#i can save them for private writings and speculations w close friends

[pyrodigy]

its really just my luck that we’d get tomo crumbs right before a diluc event

[finelinevogue]

Can you write something about when Harry and Y/N broke up but fans speculate that they got back together and they did get back together. They broke over something stupid, please. You don’t have to do this exactly it can be something like that.

let’s see how this turns out! hope it’s what you wished for?!

The last few months had been rough.

What had started as rumours of a breakup between everyones favourite couple, you and Harry, had turned into an actual breakup.

It had started by Harry spending more time with Olivia, due to press for Don’t Worry Darling. They were always hanging out with each other, even when there was no publicity stunt telling them to. You found it appropriate at first, wanting the movie to gain some form of reputation, but after a while you believed it turned South. It was becoming a definite friendship and not just because they had to. It was the way that Harry would bring Olivia over for dinner without checking with you first, or taking the dog for a walk with her not you, or even staying longer out on stunts than they needed to just because they wanted to.

So you challenged Harry on it. Hell, even the tabloids were challenging you both - claiming Harry had split from you for Olivia. You made him question whether he thought his actions were irresponsible and appropriate or not, to which he thought there was nothing wrong and thought you were being irrational. You didn’t speak to him for the rest of the day, only to find him later on the phone speaking to Olivia about how crazy you’d been acting about it all. So you showed him crazy and walked out.

Until today.

For over a half a year your sister had her wedding planned and Harry was supposed to be your guest. You were nervous about turning up without him, because your family were very judgy. Your sister couldnt help being the smarter and the prettier one, but she also didn’t have to parade it around so everyone knew of it. Your mum and dad thought you a disappointment for the longest time, but once you’d gotten a job and had moved out they were a bit more loving over you. Still didn’t hide the fact they desperately hoped for you to have a relationship. It wasn’t that you were bringing Harry along to prove that someone loved you, but more to prove that they would never fully be satisfied whether you had a boyfriend or not. There would always be a podium stand slightly lower for you to stand on.

However, they didn’t know about the breakup.

“Y/N, nice to see you. Where’s Harry?” Another guest asked you, relatives of your mum. It was the same question over and over again, no one really caring about how you are but instead whether you’re in a positive relationship.

“Oh um I think he’s just running a bit late.” Was your chosen answer to respond to said question. It was repetitive, but it kept people off your back.

The wedding was completely beautiful. It was in a beautiful church and was decorated to perfection. The theme was white and royal blue, something your sister had always dreamed of. Children played amongst the pews and family relatives mumbled to each other about gossip. There was still a heavy sadness to the event. Maybe it was because your sister hadn’t asked you to be a bridesmaid - instead, choosing her best friends instead - or maybe it was because you missed Harry so much.

He’d fucked up. He really had, but it didn’t take away that burning passion for him that spread like a wildfire in your belly. You missed him. You still loved him. Worst of all, you had to pretend everything was all alright in front of your family when actually you were breaking apart inside.

Harry hadn’t messaged saying that he was or wasn’t coming, but after everything that had happened you were confident he was going to be a no show, and you would be the embarrassment of the family once again. Your relationship had been very private and exclusive, but Harry’s fans were so investigative you wouldn’t be surprised if they knew that you’d broken up and were aware that you were at a wedding today without him. Neither of you had made a public statement about your breakup, but neither of your wanted to damage each other even more. Fans suspected though and rumours travel fast.

“Y/N how are you doing? How’s Harry?” Another aunt came and asked you, this time with your mother in tow.

“Oh he’s great, yes.” You smiled forcefully, not actually having a clue how your ex-boyfriend was doing. You didn’t keep up with his social media because you were afraid of what you might find.

“Where is he? Is he here?” Your aunt asked.

“He’s late, apparently.” Your mother answered for you, sneeringly. “You’ll be made a fool of if he’s a no show Y/N.”

“I know.”

“I hope everything goes well for you both.” Your aunt kindly said, before waiting for your mum to say something nice too. That was a mistake though.

“Well it’s unlikely she’ll find someone again!” Your mother laughed and pulled your aunt away from you. You furrowed your eyebrows and let your heart sink low.

What were you thinking, letting Harry go like that? Your mum was right, you were never going to find anyone else again. You were so lucky with Harry. He was so kind and so patient with you, but obviously he’d run out of steam towards the end. It doesn’t surprise you. You’ve always been told you’re a mighty handful and you need a lot of work put into looking after you, so you understand why you were probably too much for Harry. The showbiz life had never really been something you’d completely submerged yourself into, whereas you guess for Olivia it was rooted in her from birth. She understood Harry’s world the same way he did hers. They would match perfectly for each other, if that’s what they wanted.

You watched the room continue as usual, but you couldn’t keep yourself here. There was too much sadness welling deep within you that you wanted to just run and then keep running. So you did, only to get as far as the bench in the front courtyard. The outside felt calmer and more freeing than inside, you sat and absorbed it for a while, not realising that you were crying until your pretty multicoloured dress had grown darker with a pool of your tears.

“Shit.” You tried rubbing the tears out, but only made you cry a little harder. You thought about your makeup running and tried to compose yourself, fanning your face to calm it down from the heat now.

“And here I was thinking weddings were supposed to be happy.”

You stopped fanning your face to look at him. You couldn’t believe he was standing there, dressed in a beautiful white suit and salmon pink shirt underneath to compliment the colours of your dress - the outfit that you’d helped him pick out over a year ago. He’d remembered. He trusted that you’d still be wearing this dress. He was a sight alright. A vision of beauty and love.

“Harry?” You questioned, wiping your under eyes to clear away any running mascara, not quite believing he was standing there.

“So what was it? Bad music playing? No vodka? Or maybe there’s nowhere for you to escape to go read the book I know you have stuffed away in your clutch bag.” He stood at a distance from you, hands in his trouser pockets, to make sure you were comfortable.

“I brought vodka instead of the book.” You chuckled, reaching into your clutch to prove it to him.

“Lucky for you, i’ve come to save the day.” Harry reached to the inside of his blazer pocket and pulled out a Kindle. You’d always been debating whether or not to buy one, because the feeling of having a book to turn its’ physical pages is a feeling second to none. “Take it, it’s yours.”

Harry handed it out to you and you stood up to reach for it hesitantly. Harry assured you that it was okay and that you’d been reading too many books if you thought it was a trap of some sort.

“Thank you, Harry.” You spoke sincerely. You stroked your thumb over the cover and turned the case lid over to start up the screen. The screen lit up and it was set to a picture of your favourite quote, annotated just as you would have in your own book. You chuckled and let a few tears drop from the kindness of all of this.

“And then…” Harry unlocked the Kindle with your birthday as the password, before clicking on the library so you could discover what was waiting for you on your virtual shelves. Harry had downloaded all your most favourite books, whilst also downloading the ones he knew had been on your to-be-read list. He’d even added a few of his favourite books too, just because you liked reading his recommendations.

You smiled, but felt so lost.

“W-why are you here, H?” You asked, closing the lid and bravely looking up into his enchanting eyes. You had to control yourself not to comment on how wondrous they looked.

“To save the day.” He chuckled in repeat, until he knew you weren’t taking that for an answer. “Because I fucked up. Big league time.”

“Yeah.” You whispered, looking down at your shoes to see that they weren’t that far apart at all. He was so close to you, yet he wasn’t yours to catch.

“And i’ll never forgive myself for letting you walk out of that door. The promotion shit with Olivia? Done. I’ve finished. I explained that the movie isn’t as important to me as you. You,” Harry paused to breathe out, and took the risk of guiding your jaw up to meet your gaze with his soft hand, “you are real Y/N. You’re so important and key to my life and it bloody terrified me, still does actually, to think that you make me feel this way. I want everything with you. Marriage, kids, a home. A life. I was so worried I would screw it all up, though, to the point where I did screw it all up. I lost you and so I lost me. It’s selfish of me to ask whether any part of your heart still wants me, but—”

“Yes.” You quickly interjected before he could say something he’d later regret. “There is, yes.”

“R-really?” He stumbled over his response, not expecting you to react so soon but his words had got to you. His feelings were vulnerable and raw and it reminded you of how much you love him and feel safe with him.

“Why? Would you like me to say different.” You teased.

“No,” Harry rushed, stepping closer towards you, “God now. Stay, please. Forever, if you’ll have me?”

“I can deal with forever.” You leaned up to where his lips were, craving the taste of them against yours so badly. “Can I?” You looked between his lips and his eyes, watching his eyes coo in admiration of you. His arms snaked around your neck and cupped the back of your head, resting his ringed fingers against your skin delicately.

“You don’t have to ask, angel.” And with that you didn’t hesitate to reclaim your clips on his. He tasted as sweet and as soft as you could remember. The hint of mint sweets he kept in his car could be tasted all over his mouth, and he could no doubt taste the vodka on yours. He took no time in rushing to have his tongue exploring your mouth once mouth, biting on your lip when he got the chance to. He wanted you to remember this moment and how much love he has for you, and always will. Just as you do for him.

Hesitantly pulling away you smiled at him cheekily, feeling so much lighter and happier to have him here. With you in his arms so expertly.

“What?” He asked, leaving a quick kiss to your nose, inhaling his scent as he did.

“Just can’t believe you’re here.” You stroked his cheek with your thumb, and he leaned into your touch so comfortably. He had missed you so damn much, and it showed.

“Let you down once before and I wasn’t going to do it again.”

“So you’d have shown up even if I hadn’t?”

“Not happily, but yes.” He laughed thinking about it.

“Why?” You laughed with him.

“I’ve got to make my impression on your family somehow. Need to remind some of them how amazing and beautiful their special Y/N L/N is.”

“Some are going to need a lot more persuading than others.” You sighed, side-frowning over your words.

“No offence, but anyone who doesn’t treat you as a fucking diamond doesn’t deserve you and should watch out for kick up their backside from me.” You laughed over his empty threat and buried your head against his chest, listening to the heartbeat and rumble of laughter that came from within. This moment alone felt like home. Safe and warm.

“I love you, H.”

“Bloody love you too.”

Harry ended up returning to the wedding with you, much to your mothers surprise, and you both enjoyed the celebrations together. You shut yourselves out from everybody and just danced, talked and drank the night away.

You were so in love.

Later, photos got leaked of the wedding and it showed you and Harry dancing away in one of the backgrounds of the photos. It was supposed to be a shot of just the bride and groom, but you two have managed to get caught in it. You looked so caught up in each other that you still weren’t even aware the photo had been taken. You and Harry had determinedly avoided the camera all night, exactly for this reason, but a part of you was kind of happy that this one photo got leaked, because it showed the world that Harry was yours and you were his. It showed that you were together, or back-together as addressed by some FBI fans, and that you were stronger for it.

[accidentally-a-writer]

i’ll make you the stars

Last night after some good ol fashioned academics I decided “hey I’m going to write something for my good friend @stegekay to wake up to.” and then as I wrote said thing I spiralled hard, so... she’s already awake but hey I finished it! 

This is another instalment of the Magic AU. 

... 

The first time Washington and Alexander try to do a lesson Washington comes away with bruised ribs and an acute understanding that he has no clue what he’s doing.

It’s amazing that Alexander is even still alive. He speculates it is because the boy has forced away his power for sixteen years, almost completely. If any of his magic trickled out Alex considered it a failure. He did this so proficiently that he somehow pushed away his own destruction too.

So when Washington calls on him to bring forth that power, so that he can begin to learn what being a mage actually is, he cannot control it.

It explodes away from him, unmatched in sheer force, and Washington goes flying into the stone wall. Alexander is terrified, horrified at what he’s done, and he expects a whip, a slap, something to punish him for hurting this man who’s only ever been kind to him.

Washington does no such thing, would never do any such thing. “I’m not hurt, Alexander,” he murmurs, seeing Hamilton’s horror-struck countenance for what it is, “Along with my main discipline I’m well versed in shielding; I didn’t feel a thing.”

It’s a lie. Washington wasn’t expecting that to happen, he had no time to erect a shield. He’s surely cracked a few ribs, but he’ll tell none of this to Alexander.

(It is Alexander now, somehow. He’d become Alexander so quickly, just a few weeks. He’s just a child - Washington’s ward - it is too formal to call the boy by his surname.)

If he were to tell the boy that he’d injured him the fear of doing so again would prevent him from making any new progress. He is too compassionate that way. He believes himself a weapon, a curse, something dangerous. But no, he certainly has the potential to be very, very dangerous, and if he were ever to go dark he would be absolutely fearsome, but that same compassion is exactly what makes Alexander and dark antonyms.

Laurens, one of his most trusted, tends to him privately in his chambers. He is no mage, not yet; his magic is an inherited one, when Henry Laurens passes his magic will pass to his son. It is not usually a painful happening, but it can be an emotional one. The magic Laurens is to inherit is healing and only healing - a white mage - but even without it the boy makes a fine caretaker.

“Do not mention this to Alexander,” Washington intones lowly. “His insecurities with his magic will only worsen, and he will never learn to control it if he cannot trust himself.”

“Yes sir,” Laurens replies, ever dutiful. He kneels beside the general’s chaise and gingerly inspects the wounds, binding them as he goes. “You’ve broken these two, and there are no healers stationed in the camp. They will be sore for a whiles yet, you must be careful.”

Washington grins fondly, Laurens is only twenty-two and yet he chastises Washington in such a way. He will make a fine white mage indeed.

Laurens is startled from his work by Washington’s hand against the back of his neck, a gesture of affection saved only for one’s closest family and friends. Washington in general is softer now, now that he has a ward (son, Laurens knew, just from watching them) to care for.

“Sir?” He looks up. Washington has promised his father that if he is still alive when John inherits the magic that he will guide him through the period of time when he will be overwhelmed by the new sensation, the new world made available to him through the power.

John does not know where this places him in Washington’s affections, but on his staff he is primary aide-de-camp. (His father had wanted to make a congressmen out of him - the horror.)

The hand withdraws and Washington says nothing.

“Your ward fares well,” Laurens starts again, unable to hold the general’s stare for too long. “I sent for the tutor, as you requested. He’s already well-read in three different languages; English, French and Latin. He’ll make a fine student in the subjects you see fit, I’m sure.”

“You may call him Alexander to my face, John,” Washington chuckles, “I know you do to his.”

“Yes sir.” John and Alexander had taken to each other almost immediately, Laurens fosters him under his wing as any big brother should do. The boy grins. “I think we all underestimated Alexander in some regard, Your Excellency, although not purposely. It is a funny thing that, because I by no means thought him lacking in intelligence, nor do I assume you thought him in need of any more power, and yet he still defies expectations.”

Washington grins again, and sits back in his place, taking a short sip of the whisky Laurens had poured before beginning to assist him. “Yes, he does.”

…

Alexander is like a fawn, Washington realizes. Timid, young. He’s been punished his entire life for being who he is.

The next time they enter the training room Alexander trembles, not for fear for himself but rather of himself.

“I don’t think we should- I can’t control it-”

“And you never will, not if we don’t keep trying.” Washington is ill prepared for an apprentice with this magnitude of power, who is also somehow fearful of said power, but Christ he isn’t going to lose this boy to it.

“Every time I try and surface it it tries to hurt you.” Alexander looks at him with widened eyes, worriedly chewing on his lip. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I know, son. It’s not trying to hurt me, if it were I would have felt it by now, you’re a good person. It’s just out of control, not malicious.” Alexander is a child, what do children need that he was denied? (He was denied quite a few things, but there is no time for that here.) “We’ve tried this with you bringing your magic out alone, and it didn’t work. But you’re not alone anymore, this time we try together.”

George has no clue if this will work, or if it is safe for him.

“Let me see your hand, it’ll be alright,” he assures. Alexander looks terrified, but he extends his palm towards his guardian. Washington takes it, gently rubbing his thumb over his palm. “Close your eyes, try to trust me. Do you feel that buzzing sensation? Beating just a little under the skin?”

Alexander nods, not understanding why he is so at ease but welcoming it anyways. “Yes, and… you. I can feel you there too, like a… presence. And there’s an awareness that’s not quite me, like it’s whispering your feelings in my ear with no real words.”

“That presence is called an aura, some can see them, not many. All mages can feel them, the distance at which you can feel someone’s aura depends on how close you are with them; parents can feel their children from worlds away. As for the awareness… I daresay you surprise me again my boy - you’re an empath, you can sense how others feel.”

Alexander lets out a long breath, and George can feel him exploring their small connection. Maybe for the first time Alexander is feeling magic that is both not his own and in-control.

“That beating is how you know someone has magic,” Washington whispers, careful not to break his ward’s calm. “I felt it with you immediately.”

Gently, he adds another hand to their embrace. Hamilton’s fingers now trace along his palm, instead of vice versa, and Washington’s other hand rests softly over top of it. Alexander’s eyes are still closed, his breathing is still calm.

Washington searches for the boy’s magic unobtrusively, finding that buzzing and coaxing it ever-so-gently forward, a little bit at a time. He doesn’t know how long they stand there, it’s long enough that eventually Alexander feels his magic closer than he’s used to and starts away from it. It skitters away back to his core and the boy looks around them with frightened eyes.

“Look at me,” Washington murmurs, cupping the boy’s cheek, “you’re okay. You’re in control. I trust you, and it’s time for you to trust yourself.”

The moment that Alexander lets his magic surface again Washington feels his own snap forward, almost uncontrollably, and for a moment he’s afraid that something’s gone horribly wrong.

And then he realizes, nothing is wrong, it’s the opposite of wrong.

His magic snaps forward and meets Alexander’s where they touch, linked hands and a tender hold of the cheek, and it knots itself together with the boy’s and pulls tight.

Alexander gasps, his knees buckle but Washington is there to catch him. Hands grip at his back and scramble for purchase and he can hear Alexander gasp and maybe sob and he can feel Alexander desperately try and make sense of what’s happening.

“W-what what is this?” Washington lowers them both to the ground, stunned himself. “What’s happening? Why do I feel…?”

Snapping out of his stupor Washington pulls Alexander in close, running a hand through his hair soothingly. “It’s alright,” he hushes, “it’s called a bond. It’s a very sacred thing, your bonded is the closest anyone will ever be to you, it’s a connection unlike any other. Parents and children, husbands and wives, the best of friends and brothers and sisters alike can bond, there’s no connotations to it.”

“I- I feel you, it’s so strong.”

“I know, it’s overwhelming at first. People don’t usually choose who they bond to, some can.”

“H-how are you so… don’t you feel this?” Alexander’s tone is verging on hysterical, he’s scared and overwhelmed and Washington doesn’t blame him. He sends a wave of calm over the boy, who relaxes in his grip.

“I was bonded once before,” Washington murmurs into his ear, “my wife. She got very sick a few years past now, and we were happy together and she was too young, but she was ready to go when she did. We bonded the moment we decided to pursue a courtship, which all but made that day our engagement. Because she was ready the bond faded gently, so even though it was the lowest point of my life it wasn’t not overly painful. If it hadn’t been so I would be in pain even still.”

The severity of Washington’s words startles Hamilton. Sacred he’d said, this bond was sacred. The general was awfully calm for having just entered such a… a… an agreement with his boy ward.

“What does it mean?” He finally asks.

“It means, my dear boy, that you and I are now connected in what some believe to be the soul, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

…

It becomes easier after that to teach Alexander his magic. They start small, manifesting lights.

There’s so much about magic Alexander never dreamt of knowing - it’s an entire world that he’s somehow missed his entire life despite being right in the midst of it.

“There’s three main disciplines of magic,” Washington explains, “Mind, Elemental, Regenerative. Every mage has a natural affinity for one of these disciplines and sometimes that affinity is influenced by what your teacher is.”

“And what are you?” Alexander has become more comfortable as of late, more willing to use that quick mind and sharp tongue of his.

“I’m an Elemental son. When you had accidental releasements what would happen? Would people suddenly obey you or would it be more like some object or another went flying, burst into flame, incidents of that manner?”

Alexander doesn’t like talking about what he now knows are called ‘accidental releasements’ but for Washington he swallows the lump in his throat and answers. “Things flying, catching on fire, growing right next to me.”

“Then you’re naturally an Elemental too,” Washington beams, inexplicably feeling like a proud father. “But we don’t need to worry about that any for a whiles, there’s subdisciplines of magic which any mage can learn to control, save the white mages, who can only use healing powers.”

Sometimes when his guardian talks Alexander feels like he should be taking notes, but even when he forgets things the general has been patient with him, re-explains his point over and over until Alexander remembers.

“Shielding, which I am proficient at,” Washington continues, “everyday magic, which is nonsensical things that we learn to make our everyday tasks a little easier, and illusion magic.”

At this Washington opens his hands and from them thousands of glowing stars explode from them, surrounding the two men and cocooning them in their own little galaxy. Alexander’s mouth parts in amazement, his eyes lighting up with awe at his surroundings.

“They’re beautiful,” he breathes, reaching out tentatively to touch one of them.

“Illusion here does not mean that what you are seeing is false, it just means you are the one to manifest the image.”

Washington watches Alexander examine the lights, and he finds himself filled with a different kind of warmth. Love, he realizes, he loves the boy. The scene before him could make him grin but with that same realization swirling in his mind, he does.

Alexander is an excellent student, Washington knew he would be. It takes time, at first, for the boy to simultaneously keep his magic unlocked and control it, but the more they work the more that will become second nature, as it is for all mages.

Months pass, and Laurens becomes a brother to Alexander, and Lafayette too, and Washington an unspoken father. The lights are still his favourite lesson.

In the evenings and afternoons after his studies Alexander is either off with Laurens and the Marquis or in Washington’s office. When he is in Washington’s office the man allows him to answer a few correspondences for him, but makes it perfectly clear he’ll not be enlisting until he’s eighteen.

Washington finds him in his bedroom sometimes, long past when he should be asleep, reading by the light of a ball of light he’d manifested, and though he has the good manner to appear sheepish it is a common occurrence.

Sometimes too, he enters Washington’s sitting room, and Alex doesn’t say anything but he sits next to the general and Washington feels through their bond whether he’s content and merely seeking company or if he is here to take solace in it.

Either way he pulls the boy closer and dims the lights and he makes the stars for him and they sit like that for hours, Washington gently carding a hand through Alexander’s hair and Alexander listening to Washington’s heartbeat until he’s asleep.

It is the happiest Washington can remember being since before Martha took ill, and he knows she would have loved Alexander too. She would be happy that they’ve bonded, Alexander completes him and without children of his own Washington is happy to let that place be filled by his ward, and even Laurens and Lafayette, who take care of him in ways only brothers can.

It’s a year of bliss.

And then a messenger arrives, bearing news of a captured British mage. They’ll be bringing him here.