing down to them, nervously asking for their blessing to have their daughter's hand in marriage.

Being held in the token Dupain-Cheng family hug.

His mind's distracted as a familiar voice rings through the store: "Well hello there, what can I get for you today?"

"Ah," he coughs. "I'll take anything you recommend. I'm not really in the mood for anything specific."

The small lady nods as she looks along the shelf of goods, before retrieving a single tray of macarons from the fridge. They're bright pink, and he recognizes them as soon as they enter his sight.

They're hers. She made them.

"Now these aren't actually our creations, but our daughter, who's extremely talented at great at baking, is—,"

"No need," he replies, quickly retrieving his wallet. "I'll take it."

(It takes a few minutes for him to retrieve bills that were still used in the period he was in, but he does have enough.)

"Great! Then I'll get that right out for you." She smiles brightly. "Will you be eating it on the way out?"

"Yes, thanks Miss Dupain-Cheng."

As soon as the statement escapes his mouth, they both pause in surprise— Adrien, even more so. "I mean, that is you, right? Since this is the Dupain-Cheng bakery…"

To his relief, the adult woman simply smiles at him. "You're right. I'm Sabine," she replies. "And this is a family-owned business. You've heard of us, then?"

Adrien scratches his head. "I've heard that your family makes the best sweets in all of Paris."

Sabine laughs. "Well, I don't know about that." She says easily, before winking. "But I'm glad someone seems to enjoy our food to that level."

He nods along absentmindedly. "So even your daughter bakes, then? That must be great."

"It is!" Sabine replies, softly humming along as she carefully reheats the macaron. "She helps out sometimes— that is, if she wakes up on time." The parent laughs to herself, suddenly looks at him, then wonders aloud. "Do you have kids?"

Adrien smiles back at her, though it's a little less genuine. "I wish I could've been so lucky, but no, unfortunately."

"Oh," Sabine replies, sympathetic. "Sorry if I was intruding."

"No, no," Adrien's quick to reply. "It's okay! I did want kids— me and my wife, but we were never blessed with them."

"Well," Sabine hums. "It's not too late to keep trying! Marinette… my daughter, she was a little surprise to our family. Our little miracle."

Hearing her name escape her mother's lips is a little too much to handle.

A flash of her father, oftentimes towering, hunched downward, head buried in his hands, never looking smaller than he'd ever been then. Her mother's aghast face, kneeling beside him, holding onto his frame like it was the end of the world.

(And maybe it was. He felt like it was. They all did.)

Adrien swallows down the sudden rush of emotion, and instead plasters on a happy expression. "I'd love to try again. It's everything we ever wanted."

"Then I wish both of you luck." Sabine smiles, kind, full of good intent, as she passes him two macarons— one ready-to-eat, and the other neatly tied into a box. "For your wife," she winks. "I hope you'll come again."

Adrien smiles, again, and whispers, "thanks," before immediately walking away.

Bunnyx was right, after all. It was too much.

After his visit at the Dupain-Cheng bakery, Adrien immediately makes his way to Master Fu.

The experience is a whole other mess of emotions— he wonders if it's because he's been thrown so far into the past, but the memory of their guardian sacrificing himself to save them becomes a fresh wound, and he actively has to shake off the feeling.

He doesn't introduce himself, of course; it's too risky, but he finds a way to catch the older man's attention.

With Marinette's macarons.

(Even now, she still finds a way to help him. It's a strange feeling, like she's right there, working with him to complete the mission together.)

As Master Fu steps outside his shop, Adrien strategically walks past, bumping into him as they both tumble into the ground; dropping the macaron box as near as he can to the guardian.

"I'm so sorry!"

"Please don't worry, it's okay." Master Fu's quick to respond— quite agile for his age, and easily picks himself back up. He bends down and picks up the box, offering it to the younger male. "Here, I believe this is yours?"

"Oh, thank you so much," Adrien replies, taking it into his hand. "The Dupain-Cheng's have the best sweets in town; it'd be a waste if they were ruined."

"The Dupain-Chengs…." Master Fu hums, leaning over his cane as if in thought. "That's the bakery in Rue Gotlib, is it?"

"Yes, I love what they make there," Adrien continues, as if hooking in bait. "It tastes delicious—," then, as if in thought, he suddenly returns the box. "Please, try some."

"No, that's alright…"

"I insist," Adrien presses on. "Take it as my apology for bumping into you."

"Well, I'm not one to say no to a free meal," Master Fu laughs, then pops the macaron into his mouth in one gulp. His face lights up almost immediately. "That is lovely! And they're currently open?"

Adrien smiles. This was child's play. "Yes, just got these fresh off the oven earlier today." Then, he drops the hint. "These macarons are actually made by the family's daughter— she seems really sweet, and talented too."

"A daughter, hm?" Master Fu looks deep in thought, then nods to himself. "Then, maybe I should order a box for myself. Thank you, sir…"

"Just a friendly stranger passing by," Adrien finishes on for him. Master Fu nods in understanding. (If anything, he was the expert on secret identities, after all.)

"Maybe you'll allow me to treat you some time? I'm sure that macaron was meant for someone else."

"Maybe in the future," Adrien responds, still smiling at him. "And it's completely okay— I don't think she could've eaten them, anyway."

At that, he excuses himself, making up some half-baked excuse about having somewhere else to be.

Adrien doesn't really remember.

His heart feels heavy and it's becoming so much more than he can handle.

He doesn't belong here.

Not anymore.

The next, and final, task involves much less talking— simply needing to follow Master Fu around and ensure that the Miraculous end up in their hands.

Adrien's relieved to find that he doesn't have to do much to get his own Miraculous, seeing the guardian quickly end up at their school after finding out about Marinette.

He watches with slight awe as the younger him helps Master Fu without a moment's notice, with his expression souring as he's escorted back into the limousine.

Things were never easy back then. (They never got easier even after he was 'free'— but Marinette always had a way of making things seem much better than they were. She always knew what to say.)

As soon as the Younger Adrien leaves, Bunnyx's voice rings in his ear. "Good job, Chat. Now it's time to go."

"Wait."

"What do you mean wait, it's done. The Miraculous are in the right hands. You need to go."

"Wait."

His voice is soft, almost too quiet to be heard, but it's so set and determined that even Bunnyx pauses in her tracks.

Then: "I just want to see one thing."

"Adrien, you know I can't…"

"Please." He whispers it, but she can hear the crack in his voice. Hear the crack in his heart. "I just want to see her."

Bunnyx sighs.

"How long do you need?"

"Just give me the end of the day."

Adrien spends the rest of the afternoon walking around Paris.

It's strange, being somewhere so familiar yet unfamiliar, somewhere so new yet so nostalgic, all at the same time. He decides to stay away from the school and all the places he knows she'll be, simply because he's not ready.

Not yet.

Just a few more hours.

It's raining.

Adrien watches from outside, as the dark clouds serve well to cover his grown frame. Students are walking outside as the bell signals the end of classes for the day, and he waits.

He waits until they slowly fill out until only two people are left in the entire school building.

He's not sure if he's ready for this.

She walks out of the building.

He knows he's not ready for this.

Adrien almost slips over the concrete. It feels like the wind's knocked out of his lungs; seeing her all over again, he can't help but gasp for air. She was right there. Standing plainly like there wasn't anything wrong in the world.

Like she hadn't destroyed his own.

He has to stop himself from running to her. From confirming for himself that she isn't fake; not another figment of his imagination coming to haunt him after months of nightmares and night terrors.

Instead, he breathes in.

And he waits, as a Younger Him walks next to her.

Adrien's not close enough to hear their exchange, but it doesn't matter because he already knows those words by heart. Their first conversation forever carved into his memory as the first time he ever spoke with his soulmate.

He watches as his younger self extends his hand to give her umbrella, and how she reaches out to take it.

"You know, I felt something when our hands touched," Adrien begins, fully aware that Bunnyx was watching the whole spectacle from her burrow. "I just… I didn't know what it was yet. It was a new feeling… but I know my body knew before my mind did: that I had met my soulmate."

He laughs as the umbrella closes over Marinette's head.

"Apparently that was when she fell in love with me." Adrien continues, smiling forlornly. "Can you believe that? No normal person would fall in love with someone that quickly. We spoke less than a hundred words to each other. And we just met."

He pauses, watching as the Younger Him drives away, and as Tikki flies out from Marinette's bag to speak with her.

"But I think subconsciously, she knew too. That we were meant-to-be. That I loved her, and that she loved me. We just didn't know it at the time… not yet."

The tear rolls down Adrien's face before he can stop it.

Then they don't stop at all.

A torrent of tears, unstoppable. He can't breathe. He can't speak. He can't stand. He exhales deeply, and desperately tries to rub away the sadness. The grief. The loss.

Adrien only realizes he's no longer in the past when Bunnyx's arms wrap around his body.

He feels lost.

And Marinette's no longer there to guide him.

Adrien kneels down onto the soil, and sets down a bouquet of flowers.

He lights a candle— scented, sweet, and lays it on the grass.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng

"I miss you."

Beloved friend, daughter, and wife.

"I love you."

Our Everyday Ladybug.

"I'll never forget you."

May she rest in peace.

"Goodbye."

#auyeah2020 #mlauyeahaugust2020 #auyeahaugust #auyeah august #adrinette #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #ml #miraculous ladybug #milk writes #ml fic #ml fanfic

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worryinglyinnocent · 4 years ago

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Fic: Roses on the Doorstep

Summary: When Belle begins to receive tokens of affection from an anonymous admirer, she wonders who it might be. She thinks it might be Mr Gold, and she would be very happy to be proved right.

Written for the @a-monthly-rumbelling prompt: Secret Admirer

Rated: G

Roses on the Doorstep

The first time the flowers appeared on the library doorstep, Belle was intrigued. They had definitely not been there the night before, and the fact that they were sitting in a jar of water meant that they had definitely been left with intent, and whoever had left them had wanted them to remain at their best.

It was a bouquet of six pink roses, tied with simple gardener’s twine. Belle had to wonder why they were there and who they were for. She was still staring at them when Marian came up behind her.

“Looks like you’ve got a secret admirer.”

Belle jumped at Marian’s voice and turned.

“Sorry, I was miles away.”

“No doubt thinking about who sent those lovely flowers.” Marian winked. “There’s a card, you know. The mystery might be solved in two seconds if you just look at it.”

“They might be for you,” Belle countered, but she nonetheless crouched by the makeshift vase, carefully taking out the flowers. “You work here too, you know.”

“Yes, but considering I’ve been married for five years, I’m unlikely to be getting roses from secret admirers.”

“It might not be secret. Maybe Robin decided to treat you.”

Marian raised an eyebrow. “No, he knows flowers aren’t really my thing. I’d prefer a fruit basket. Or chocolates. Or literally anything edible.”

Belle looked at the card, which simply said her name in neat letters.

“They’re for me,” she said.

“I told you so. Any indication who they’re from?”

“Nope.”

Marian came over and looked at the card.

“That’s no use, you can’t even tell from the writing; it’s just block printing. Still, half the fun is guessing, after all.”

Belle let Marian unlock the library and start setting up for the day’s custom inside. She sniffed the roses and smiled at their delicate scent. Red was the traditional colour, of course, but Belle had always preferred pink. Did whoever sent these know that, or was it by luck?

Eventually she went inside, sourcing a better vase than a jam jar and displaying the bouquet proudly on the issue desk.

“Do you think it might be Gaston?” Marian asked halfway through the morning. “You can’t deny that he’s into you.”

Belle groaned. “I hope not. I’m really not into him. I don’t think he’s the type to try wooing a girl with flowers though. He’s more likely to leave a stag he’s shot on the doorstep.”

“Yeah, I’ll give you that.” Marian laughed. “Maybe he’s turned over a new leaf and he wants to show you that he’s serious?”

“I don’t want him to be serious. I don’t want him at all, and I definitely don’t want him to think that buying me flowers means that quid pro quo I must sleep with him in return.”

“Ok, perhaps not Gaston,” Marian agreed. Belle wondered if she’d shocked her with her vehemence against him. “You’ll just have to wait and see if anything else turns up. After all, it’s all very well having a secret admirer, but it’s not going to go anywhere if they stay secret, is it?”

Belle had to admit that there was logic in Marian’s words.

“Perhaps, whoever it is, they’re shy. Maybe this is their way of gauging your interest. I mean, if they come back later and see that you’ve put the flowers straight in the bin, then they’ll know it’s pointless going any further and they’re spared the pain of rejection.”

There was slightly less logic in those words, and Belle decided that it would be best not to think on the identity of her benefactor too much more. Marian respected her silence and said no more on the topic until the end of the day, when she had a sort of eureka moment.

“I’ve got it!”

“What?”

“Ask your dad!”

“Ask him what?”

Marian jerked her thumb towards the flowers. “He’s the only florist in town, so the flowers must have come from him. All you have to do is ask him who bought pink roses in the last day or so.”

It was a sound idea, and Belle was torn between wanting to know the identity of her admirer and wanting to keep the intrigue going for a while longer. This was the kind of thing that happened all the time in her favourite romance novels – anonymous gifts sent to infatuated heroines who believed them to have come from the good-for-nothing cads that they admired, only for them to have come from the good, solid, dependable nice guy that she inevitably ended up with in the end.

Belle didn’t admire any cads and she couldn’t think of any dogged nice guys in the town, so in the end, her curiosity won out and she made her way to Game of Thorns after the library closed, taking the bouquet with her.

“Papa, who bought these?”

Moe shook his head. “I haven’t sold pink roses for days, love. They didn’t come from here.” He looked at the flowers. “Have you got yourself a secret admirer, then?”

“It certainly looks that way.”

“Good. It’s about time you took an interest in that side of things. You can’t be going on with just books for company, you know. It’s not healthy.”

Belle rolled her eyes; it was the age-old argument she’d had with her father for years.

“Just because someone’s interested in me, it doesn’t necessarily follow that I’m interested in them, you know.”

Moe pretended not to have heard and handed her the bouquet back. “Well, they didn’t come from here. It looks like they came straight off the bush.”

They said their goodbyes and Belle wandered back in the direction of home. She was no closer to finding her admirer’s identity, but she had another piece of the puzzle.

So, we’re looking for someone with a pink rose bush in their garden.” Marian leaned on the issue desk ponderously. It was the next day and another bouquet had appeared on the doorstep that morning. Belle had filled her in on Moe’s insights. “That narrows it down a bit, and it’s likely not Gaston, which I’m sure you’re pleased about.”

“No-one said that the admirer had to own the garden and the pink rose bush,” Belle pointed out. “I might be sitting here with looted flowers, you know.”

“What are we talking about? Oh, those roses are lovely, Belle.” Mary Margaret Nolan came over to the desk. “Where did you get them?”

“That’s what we’re talking about.” Marian grinned. “Belle has a secret admirer and so far all we know about them is that they have access to pink rose bushes.”

“Oh. You know, Mr Gold has beautiful pink rose bushes in his garden,” Mary Margaret said. “I can’t see anyone trying to steal them from him, though.”

“Yeah, there’s bravery and then there’s foolishness.”

Belle didn’t take in the rest of the conversation. Unlike the rest of the town, she had no grievance against Gold. He was a little bit scary sometimes, but he was always polite and gentlemanly towards her, and he was always very grateful for her help in procuring the obscure books that he needed for his antique restorations.

She took a moment to consider her feelings towards Mr Gold being her secret admirer, and she was surprised to find herself rather warming to the idea. He was certainly better than Gaston in every respect.

All the same, if it was Gold, Belle had to wonder why he had not just approached her in person: why this secretiveness? She had never really thought of him as a person lacking in confidence. Sure, he was quiet and tended to keep himself to himself when he wasn’t out rent collecting, but she had never thought of him as particularly shy.

Oh well. Crushes made everyone act differently, after all, and it might not even be him. He couldn’t be the only person in town with pink roses in their garden.

Still… Now that the thought was in her head, Belle couldn’t shake it, and once Mary Margaret had gone about her business and Marian was occupied with re-shelving, she opened the drawer where all of the inter-library acquisition requests were kept. Gold had filled out more than enough of them in the time that Belle had been working in the library.

She took the cards that had come with the flowers and compared the handwriting. The cards were much smaller and neater, and she only had five letters to work from, but there were definitely some similarities.

Belle shut the drawer, wondering what she should do with this new information. Perhaps it would be best to just let things run their course for a little while.

It was two weeks later that Belle’s suspicions were finally confirmed, having received four more anonymous bouquets in that time. It was the annual fundraising fun day at the library, and she had come early to get everything set up, only to find that Gold had beaten her to it. He was there on the step, depositing six pink roses tied with gardener’s twine.

“I thought it was you.”

Gold startled. “I, erm, Miss French. Good morning. I didn’t expect to see you here this early.”

Belle smiled. “Well, here I am. I’ve been wondering when I might receive a bouquet in person, you know.”

“I, erm…” Gold thrust the flowers at her unceremoniously. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Belle brought the roses up to her face, inhaling the scent. “They’re beautiful flowers and I’ve enjoyed receiving them and speculating on the identity of my secret admirer. I’m glad it was you.”

Gold gulped. “You- you are?”

Belle nodded. “Very much so. Although, now that you’re not so secret anymore, maybe we can move beyond the admiration into something more reciprocal?”

“I…” Gold seemed to be at a loss for words, which was very unlike him. Belle just giggled, leaning in to peck a soft kiss to his cheek before going to unlock the library, leaving Gold dumbfounded on the step.

Things seemed to be shaping up very nicely indeed.

#A Monthly Rumbelling #rumbelle fic #rumbelle #Belle French #Mr Gold #relationship beginnings #Fic: Roses on the Doorstep

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ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes · 5 years ago

Text

Blue Eyes Part 10

Summary: After the Garrison is shot up, the youngest Shelby daughter finds a new home in London. She strips herself of her last name and tries to live a peaceful life far away from her brothers’ chaos in Birmingham. But fate leads her right back into it after she runs into Alfie Solomons.

Part 10: Tommy visits Alfie, Charlie is taken.

Alfie’s fingers drummed impatiently on his desk. He was itching to just get the meeting with Tommy over with. He’d suffered enough as far as he was concerned. Seeing Ella cry, being the reason for her tears. Unbearable. But his hands were tied, what else could he reasonably do?

Still, Tommy was prolonging the visit. Taking his time walking to Alfie’s office, sitting down, adjusting his tie pin (pretentious ass), and painstakingly lighting a cigarette.

Alfie stifled a groan in the back of his throat and rolled his eyes. “For fuck’s safe, what?” His patience was wearing unbelievably thin. Another five seconds and he was sure he would start doling out well-deserved threats.

“You made my sister cry,” Tommy informed him as if he didn’t already know.

The man narrowed his eyes. “I did? Me? I’m the one who made her cry? You sure ‘bout that, mate?” He hissed.

It was infuriating that nothing he could ever do would disturb the Brummie. He simply raised an eyebrow and watched the end of his cigarette slowly burn away. “What can I do to make you change your mind about my proposition?”

“Proposition.” Alfie laughed bitterly and toyed with a pen to keep his hands busy. “Tommy, you’ve been ‘round the block before. Surely you must know that a woman doesn’t want to be offered up as a token for loyalty. So what you can do, right, is take back your words and leave me be on the matter. Sound good?” When he didn’t get an immediate answer, he switched subjects. “You’re here to talk business, meeting the Russians tonight. I must urge you to inquire about Faberge eggs. You can toss ‘bout diamonds and sapphires or whatever, yeah, but that’s the real prize, innit? With a couple of fine pieces and an egg, you’ll easily get your fill of forty grand.” What came across as helpful was simply Alfie setting up the opening stages of his own plan.

Tommy nodded and looked interested in the possibility. “I can do that. They’re tricky but perhaps you’ll be able to persuade them a little further.”

He crossed his arms over his chest and grunted in agreement. “Whatever I can do, mate.”

But apparently, the Blinder wasn’t done with the previous issue. “So you have no intention of marrying my sister.”

Alfie nearly blew a gasket. “You fucking Birmingham folk don’t ever let go of things, do ya?” He snapped.

Calmly, Tommy tapped a bit of ash off his cigarette and cleared his throat. “It’s a simple question, Mr. Solomons.”

“Don’t think it’s any of your business, mate. Never has and frankly, it never will.” He growled. “That’s my decision, innit?”

“I’ll take that as a no then.”

“Fuck off.”

Tommy took one last drag before standing up. “Just trying to clarify, Alfie.” He buttoned his coat and flicked the cigarette into the ashtray on the desk that was really only used by him whenever he visited. “I’ve got other alliances I can make. You think our kin should stay with our kin. Since Ella isn’t Jewish and you’re so adamant about that, I s’pose it’s only fair to uphold our own roots. I’ve got inquiries from a family of Travelers.”

Alfie’s hand slowly went to his waistband where his pistol was tucked away. Anger in his blood started to rise to a boiling point. His fingers curled around the pistol, ready to pull it out on the Blinder for what seemed like the hundredth time. It was a miracle Tommy wasn’t already riddled with bullets so late in their business relationship.

“They’re worse than we are. You’d think we were the poshest folk you’ve ever seen if you met them.” Tommy continued to bait Alfie, taunt him and get him to the point of no return. Get him to realize that Ella wasn’t to be toyed with and her brother wouldn’t tolerate this game Alfie was playing with her. “Savages, really. But they’re effective, aye? An alliance with them would give me enough power to start taking more areas. Maybe areas a little closer to Camden.”

“Tommy, I swear to whatever fucking pagan being you believe in, I’m going to blow your brains all over this fucking office.” Alfie’s face was starting to go red with rage and he was ready to pull out his pistol. Of course, he knew the man was just trying to rile him up. Manipulate him into doing his bidding. Ride or die, that’s how they both operated. But Alfie also knew that Tommy was ruthless enough to go through with what he was threatening. He’d made an alliance with the Lees by marrying John off. He very well could do the same to Ella. And Alfie would lose her for good. It made his heart compress painfully at the thought.

Tommy put a hand in his pocket and retrieved something. He approached Alfie’s desk and dropped the small item. “That was the ring my father gave my mother.” He explained in a steady voice, fully aware that Alfie was armed and angry enough to do exactly what he threatened. “I’ll leave it with you for a week. After that week, if you haven’t made your decision, I’ll return and I’ll take it back. Rest assured, Mr. Solomons, after that, the ring will go to someone else who won’t wait.”

Alfie’s jaw clenched. “I can’t fucking wait to spit on your grave.” He snarled viciously.

“Neither can I, Alfie,” Tommy responded without skipping a beat and took his leave.

Alfie loosened his grip on his gun and heaved out an exasperated sigh. He eyed the ring sitting on the desk near the ashtray where Tommy’s still smoking cigarette sat. For a moment, he didn’t even want to touch the thing, convinced it had some gypsy curse on it. But curiosity got the better of him and he picked up the piece of jewelry. It was a simple gold ring that needed a good polishing. Mounted was a round cut topaz stone that was small enough for him to scoff at. No wife of his would wear something so modest.

But that wasn’t why Tommy gave it to him. It was the sentiment behind the gem that would mean more to Ella.

Alfie turned the ring around in his fingers for a little bit, his mind racing. What would he do if he learned Ella had been pawned off to some gypsy clan? God was truly testing him. The only woman he ever loved just happened to be the sister of the most infuriating man to ever grace the planet. Just his luck.

He grumbled a few obscenities under his breath and tucked the ring into his pocket.

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

It was always a strange phenomenon seeing the Shelby Company at work. Socialites mixing with folk who grew up in the slums. Some could say it was possible to move up in the world. To step into another social class and fit right in. Some disagreed. Just because you put on a nice outfit and some gold didn’t make you anything different. You were still the person you were born as just dressed to the nines.

But Ella thought her brother looked like he fit right in. As he stood in front of the group gathered for the opening of Grace’s foundation, he didn’t look out of place. Even with a Brummie accent, he spoke with the esteem of a businessman. Because that’s what he was. It didn’t matter what he did to make his company rise from the dirt, he conducted business. They all did, to a certain extent. And if Tommy’s predictions were sound, they’d be a legitimate company. Still, the suspicion and fear would linger, there was no denying that. Whispers would continue to float around about how the Shelbys grasped the reins of power.

After he spoke in front of the gathered crowd, Tommy slipped out of the room. Ella stood and excused herself to Ada who was sitting beside her. She followed her brother out into the hall.

He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, and eyes fixed on the photograph of his wife. Grace’s serene expression surrounded by wreaths and garlands of flowers. Some of her favorites when she was still alive.

Ella went to stand beside her brother, touching his shoulder to alert him of her presence. “Doing alright?” She could imagine it was an emotional day for him. He would see the production of his wife’s dream without her there beside him. On top of the added stress of everything else going on.

He nodded solemnly, his eyes never moving from Grace.

“Mum’s ring is missing.” There wasn’t concern or anxiety. Ella had a sneaking suspicion of where it had gone. Only her siblings and Polly knew that she kept the family heirloom in her jewelry box. “I couldn’t find it when I was putting on my earrings this morning.”

“I know,” Tommy answered. “I took it.”

She glanced over at him, hoping for more of an explanation than he offered. But she wouldn’t get the chance to ask any follow-up questions.

“The absence of my invitation for this event was obviously an oversight on your part, Mr. Shelby.” The thick Irish accent was unfamiliar to Ella, but Tommy appeared to be well acquainted with it. His jaw immediately clenched as he turned around.

Ella did the same and saw the priest standing in the hallway. Something about the man gave her a sinking feeling in her gut. Based on Tommy’s reaction, she could assume this was the man that they planned to kill. A man of the cloth.

“Ah, Miss Shelby, I don’t believe we’ve met.” Father Hughes smiled with malice in his eyes.

Tommy subtly placed himself in front of his sister, taking a step forward to place her behind his shoulder.

“The woman who fell in love with the Jew.”

Ella was unsure how this man had managed to stay alive so long. He’d pissed off the wrong people too many times. People like him didn’t last long when it came to the Peaky Blinders. But she had a feeling there was a reason Tommy was waiting. All it took was the right moment. And certainly in the middle of a social event opening an orphanage in broad daylight was not the right moment.

But what really sent a chill down her spine was how he seemed to know everything. Things that the average passerby didn’t. He knew about Alfie.

“Go to the reception, El,” Tommy said quietly.

“Tom…” She was uneasy about leaving him alone with the priest.

“I’ll be right there, go.” Her brother replied firmly.

Reluctantly, Ella nodded and made her way down the hall to find her family. As she passed, Hughes gave her a sickeningly smug smile.

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

Ella couldn’t shake the bad feeling she got from Father Hughes. She stayed close to her family to feel safe, bouncing back and forth when the conversation bored her.

Ada sighed and tried to soothe Charlie who was fussing loudly. She rocked him back and forth. “He doesn’t want to play with Karl after he took his train.” She shook her head.

Ella smiled. “So much like Tommy. Never satisfied when things don’t go his way.” She agreed and tried to hush her nephew to no avail.

“I know, love, you want dad? Here we go, let’s find him.” Ada decided and headed over to her brother to pass Charlie off.

Ella lingered by the table with pastries and finger sandwiches but she didn’t have much of an appetite. Her mind was like a switch, flipping from one worry to another. Why did Tommy take their mother’s ring from her jewelry box? What had he talked to the priest about?

When Ada returned, the sister’s chatted about nonsense. Ella tried to get her mind off her anxiety and hoped she was simply overreacting. But the bad feeling turned into something all too real.

Tommy walked over to them. “Where’s Charles?” He asked with a confused look.

Ada frowned. “I gave him to you.”

“Where is he?” Tommy demanded again.

“He was just here.” Ella felt immediate panic spark in her chest, rising to her throat. “Where could he have gone?”

Tommy rushed over from family member to family member asking the same question. And within seconds, madness ensued. The Blinders were scattered about, searching the building and running outside to find the missing boy. Ella felt dizzy as she ran through the halls of the new building, trying every door, which was firmly locked.

“Charlie?!” She shouted, her voice following her through the vast hallways.

“El!” Ada’s heels clicked across the smooth floor. “They’ve taken him, they took him into a car.”

“No, they…he was right there!” Ella was shaking with fear. The threat was so close, maybe none of them even realized. The entire time, they had enemies breathing down the back of their neck. If they could simply snatch a toddler in a crowded room with his father right there, then there was no telling what else they could or would do.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

The rain sounded like pebbles against the window. It was mildly soothing but the night was heightened by anticipation and fear. Polly gently stroked Ella’s hair as they waited in the betting shop.

Tommy entered like a storm. Dripping from the rain and with a silent fury that filled the room. “Where’s Linda?” He demanded.

“With Esme.”

“Esme’s water broke.” John entered from the back door still wearing his coat and hat.

“I need to know who spoke.” Tommy’s eyes passed from each of his family members in the room. “Our enemies know everything. Everything. I need to know who spoke about business outside.” His voice became more insistent and his steely expression turned paranoid. “I need to know who spoke and who they spoke to, now.”

Arthur tried to step in but Tommy was already too far gone. The man looked from person to person, his face still stained by the rain.

“Your wife, Arthur? Or Esme getting cash for cocaine. And you two.” Tommy turned to his sisters. “Back in the family, aye? Out of the blue.”

Ella’s eyes narrowed. “You think I’d let something like this happen?” She challenged.

“If anyone has talked about the tunnel to anyone else, I need to know this second!” Tommy snapped.

She stood and gave him a disappointed glare. “I’m not going to sit around and let you speak to me like this. Not after everything you’ve done to this family.” She could sympathize with her brother. He lost his only son, the only thing of Grace he had left. But somewhere along the line, he’d found himself in that position because of his own choices. Ella left the betting shop and retreated upstairs to her room.

Tommy looked to the doorway where she disappeared. There was someone else. Someone else who knew. Not only that, it was someone who held that damn egg.

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

Ella spent the night in her room, curled up in bed under the quilts. The rain continued until the morning, leaving a fog over Birmingham. The first thought upon seeing the daylight filtering in through the lace windows was about her nephew’s safety. There wasn’t much more she could do other than pray he was okay.

It was hardly seven in the morning when there was a brief knock at the door and the knob turning.

“El, get up.” Tommy entered a second later.

“I’m still sleeping.” She said even though she was staring at the opposite wall while lying on her side.

“It wasn’t a request. I need you in the car, now.” He looked disheveled, most likely he didn’t sleep at all that night.

“I’m not doing any of your dirty work, Tom. Not after the way you spoke to everyone last night.” She made no effort to get up.

“Ella, fucking get up and be downstairs in two minutes.” He ordered in the voice she used to fear. The voice that used to let her know that she was in trouble. Maybe for telling fortunes at school, biting John’s arm, or hiding from him when they were called inside for dinner at dusk. He had been an authority figure in her life ever since she could remember. But she’d gotten sick of it. Fed up with his complex.

She sighed heavily and sat up. “I’m only doing this because of Charlie, not because of the way you’re acting now.” She made sure that was clear before he left.

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

Tommy parked outside of a large warehouse that Ella was unfamiliar with. She was sat in the backseat while Michael sat in the passenger seat. Neither of them cared to explain what they were doing there.

“Wait here,” Tommy ordered firmly and stepped out of the car.

Ella let out a frustrated sigh. “So he’s just brought us along to make us wait outside?” She lamented to her cousin.

Michael shrugged and made himself busy by loading his pistol with bullets. “He has a plan.”

“Yeah, always seems to have some sort of plan.” Ella decided she wasn’t going to just sit in the car and went to step out.

Michael turned around in the front seat. “He doesn’t want us to…”

“I’ll be fine.” She cut him off and shut the door behind her. Tucking her pistol in her holster tucked under her fur-lined coat, she made her way into the warehouse.

Her entrance caused a pause in the conversation. But she was the most surprised when she saw Alfie standing a little bit away from her brother. His blue eyes watched her with a hint of apprehension, unsure what her reaction would be to him.

Tommy was the first to speak. “Ella, I told you to wait in the car-”

She didn’t listen and began walking straight for Alfie. The man beside the Jewish gangster tensed up a bit at her fast approach. But Alfie waved him off and let her step right into his space.

Without a word, she reached into his heavy, black overcoat. Searching his inside pockets until she found what she was looking for. Her mother’s ring.

Alfie almost looked guilty. Guilty for having it. Guilty for keeping it, instead of giving it back to Tommy. Guilty for holding onto the physical hope that he could still have Ella.

She held it up to his face. Her lower lip trembled but her eyes didn’t dare move from his. “Why’d he give this to you?” Her voice shook. Everything continued to pack on, putting more and more weight on her shoulders and making her more and more confused. The push and pull was agonizing and she was going to end it.

“Ella,” Tommy spoke firmly, trying to get her away from Alfie.

“Answer me.” She ignored her brother unaware that he had drawn his gun.

Alfie noticed the pistol. “Go back to the car.” He spoke gently but wanted to get her out of the way.

“Why did he give this to you?” Ella shouted. Her words echoed through the large warehouse and caused a few birds to spook off their perches.

The space went silent for a moment, and then Tommy cocked his gun. The metallic clicking sound was too familiar to Ella. Initially, it used to mark the thrill of the hunt. Getting ready to claim a prize after tracking it patiently through the woods. Now it meant death. Retaliation. Fear. Power.

Ella turned around but didn’t move out of the way. Standing in front of Alfie, she glared at her brother. “Tell me.”

“Ella, move.” Tommy’s hand didn’t lower but she noticed it was shaking ever so slightly.

“Why did you give this to him?” She repeated herself.

“It was a mistake. You can take it back.” Tommy looked past her, over her shoulder at the gangster. “It’s not his to give anymore.”

“Why?”

“He left the richest name off the list.” Her brother answered, his eyes were cold.

“What are you…”

Tommy’s anger was palpable as he continued to point the gun forward. “He made a deal with the Oddfellows. Told them about the tunnel, told them about the deal with the Soviets.”

Ella froze for what felt like hours. She didn’t want to turn around and face the man she loved. The man who had held her heart in his hands while he went behind her back. “No…” The word came out long and sounded foreign to even herself. Finally, she faced Alfie again. “You did this?”

The man was facing two worlds colliding together. Two different faces of his self. The brash, unapologetic, ruthless gangster and the man who found the one person on the planet who saw his vulnerable side. “Things you don’t understand…”

“Tell me what I don’t understand!” Ella snapped. She was beyond the point of acting patient and listening to the men in her life speak. It was her turn. She’d waited long enough. “Everyone ‘round here thinks I don’t fucking understand anything. So, please, fucking enlighten me. Tell me what I don’t understand!”

“I told you he couldn’t be trusted,” Tommy spoke up.

Ella just laughed sarcastically. “And yet you were willing to marry me off to him.” She snarled and pointed at Alfie. “You proud? Proud of what you’ve done? The damage you’ve caused. They’ve got my nephew and we don’t know if he’s even still alive!”

Alfie couldn’t keep a neutral face. He had no idea about Charlie, no idea what the Oddfellows were up to. But in his anger and humiliation for being lied to, he chose to make a deal.

Ella closed her fingers around her mother’s ring and walked towards her brother. “Nothing but a pawn to you lot. Isn’t that right, pral?” She gave Tommy a scathing look. “Are we all just pawns? Charlie too? Moving your little pieces ‘cross the board while you stay safe, protected by your soldiers?” She yelled. “Are you both proud? Proud of what you have? Guess what. In the end, when we’ve all died ‘cause of you, you can be comforted by your money. All ‘lone in an empty house, satisfied that you won. Never caring about the people who loved you!”

“I didn’t know about Charlie,” Alfie replied honestly. “But if your brother wants to fucking kill me now then let him do it. Step aside and let him. But don’t you fucking dare tell me that I never loved you. Were ready to give you that ring because Tommy were threatening to pass you off to someone else. And I’ll be damned if I let him use you.”

“If you loved me you never would’ve gone against my family!” Ella matched his volume and clenched her hands into fists. The topaz gem on the ring digging into her palm as her knuckles whitened. “You wouldn’t have put an innocent little boy in danger!”

“Then step aside, let him shoot me!” Alfie stepped towards her, his cane slamming down onto the concrete. “That’d solve your problems, love. Once ol’ Alfie Solomons is dead and gone, you won’t have any more fucking issues. You can go off with your family and forget ‘bout me. Let me pay for me fucking sins, step aside.”

Everything inside of Ella became so wound up the more he spoke. Her entire body trembled from all the immense pressure pressing down on her heart. “That’d solve your problems.”

“I never stopped loving you!” Alfie barked over her voice. “Not once, even when I made this deal. And I fucking hated myself ‘cause of it. The world ain’t built for us, love, no matter what.” He pointed his cane at Tommy. “He’s always going to want to do away with me, won’t he? Even if we were married, he’d want me gone. So better off he does it now.”

Tommy lowered his gun. “Stand down, Alfie.” He muttered and tucked his gun away. “Michael,”

Ella hadn’t noticed their cousin had run into the warehouse once he heard all the shouting.

“Go and tell Moss, it’s Palmer.” The Blinder instructed. “Ella, get back in the car.”

She took one more look at Alfie. Her body ached from the emotional toll he’d caused her. Despite it all, she still yearned for the past days when things had been so simple between them. When they were in love and it didn’t cause such a fuss. Now she felt like she’d been stretched so thin.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled quietly so Tommy wouldn’t hear. “I wish it could work. But I’m being realistic, love. You’re better off without me.”

He pushed her away with his words. Most likely it was his intention all along whether he realized it or not. With him, Ella would know nothing but friction. She wouldn’t know peace. And as much pain, as it caused him, he would rather see her walk away than suffer beside him. It didn’t matter how in love they were. What mattered was how the odds were stacked against them from the very beginning.

Permanent Tag: @papa-geralt-of-cirilla @giftofdreams @biba3434

Tag list: @deaflikehawkeye @octaviareina @mylovelykelsifer

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xlady-saya · 4 years ago

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i’ve had a love of my own [ch 1]

Relationships: andrew/neil

Summary: Despite everything Neil could’ve imagined for his life, he never thought he’d be here, finally giving the world the interview they’ve always wanted.

It’s been decades, but even with his numerous accolades and sports wins, he finds that they’re the least important thing about his life.

Neil can’t help but laugh. Andrew would be so annoyed if he were here.

Of course, Neil only wants to talk about him, and the life they spent together.

Tags: interviews, post canon, major character death but not how u think I swear lol, neil is an old man retelling his memories about andrew, cheesy romance, post retirement, see more tags on ao3

Read on ao3!

Neil pricks himself on the old Palmetto pin as he fixes it to his collar, jabbing the same spot on his thumb he hit just a week before.

He hardly winces at the feeling these days, and for a long time, Matt joked about how he really couldn't go a day without attracting some form of violence. Neil smiles at the thought, because it's far from the truth. He stands by the claim he never asked for fights, simply had no problem finishing them.

"You mean letting me finish them," Andrew would quip, and they'd go back and forth all over again in a never-ending argument. It's so never-ending, Neil goes through the motions of it even now, however many decades later.

This pin tends to start it, since it's the only remotely dangerous thing he owns now. The orange is still bright and obnoxious, with criss crossing Exy racquets in a bright white. He's memorized the raised edges, tilted from old age. The once silver backing has rust spots, but no one ever sees that part. It has its reputation intact, and Neil smiles sardonically.

It's not the only thing that's been worn down, but he likes to think he doesn't look as bad as he could too. Laughing at his own joke, he taps the pin lightly. It's apparently vintage now, according to Allison, since the new Palmetto merch has drifted into neon territory.

Neil is glad he kept his own. It's especially important today, he thinks, that he shows as much fondness for the past as possible. Though, it's not for his sake. His room is nothing but littered with the tokens of the past.

Sighing, he stares fondly out across the living room, the walls haphazardly decorated with old, signed jerseys his friends used to wear. He has one from each of their old teams, but picked his favorites to go up on the wall. The rest sit in storage, ready to be auctioned off whenever he decides living is too much of a chore. Above the mantle, Andrew's racquet from his last team hangs in a shadow box. Then below it, framed pictures which Neil tries to rotate as best he can, some of them shitty ones converted from his phone camera. Mostly, they're of his Foxes at various points in their lives. The only two photos which stay the same are the one he took with Andrew and Kevin at the Olympics, and the snapshot of him and Andrew at the airport in his first year at Palmetto.

If he had to catalog the room, that would barely scratch the surface. He's pages away from mentioning Nicky's terribly made mugs, Betsy's first editions, and cookie tins filled with postcards Katelyn and Aaron sent twenty years ago.

Most of the time, the untidy collection of junk surrounding him is a comfort. It makes the small apartment feel like home, or as close as he can get when he's by himself. He swears some of the items still carry the unique scents of grass stains and floor polish, or Allison's perfume and the glitter glue from Dan and Matt's kids.

When that fails him, the candle he has in every room does the trick to fill in the blanks. Andrew used the same scent for over half their life together: breakfast pancakes. It's sickly sweet and stains the furniture, and Neil loves nothing more than to bury his face in the cushions after a day of having them lit.

These are the things that ground him, that keep him in place, but today he feels fidgety for the first time in years. He shouldn't be, he thinks, laughing to himself. He planned this after all, it's just...

Well, he's never been the best at talking to people.

There's a knock at his door, and the cuckoo clock on the wall (shockingly, that one is his fault) tells him it's right on schedule. Neil sighs, slipping his feet into the white slippers beneath him. "Come in, Sydney."

The nurse on his floor opens the door to his apartment with a smile, too fresh faced and early for this time of day. She’s young, and she's always been a bit cheery for his taste, but she reminds him of Katelyn and he allows it. In the last few years, when Andrew's migraines prevented him from reading, she'd bring him audiobook gift cards.

She smiles bright, and he gives her that look for her to cut it out. At this point, she's less put off by it and more amused. He only tells her to save the smiles because if she doesn't she'll have wrinkles like him years from now. He hates how much he sounds like Allison.

Neil hardly looks in the mirror anymore, but this morning he put in some effort. He looks as perpetually tired as he always looked back in the day, except now his eye bags are accompanied by wrinkles that form their own topographical map on his face.

At least he didn't lose all his hair.

The only thing is his blue eyes are as piercing as ever, so coupled with the grandpa look, he's quite intimidating. Not that he needs to be, but it's nice to feel a little capable when he can barely walk by himself anymore.

"Morning, Mr. Josten," Sydney greets, untucking the wheelchair from behind the door and pushing it over to him. He makes sure to grab Andrew's favorite crochet blanket. He hates messing with it, but he thinks the smell of nicotine it carries will help him today. Refresh his memory.

Neil grumbles, but lets her help him into the chair. He has on his good lounge pants, without holes, and his old Palmetto sweater. "I told you years ago I hate being called that."

"Because it makes you feel old," she jabs, teasing lightly. Even still, she's gentle when she places the blanket over his lap and hands him his glasses. "I have to keep you in line somehow."

"Ha-ha."

As she wheels him out of his room, he starts fidgeting again. He's used to exploring the luxury nursing home on his own time, not because he has somewhere to be. He hasn't had somewhere to be since...well, he hates thinking about that, lest he run into a memory that hurts more than helps.

Today isn't the day for that.

Some other, more able-bodied residents pass by him on foot, waving amicably and knowing better than to expect a wave back. Shockingly, he's well liked here, probably because he doesn't have rowdy grandkids who break the peace. Plus, he's pretty sure some of them are old fans.

Sydney leans down as they pass through the common area and into one of the meeting rooms, the spotless linoleum floor throwing him off as usual. He never would've picked a place so expensive and fancy for himself, but Andrew was always someone with classy tastes. "Ready for today?"

At the reminder, Neil wrings his fingers together. Not advised by his doctor, but fuck that guy. "As ready as I'll ever be," he says, glaring at the glass doors ahead. Sydney laughs, placing him at the end of a large table. The meeting room creeps him out, since it's mostly used for family meetings or will planning appointments. Sound proof, silent.

"Oh hush, you're a famous athlete, I'm sure you've faced worse," she chides, pouring him a glass of water without any ice. Because he's a fiend. Neil rolls his eyes; she has no idea. He's threatened countless reporters before for stepping even a toe out of line, but some recent college grads from an indie publication are making him sweat more than an Exy game. Sydney makes a show of whispering behind her hand. "Besides, I heard from Gabe at the front desk they look terrified, so go easy on them, yes? Can't have another cafeteria incident."

Ugh, not that again.

"You have no witnesses," he waves off, leaning back in his seat while Sydney sets the break in place. Only then is he hit with a wave of calm, fondness even. His quivering hands curl as best they can in the blanket, the ghost of a grip, and he smiles out across the room. Ah, he can't be doing this already, but it's hard to help. He itches for the smell of a cigarette, a press on the back of his neck. Closing his eyes, he tries his best to feel it. "Besides, once they know why they're really here they won't be nearly so stressed. Hell, they might even be disappointed."

He tries not to grimace at that, but for the time he's giving them and the paperwork he made them sign, they're going to sit and listen to his old man ravings all day or so help him--

He feels a hand brush against his, and when he looks Sydney is there. She squeezes his fingers in hers, smile fond and weighed down with a sadness so foreign, he nearly regrets telling her to cut it out. But no, he understands. He's the one who understands the most. She grazes the fabric of the blanket as she pulls away, breathing in the same smoke he can for just a moment. "No, I don't think that's possible."

She doesn't give Neil time to doubt himself, not that he could. He can never doubt anything when it comes to Andrew, no matter how much the blond secretly doubted about himself. Neil always teased him for that, and his living oxymoron ways.

Neil's biggest goal of the day is to piss off Andrew's ghost as much as humanly possible, and his grin is nearly splitting at the thought. Fine, mission active.

"Good luck!" Sydney calls as she leaves the meeting room, and he watches her gesture to his guests once they arrive through the glass doors.

Oh shit, they really do look terrified.

The two interviewers see him through the door and Neil can only assume they shit a brick. They're young, can't be more than a few years out of university, dressed way too professionally for someone as uncaring as Neil. They could've shown up in clown costumes for all he cared, at least he would've gotten a good laugh.

The young man fumbles with the door and his companion rushes forward a little too fast before correcting herself. Jeez.

Neil does his best to hide his laugh, not that he's ever been polite. It's more...

Their terror is Neil's fault. He started declining interviews soon after he retired, letting his name and lifestyle fade into mystery and speculation with the public. Kevin had not been happy about it, since to this day he and Thea are in the public eye, commentating on Exy games, doing talk shows, helping curate museums, blah, blah, blah...

Neil didn't have time for that.

He never thought he'd be okay with slipping back into unknown status after so many years of being seen, being cheered for, but when the time came it was an easy choice. Andrew made it so. Neil had his time to be free, to do whatever he wanted and play the sport he loved. But ultimately, when he no longer could, fucking off to do whatever he wanted with Andrew sounded way better than dealing with reporters and overzealous fans.

Just because he became an unknown though, doesn't mean he faded into obscurity. According to Allison, his life has been quite a hot button issue in the community for over a decade. People want to know where he's been, what he did during those years, how he looks back on the past, everything. It's been obnoxious.

Popular sports magazines and large publications have practically been clawing for a piece of him for years, and he's never given in no matter how many fruit bouquets they sent or how many checks they tried to write him. Though, one almost got him purely because they kept sending gourmet chocolates, and if Andrew was a glutton before, old age only made it worse.

So, Neil Josten is back to being a subject of interest for some reason, someone people want to know everything about. For him to randomly call up a dying indie magazine and offer them full rights to an interview under his specific terms surely threw the sports world into a fucking whirl.

Whatever.

He's going to share what he wants to share. Nothing more, nothing less.

"Mr. Jo--" The first reporter clears his throat, passing his notepad and phone over to his other hand before outstretching one to Neil. "Mr. Josten. It's such an honor to meet you, um, wow. I'm Blake, and this is Rayah. We're so grateful for being granted the opportunity to interview you. You're a legend!"

Neil stares at the outstretched hand like he doesn't know what to do with it, and as much as he does know what's expected of him, part of his hesitation is equal parts his disinterest and the fact he doesn't talk to anyone but his remaining family these days. Well, and Sydney.

Blake swallows and drops his hand, surely admonishing himself for his own stupidity.

Rayah saves him. "Um, we really are appreciative, sir," she says, laying out some notepads and setting up her recorder. Old school, Neil appreciates it. It's better than cameras and microphones. "We're still in shock honestly. We were theorizing on why you picked us the entire drive up here!"

"Neil is fine, and don't bother with small talk I know it's not why you're here," he says then, smiling at her words. They both flinch, taken aback. He's not sure why they'd be expecting a Kevin Day type. He has a record for being too blunt and argumentative for his own good. He's right though; they're here for answers, not discussions on how he's doing or what he does for fun in his not so humble nursing home. In much the same vein, he promised honesty, so he'll give it from the start. "I picked you precisely because you're unknown and failing."

They freeze, but they're clearly not Foxes. If they were, they'd immediately get indignant and glare, hold themselves back from punching a helpless old man. Oh, those were the good ol' days.

When Rayah fumbles for a response, a logic, Neil simply shrugs. "I like the underdogs."

He doesn't intend it to be, but it's a tension breaker. The stiffness in the reporters' shoulders deflate with a laugh, and they finally get back to organizing themselves without looking like they want to run for the hills and beg ESPN to take over.

"As your history suggests," Blake jokes, and Neil rewards him with a grin, tapping his Foxes pin.

He doesn't mention the fact Andrew would've never spoken to him had he gone to some trashy magazine, and that Andrew was always a bit of a rebel himself, though he hated to admit to any kind of urge that didn't involve Neil, sweets, or fancy cars.

Neil takes the free moment to wrap his blanket around his shoulders, letting the ingrained smell of ash permeate around him. Much better, he can think so much clearer like this.

As they finish setting up and take their seats across from him, Blake taps his pencil against the rim of his notepad. It looks like he almost wants to launch back into small talk, but thinks better of it when he remembers Neil's words. Considerate, a good listener. Just what Neil needs today.

Blake clears his throat, cutting through the bullshit. "Now, we know you have specific terms for how you want to lead this interview, which we're completely fine with. Wherever you want to start, we'll follow."

And with that, they sit back, unsure but ready to catch whatever morsel of information might fall from Neil's lips. Again, he finds himself fighting a smirk.

Of course, he led these people astray a bit, but he doesn't see the problem with having a little fun before revealing his true intentions.

He nods, pushing down the giddy feeling that always comes with talking about Andrew. Not yet, but soon.

"Hm, I assume you prepared some questions just in case," Neil asks, taking a sip of his water.

Rayah blinks, exchanging a look with Blake. She rifles through her notepad to a page in the middle, scribbled and stained with ink. There are so many questions on it, some of them curve over the others in a painful word twister. "Uh yes but, we didn't think you'd want to answer them," she guesses.

She's correct.

Neil loathes interview questions, because they're predictable. But in this case, he'll let the first one lead him down the road.

Neil relents, leaning back in his wheelchair. "Well you're mostly right, but why don't you ask me your first one?" He offers, and they look positively ecstatic. "That'll get me started."

And once he starts, he doubts he'll be able to stop.

"Sure." Blake clears his throat, making sure his recorder is functioning properly. When he's satisfied, he leans back, mirroring Neil's posture, though the rigidity is still there. If he doesn't lighten up, he's going to have back pains for days. "Now, there have been a lot of milestones in your career as a pro athlete. No one would dream of disputing your skill in the sport, or how you earned any of your countless awards--"

"Flattery," Neil warns, raising a single finger. That's not what he's here for either. In fact, as much as this is his interview, it's not about him at all.

"Right," Blake says with a huff of a laugh. "But surely one of your brightest moments was your historic win at the Olympics. It was talked about for months within the community. Of course, any true Exy fan knows the details of the game, it was only covered by every major publication. So, I guess our question is, what do you most remember about that moment? Was it as monumental for you as it was for Exy fans?"

Ah, a predictable question, but also not a bad place to begin. Neil doesn't fight the edge of the smirk that appears, though he does raise his thumb to swipe at it. It's been a while since he's felt so mischievous, it's so difficult to be, well, difficult when you're being wheeled around all day.

It was a monumental moment for him, though maybe not for the reasons everyone else would think.

"You certainly did your research," he comments, humming as he sits back in thought. He already knows his answer, but he's weak, and the feelings the memory evokes barely need to push him to send him careening off balance. Swept up. "Not sure what I was expecting from people so young, but my apologies for making assumptions."

He's glad they didn't ask the question in the stereotypical format, fishing for ways to brag and make it all about him. When he thinks of that time, as proud as he was, it's not his own praise that comes to mind.

With that in mind, Neil sighs.

"I don't think it was an exaggeration to say that was one of the best days of my life," he admits, and it's the truth. He's not here to lie. Come to think of it, he hasn't lied once since Andrew ran on ahead of him. Smiling, Neil lets the words flow.

"It was important to me, but not all because of the Olympics themselves..."

Neil rarely has time to pay attention in Exy games, as horrible and inefficient as that sounds.

His feet move on their own accord like a well-oiled machine, cogs and steam rushing through him to propel him across the court at record speeds. And they are record speeds.

That's why he's here isn't it? To run, to score.

It had been overwhelming when he first arrived, the sheer size of the Exy court at the Olympics. It's surrounded by flags from all over the world, bright neon signs and sponsorships. The lights at the entrance had been so vibrant, he made the mistake of looking up at them.

Blinding.

All aspects about it are, because as much as Neil knows this is his life, it can't possibly be reality.

The crowd makes the one at the Ravens' stadium seem minuscule, out of its league with seats and aisles that almost climb up to the heavens. The crowd roars and Neil feels every cheer and stomp echo against his bones.

He never thought he'd be here, but despite the gravity of it, he no longer has the time nor want to dwell on it. All that matters is his team, and getting them the gold.

Being with Andrew afterwards...getting to see Wymack smile proudly at Kevin.

Letting Kevin be proud of himself.

And Neil is an Olympic-qualified player, so with all that in mind, he delivers the second best game of his life. Even in the final seconds of the second half, even when he's been body checked so many times the nuts and bolts he imagines inside him must surely be worn and off-kilter, he doesn't stop moving. Everything is instinct, from the force of his steps to the last minute shifts he needs to intercept the ball.

It's not Kevin's perfect strategy, it's not a map or an out of body experience where he can see where every player on the court is.

He has no idea what's going on outside of what's in front of him, no awareness of anything but the immediate threats and a certain beacon, standing in the goal.

And that's the hardest part of it all, not being able to look over at Andrew for even a moment after he scores, because the game is fast and ruthless, and he has twice the energy of anyone on this court.

It's a stupid way to play, if he's really supposed to be Kevin's double. But they all long since established he is far from it. He has his own passion, his own drive, and Kevin trusts Neil with his life on the court.

Probably through anything.

So when he sees the perfect opportunity for a final interception, a chance to get them the last winning goal of the game, he's surprised that it's the one moment where it all comes to a stop. He's never had the experience before; normally his body snaps into action. He's not used to comprehending things until they're said and done.

He thinks his body is still following through though, turning in just the right way, making sure he's lined up.

But Neil is aware of so much more, his eyes train like a predator's on the goal, and he understands. He has a choice.

Choices are a weird luxury now, but he's gotten so used to having the freedom of them, he's forgotten the sheer magnitude they can carry.

His eyes snap to the goal, and then to Kevin. Kevin, who is so much closer, and already looking right at Neil.

And Neil never describes himself as fond towards most people, but he can say it proudly in that moment. This is the Kevin Day he likes to see.

Green eyes stare back, blown wide with a fire that can't be matched by anyone, probably not even his own mother, maybe not even Neil. A true, unadulterated love for this violent, freeing sport. Kevin catches Neil's eyes through his face guard, forehead drenched in sweat but his entire being rings with energy, ready and unwilling to quit until the buzzer sounds.

A Fox, at heart. Neil knows Andrew can see from where he's standing in goal, and Neil knows he's just as satisfied, deep down. It might give him some peace of mind too, to know Kevin kept his spine.

Neil puts all of those emotions into his last movement of the game.

He inclines his head just so, and that's it.

Kevin moves.

As Neil's racquet intercepts the ball from the other team's striker, he can't help but be a bit smug as he takes a powerful step forward. He can hear the painful slide of his shoes against the court floor, the heat of being too close, too exposed.

His legs will surely be shot after this, but no matter.

Kevin Day was always meant to be the greatest player in the history of Exy, the reigning queen, despite the arrogance they'll surely have to hear non-stop about. Fine. It's only fair that Neil help him achieve that goal here, at the biggest stadium in the world.

(By no means the best one, but still).

The clock gets down to five seconds, the beats resounding off the walls of his skull. Neil swings his racquet with such force the strings whistle, and the ball moves in a straight line directly into Kevin's. The other striker has zero time to react, the force of Neil's brutal cut off sending him stumbling. The ball hits Kevin's strings hard, Kevin's grip tightening around his racquet to keep it close to him.

Kevin doesn't hesitate longer than that.

He shoots at the goal in one fluid arch, and scores.

As confident as Neil is in Kevin's aim and skill, he'll admit his stomach swoops. It's a feeling that never truly goes away, much like the instincts that keep him moving. He wouldn't trade it for anything, that millisecond exhilaration before it comes together.

Because well, at one point nothing ever fell into place for him.

In the flash where the ball hits the net, Neil feels the ghost of a key in his palm, reminding him when that changed. The buzzer of the countdown blares, and all that anticipation meets a well-deserved end.

The stadium erupts until not even the buzzer can be heard. There's a swish of plexiglass doors, the sounds of their coach yelling in triumph, but Neil's body is too spent to react.

Neil's heart constricts in his chest as he tries to get air in, but it's impossible. Satisfied doesn't even begin to cover it, though he's sure he looks just as breathless as Kevin does, staring at the goal as it lights up. The world moves around him, respecting his moment of privacy when they should be hoisting him up and not allowing him a minute of disbelief. Neil's glad they don't; Kevin deserves to look surprised once in a while.

His teammates pile on each other, clapping him as they pass. A lot of them are still in shock, a few fall to their knees right away, but Neil feels nothing but fulfilled.

He made the right call.

His body sags, stinging, and he feels Andrew's gaze pinning him upright from across the court. It's the only thing that gets him walking, but he wills himself not to look in his boyfriend's direction.

If he does well...nothing else will matter, and there's one thing he has to do.

In a haze, he goes over to Kevin, who turns, sensing him. Neil shakes his head at Kevin's arrogance to this day, because even though Kevin is the one who made this possible for him, who came to him first...

Well, he still lets Neil do all the work. Neil laughs and hugs Kevin fiercely, barely keeping himself upright, and they trade the trembling in their bodies. Kevin drops his racquet, their height difference making them look all the more pathetic. He can hear Andrew's voice already, telling them they're too emotional about a damn sport.

Somehow, that makes Neil even happier, and he leans back as Kevin pries his helmet off, eyes wild and smiling.

Yes, the right choice. Absolutely.

"We did it," Kevin says, but not in disbelief. He had to have known they'd always make it here. "We did it."

Neil squeezes his friend's shoulder and grins, uncaring of what camera catches it. He's too damn happy to care. "Guess we did."

The crowd cheers so loud Neil can't hear more than a faint buzz in his ears, and the sticky scent of gatorade and sweat is an unfortunate addition. The cameras flash and shine obnoxiously through the double plexiglass to bathe them in light and attention.

Yet, with his legs feeling like jelly and his muscles stretched to the limits, there's only one thing he really wants. What he always wants.

Warmth, safety, something to lean on and keep him sheltered from the world before facing it alongside him. Neil hates that before, the only thing he yearned for was to play Exy. He thought that was bad.

This is so much worse.

Biting his lip, Neil turns to where Andrew is standing in the goal, already looking at him from across the court. And Andrew, with all his control, keeps himself planted there. Neil's breathing hiccups loudly, and Kevin's probably the only one who hears it over the cacophony.

Neil doesn't think he can cry anymore, but his eyes tighten up, he has to blink the pain away.

Neil wonders if Andrew's gripping his racquet hard enough to damage it, if he's digging his heels into the ground like Neil is.

Neil swallows down the lump in his throat. Suddenly, he hates the cameras more than usual; he's torn between wanting them to vanish completely, or wishing they paid as much attention to Andrew, because god, he's earned it.

Neil digs his heels in harder.

I want to be with you.

It's such a simple string of thought; it has crossed his mind so many times before, but never has the urge hurt so much. It has nothing to do with all he's worked for, with the fame and recognition this win will bring him. It's just Andrew.

He hasn't had a knife to his skin in years, but this reminds him of the piercing of flesh, lighting his nerves on end and sending him towards the source of his relief, his contentment.

Andrew played so well, so well, not just here. He worked his way through the pros until he got to Neil, worked his ass off for his reputation. He qualified with the rest of them to be here.

And tonight, he blocked almost every shot at his goal.

Neil closes his eyes, willing himself to calm down but he can't. This is one of the best moments of his life. If he can't share it with Andrew to the fullest, what was the point of everything in his past?

They're not out. That's the problem, he knows, as much as he doesn't give a single fuck. No one outside their family and management knows anything about them, apart from some tabloid rumors about their intense dislike of one another. If that doesn't prove how clueless the media is, Neil doesn't know what does.

And as much as they value privacy, as much as their peaceful bubble is enough, it's moments like these where Neil wants to take and show no matter the consequences.

He looks to Kevin, unsure. It's always been him, the one who warned them about the backlash they'd face despite his acceptance of their relationship years ago.

Neil expects the same thing here: the subtle shake of Kevin's head, the concern in his eyes for their careers and future. It used to piss Neil off to no end, but Kevin communicates all emotion through Exy, even concern. Neil's learned to read between those infuriating lines. The importance of career translates to 'without your career, there is no you.' Sometimes he forgets he's not entirely free.

And if he weren't around, then Andrew...

'You can't leave him.'

And so, knowing Kevin's language, Neil stayed in line, and he expects that same advice today. To his surprise though, it never comes. Kevin is looking at him, tired smile firmly in place as he nudges a shoulder in Andrew's direction. Neil's mouth falls open, and yes, he's convinced now. It's a dream, it's all one big dream. Except--

Kevin shakes his head. It's not resigned, or worried. He's just happy for them both. He pushes Neil away, straightening his back in preparation for his fans. Royal snob. "Go on already. You guys are gross."

And despite the laugh that falls from his mouth, Neil's breathing stutters, and he hadn't realized how wound up he truly was until it happens. His lungs fill with air and he throws his racquet to the ground. His self-control is poor, they all know that. Encouragement is all he needs to break him and send him where he belongs.

He takes off in a full sprint towards Andrew as the rest of his teammates crowd Kevin, looking after Neil in confusion.

Huh, so his muscles still work after all. The tendons are on fire, but it's the least of his concerns. He runs like his life depends on it again, faster than he ran during that whole game.

And to Neil's absolute delight, Andrew's body language screams 'finally.'

The blond takes a step forward, throwing his racquet to the side like it's worthless. Oh. Andrew's bracing to catch him, and Neil laughs at the realization as he throws off his helmet. One day he'll actually make Andrew fall over, but for now he enjoys the strength.

He jumps into Andrew's arms effortlessly, feels calloused hands wrap around his waist as Neil reaches for the clips of Andrew's helmet. Despite knowing the barrier is there as he fumbles with it, he leans forward, lips grazing the metal guard. Andrew huffs, and Neil claws until the helmet clatters to the floor. He throws it a bit far, and it hits the goal post with a clang, but he doesn't care in the moment. If all eyes are on them now, he can't feel them. They're in a vacuum, a side effect of being so taken with Andrew at times. Unaware, vulnerable. The rush of sound from before goes dead around them. His fingertips can feel overheated skin, can trace the barely-there freckles on Andrew's face.

Andrew isn't in the mood to let Neil admire today.

Neil barely gets to see the color in Andrew's eyes before the goalie's hand grips in between Neil's shoulder blades, pulling him down.

It reminds him of their first kiss; Neil catches Andrew's lips and, as if not believing they're real, that something could feel so wonderful, he pulls back. His eyes widen, the first hit of a drug. He breaks the kiss only to dive right back in, uncoordinated but so sure of himself. And he doesn't get how, but Andrew smells the same as back then. Less like cigarettes, but the same smell of leather and earthiness. Neil doesn't read nearly as much as Andrew does to have the capability of describing it, but it's refreshing, like soil after the rain. Through the sweat and exhaustion, Neil would know him anywhere.

Andrew opens his mouth for him first, breath hot but movements predictable. Neil will tease him later for that. You're getting old. Because the dance is so familiar, the way Andrew pushes Neil's tongue back first. 'Come and get me.'

Neil obliges every single time, because he can't back down from a challenge, and maybe he's getting old too.

Neil knows the kiss can't last forever, especially not here, but he allows himself to pretend it's not the case. Andrew hums into him, and Neil's hands feel all the vibrations from where his hand slips down to Andrew's throat. It's bared completely for him, and Neil gives a little squeeze.

He sighs into Andrew's mouth when his boyfriend's eyes open to glare at him, pulling back before kissing Neil again, and then one more time, and maybe just once...

One more, Neil thinks, brushing his lips against Andrew's so lightly they stick for a moment, and he licks his own slowly when he pulls back for the final time. His heart beats in his ribcage, or maybe that's the pounding of the reporters' feet as they rush through the stadium, he's not sure.

Again, it's always best for him to not look at Andrew if he's supposed to be doing something else, because in that moment, the blond has all Neil's attention.

They're already pressed chest to chest, but Andrew squeezes tighter, almost painful, keeping Neil there through the flashing of cameras and shocked cheers.

And while Andrew's expression gives nothing away for the public, it speaks volumes to Neil.

Neil didn't know what old meant back then, now that his legs give out after a good walk or his spine aches under the weight of nothing.

But they were predictable, that much was true.

Neil isn't looking at the reporters anymore, too focused on trying to weave the fraying threads of the blanket back into place. From their silence, he can guess they're as shocked as he expected them to be.

Unaffected, Neil reaches over for his water, taking a sip as he confronts their slack jaws and wide eyes.

Now, that might have been a bit unfair of him as well, to jump into such a blatant romantic recollection about Andrew. Again, Neil never took interviews, rarely took questions, but the subject of his relationship with Andrew was especially off limits for decades. What they had was theirs, and only theirs, even after outing themselves that day.

People naturally tried to pry, tried to dig up their past in hopes of justifying what they saw as a nonsensical relationship or gossip fuel.

Neil made them fear for their lives after that.

He eviscerated publications, reporters, top sports officials, talk shows hosts, pretty much whoever he needed to. Anything to keep Andrew's name out of their mouths. A lot of them sealed their place in the land of irrelevancy, media outlets were slammed by a combination of their fans, and Kevin's too, once he stood up in support.

Andrew always hated it, Neil's desperate need to protect him from words that no longer phased him, but Neil didn't care. It was one of the only things they fought about in their adult years.

It worked though; soon, all the major outlets aside from the tabloids stopped talking about it, knowing mentioning it in any way that wasn't positive or neutral would land them in a ton of hot water.

Even those online sources who refused to let up eventually fizzed out from lack of material; they tried their best to be nosy, but pretty much got nothing but some rare paparazzi photos a few times a year of them kissing in the park or on a date.

In short, it's a bit of an unspoken rule that you don't talk to Neil Josten about Andrew Minyard unless you have nothing but good things to say, and a lot of people are too chicken shit to take the risk and potentially insult him. That's the only disappointing thing, none of them have a shred of courage. Neil really would talk all day about Andrew if people just approached it correctly.

Not that Andrew would've allowed it when he was alive.

Take that.

Despite all the fear Neil instilled in the media, it never stopped the other famous Foxes from talking about how gooey and devoted he and Andrew were, but Neil let that slide.

The things he does for family.

So it makes sense that these reporters seemed to have forgotten Andrew's importance at all, another offense. Not just because he was the best goalie in Exy history, but because Neil was first and foremost, Andrew's.

Blake's mouth opens and closes, pen dangling precariously from his hand. "Are...are we allowed to ask about Andrew?"

Blake even flinches after he asks it, afraid that perhaps it's only okay for Neil to bring up.

If you only knew.

Neil laughs, too relaxed to hold back anymore. The reporters stare, exchanging nervous glances with excitement tingling below the surface.

Yes, he supposes details about his relationship with Andrew are more secretive and sought after than even Neil's opinions. The reporters weren't even going to try.

But now, there's morsels of information dangling in front of them, and Neil need only give them permission. It's their lucky day.

Neil's smile fades into something gentler, wistful. It's the closest he gets now, to how he looked at Andrew. But it's still different, because that expression...

Well, Andrew is gone. What more is there to say?

Neil leans back, wringing his hands softly. "I guess it's only fair that I tell you the real reason I accepted this interview."

The reporters lean forward, holding their breath, but Neil doesn't feel like making them wait. It's all about Andrew now, like he wanted it to be. "I want to talk about Andrew, plain and simple."

Except when it's not.

Their relationship was anything but simple but Neil cherished each memory, and he wants to speak them aloud so no one forgets. He wants everyone to know how important this person was to him, so when he's gone and can't defend them, people can't speculate or taint it with their unasked for opinions.

"I've never had the opportunity to really reminisce about Andrew, not even with my family," Neil admits. He and Aaron and Katelyn would sit around the fireplace at their home sometimes, telling stories, or Kevin would send him old pictures or clips of Andrew playing. But never the intimate details, never the raw, and at times complicated feelings. "It never felt right, even after he was gone. I wanted to keep it close still, so I wouldn't betray Andrew's trust."

Neil takes a deep breath, and it shakes his small frame, a cough escaping his lungs. His voice is rough, but no less sure when he continues. "But I know now what he'd say to that. That I couldn't, even if my dumb Exy brain tried really hard."

But he'd never.

He smiles, wiping his eyes when they aren't even wet. That's another thing he misunderstood back then. Neil thought he couldn't cry, but he's sure today he'll prove his younger self wrong.

Rayah and Blake stay silent through all of Neil's pauses, and the respect means more than he can say. Andrew would approve, he'd be okay with Neil's choice. That's what matters most, he thinks.

"For once I just want everyone to know how I felt, I want to tell you everything as I saw and felt it, so you can tell everyone else," Neil says, and hopes they can read between the lines for the rest. Ultimately, when he's dead he'll be nothing but bones in the dirt, his legacy won't mean much in the long run. But...if nothing else, he wants this to remain, for as long as it can.

He never cared before about it, but he guesses age really can put a new perspective on things. Neil sighs, and taps the table with his finger for lack of anything better to do. When he looks back up, he has their undivided attention, Rayah's brown eyes shining with unshed emotion. None of that, not yet. "Anyways, now that you know I misled you, I hope you're still alright with listening to me ramble for the next few hours."

If not, they can kindly fuck off, but Neil has his suspicions at this point that they'll stick around. As much as Neil prides himself on reading people's intentions well, he's quite horrible at reading people's feelings. But maybe he's improved in that arena too.

A price for everything, he thinks ruefully, reminding himself there's a break in between this session for him to take his pain pills.

Eventually, it's Rayah who stutters a response. "Of course it's alright! We're so honored! And not just in the...bullshit way."

She closes her mouth immediately after at the unprofessionalism of it, but it only makes Neil feel more at ease. He smirks, satisfied. "Noted."

"Mr. Jo--Neil, we really are happy to write about you and Andrew but I have to admit," Blake says, flipping through his notepad with a tight look on his face. "The questions we did prepare as backup don't exactly lend themselves to anything about your life with Andrew."

It's precisely why Neil stated he'd mostly be doing the talking initially, but their first test question actually did end up helping move him along, so...

Neil shrugs, gesturing to the notebook with fierce determination.

These people are about to learn...

He can make anything about Andrew.

When he smiles at the two of them again, they must feel it deep down. They return it tenfold, and then Rayah clicks her pen.

And with the pleasantries out of the way, Neil opens up to everything he's been keeping locked away.

"Try me."

#andreil #all for the game #aftg #andrew minyard #neil josten

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