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karasuno-volley · 3 years

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HAIKYUU THIRD YEARS + SAYING I LOVE YOU FOR THE FIRST TIME (PT. 2) ( ft. nekoma + shiratorizawa )

plot: how the third years say i love you for the first time.

pairing: nekoma / shiratorizawa third years + gn!reader (some are more fem!reader)

warning: some foul language in yaku’s part. otherwise it’s pure fluff.

a/n: part two! i also added kiyoko in at the end because i forgot when i did karasuno last time. likes / reblogs welcome, no reposting. taglists and requests are open !! love, volley.

PART ONE | PART TWO | (like for) PART THREE?

He’s said I love you from day one, but you’ve never returned the sentiment in its entirety, only smiling and squeezing his hand. How could he love you, you’d only been dating for two weeks! But Kuroo was consistent, almost to the point of annoyance. Each hello and goodbye consisted of him confessing his love. It’s one night, only two months after the first date, when Kuroo drops you off at your apartment. He says it again, making a point to kiss your cheek. He doesn’t expect a reply at this point, and turns to head back to his car, surprised when he hears you call out for him. “No, you don’t. It’s only been eight weeks.” It isn’t meant to be a mean statement-- you were only telling the truth, but the look you see on Kuroo’s face when he turns to face you nearly causes your heart to shatter.

“How could you say that?” He huffs, hands stuffed into his jacket before approaching you slowly. “All those other times I’ve said it? Everytime I see you or leave you someplace?” He gets dangerously close now, head dipped and lips so close all you had to do was lean forward a few inches to kiss. You’ve never kissed him, not yet. Each time he tried to, you moved so it was your cheek instead. He’s accepted that, never pushed you to do anything you didn’t want to, but now… Now, Kuroo seemed to want something more. When his eyes find your own, you feel like you’re melting under the heat of his gaze. He’s so serious as a hand brushes against your cheek, followed by his lips. He doesn’t kiss you, not without you taking the initiative. Kuroo’s lips land so close to your ear, you feel his hot breath as he says: “You’re wrong, kitten. I love you more than you could ever know.” When he turns away, you’re left in a state of shock for a moment, dumbfounded as he makes more tracks in the light dusting of snow on his way out. Before you can think better of it, you’re chasing him down the sidewalk, yelling his name. As Kuroo turns, his expression goes from amusement to shock as you go careening into his arms. He tumbles backwards with you in his arms, but he could care less as your lips collide. Even though he’s steady on the ground, Kuroo gets the distinct feeling of falling.

You knew Kai wasn’t much of a talker even before you started dating. He was always silent, laughing occasionally, keeping the first years in line. He escapes your eye as the manager for the longest time, simply on the sidelines. So when he asked you out on a date (mostly because of the pushing by Yaku and Kuroo to do so), you had even surprised yourself when saying yes. Now, a few months later, you can’t imagine your life without him. You lounge next to him on the bed, lazily flipping through TV channels. You notice Kai continually looking out the window, as if searching for something. “Something wrong?” You ask, and the Nekoma’s vice captain only shakes his head, a bit of an embarrassed smile playing at the corner of his lips. “Uh, no. Sorry.” You sit up a bit straighter, look at him better. “Kai, what is it? You’ve been acting strange all week. If you want to talk, we can talk.”

You watch your boyfriend as he seems to debate something, before he stands and a mischievous look takes over his features. Your eyebrows raise curiously, and before you can protest, Kai tugs you up and towards the balcony. “Kai, what--?” “Just come!” He insists, and when you’re finally outside in the night air, you can see it. You knew Kai was out in the countryside a bit, but far enough to see the stars in detail? You pause, looking upwards at the different constellations and wishing you could remember at least one to search for. “Do you like it?” He asks, quieter now that he’s brought you outside. He wraps his arms around your middle, head resting on your shoulder. “Yes, it’s great, but… Why’d you do this?” He pauses, breathes out. You see his breath dissipate into fog. “I want to share the place I love with who I love.” he mumbles, pressing a kiss to your collarbone. You laugh, before recognition sets in. “... Love?” “Is that alright?” Kai pulls away a bit, looks at your face for any sign of discomfort. Instead, your cheeks are flushed. Maybe it’s from the winter air, maybe it’s from a growing feeling in your chest. “I love you, too.”

Yaku is so good to you that it almost physically hurt. He had always been a bit of a wildcard-- sweet one moment, yelling the next (never to you, but still). As you step out of the shower, hair dripping and skin damp, you wrap yourself in a towel before heading out to grab your extra clothes. You hadn’t meant to spend the night, but Yaku never seems to mind either way. When you finally make your grand appearance into the kitchen, you spy Yaku there, humming mindlessly as he pours some more pancake batter into the pan. You pause there for a moment, watching as he adjusts and flips it over once it’s brown on one side. The last thing you want to do is scare him, or worse, stop him from humming. You see a cup of hot tea just waiting for you on the kitchen table, so in bare feet, you sneak over. He still doesn’t seem to notice you, and when you look closer, you realize he has earbuds in. Slipping into the chair, you watch him for a few more moments, more curious of his fluid movements than anything. He’s never told his team that he’s a good cook-- in fact, he’s begged you on more than one occasion not to say anything to them. It’s not like they’d make fun of him-- well, maybe they would. Either way, you snap a quick picture. Unfortunately, the flash was on.

Sensing movement behind him, Yaku turns, mouth half open in the middle of his tune. He nearly drops the pan and burns his hand, yelping. “Ow! God… Y/N, warn me next time!” You laugh, much to Yaku’s displeasure. He sighs, but you know he’s not frustrated with you. As you go back to adding honey into your tea, you feel his eyes on you. You wait for the feeling to go away, but it doesn’t. When you finally look up again, Yaku seems to snap out of it and turn back to the pancake, which was clearly burning. “Oh, fuck…” He whines. “I was going to surprise you with breakfast in bed!” “Were you?” You ask, sliding out of your chair to join him at the stove. “Here, let me help.” As you take over for your boyfriend, you feel it again. The constant staring. “Can I help you?” There’s a small smirk on your face, but instead of attacking your neck and collarbone with kisses like he normally would, Yaku only whispers. It’s soft, maybe in the end you aren’t supposed to hear it, but of course you do. “... You love me?” Queue Yaku’s face turning bright red. “I never--!... Yes.” You laugh, turning to kiss him gently. He returns it in earnest, if a bit confused. “Good.” you state, flipping the pancake out with the rest of them. “I love you, too.”

“Tendou keeps telling me that I should be more romantic.” That’s how he greets you as Ushijima walks through the door, carrying a few bags from the convenience store. “What?” You ask, sitting up slightly as your boyfriend drops all the snacks by you. He looks at you blankly for a few moments, as if concerned you hadn’t heard him. “I said that Tendou--,” “Yes, Toshi, I heard you. Why, though? You’re plenty romantic.” You smile, holding up a few of the snacks he’d gotten you. “See? You even got me my favorites.” He shrugs, and you watch as he sits next to you. “Do you want me to be more romantic?” Ushijima looks at you closely then, as if trying to discern something. “I…” You say, cut off by his eyes searching your own. “What’s gotten into you?” You ask, but it’s quiet, unsure. “I want to tell you that I love you.”

You sit up then, clearly shocked. He does as well, nervous he might have insulted you. “Is there something wrong?” You pause, glancing back at him and away. “You love me?” “Yes.” He nods, reaching out to envelope your hand in his own. “Is that bad? Tendou says I should--,” Before he can finish, you’re already kissing him. He kisses you back greedily; he would never admit it to himself, but he loves the taste of your lips. It’s his favorite thing in the world. When you separate, you’re smiling, laughing. “Remind me to pick up some chocolate later.” you say, leaning back against his chest. “What? Why?” He hums. His low tone causes shivers to travel up your spine. “I have to thank Tendou tomorrow.”

You watch over and over again as the other team’s opposite hitter gets shut down. Once, twice, three times, and the game ends, just as fast as it had begun. As Tendou walks off the court, in high spirits as always, he finds you in the stands, surrounded by fans screaming and the drumline. He waves up to you, a smile brighter than anything you’ve ever seen coming across his features. He loves it when he can see you in the crowd, even more so when his jacket can be seen around your shoulders. When you meet him at the gym exit, he’s all smiles for you, picking you up and spinning you around. “Tendou!” You laugh, hands gripping to his shoulders for balance. “Just because you’re taller than me doesn’t mean you have to do that every time.”

“Doesn’t it?” He kisses your lips, hums in approval. “But you always look so good like this.” He sets you down gently, but doesn’t quite let go of you yet, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, holding your lower back. “Like this?” You ask, glancing down at what you’re wearing. It’s not anything special, but whatever it is about your outfit, it’s making Tendou a bit more affectionate than usual. He kisses your jaw, leading up to your lips before you pull away, a blush covering your features. “Tendou, not here. Later.” You mumble, feeling, for the first time, his teammates’ eyes on you. He searches your eyes, wondering if he’s made a wrong move, but when he sees that you’re simply embarrassed, he laughs, turning to the others before loudly proclaiming: “Hey, guys! This is my girlfriend and I love her!” You pull away by the end, half in shock, half happier than you could ever be. “You love me?” “Of course! Wasn’t that obvious?” He pulls you in for another kiss, and you let him, before being interrupted by a deep voice. “Tendou. Coach has said that we have to leave.” Ushijima nods to you before turning to leave with the rest of the team. You watch your boyfriend’s eyebrows raise in slight annoyance, before turning back to you, all smiles. “Shall we?” and then, quietly under his breath, “That man cannot take a hint.”

When the idea of home comes to mind, Kiyoko’s the first person you think of. She places your bento on the counter, and you grab it without looking. You don’t leave without giving her a quick kiss, but she’s already kicking you out the door, insisting that both of you will be late at this point. As she walks beside you, you two don’t talk about anything in particular, but she does tuck herself underneath your arm, humming a tiny song to herself as she goes through a few new papers for the volleyball team. You drop her off at the gym like always, but before you could leave, she calls you back. “Y/N, don’t worry about waiting for me at lunch. I have to do some things for the spring pamphlet, okay? I’ll see you at my house after class.” You nod, not thinking anything of it.

Lunch finally comes around, and while Kiyoko was busy as she promised she would be, you find some old friends to sit with. You carefully unwrap the bento, eyeing the homemade meal inside, but before you could actually eat, a small paper slips onto the floor. You grab it before anyone else could, but what you see makes your face run hot. The girls laugh at you playfully, attempting to grab the paper out of your hand. “Kiyoko leave you something special?” “Can I see?” “Come on, just one look!” They all shout in unison. You know they mean well, and you wave them off easily enough, but you can’t get the dumb grin off your face if you tried. When you meet Kiyoko outside the gym later on, you immediately pull her to you. She’s not as shocked as she should be, but smiles nonetheless. “What?” she asks innocently, but you’re not having any of that. You hold up the sticky note, and Kiyoko’s handwriting, neat and orderly, easily spells out “I love you” with a heart. “This?” You hum, and she laughs, looking up at you before quickly kissing your lips. Public affection is never on Kiyoko’s to-do list. Moments like this are rare, and you savor it for all its worth, kissing her back eagerly. She pulls away, a small smile on her face, pink on her cheeks. “I do love you, you know.” Before you could respond, she’s already taking your hand and leading you away.

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styleswithaseaview · 3 years

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crazy, twisted, divine

Cedric Diggory x ravenclaw!reader

a/n: holy cow this is one of my favorites i’ve written. i present to you, the Bad Boy Piece of Information >:) tadaaaaa! hope you like it, lovelies.

taglist: @cedricsbrowncurls @hoe4cedricdiggory

warnings: SO much teasing, loads of swearing, kissing, implied smut. also this is REALLY LONG so read at ur own risk!!

---

Y/N scribbled down notes on a piece of parchment, eyes flicking back and forth from her textbook to the words on her page. With her quill, she drew out small diagrams of magical plants, constellations, and explanations of charms. She was the only person in the library, working into the long hours of the night. Being Head Girl as well as coordinating Ravenclaw’s prefect duties, no one questioned her midnight whereabouts this early in the semester.

Meanwhile, Cedric paced around the castle, memorizing charms and hexes in his head as he walked. With his N.E.W.T-level exams coming up, now was a better time than ever to start with his studying. Although it was only September, he wanted to be prepared by the time June came around. He wanted to be top of the class. He told himself it was for his dad to be proud of him, but he knew the real reason.

Y/N had received three ‘Outstanding’ O.W.L’s and two ‘Exceeds Expectations’. Cedric had obtained the exact same; Y/N was furious. Her best subject was Charms, and Cedric’s Transfiguration. The two constantly wanted to outdo the other; Head Boy and Head Girl usually weren't as competitive as they were.

Y/N’s parents were absent. They abandoned her as a child, leaving her with her Grandma who often couldn't take care of her. She'd luckily lived near Ottery St. Catchpole, where the Diggorys resided, so Amos and his wife had often taken Y/N in. She spent many nights up in their attic, sleeping over when her grandma had passed out and wouldn't make her supper. She was incredibly grateful for their services, but their son, Cedric, always seemed to be in her way.

Her and Cedric we're friends; they'd known each other since infantry. But there was a front rivalry between them; they both wanted to be top of the class, prefects, and eventually Head Boy and Girl. They achieved all these things throughout the years, but not without struggle. Diggory always seemed to try to outdo Y/N, constantly scheming ways to get an advantage. They constantly mocked each other, annoying the other to wits’ end.

As Y/N studied, she remembered her Prefect duties to do at precisely one a.m. She was to walk the castle grounds and make sure each door is locked as well as no students are out of bed; a nightly routine that threw off her sleep schedule. Now, being Head Girl, she had to do it with the Head Boy; Cedric Diggory. She dreaded it, but also looked forward to pestering the Hufflepuff.

She closed her textbook, slipping her items in her bag and pinning her hair up before leaving the library with a swish of her robes. She walked up the stairs, met by a certain brunette at the landing.

“Diggory,” she said curtly, rolling her eyes at the smirk plastered on his face. “Shall we?” said Y/N, swiveling her lamp and walking down the corridor.

“Where should we start?” Cedric said, falling into step with her.

“Oh, the Ravenclaw tower, perhaps? I'd be damned if you could figure out the riddle, ” she teased, turning to a flight of stairs.

“Oh yeah? But obviously, you can, since you're so clever.” said Cedric sarcastically, sticking out his bottom lip.

“I am, actually, yeah. Thanks for noticing!” Y/N responded with a sardonic smile.

“Prove it.” Cedric challenged, stepping ahead Y/N as they neared the tower door.

“Oh I will, ” Y/N replied as she lifted the golden knocker.

“Imagine you are in a dark room with no exit. How do you get out?” the knocker’s booming voice asked.

Cedric’s faced scrunched as he searched for the answer.

“Easy, ” Y/N said. “Stop imagining.” With that, the door swung open to reveal the common room.

“W- that one was easy. I could've gotten it.” Cedric insisted, pacing around the common room.

“Whatever you need to tell yourself, pretty boy.” Y/N mocked, nodding at the room’s emptiness before swinging her hips as she walked out.

“Shut up, L/N.” Cedric said, closing the door behind him. She laughed dryly. “Fine. If you want to play it that way, let's go to the Hufflepuff common room next.” he huffed, storming down the stairs toward the kitchen with Y/N close behind.

He pulled her into a nook in the right side of the kitchen corridor, waiting expectantly.

“What now, Diggory,” she said, lips pursed.

“If you're so all knowing, how do we get in?”

Y/N glared at him, starting to search around the small space. All she saw was a stack of barrels.

“Don’t fucking ask me, it's not a riddle. You idiots need to be near the kitchens to even function.” she scoffed, staring at the brunette. He laughed.

“Funny one, ” he said, deadpan as he reached down and tapped a barrel in the bottom row to a rythym.

“See now that's dumb. At least Ravenclaw’s requires some thinking, not a weird ass tapping motion.” she said, glaring.

“You're just mad because you didn't know it.” Cedric said before crouching to crawl through a newly opened passage.

“Like you'd know what I'm feeling,” Y/N remarked before crawling in behind him.

Once they saw that the common room was empty, they continued their rounds about the castle. Finally, when they finished, they both parted ways to their respective common rooms.

“Have fun solving your riddle before you can go to sleep, ” Cedric mocked groggily as he ran a hand through his hair.

“Shut it, ” Y/N said.

“Make me.” Cedric scoffed, his expression somewhere between a smirk and a glare.

“Challenging me? You want me to hex you? I'll do it - I'm better at charms than you anyways, ” Y/N remarked, teeth close to bared.

“You wish, L/N.” Cedric remarked before walking away and off to bed. Y/N flipped him off as he walked away.

---

The next day, Saturday, was rather uneventful. Students milled about the castle, playing chess or in Y/N and Cedric’s case, studying. Y/N decided to take a long nap in the day, do that she could study as well as do her prefect duties in the night. Cedric, meanwhile, slept until noon.

“Ready, pretty boy?” Y/N teased as they met in the corridor. There were dark circles under the boy’s grey eyes, and his hair was dishevelled. He had chosen a jumper and jeans rather than robes; Y/N had done the same with a cream button up tied loosely around her and a plaid skirt.

“Readier than you are.” Cedric snapped, earning a dry laugh from the girl beside him.

“Creative. In your dreams, Diggory. Which you apparently didn't have, due to the terrible dark circles under those eyes of yours, ” Y/N responded.

“Oh, shut up, will you?”

“No, thank you.” Y/N smiled sarcastically, a crunching her nose.

They continued to walk down the hall, continuing to check each door as they moved. Suddenly, they came upon a door that Y/N hadn't seen before. It was tall, and upon further inspection, unlocked.

“What do you think is in there?” Y/N whispered, putting her ear to the door.

“Y/N!” Cedric practically yelled. She raised her eyebrows. “I mean- L/N you better not go in there.”

“What? It's our civic duty as a Prefect. We need to check it out, are you dumb?”

“No!”

“Don't lie to me, Diggory,” Y/N ridiculed, pushing open the door. Despite his conscience, Cedric followed with a scoff.

The pair entered the room, which was dusty and empty until further inspection. Y/N suddenly spotted a tall, dusty golden mirror. At the top said ‘ERISED’

“Great! A mirror! Just what I was looking for!” Cedric satirized, a sarcastic grin on his face. He deadpanned, looking at Y/N with a blank expression.

Y/N shook her head, walking over to the mirror and tracing the words that lined the top. She stepped back, looking into it and gasping.

“This isn't just a mirror, Cedric.” she murmured, looking into his eyes.

“First name basis, now?” he scoffed.

“Shut it. Diggory, I've read about this. It's the mirror of Erised. It shows you your deepest, most true desire.” Y/N said with a glare.

Cedric hummed in response, stepping so that his body was square to the mirror. Looking back at his reflection, he saw Y/N’s arm around his waist and head on his shoulder, leaning up to kiss him.

He gulped, a blush spreading across his cheeks.

“What do you see?” Cedric asked, looking away from the mirror.

“Oh, I can't tell you, can I? Or it won't come true, ” Y/N taunted, beginning to walk out the door.

“That's a muggle thing, isn't it,” Cedric said, remembering that Y/N’s grandmother was a muggle and she was raised only partially in a wizarding family.

“Yes, it's for wishes. But that's beside the point. What's life without a little mystery, hm?” She raised an eyebrow before walking out the door.

“Wait, Y/N!” Cedric called, closing the door as he ran after her.

“Ah, first name basis? Later, loser, ” Y/N called before walking up the stairs to the Ravenclaw tower.

Cedric was left stunned. He doubted she saw the same thing he did. She was too calm.

But Y/N had. She'd put up an extra nonchalant facade, worries of if he felt the same flooding her mind. She wished she could deny it, but the mirror was right. She didn't just want to be around him to pester him, although that was fun. She was in love with him. A crazy, twisted, divine version of love.

---

The next day, the pair had potions together. Y/N walked over and sat with her friend, Marietta, and Cedric was across the room with his Hufflepuff mates.

“What’s that smell?” Y/N whispered, furrowing her brow. Marietta shrugged, looking up at Snape.

“Can anyone tell me what the potion in the center of the table is?” Snape’s voice said. Y/N took in a sniff, realization dawning on her. She raised her hand.

“It’s amortentia, sir.” she answered, concern on her face.

“Care to elaborate, Miss L/N?” he said with a grimace.

“The strongest love potion in the world. Its scent mimics what you're attracted to most, sir.” she said, taking in another sniff.

“Care to tell us what you smell?” Snape said, pacing around the room. Y/N got closer to the pot, catching Cedric’s eye from across the room.

“I smell honey, wood, butterbeer, and a warm cologne, sir,” Y/N admitted, blushing, looking down at her feet.

“Interesting, ” Snape said, turning to the next student. What Y/N smelled was unmistakable. Snape went around the room, picking students at random to describe the scent, illustrating how different the smells could be.

“Diggory, care to say?” he said, looking down at the brunette.

Cedric looked contemplative for a second, eyes flicking to Y/N before he spoke.

“I smell vanilla, fresh laundry, and orange blossoms, sir.” Cedric said quietly, face going hot. Y/N looked at him in surprise. She used vanilla shampoo, always had an aroma of clean laundry, and her perfume smelled of orange blossoms and neroli. She blushed furiously, turning away.

“Fuck, ” she muttered under her breath. Marietta looked at her in confusion.

---

“L/N, wait up!” Cedric called after Y/N as she walked down the dungeon corridor. She stopped, turning around. There was an expression on Cedric’s face that was different; it wasn't a snarky smirk, or a glare. His eyes were soft.

“Hi,” she said simply, flashing a taut smile.

“W-what did you smell in your amortentia again?” he asked softly.

“Oh, uh...” Y/N trailed off, fiddling with her hands. “Mainly a woody cologne, honey, and butterbeer, I think,” she mumbled. He looked around, and back to Y/N, grey eyes baring into hers.

He hummed in response, nodding before abruptly walking away, leaving Y/N in the hallway.

---

Throughout lunch, Y/N pondered her amortentia. She sat in the charms classroom with Flitwick, not wanting to bother Marietta.

"Miss L/N, you did excellent on the last quiz," Flitwick told her as she twirled her pasta on her fork. She gazed into the distance, in a trance. "Y/N," he said, waddling over and waving a hand in front of her face.

"Oh! Sorry, what was that?" She jumped.

"Are you alright?" Flitwick asked, looking up at her.

"Yeah, I'm okay. Just confused," she said.

"My best student? Confused? Must be some non-academic struggles," Flitwick said, jumping to get in the chair next to her.

"Correct." Y/N said, staring into the distance.

"I'll leave you to think," Flitwick said. "My guess is it's about love."

Y/N smiled. Suddenly, she heard a small whoosh of paper. A note had been slipped under the door. She got up, bending over to read it.

Meet me at the mirror at midnight.

-C.D.

Y/N looked at the paper in confusion. She assumed he meant the mirror of Erised. But why?

The day dragged on, nothing on Y/N’s mind but the tall brunette behind the note. Finally, when it came to midnight, Y/N looked at herself in the mirror before she left. She took a deep breath, walking out the door with a swish of her robes.

She wandered through the corridors, trying to find the room where they'd seen the mirror. Eventually, she came upon it. The unmistakable dusty door, hinges worn and golden. She opened the door.

“Diggory?” she called, looking around the room. She stepped towards the mirror, looking at her reflection. “Oh, there you are, ” she said, looking to her left side. But as her eyes flicked from his figure in the mirror, she saw nothing but an empty space beside her.

Suddenly, she saw writing appear on the glass of the mirror. Three words formed :

I SEE YOU.

Y/N whipped around, looking for a sign of the brunette. His figure stepped out of the dark, wand in hand as he put it away. He’d charmed it to write on the mirror, she realized.

“A-are you serious?” Y/N asked softly, stepping towards the boy. He nodded, an unreadable expression on his features.

“I smelled you, too. In the amortentia.” he said quietly.

Y/N looked into his eyes, seeing the same softness as she'd seen in the halls.

“Honestly, I don't know how I was so stupid.” Cedric said, turning to face the mirror.

“What?” Y/N said.

“See, I needed this mirror to tell me. I needed to see you holding me, touching me, kissing me. I wouldn't admit to myself until I saw it, I wouldn't admit to anyone-” he paused. “That I'm in love with you. Every year, I look forward to seeing you. I kept telling myself it's just so I can pester you. But it's not, Y/N. It's love. A crazy, twisted, divine version of love that hides behind a facade of competition.” he finished, looking at Y/N’s face in the mirror.

“Well, fuck.” Y/N said softly. Cedric chuckled. “I see you. And I smell you. And I love you, Cedric Diggory. Even if I annoy your ass off, and constantly try to one-up you. For fucks sake, I think a part of me wants to beat you because I want to impress you. Make you like me.” Y/N said, walking over to the boy.

He was silent, looking into the mirror with a mix of love and lust in his grey eyes.

“So, what exactly did you see?” Y/N said. “Did I do...” she trailed off, putting her arm around his waist and looking into his eyes. She put a hand on his cheek, kissing him softly. “...that?” She whispered into his ear. He leaned down and swiveled her waist, hands on the small of her back. He kissed her, harder, so passionate that neither could bear to break away.

“You did, ” he admitted as they finally pulled away. “And you smelled like that, too.” he added, voice quiet into her ear.

“What do you say, Diggory? Want to show me how to get in the Hufflepuff common room again?” Y/N said, as he kissed her neck.

“Gladly, ” was all the boy could utter before picking Y/N up and carrying her to his dorm.

#cedric diggory #cedric diggory x reader #cedric diggory fic #cedric diggory imagine #cedric diggory imagines

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prinxlyart · 4 years

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Could I ask for some more of the wonderful fluff that is Wilumity domestic headcannons? Or, possibly if you have any, some Camileda headcannons?

*GASPS*

ALWAYS ALWAYS ALWAYS

Willumity:

Willow is the early-riser. She’s developed a habit of waking up early to check on her plants and do her workouts. Luz and Amity have no idea how she does this every single day (they often complain because she’s also a huge source of warmth and how dare she leave their little warmth cocoon).

Amity has Routines™️ that cannot be disrupted or she will freak out. It’s an autism thing for sure, but it’s also something Luz gets. Because Willow gets up so early they tend to have their own little morning routine together; stay in bed and cuddle for maybe another half hour or so (depending on how early Willow wakes up), then they get up and do their bathroom routines. I think.....Luz is the type to do night time showers due to having such short hair, so Amity showers while Luz brushes her teeth and washes her face. Luz is usually dressed by the time Amity gets out of the shower and she gives her a quick kiss on the cheek to let her know she’s headed to the kitchen to get coffee/breakfast started. There have been a couple times Luz has forgotten to give her her after-shower kiss and Amity was so thrown off that by the time she made it out to the kitchen, her eyes were red from crying because A) Did Luz not love her anymore??????????? (incorrect, but their routine had been broken) and B) Trying to continue with your routine with a step actively missing is hell and she’s been upset ever since. Luz has usually just been too tired to remember and will immediately cover Amity in kisses to make up for it (after they go through whatever process they need to to help Amity calm down). Amity hates that she gets so upset over something so small, but Luz reassures her that her routines are important to Amity and it’s okay to be upset when those routines are disrupted. Whenever Willow catches them like this after her workouts, she requests a kiss from each of her girls on either cheek before she goes into the shower herself (usually to lighten the mood because it always makes Amity happy when Willow mimics Amity’s routine habits [it always works]).

Surprisingly, Luz is the one that does the grocery shopping. Willow knows what fruits and veggies they can grow to add into meals and how to prep food for the plants that actually eat, but she’s not especially well-versed in like. Meals. Amity has like 3 meals she knows how to make properly because they’re her favorites. Luz, with her mom’s recipes in her arsenal along with whatever wild dishes Eda’s made for her over the years while she lived in the Owl House, has the largest repertoire of Human/Witch meals under her belt. Plus, she always ends up getting little treats for her wives while she’s at the market that they adore. (Luz both loves and hates when her girls ask to go with her to help; she loves spending time with them, but she hates that they don’t know Luz’s system. She’s got a pattern that she follows and they’re just all over the place whenever they come with her.)

Every Saturday night is Date Night and one person is assigned with coming up with what they do that night. They take turns every week; Willow enjoys quiet nights in at home with them, romantic dinners with candle light and soft music while they chat about their day // Amity enjoys taking them out for romantic picnics if the weather allows, they have a few Favorite Spots they picnic at, but sometimes they just climb up on the roof. Luz always asks them to tell her about the Demon Realms constellations and their history because she loves hearing them talk. // Luz enjoys taking them to the Human Realm to visit some of her favorite restaurants and walk around a local park and watch the stars afterwards. She’ll tell them about all of the constellations she can remember (Percy Jackson phase anyone? Yeah, we all knew those shits names and constellations when we were in it, huh?). She’ll tell them her favorite stories behind each kind of constellation and tell them which ones remind her of her girls.

I 100% do not know what kind of jobs these girls would have as adults. I mean, Willow more than likely has a public garden she maintains, but I have no idea with Luz and Amity. I’ve seen a lot of headcanons in fics and art about Luz going into politics after defeating Belos but like. Luz? Luz Noceda? In Politics???????? Even in the Demon Realm I highly doubt that would happen. I think she might want to continue researching magic and how she’d be able to find glyphs for specific kinds of magic, creating new magic, etc. She might write books? Both fiction and non-fiction. I think she writes some memoirs about her life before coming to the Boiling Isles and before defeating Belos, but she’s been wanting to be a fiction writer since she was 7 years old. She’s got her own fiction series for sure. Amity might get into politics but I also doubt that. She might just be the editor and publisher for Luz’s books. Or she might work at the Library. I really don’t know. But Luz Noceda, ADHD extraordinaire, going into politics? I’d sooner expect that of Willow. And she’s already got her girls and her gardens.

They’ve got a Wednesday night book club. But it’s just them in their living room reading their own separate books after dinner until they get tired. They’ll all cuddle up together either on the couch or the floor or in bed or wherever and just sit and read in comfortable silence. Often times one of them will start absentmindedly start running their fingers through one of their partner’s hair and cause that partner to fall asleep. It is not uncommon for them to wake up in the same spot they were in for their book club with their books laying about and cramps in their necks. It’s one of their favorite things they do together.

Camileda:

Camila likes to sneak pictures of Eda in the morning cuz she thinks she looks especially cute when she’s not fully conscious yet.

Camila has no idea what the fuck is up with Eda’s hair. She’s tried asking both Luz and even Lilith but neither were able to give her an answer. They both only have theories. Eda always spouts some new ridiculous thing whenever anyone asks (she actually has a small, contained black hole at the back of her head that she uses to just store random shit // she cast an enchantment on her hair years ago to be able to use it like a Bag of Holding so she didn’t actually ever have to carry a bag // she was just born with hair that can hold seemingly anything and has never questioned it // etc.), so one day Camila just asks her. Eda tells her the truth; she doesn’t know either.

Regardless of the fucking enigma that is Eda’s hair, she still enjoys helping her wash and maintain it. Eda refuses to admit in the few first months they start dating, but she adores when Camila plays with her hair. Her hair is an integral part of who she is and it’s shockingly more intimate to her than anyone would guess when the allows others to touch her hair. She loves listening to Camila talk about her day while she braids tiny details into her hair. One day, Camila was so angry about something that had happened at work that she ended up braiding some super intricate flower designs into Eda’s hair and actually used all of it. Lilith and Luz are both in shock and awe that Camila was able to tame Eda’s mane into something so gorgeous and Eda maybe didn’t take out the broads for a few days afterwards because she loved it so much.

They love learning about each other?? Their lives up to this point have been so culturally different that all of their stories have an air of magical mystery to them that the other is always dazzled by. Eda loves learning about how Camila grew up and how she decided to become a healer (a ‘nurse’ she insists but Eda doesn’t really know the difference). Camila loves listening to Eda’s many tales of mischief of her school days and after her school days; although she does get worried when Eda mentions that she’s been to jail (Eda insists that it was only for a little bit before she figured out how to bust out! And she made off with some extra cash to boot, so it was a double victory).

It’s one thing to hear about Luz’s accomplishments from her own daughter and from Eda; it’s another to hear them coming from her teachers. Camila goes with Eda to a Parent-Teacher conference at Hexside ready to hear about how much trouble she gets into and how she needs to sign off on different kinds of detention slips and reports of damage and whatever, but is pleasantly surprised to see all of the teachers actually praising her? Some are ecstatic about her presence in heir class? They’d all been taught that humans had no magical ability at all and Luz had come into their classrooms and proved them all wrong and even helped them understand some of the nuances of their own subjects they’d struggled with on their own. By the time the conference is over, (including an incredible review from Principal Bump that left even Eda feeling moved) Camila was clutching o Eda’s arms as they left the school and crying in happiness. Her daughter was doing so well in school. All of her teachers loved her! They didn’t have any complaints about her inattention or disruptive behavior because they knew she was learning her own way. And Eda had fought for Luz’s ability to attend the first school that made Luz actually feel good about herself. Let’s just say there were a lot of heartfelt kisses that night when they got home.

I personally like to think that Camila likes to dance. Like, profesional-levels of dance. Like she maybe minored in dance in college before buckling down on her medical degree. I like to think that sometimes Eda will find her humming along to some song playing from her phone and dancing an entire routine in tiny movements while she goes about doing whatever else. Sometimes Camila will just drop into a fucking perfect split while she’s trying to reach for something that rolled under a table or whatever that catches Eda so off guard that she has to leave the room to collect herself. (It’s Camila’s love for dance that made Luz want to try cheerleading at her human school. Her school didn’t have a formal dance team, so cheerleading was the next best thing. It’s also how Luz knows how to drop into a perfect split when she first tries on that Hexside uniform despite not ever attempting it before.)

Eda’s never had any formal dance training; she’s a head-banger kinda girl. During some of her earlier escapades into the human realm, she’d sneak into many concerts and blended in perfectly with the other attendees in the mosh pit. She loves when Camila tries to teach her some more formal dances that aren’t just a free-for-all. Eda does her best to learn how Merengue works but she often gets confused as to what point she’s supposed to lean or step or spin and she usually ends up dizzy with Camila giggling at her. Camila always helps her come out of her dizziness with little kisses pressed to Eda’s temples; Camila adores that Eda tries so hard.

They love teasing each other. That’s the whole headcanon. Nah, for real tho, they love trying to get under each other’s skin with little teasing remarks and eyebrow waggles and sticking their tongues out at each other when no one else is looking like they’re little kids. It’s one of the easiest ways to get the other to laugh and they love each other’s laughs. Eda brings out Camila’s deeply-buried immature goofball personality that she’s had to push down for years just due to the nature of her studies and work, as well as being a single mom. You don’t have a lot of space to be an immature goof when you’re responsible for a whole other human being. Eda helps coax that back out of her. (Luz can’t remember ever seeing her mom so happy as she is when she’s goofing off with Eda.)

Camila’s constantly poking at Eda’s elbows and hip bones and shoulders and muttering about how bony she is; Eda replies in kind by digging her elbows into Camila’s gut or directly into her face and hip-checking her.

In a similar vein, Eda adores Camila’s curves, and not even just in a sexy way. She just loves how soft and squishy Camila is because hugging her is so comfortable; Eda swears she could fall asleep standing up if she’s hugging Camila. She also swears by this because she knows that under all that squish is some serious muscle and Camila wouldn’t let her fall.

Not really a Camileda headcanon so much as it’s just a headcanon: Camila and Lilith have the same eyeglasses prescription. It’s bizarre, that doesn’t happen really, but somehow they have the exact same prescription. This is discovered one afternoon when Camila and Lilith both arrive at the Owl house at the same time. Camila removes her glasses and sets them on the coffee table to just relax for a while while she and Lilith make small talk (Long after Camila’s reluctant acceptance of her). Lilith goes picks out a book to read and sits on the other couch to settle in while Camila takes a cat nap and she just picks up Camila’s glasses out of years of habit of picking up her own glasses. She doesn’t even notice they’re not her glasses until Eda and Luz come home and ask why in the hell Lilith is wearing Camila’s glasses. Lilith is confused but takes off the glasses and blushes because for Titan’s sake, those aren’t her glasses, those are her sister’s girlfriend’s glasses!!!!!!! She sputters out her explanation while Eda laughs at her and Camila wakes up. They end up actually properly testing it out by swapping glasses and yup; exact same prescription. They end up accidentally hoarding stockpiling spare glasses all around the Owl House for either of them to grab when they need glasses.

Please always ask for Willumity and Camileda, those are the keys to my heart 💖💕💝✨💘💞✨💖💖💘💕💝💞

#prinxly inquiries #anonymous #the owl house #toh headcanons #willumity #camileda #luz noceda #amity blight #willow park #edalyn clawthorne #camila noceda #I refuse to talk about Lumity anymore it’s Willumity or NOTHING #please always ask me about Camileda though I fucking live for Camileda

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irish-urn · 3 years

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were you dazzled by the same constellation

Immediately after “Kole”. Gosh, the Northern Lights sure do look pretty tonight, don’t they, lovebirds? Day 2 of robstar week 2021; prompt “shimmer/shine”

A03 LINK

Or, if you’d rather read it here:

His breath is escaping in long, white plumes of air that fade roughly a foot away from his mouth. Above him, the sky shimmers in a ribbon of multicoloured pastels and otherworldly glamour; behind him, he can hear Beast Boy grumbling to Raven about the cold (something he’s been doing for the past two weeks as they travel across the northern hemisphere), and Cyborg banging pieces of metal as he improvises an enclosure for Dr. Light. At his eight o’clock, Dr. Light whines from where he’s confined by Raven’s powers; and then, at his three o’clock, a warm hand slips into his right one.

These black, winter gloves are thicker than his usual green ones, but he’s unfortunately accustomed to holding hands with Starfire with a barrier between them. It almost makes him want to redesign his costume without gloves.

(Almost. His purely human hands are, for lack of a better word, fragile, and hero-ing is a rough and tumble career choice that isn’t exactly easy on the skin. He needs as much armour as he can get.)

“You seem thoughtful,” she says, her voice quiet in the way they’ve learned to speak when they want privacy in a public setting. “You are contemplating our new friends?”

“Nah, nothing like that.” He gives her hand a quick squeeze and then tugs it gently towards him, a silent request. She answers, taking another couple of steps until their shoulders are pressed against each other and their hands a tangle of fingers. “I was just enjoying the lightshow actually.”

He feels more than sees her lift her face up to the sky; her hair brushes his cheek, and it tickles a bit, making him smile. “It is most lovely. I was not expecting Earth to have such a phenomenon.”

He glances over at that, taking in the beauty of her face. In the eighteen months they’ve known each other, he’s looked at her face almost every day, and it still makes his heart twist in his chest. “You’ve seen sights like this before? On other planets?”

She nods, a faint smile on her lips. “Yes. Only a couple times, however. I… I have not had the opportunity to travel the universe as much as other Tamaranians, and so my knowledge is limited.”

Robin’s lips quirk before he looks back at the Northern Lights. “And now you’re stuck with a team of people who don’t travel well in space.”

“I do not feel stuck. I feel privileged.” She pauses, and he can feel on her gaze on him. “You are most fascinated by them.”

He hums. It’s true, in a way. He raises their entwined hands until they rest on his chest, holding them there for a few seconds before he drops her hand, realizing that: “Sorry, I didn’t mean…”

She wraps her arm around his right one, pressing even closer to him and leaning over, resting her head against his, her cheek tight to his temple. “What are you thinking of, Robin?” she asks, voice still soft.

He exhales long and slow, watching the white air stream before him. “My mom, actually. And my dad.”

Her body suddenly goes tense against his, a stilling of uncertainty. “Oh. You… do not speak of them.”

“They died a long time ago,” Robin admits, somehow comforted by the strange lights above them, the mumbles and grumbles of their friends behind them, and the warmth of Starfire beside him. “But I still think about them. Still miss them.”

“I understand. My mother… and my brother.” Robin turns his head as much as he can without disturbing their position; he hadn’t known she’d had a brother. Starfire is staring up at the sky, but he cannot read her expression when they stand like this. “I do not even know if he is alive.”

He doesn’t say anything; he knows the words won’t mean anything. Instead, he reaches out for her hand again, and squeezes it tight, hoping his sympathy comes through. When she exhales, relaxing against him, he says, looking back at the sky, “They liked to stargaze.”

“Pardon?”

He smiles. “My parents. They liked to stargaze. We, uh. We had this hammock that we’d set up in every new town — well, as long as it wasn’t too cold out — and sometimes Mom and I’d watch, and sometimes I’d look by myself, and sometimes, if I woke up in the middle of the night, I’d see them sharing the hammock together.” And suddenly he can see them as well as his memory will allow: faces faded from the years passed, and foggy in the way remembrance is sometimes. But he can see the shadowed form of his father with his arms wrapped around his mother’s petite form, both reclining on a patchwork hammock, heads tilted up towards the sky.

He swallows against the swelling of his heart in his throat. “I don’t know if it was something they shared, or if one of them loved it and the other indulged them… I mean, I remember them loving each other a lot, so it wouldn’t surprise me if that happened, but… It was something we did together, looking at the stars. Mom knew all the constellations. And Dad always knew when some event was happening…” And as he’s telling her this, he’s remembering: “Once, he convinced Mr. Haly to let us all stay an extra day for a meteor shower. We ended up having this huge potluck and everyone stayed up late to watch it…”

He blinks a couple of times; his eyes feel hot and his chest aches and he may be squeezing Starfire’s hand too tightly, but he can’t seem to let go. “I think… I mean, they must have wanted to see the Northern Lights. And here I am, watching Earth’s most amazing lightshow, and they’re…” And he waves his left hand in front of him, hoping to somehow convey, Where do people go when they die? Are they here? Are they out there?

“Perhaps…” Her voice is still soft, and hesitant in a way that he hates to hear because it means she’s unsure and she’s so amazing she should never be insecure. “Perhaps it is enough for them, to know that you have the chance to see this.”

“Maybe,” he allows, relaxing his grip on her hand. He turns his head just enough to press back against her. “And maybe it’s enough to enjoy them with my new family.”

Her head lifts off of his just long enough for her to place a long, precise kiss on his cheek. He feels his face heat as she settles her head back against his, her hand squeezing his just once. He waits a moment for some explanation, and then, when none is given, he asks, “Not that I’m complaining, but what was that for?”

“You are very sweet.” He can hear the smile in her voice. “That is all.”

“Yo!” Cyborg’s voice booms out from behind them, causing them to both jolt, separating everywhere except their still tangled arms and hands. Robin turns to see Cyborg staring at them, not really scowling but not happy either. “If you two lovebirds are done cuddling, I could use a hand.”

Robin chooses not to address the lovebird comment. “Which one of us do you need, Cy?”

“I need your advice and Starfire’s hands.” He waves a hand as he turns back to the T-Ship. “C’mon.”

Robin sighs but starts walking down the small incline they’d been standing on. Starfire follows, as she must because they do not stop to untangle their grip on each other. When they reach the same level as Cyborg, Robin glances over to see Dr. Light gaping at their interlocked limbs. Robin scowls at him, because there’s nothing else to do about it, and then leads Starfire to the T-Ship.

There’ll be more nights to stargaze.

#robstar #robstarweek #urn writes

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straw-of-the-hat · 4 years

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A Lillian x Katsuki soulmate au???? I'm sorry but soulmate au's are a hole i have fallen far into.

Lillian x Katsuki: soulmate edition

(Not edited! Expect typos!!!!)

These headcanons belong to this fic.

-Soulmates are rare. So terribly rare, in fact, that few still believe they exist. They're more of a legend these days— a myth, if you will. Despite this, everyone seems to know what they are. And deep down, everyone wants one.

-Katsuki's parents aren't soulmates. His grandparents aren't either. His aunt and uncle aren't soulmates in the least. In fact, they'd gotten a divorce last June and has left one another on rather nasty terms last he heard.

-His mom used to tell him stories. Stories about meeting your fated other and becoming so indescribably complete that you'd wonder how you even functioned before. It was the few times his mother would go from loud and rambunctious to serene and soft. Her change in demeanor was how he knew, growing up, that she was telling the truth..

-Of course, he wouldn't tell anyone he thought they were true. Or that he daydreamed about finding one.

-Katsuki felt he was missing something. It made him mad that it wasn't there. Something in him was empty and gnawing. He wasn't sure why. He had a powerful quirk and was praised by those around him for such. He made good grades. He even had a couple extras to follow him around.

-A soulmate was what he was missing, he deduced for what had to be the millionth time. Not that he'd tell anyone.

-Becoming the number one hero was his chance. The only way he'd ever hunt them down! He'd be known worldwide, and somewhere, someday, they'd know.

-That, and he'd be the strongest hero ever. Which was just the sprinkles on top really.

-He joined UA, angry and not willing to make friends. He noticed someone rather quick. He had never dated or really had his eye on anyone. If he was going to be with anyone, it would be his soulmate.

-So why on God's green motherfucking earth did Lillian Faust draw his attention?

-He didn't know. He had no idea! He tried to talk to her, but she was honestly pathetic. Short, scrawny, shy. He dwelled on her constantly. Constantly! He'd stare at her, doodle her in his notebook absentmindedly, try to count the freckles on her face and arms. It was just this constant nagging feeling that drove him nuts.

-He decided she was an extra. An irritating one.

-She kicked ass at the USJ shortly thereafter. He rescended his decision that she was a nobody.

-There was something up with Lillian. Lillian, who'd stopped using her last name. She walked home with friends, so he didn't get the chance to confront her anymore. The blonde one would bark at him. Literally. Like a dog. Fucking pathetic.

-Things were hard after that. Lillian, Lillian, Lillian. His parents started to ask what the fuck was wrong. Why was he so quiet? Did he need help? Was he depressed? Why was his search history all UA's digital yearbook? Was he looking at his student photo?

-He was looking at Lillian's, actually. Like he'd tell them that.

-Strangely enough, he wasn't embarrassed about this... Whatever this was. He didn't being it up because he's get teased, but it didn't bother him like it should've. He was irritated and confused because he couldn't figure this out, but not... Not annoyed with her, or disgusted.

-He thought long and hard. He was shit with feelings. Complete, utter shit. He went over the facts one at a time.

-Lillian was strong. With her quirk, she could stop him in his tracks. There was no a way to stop someone who could blink and freeze you in place without you even knowing she'd done it until after the fact. This should've angered him, but it didn't. It made him... Want to laugh.

-She had long black hair and was covered in freckles. Her hair was always messy and he found it endearing. He wanted to count and trace her freckles. There were so many, and he could almost map out constellations with them the more he looked.

-Katsuki's favorite color had been red his whole life. Lillian's eyes were aqua blue. Subsequently enough, his favorite color had switched to that exact shade of blue shortly after he joined UA. Odd. Probably not a coincidence, he begrudgingly admitted.

-He would not mind hugging her. He sort of wanted to. The more he thought about it, the more okay it seemed. That wouldn't be that odd if he hasn't blown up Kaminari yesterday after he'd accidentally brushed shoulders with him.

-A bit of google searching had him at a simple yet horrifying conclusion. This was, without a doubt, a crush.

-They next few days had his head spinning. He'd never had a crush before, so why now? Where had he gone wrong? What had triggered it? Could he make it go away?

-He practically drilled holes in her head in the days leading up to the sports festival. He may as well have been drooling. He deduced that his crush was going nowhere.

-He almost ran into her in the hall just before the festival, in fact. She was dressed in shorts and a shirt that said "Team Eraserhead" on it, and had her hair up in a ponytail that was falling apart. She was sweaty and breathless, and clearly in some sort of pain, but she... Well, she smiled.

-He was gone. Done for, really. Something was amiss, and he didn't know how to make it stop. Lillian has hooked him, and boy was he sinking right now. What was going on?

-She won the race with her two friends in the first round, and one piece clicked into place. Nothing enough to give him any sort of full picture, but it was... something. Something deeper than a crush.

-She dominated in the second round with ease and surprising confidence. He felt annoyed watching her laugh with Shoto Todoroki. Jealous, even. Another piece clicked.

-She asked him to join some sort of fucking protection squad. She was kind and genuine. He couldn't say no. It was another piece.

-Talking to her made him less angry. He felt calm and more like himself than he had... well, ever really. He was collected, and just... happy. He could laugh, and smile, and roll his eyes in a teasing way. This was another piece. One to a nearly full picture. One he could almost make out.

-The last piece fell into place during the final portion of the sports festival. Before it started, they had all the contestants come out and shake hands with one another. It was sort of a show of good faith. One he didn't want to participate in.

-But then it was time to shake Lillian's hand. And the stadium's roar fell on deaf ears, and everyone else ceased to exist. The cameras zoomed in on them, and Present Mic made some witty remark about opposites colliding. But Katsuki couldn't look away from Lillian, and neither could she.

-Their hands collided. And everything seemed to change in an instant.

-Her hand was small and warm in his, and it sent a shockwave rippling out. It was powerful and physical. Not something he'd imagined based on how silent the stadium got. His world brightened, and he couldn't believe how full it'd been before. Lillian's eyes were so much... Fuller than he'd realized. Full of blues he hadn't realized existed.

-There was silence. He didn't let go. She didn't either. They just stood there in the eerie silence, staring at one another in shock. And Bakugo realized he didn't feel so empty anymore.

-He told her in a quiet voice that carried through the entire stadium that she was his soulmate. That she was what had been missing.

-Her brilliant smile and the roar of the crowd told him he wasn't wrong.

-Scientists contact them and want to study their bond, but they refuse.

-Being apart makes Katsuki antsy. It doesn't feel right when she's not there.

-Aizawa despises him

-So does Mic but in a more passive aggressive manner.

-Lillian can feel Katsuki very vividly and knows when he's in any sort of emotional turmoil.

-Hitoshi and Neito are very, very weary of him and he's constantly under a microscope when they're around. Of course he doesn't give a shit

-The world now knows there's soulmates. Everyone in that stadium felt that wave, and the camera literally picked it up. There's a new frenzy of people trying to find their other half

-A few actually do. But only a few.

-Mitsuki and Masaru don't believe it. When their son comes home, he's just as rude as he's always been.

-But then Lillian shows up, cleaned up after the festival. And she wraps their son in a hug, and Katsuki is smiling and laughing in a way they've never seen

-They love Lillian for giving him that

-Katsuki can feel Lillian's nerves and knows how to calm them

-The class is hyper-aware of everything they do. Every glance Katsuki throws her is met with a wolf whistle and every whisper exchanged us observed with curious eyes

-Lillian and Katsuki learn not to mind

-They fit together so naturally. Lillian couldn't even imagine being anxious around him, and she doesn't know why. She's just... not.

-When they first kiss it feels natural and a lot like coming home

-They're a fairly private and subtle couple. 1-A almost doesn't think they're together until the dorms come into play.

-It's the way Lillian throws her legs over Katsuki's when they're sitting on the couch, and the manner in which Bakugo puts an arm over her shoulders and leans into her to look at something on her phone that tells them.

-He's softer with her. Still himself, but kinder in a way. It's so... Normal. It makes sense without making any at all at the exact same time. The way they talk to each other is simply how it's meant to be, they guess

-They're pitted against each other in hero training one day by drawing lots. It's completely by chance, and supposed to be just simple hand to hand combat

-They just stand there and stare at one another. And when Aizawa asks what the hold up is, they just blink. They simply... don't. They can't. It's not possible. It makes zero sense in their minds. The idea couldn't even occur to them, even for training purposes.

-So, they're not put against one another anymore. They find it's for the best.

-Anytime one of them is hurt, the other had a very obvious reaction. Lillian falls and scrapes up her knee quite nastily, and Katsuki is already turning around with wide eyes. He looks like he's seem a ghost. The same thing happens to Lillian, whether the injury is big or small.

-They're practicing working in teams and get paired together. All Might and Aizawa have never once in their lives seen a more efficient team. Their quirks are stronger and more durable when they're together, they realize.

-Katsuki tells Lillian he loves her. It's stated in a very matter-of-fact way, as though it's obvious.

-And it is. Lillian loves him too. She tells him as such.

-Overall, they're just two peas in a pod. And everything just... Fits.

#fanfic #bnha #mha #my hero academia #bnha bakugou #katsuki bakugo #bnha oc #soulmate #soulmate au #bnha fanfiction #bnha bakugo katsuki

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georgemackayhey · 4 years

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Like Real People Do

“Hii can you do an imagine, "Your first time with George" maybe as an insecure/uneasy reader"

"Can you pleeaaassse write more nsfw stuff? More Than A Night Out gave me my rights"

Alright yall, heed the 18+ warning!

Seriously, I really don't want to block anyone (I love yall!) On that note... I wouldn't say this theme is my strong suit, nor have I been in a good headspace, but boy did I try my best ♡

w/c: 3k

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You didn't date.

You called off meeting up with strangers in bars and listening to them tell half-assed life stories, embellishing in hopes they'd get to have their way with you in the same evening.

You were happy to mingle among friends on weekends and at parties, but going home alone felt safe. Keeping to yourself was the best bet, having learned your lesson by now. You recalled more unpleasant domestic experiences than ones that left you daydreaming of more. So you simply stayed single.

Some of your friends didn't regard your limits, tricking you into double dates and the like. Other friends understood but still gushed over their brothers and cousins in hopes you'd be intrigued by their qualities and demand to be introduced with wedding rings on standby.

And then there were the friends who never asked or bothered you about it at all. George was one of those friends.

He was your ride to your friend groups monthly movie theater meet up's. And he always let you take home his leftovers after dinners he wasted chatting with your mutual friends about books and culture.

In turn, you let George borrow your favorite albums. And you'd always saved him a seat in the back of bars you had to show up to for friend's birthday parties, while they threw themselves between strangers on the dance floor. Times like then were when you got to know George best.

And during the last month of summer, George invited everyone to take over a beach house big enough for your ever-expanding group and more. Apparently some of his distant family owned the property but were hardly ever in the area to enjoy it. So they gave George a spare key, and insisted he treated the place like his own.

And thankfully, then, between your friends racing to the shore in the witching hour, and when everyone split up into pairs for the evening, George kept you company. You made a habit of joining each other on the rickety front porch, sharing a drink, and usually sitting in silence.

But there were nights you talked about the constellations you could see above the roaring ocean. And where you'd like to live if you had an unlimited budget. Where you'd come from and what you wanted, and didn't.

You went home to the most dreary September of all time. You used to adore the solitude of your dull apartment. But you missed waking up to your friend's laughter, having someone, if not many more, to enjoy market runs and mealtimes with. You had never felt more lonely. And you couldn't stop thinking of George.

When he came round to give you a lift to the movie theater, your usual ride together was quiet. The silence between you was heavy- you wondered if he noticed. You sat together in a boring film. Or maybe it was the best of all time. You could only focus on how close George was to you, how you'd recognized the feeling of his company. You wondered how to ask him to come around more often, without sounding pathetically desperate.

Luckily birthday parties and Halloween bashes kept coming. And you kept finding quiet places to listen to George tell his stories. And he would always share his drink, and ask about your family, and how you were doing.

One night when he invited everyone around to his flat and only a couple of your friends managed to show up, they headed out soon after dinner. You were left alone in George's kitchen to help clean up and wonder what to do with the rest of the early blue evening.

And even though your heart beat in your throat, and everything you thought to say sounded stupid in your head, you determined it was time.

During a much too easy card game at Georges table, when a conversation about some of the horrifically silly things George had witnessed you manage in the past; you decided to stop testing the waters, and address them.

"I can't believe you put up with me." You grinned, peering past your hand of playing cards to the guy sat beside you.

"I just like you," George answered simply, his ocean eye flickering up to meet yours for a beat.

"Really?" You asked, pushing for him to say more, hoping he got the hint.

"I really do." George grinned shyly, turning his attention back to his hand of playing cards he kept accidentally giving you glimpses of. You watched George bite his lip and fiddle with the cards as if he were arranging them just so.

"What if... I like you too?" It wasn't just his tousled yellow hair, or the way his smile was warmer than a ray of sun. It was his lame jokes. His soft answers. Him.

"You don't date." George rose a brow, keeping his eyes turned away. He wasn't bittered or mocking. He was accepting. George laid down his cards, to a game you weren't focused on at all anymore.

"I like you, George." You admit in a hush. His stunning eyes met yours. He seemed to consider your words, and much more. He started to speak a couple of times as he searched your features.

"So maybe... we can start slow..." You offered. You had never planned on opening up to anyone. But George had stuck around. He was always there when you needed him even when you hadn't known what you needed. He didn't make fun of your unreasonable anxieties and he always laughed at your jokes. Even the ones you knew weren't funny. You hadn't expected to ever let anyone close enough, you hadn't trusted anyone could feel like home. But before you could even decide, it was as if your heart grew a mind of its own and lept right out of your chest into George's orbit. So since he already seemed to have you, it seemed like common courtesy to at least let the guy know.

With a shy smile, George bore his brilliant blue eyes into yours, searching them for assurance. As you looked to each other you felt his knuckles brush yours, the back of his hand nervously creeping closer. George took one of his fingers and looped it around one of yours while he agreed that it would be silly for two people who felt the same way about each other to do nothing about it. So you did.

George started coming around when there wasn't any reason to, sometimes bringing take away, or asking you on walks around the park. Sometimes you'd sit in silence next to your favorite old tree and enjoy that last purple swirls in the dusk sky. And sometimes you'd watch films, one after another, pausing only to argue over the ending or make silly predictions. And times like then, you curled into George's side like a sleepy cat. He'd carded his warm hand through your hair as you drifted off, content.

You got snowed into his flat when you showed up a few hours before the first-holiday party of the season; to help bake treats for everyone. As ice froze everyone's doors shut, the party was swiftly canceled but your plans for the evening weren't ruined at all.

George set up his den with extra blankets, finding the holiday channel on the telly, standing to refill your cup of tea during commercials so you didn't have to move. He kissed you that night, soft and kind, and slow. You both fell asleep on the floor among the mess of all the blankets he owned, while snow piled up and over the window sills.

You spent New Year's Eve much like the past couple before, watching your wild group of pals take shots and dance to bad music. George listened to you talk as you waited for the new year to set in, and he kept one of his fingers looped around yours almost all night long.

When the snow started to melt and your group of friends started squeezing into their cut off jeans from the year before, George invited everyone back to the beach house. He set a date and sent out invitations in the mail like it was the damn 1800's. Most every rsvp got sent back with the box labeled "going "grossly marked up.

George offered to give you a lift there, a day early so he could stock up on emergency snacks and soaps and even more DVDs in case the rains came and ruined your fun on the shore. You agreed happily and walked through the isles of a department store together, picking out essentials based on how well you knew your group of friends who might need them.

And while you laughed and helped and listened, you grew increasingly more fucking terrified. Because you'd never spent so long enjoying one person's company. You were enamored with George yes, but what's more, was- you trusted him. You never thought it was possible. But you really did. And the thing that you were most scared of, was having to accept the possibility that he didn't feel the same way.

Things like this had gone wrong before. Granted, things had never gone remotely close to this right before, either. But you still prepared yourself to hurt. It was always a possibility you were too afraid of risking. But George was different. You somehow knew even if he hurt you, it would be the loveliest heartbreak you'd ever feel.

You got to the beach house, completely abandoned since the last time you left it. You found your someone's favorite lost t-shirt in one of the bathrooms, and a lot of dust on the shelves. After clearing away some of the cobwebs and unloading all your groceries to their respective places, night began to fall.

The sky was still blue enough to admire the roaring ocean from the front porch. George brought out a couple of drinks, and you sat there together like you had the summer before. Only now, it was a little too chilly. So you said goodnight to the scenery, making a note of spending extra time to soak up its beauty the next morning.

And on your way inside you joked about how someone was bound to forget to pack something they needed, or bring one of the things George asked them to. You were wrapped up in laughter as you turned out the lights and drifted to settle in.

When you headed to the bedroom where all your bags had been discarded, you scurried off to the ensuite shower. This was the room George stayed in last year, a space you'd never stepped foot near until tonight.

And when you stepped back out into the bedroom, you realized you didn't want to leave.

George was busy turning down his bed covers to the dim night light in a far off corner. A dark shine beamed in from the moon in the window next to the quilted bed, and George never looked more beautiful- perfectly tousled hair. Kind, sleepy eyes. Yeah, you'd let him break your heart.

"What?" He laughed in a warm low rumble, catching you staring. You bit back a chuckle and crossed the room to meet him.

"I just love you. That's all." You informed, circling one of your fingers around his, gazing up to the guy.

You'd said so in passing, during game nights he helped you win and in the middle of lunches he'd managed to talk you into ordering. But nothing prompted you now, and the statement held an all-new kind of weight.

"I love you, too," George whispered in turn, raising his other hand to your cheek.

"Can I stay in here? With you?" You asked, keeping your gaze set and your voice low even though no one else was around to hear.

"I'd like that." George assured with a tiny grin.

You clamored into the big bed, pointing out the window to the moon over the ocean. George eased in behind you, gazing all the same. You tangled your hands together staring out the window for a while, giggling over nothing every now and again. He was so impossibly close, so warm next to you.

"George." You turned your head slowly, catching his attention. He looked at you, silently wondering what you wanted. But somehow you didn't need to say.

Somehow he knew to lean in for a kiss, soft and sweet. When he pulled away, you could tell he didn't want to. When George looked at you, you could tell he longed for more, but still kept his distance, kept your meek nature in mind. He was too kind, too considerate. There weren't words to convey how you felt. You knew what came next. You wanted George.

You reached for his hand, and brought it to rest in the dip of your waist. He kept his eyes steady on yours while his thumb brushed over the skin exposed where your shirt had ridden up.

"Kiss me again?" You asked, barely a whisper. George leaned in, almost before you could finish asking, to press his mouth against yours. You grabbed a fist full of his shirt to pull him closer while George let his hand travel to the small of your back, holding you perfectly against him. He kissed you slow and deep like he was trying to put you in a trance.

Whether he meant to or not, you wondered if it worked, as you melted into the mattress all while lazily pulling him almost all the way on top of you. This was as far as you'd ever taken things with George, yanking at each other's clothes while you kissed until you couldn't breathe.

So when you gently pushed George away, he started to retract back to his side of the bed without putting up a fight. But you sat up too. And George watched on in wonder when you sheepishly slid into his lap, your knees on either side of his hips.

Without a word you pulled George's shirt up, silently suggesting he take it all the way off.

When he did, you didn't relish the sight long before you dove in for another kiss. His skin was burning, and you could feel his heart hammer when your hand traveled across his chest. You moved your kisses to his neck, reveling in the feeling of being so close. George kept one arm gently wrapped around you as your teeth grazed a spot under his ear that made his breath catch in his throat.

"Y/n. Are you- Do you..." George began, keeping his hold around you all the same. You pulled away, gazing to George through your lashes while your heart teetered on the edge.

"Do you not want to?" You worried. You were so finally sure. But George might not have been. So you prepared to be let down gently, knowing George would at least be kind enough to break your fall.

"Yes." George let out a breathy laugh, reaching to hold your head in both of his hands. "Of course I want to do this. But I know how you feel and if you don't-"

"I trust you, George." You nodded, searching his eyes while a smile bloomed across your face. You'd been so nervous for a moment like this to come true. But everything was different with George. He made you laugh when you never expected to, he made you think about things in ways you'd never even considered. He was so the one for you.

You wrapped your fingers around George's wrist, bringing his plus to your lips. You watched George's eyes flutter as you planted a small kiss there, before moving his hand to your hip.

"Just go slow." You nodded, watching George's eyes open to meet yours. You leaned your forehead against his while he nodded, making you laugh.

He decorated your cheeks with gentle pecks and moved his hands under the hem of your shirt as you leaned in to capture his lips with yours again. And because you spent a while that way, you weren't nervous to act upon taking things even further.

Kisses turned seering as George wrangled your shirt off. His lips traveled down your throat as you settled deeper into his lap, shocked by how easy this was. Your kisses grew longer and sloppier while your layers started to collect on the floor.

You impressed yourself by how effortlessly you reach to pull away George's trousers. He managed to kick them aside while you kept your lips on his, laughing between breaks for air.

But when he pulled you back into his lap, when his fingers danced around your waistband, you were suddenly swept up in the realization that this was happening. Like, really happening.

"Uh, wait a second." You halted in a shaky breath. You didn't want to stop, not completely. You just needed to assess things for a moment, to catch up with this new reality in which this wasn't upsetting or dull or any of the things being with anyone else ever was.

George stalled in an instant, nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck. "Do you want to stop?" He asked gently, hands firmly pressed against your back, eyes glowing right into yours.

"No way." You breathed with a grin. You knew it would be better than before, with George. Probably the best. It already was, you realized with a smile, encouraging George one more time. Your hips rolled against his, causing his heavenly sigh in your ear.

He wriggled you out of the last of your clothes and made you feel like a wonder of the world, tracing the shapes you were made up of with his pretty fingers. By the time you were laid against the pillows admiring the halo of light ringing around George's waves of hair, he asked again if you were sure about this.

"So long as you are." You swallowed.

"Of course I'm sure. God, I'm so sure." George pressed a kiss to your face between sentences, making you giggle and swoon all at once. "I've never been so sure of anyone but you. I'd like to keep it that way." George rambled, peppering a few more loving, gentle kisses to your cheek. "But if you want to stop for any reason, we'll stop. Just say so."

"Thank you, George." You grinned after a beat, knowing he really meant it. Recognizing how deeply he really cared for you, watching him search your face for validation. Watching George watch you, contentedly, like he had dozens of times before now. He gave you a slowly sleepy blink, ocean blue eyes shining brighter when they opened again.

George leaned closer, hovering over you with his eyes locked on yours. He molded a kiss to your lips before anything. Then to your cheek. Then his eyes fluttered to meet yours once more.

"Slow." You rose a brow, whispering a reminder, but it was really more of a green light for him to finally take the next step.

George repeated you, in a barely audible hush, soaking up the look in your eye. A lithe grin painted his lips while you held your breath. You accounted for the feeling of his fingers loosely tangled in your hair, his thumb brushing across your temple every now and again. You'd nearly forgotten everything else while swimming in those warm icy eyes of his. He didn't break you from your reverie when he gave a small nod. The gesture only settled you further, as you responded by lacing your fingers around the back of his neck.

George kept his hand nearly cradling your head as he pushed closer. His thumb brushing across the pulse of your temple was keeping you grounded while your heart threatened to soar into the clouds. While your breathing grew deeper, while he moved as close as he could until he couldn't anymore.

"You okay?" George asked, his voice beautifully strained.

"Uh-huh." You gazed at him through hooded eyes as you adjusted everything, including the realization that this was happening. He wasn't even moving yet. And he waited until you had to ask him to, with his head buried in your neck. After a couple of breaths, you looked to George, giving him a nod. He pressed his forehead against yours and moved his hips.

A tame, steady pace set in as you stopped George from asking if you were alright, again, assuring him you were really, very good. Your raspy encouragement must have given George the sound authority to go about awing you further.

He kept one hand against your temple while his other trailed down your side, fingers deliberately pressed into your skin as he brought your leg around his hip. George's strong-arm hooked under your back to keep you secured against him. He picked up the pace as your hands tangled in his hair, around his shoulder, holding on to the moment. To George.

You wondered why you waited so long to feel this damned good, while George spoke low in your ear. He listed off all the things he liked best about you, and why. He planted clumsy kisses to your lips. He made you see stars brighter than all the far off constellations you were used to pointing out from the shoreline. You seemed to float among them, above everything. Time slowed down while your heart sped up, somehow, and while everything around you faded into an impossibly dull background, you still had George.

His weight was warm and secure. His breath was hot on your neck. His voice was saccharine in your ear. When he eventually eased next to your side in a heap, the cool of the night was still shielded by him.

You snuggled to his chest, like an old sleepy cat while he kept repeating how he loved you. You said so too, as many times as you could manage before drifting to sleep all tangled together.

The next morning came slow. You made coffee and watched the sunrise above the waves from the porch. When your friends started showing up in pairs and trios and more, they all seemed sort of relieved to find you and George attached at the hip. They greeted you as if you'd always been a packaged deal, and they didn't bat an eye when you stuck together to roam the vast empty beach. There was no fighting over choosing partners when someone broke out a new board game that night. When your friends were all gathered around the dinner table, and all the extra snacks and gifts and surprises for the summer were stored away, you still had George.

Maybe things wouldn't always be so easy. There would likely be fights and upsets and questions that didn't always have answers. But George was worth it. You had him now, you loved him and he couldn't stop reminding how dearly he loved you. Nothing had ever hurt so good before. You decided to keep it that way.

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#george mackay #george mackay x reader #george mackay imagine #george mackay fanfic

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berensroadhouse · 3 years

Text

(ao3 link)

Davis drags his damp rag across the dusty countertop, sighing deeply once he hits the edge. He scans the barren interior, jumping from empty table to empty table to an empty table with bottles, plates, and crumbs left behind. His previous customers must have dipped when he wasn’t looking. Davis grabs a nearby basket, moving towards the mess. He dumps the plates inside, then the bottles after he guzzles the dregs of beer left behind. Finally, Davis takes what he’s owed. Their bill came out to thirty-eight dollars and ninety-five cents. They paid with two twenties, flat. “Fucking assholes…” Davis pockets the money, returning to his post.

Just another ordinary day at Berens’s.

He brings the used dishware into an equally empty back kitchen, the doors flapping behind him. Davis recycles the bottles and places the dishes in the sink, washing them immediately. As he sets them on the rack to dry, his eyes linger on a framed photograph hanging nearby. He brushes his thumb across a faded face, a wet fingerprint left behind on the glass. Davis smiles, chuckling softly at where water droplets race down Cal’s profile.

He misses him. It’s been so many years, and yet Davis still aches for his touch. Davis remembers the phantom feeling of Cal’s arm draped over his shoulders, of their fingers lacing together, of his nose tracing the lines of Davis’s cheek while they took this picture. It was a beautiful day at the beach for them, on a spring morning where they both decided clear skies were better than the suffocating walls of a lecture hall. They fled the campus and found a deserted shore, and under the cover of an umbrella they talked, ate, and kissed and kissed and kissed until the moon replaced the sun and made Davis’s night-dark skin shine when its light hit him. Cal, in reverence, traced constellations with his lips from memory; him, a creamy-white nebula hovering over Davis’s pitch-black galaxy, both communing in a transcendent ritual. It lasted past curfew. They were grounded. It was worth it.

Someone cuts Davis’s reflection short. A sharp whistle interrupts his thoughts, followed by a gruff, “Anyone home?”

“I’ll be with you in a second!” Davis needlessly dries his hands on the stained apron tied about his waist, hurrying out of the kitchen to greet his new customers.

He finds them waiting by the pool table, the one with deep-brunet hair inspecting the cues while the other, fairer-haired man tickles a hole in the table’s lining. They’re dressed for the beach, in brightly patterned shirts, bathing suits, and flip flops, and Davis prays they haven’t come from it. He doesn’t think his ancient joints can manage an hour of sweeping floors, collecting sand that somehow gets everywhere. Regardless, he plasters a replica of a smile onto his face. He clears his throat, drawing their attention. “Sorry for the wait,” he says, “what can I help you with?”

“Lunch,” Fair Hair says, moving close enough Davis can count the freckles dotting his pinkish cheeks and the bridge of his nose. “What d’you have?”

“Regular fare,” Davis shrugs, “I can get you a menu or –“

“No need,” Fair Hair says, “we’ll have burgers, fries, and beers, the most expensive you have!” Then, as he motions for the darker-haired man to stand beside him, he wraps his arm over the brunet’s shoulders. Davis spies the silver band on Fair Hair’s hand. It matches the one his friend wears. “We’re on our honeymoon,” Fair Hair tells Davis, without invitation to do so.

Davis’s demeanor shifts. A more genuine expression appears on his face, while a warmth rouses the rosebuds sleeping in his chest. It makes their velvet petals bloom, urge forward their aroma, rich and sweet, and causes their thorny brambles to wrap themselves tighter around Davis’s heart. “Congratulations,” he replies, “I don’t have a special newlywed section… but you can sit anywhere, at any table, or the bar… I’ll go and fix up your burgers.” He turns, hiding his glossy, brown eyes before he embarrasses himself. Married men always do this to Davis, unlock a more wistful and sappy part of his soul. Some long-buried piece, that used to dream of a time where he might have had a similar experience to those two on the other side of the kitchen doors.

He places two beef patties on the grill and starts frying oil for the fries.

While cooking, his gaze wander back – as it always does – onto that photo of him and Cal. Inspired by his new customers, he reflects on a memory years after that lazy beach day. They shared an apartment, one that offered little besides its amazing view of the ocean and a balcony they could watch the sun set along the waterline after work. It didn’t matter if Davis’s tips barely added up to a twenty, or that Cal’s eyes went cross from staring at numbers for hours at end, because they’d come home, watch orange bleed into blue, then purple into orange, and when the ink dried above Davis finally went about cooking dinner. Cal watched him; eyes alight like the stove burner that simmered their pasta water. “You deserve your own place,” he told Davis, “that way everyone can have a taste of your amazing cooking.”

Davis shook his head, chuckling. “One day, baby. One day. There’s about a million other things we need to do first, and about half of them involve money.”

“Yeah, yeah…” Cal reached across the counterspace, intwining their fingers. “It might take a while, with how we get paid.”

“It might,” Davis conceded, squeezing Cal’s hand. He brings it up and softly kisses each knuckle. “At least we’re saving where we can. Homecooked meals, cheap place… lucky we can’t get married, so we’re saving money that way.”

Cal frowned, seriousness plaguing him for the moment. He stepped closer, stare intense as he breached Davis’s personal space. “If we could?” he asked, voice hardly a whisper, “would you?”

“Would I what?”

“Want to get married?”

“If they’d let us…” Davis paused, chewing his answer over. He released Cal, moving the steaming pot off the burner. He flicked it off. “I…” He leaned against the stove, arms crossed, “Christ, Cal, I’d want to do more than that.”

Cal arched a brow, head skewed to the side. “What more is there?”

“I’d want a big wedding, with all the bells and whistles,” Davis explained, laughing, “a party, a celebration of you and me as we become… well, you-and-me. Then, after the party, we’d go on a big honeymoon –“

“When we already live next to the beach?”

“A different beach! Maybe an island!” he said, “And once we’ve finished our trip, we’d buy a little property somewhere in the ‘burbs, as we go about looking to adopt.” Davis rubbed his neck, sheepishly peeking through his lashes at a blushing Cal. “What I’m trying to say is… if I could, I’d want more than marriage. I want a life together where we can just… we can be together, without always worrying who might know, y’know? I’d kill for that. Hell, I’d fight to have that.”

Funny, though, that when it came time to fight, Davis lost. He fought the paramedics, but they wouldn’t let him in the ambulance. He fought the doctors, who wouldn’t let him see Cal. He fought Cal’s parents, their harsh words and condemnation like being stoned in front of an eager crowd as they chewed him out for their ‘delusions’. Davis heard Cal passed, but wasn’t there when it happened. He also wasn’t invited to Cal’s funeral, to see him off into his next life. Davis did steal a quick moment, though. A kind nurse took pity on him and snuck Davis down into the morgue. She allowed them a final goodbye, as Davis traced the lines of Cal’s cheek with his thumb and pressed tiny kisses wherever his teardrops fell. “I’m sorry,” Davis croaked, chilled by the waxy numbness of his lover��s lifeless hand, “I’m sorry forever wasn’t as long as we planned.”

Davis assembles the plates messily, mind caught between the past and present like a line of wash. He, hung up by clothespins, is pushed mercilessly by incoming winds. Those clothespins cannot hold forever. The fabric of his body shifts out of their vice-like hold until, finally, he flutters away and out of the kitchen. He returns to the main room of the bar, delivering Fair Hair and his husband’s meals. As expected of newlyweds, they’re wrapped up in each other. The husband whispering into Fair Hair’s ear as they sit on the same side of the table, their fingers laced together atop it. Davis clears his throat, setting the food and drinks down. “Here you are.”

“Thanks.” Fair Hair grabs his burger with a free hand, shoving into his mouth despite the silent, amused judgment obviously displayed on the other man’s face. Fair Hair moans around the bite, puffy cheeks bursting with a grin. “Dufe,” he says around soggy chunks of bun and burger meat, “Thif if awesfome!”

“Thanks,” Davis nods, brushing at his apron, “Now, if you need anything, don’t be afraid to holler –“

“Actually,” the husband delays Davis’s exit, pointing behind him and towards the bar. “I was wondering if you could settle something for us.” Davis looks to where he’s directed, at the glowing neon sign that hangs above rows of bottles. It’s similar to the one that brands the front of his business, in a similar script, too. Except where the cowboy hat-and-bandana hovered above ‘Berens’s’ of Berens’s Roadhouse, indoors it was placed next to it. “Dean here,” the husband continues, Dean – Fair Hair’s name, apparently – rolling his eyes at being called out, “thinks there shouldn’t be an extra ‘s’, after the apostrophe…”

“Cas…” Dean whines, unofficially introducing his husband, “You don’t have to –“

Cas continues over Dean, ignoring him. “Meanwhile, I told him that, as long as it’s not plural an ‘s’ should go after the apostrophe. Can you please tell my husband he’s wrong?”

Davis stares at his sign, tracing the curve of the script with his eyes. In the background, Dean argues in a fierce whisper. “Why are you bringing him into this? He’s not gonna admit he’s wrong!”

Cas volleys, backhanding his response at Dean. “It’s his name, Dean, he wouldn’t spell it wrong.”

“Actually,” Davis interrupts, “it’s not my name.” He turns, laughing at their bent brows and Cas’s skewed head and the tiny dots of sauce staining Dean’s mouth. “It was my old boyfriend’s name,” he explains, “Last name.”

Dean leans forward in his seat, burger forgotten for the moment. Cas realizes there’s a meal in front of him and begins picking at it, chewing absentmindedly on a fry. “You named your place after an old boyfriend?”

“Felt only right,” Davis shrugs, “Couldn’t have bought this place without him.” Cal’s job, while lacking pay, had a generous insurance policy. Davis was listed as the sole beneficiary. That, coupled with what Cal left Davis in his will, meant he had enough to buy the little property near the beach like they always planned. Naming it after Cal soothed him, somewhat. That angry, gnarly scar over his chest numbing slightly. “Besides,” Davis says, “at least, with the name… it’s like he’s with me.”

“But not actually with you?” Cas asks, “Like… you haven’t been feeling any cold spots, have you?”

“Cold spots?”

The table jolts, saltshaker sliding a few inches to the left. Davis guesses Dean kicked Cas, from the serious edge to his expression and the apologetic wince on Cas’s. “Sorry about him,” Dean apologizes, “he spent the morning binging supernatural podcasts. Y’know… monsters, hauntings, ghosts. Must’ve fried his brain better than the sun could.”

Davis huffs, smiling. He moves towards the bar, leaning against it to better chat with his customers. “Ghosts?” he says, “No… ain’t nothing like that, at least the kind you’re thinking of.” Davis lets himself imagine Cal like that, tethered to this earthly plane even after passing. His battered body floating amongst empty tables and dirty dishes. Cal chained to their dream, making it a nightmare. Davis quickly dismisses this notion. While he misses Cal, Davis knows wherever he is must be better than this failing monument to Davis’s love. “Maybe if I thought it’d help drum up some business, I’d’ve entertained it. But I doubt ghost stories would help this late in the game.”

“Oh,” Cas hums. Davis recognizes the tone, familiar with it. Hears it from his accountant, his sister, and the occasional guest who dawdles in the front before skipping off elsewhere for food. “Is your business failing?”

“Cas!”

Davis watches them descend into another fight. The paradise of honeymoon quickly crumbling, storm clouds rolling across clear blue skies. He walks behind the bar, grabbing an empty glass and filling it with the tap until the rim is frothy. As he meanders his way closer again, he tunes into their conversation. Dean picks at Cas’s bluntness, while Cas defends his claim in an even pitch that makes Dean sound hysterical.

“He’s not wrong,” Davis joins them, sitting at an unoccupied seat, “I mean… you think I’d be here chatting with you two if there were things that needed doing?”

Dean shifts in his seat, clearly uncomfortable given how he’s looked at the door five times in the span of a minute. “Sorry to hear that.” He guzzles his drink, drowning whatever else he might have said.

Cas resists the threatening tide of awkwardness lapping at their ankles. “It’s odd that this place isn’t more packed,” he tells Davis, “with the amount of people here – the vacationers alone – there should always be a steady stream of customers.”

“Those lemmings?” he snorts, sipping at his beer, “They’re always chasing after the next thing. What’s new? What’s shiny? When Berens’s was new and shiny, we got a lot of traffic. There was a time when you couldn’t walk three steps without bumping into someone else. But then more fancier places were being built… chains and clubs and all that… I couldn’t compete. I mean, Roadhouses are popular in the middle of nowhere when there’s barely anything else to do! But I’d’ve been damned if I had to live somewhere without the ocean. Would never want to be fuckin’ landlocked…” His eyes find that swirling script of Cal’s last name. Something heavy crushes his chest, each subsequent breath more labored. “It does suck though. This was our dream, having a place that was… ours. Even when it was just me, I still went ahead because, I thought, why not? Wasn’t as if I had much going for me after Cal… but every month now it’s like the water rises a bit higher and keeping myself afloat doesn’t seem all that worth it anymore.” He glances back at the newlyweds, seeing how he commands both their attention. He notices a somberness in their gaze Davis does not care for. “What am I doing?” he asks aloud, scoffing “This is your honeymoon. You probably have something like parasailing or jet skiing planned, right? Probably cutting into your time –“

“No, no,” Cas assures him, lips tight as he smothers the pity straining for release. “That’s not it at all –“

“Yeah,” Dean adds, “We’re all jet skied out from yesterday –“

“Dean!”

“And I’m afraid of heights,” he trails off, shoving fries into his mouth, “so that’s a no on parasailing…”

“What he means,” Cas translates for Davis, “is that we don’t mind listening. It must be stressful, running this place by yourself?”

Davis chuckles. “Stressful is an understatement.” He slides his drink back and forth across the table, its rhythmic scraping sound almost hypnotic. Skrt. Skrt. “You’d think being mostly empty would make it easier, but actually it’s worse.” Davis looks away from them, bouncing around the room. He frowns at how stray sunlight highlights the dust covering his furniture or floating in the air. “Getting to the point where I don’t know why it’s worth it, coming back day after day.”

“Because this was your dream,” Cas says, “Yours and Cal’s.” Davis bites his tongue, holstering whatever pointed he comment he had that might burst his bubble. It’s not his fault. Four minutes cannot compare to the four decades of hell Davis lived through without Cal. Forty years of slowly being picked apart by people who didn’t care nor understand what this place meant to Davis. They saw a building where they could eat for an hour, maybe two, and then leave without thinking twice about it. Dean and Cas didn’t plan on gnawing his ear off with this conversation, they stopped by because they were hungry. They were here for their honeymoon, and some of that magic must shield Cas from the harsh reality of Davis’s predicament. He’s blinded from the pain by those romantic, rosy shades. “Doesn’t that make it worth it?”

“It did, at first,” Davis concedes. He rests his elbows on the table, shoulders sagging with the tiniest amount of relief that feels like water on a blistering, arid day. “But I can’t keep doing something because it’s worth doing… not at my age… not with how business is doing.”

Cas bristles, responding with more heat than appropriate. “But what you’ve done, for as long as you’ve done it, it’s been good,” he insists, “why stop now because of a – a slump!” Davis’s good temperament chars from the observation.

He squeezes his drink, hands trembling. “It’s more than a slump,” Davis says, “it’s a freefall. I’ve been putting in all this hard work, and for what? What do I have to show for it?” Davis finishes his drink, meeting Cas’s fierce gaze with his own. “This place’ll probably do better as a condo –“

“You don’t know that.”

“I might not, but some folks do.” He bites his lip, unsure why he hurls his troubles into these strangers’ laps. Davis guesses it’s because Cas’s eyes, while hard, effortlessly prodded at the truth and that Dean listened like he cared for whatever left Davis’s mouth it made him want to say something meaningful. Or perhaps Davis was tired of keeping this to himself, and these saps were the tipping point. “Got some realtors skulking about, always asking when I’m ready to put this place out to pasture. Condos were one thing that was discussed… so were gyms, a dispensary, a parking lot –“

“You’d let them turn this place into a parking lot?” Cas asks.

“I don’t have much of a choice in my position,” Davis says, “They’ve got money that I need.”

“But you said this place… you named it in memory of your love,” Cas murmurs, softer. He shrinks, drooping slightly. Dean gently cups Cas’s neck and massages with such care Davis sucks in a quick breath. Davis feels the memory of a caress on his neck, enough that he ghosts his fingers over the skin there in case someone had touched it. “If you sell… then isn’t that like giving up on him?”

Davis wondered the same things. He spent countless hours awake in bed, worrying about how admitting failure went past the surface. That giving up on Berens’s meant letting go of that final piece of Cal he can call his.

But Davis, weary from these thoughts, has made peace with this sacrifice. “Everyone else already gave up on Berens’s,” he says, “I’ll only be the last…”

“That’s bullshit.” Dean speaks, finally rejoining their conversation. His sudden outburst places him at the center of this conversation, affixed at his husband’s side. “You shouldn’t give up. Cal wanted this place for you, didn’t he? You were only able to buy it because of him.”

“Because he died,” Davis growls, “That’s how. If he knew how much of a shitshow this whole business would’ve been, I doubt he’d have wanted me to use the money for this. Hell, he’d probably hate if I stayed and pissed away the rest of my money trying to keep the lights on in here. Like stopping footprints from being swept smooth by the tide, it’s like.”

“Well…” Dean fumbles, scratching at his plate for something to do. There’s no food left. Neither on Cas’s plate. Davis knows Cas was too busy to eat. “Okay, what if you sold it to people who… who want to run it as it is?”

“I’d ask them how they think they can do this any better,” Davis sighs, slumping backwards. “Besides, there isn’t anyone who wants to do that who’s also eyeing this property.”

“What about us?”

Davis asks Dean what he said. Dean repeats himself. From Cas’s wide-eyed stare, Davis knows he heard correctly. “Really?” he drawls, sarcasm heavily coloring his tone. “You want to buy this place? Like that?”

Dean shrugs, fiddling with his thumbs. He sweats, spotlight too warm for him now. “Uh… yeah?”

“Have you ever run a restaurant before? Or a bar?”

“No,” Dean says, “But I had family, who ran a roadhouse. Helped them a few times when my brother and I stopped over – we traveled, a lot, for work. It was years ago but I still remember a lot of what went into it…” Dean smiles unnaturally. It reminds Davis of those phony grins motivational snake-oil salesmen would coach suckers into doing in front of mirrors, to inspire confidence. “Besides, Cas and I have been looking for a career change.”

“That is true,” Cas adds, brow raised, “Although we never discussed running a roadhouse.”

“Cas, sweetie, I mentioned how owning a bar might be cool.”

“Bars and roadhouses aren’t the same thing.”

Davis coughs, nipping the budding argument while young. “As nice as the offer is,” he starts, “You boys don’t haf’ta buy this place from me because of pity –“

“It’s not pity,” Dean insists, “No, not at all. I…” He glances at Cas, a strange emotion shuddering across his face. Like maybe he’s seen a ghost. That grip on Cas’s neck visibly tightens. “I know what it feels like, wanting to keep something… of someone you love. A physical reminder that they were here and that they mattered and… they mattered to you.”

Cas leans into his husband’s side. “Dean’s very sentimental.”

“Yeah,” Dean laughs, “I guess you could call it that.” He takes the empty plate with his free hand and stacks it atop the other, pushing them towards Davis, knocking it into the salt-and-pepper shakers and napkin dispenser. “I’ve lost a lot in my life, and I’ve only been so lucky to not just have them come back to me, but to get second chances. Or third chances, or even fourths.” Dean’s lips lift at the corners, flashing a friendly smirk. He definitely appears more relaxed than he did seconds ago. “I want to be the one to give chances, now, because I can. I want to buy Berens’s from you… if that’s okay?”

It’s too good. Davis pinches himself, first. When he doesn’t wake, he knows he isn’t dreaming. He places a hand over his heart. Its strong beat reveals Davis has not died. Still, Davis cannot lower his defenses completely. “This isn’t a sting?” he asks, “Some harebrained scheme cooked up by scuzzy developers to get me to sell?”

“The fuck this look like, Scooby-Doo?”

Cas chuckles, “It might if you brought your ascot with you.”

“Cas –“

“So, you’re…” Davis scrubs a hand over his mouth, pressing it against stubble and focusing on the drag. “You’re serious? About wanting to buy this place?” He huffs a tired breath, tension leaking out of the cracks in his bones and leaving him with little support. Davis collapses on himself, smiling. “What about your honeymoon?”

“Honestly?” Dean laughs, mirroring Davis’s posture, “We were running out of things to do. Probably would have hit the road in a few days, head on back to Kansas.”

“Kansas?” Davis squawks, “You sure you aren’t using this as an opportunity to jump ship from there?”

Cas sips at his drink, a bead of condensation falling off it from how long it went untouched. “We love Kansas,” he tells Davis, “but where we live now it… there’s a lot of baggage there. We want to start fresh.”

“Besides,” Dean adds, “my brother was talking about renovations, making it more… work-friendly. Figured it’s best me and Cas dip and let the little brat have a go at it on his own. He’s earned it, I guess.”

Davis nods. “If that’s all…” His gaze darts to the neon sign, a question in his mind. “Hey,” he says, “if you are plannin’ on doing this… this crazy idea of yours, are you – do you have any preference to what you call this place?”

Dean taps at his chin, drawing the silence longer than necessary. “Well… a few come to mind. Harvelle’s… Campbell’s… Singer’s… hell, I could follow your lead and name it after Cas here, Novak’s – “

“You’re not funny.” Cas elbows Dean hard enough the other man gasps from the pain, the other two delighting from the bug-eyed look that flashes. “We’ll keep it Berens’s.”

“Thank you,” Davis says, standing, “Really… I – this is good. Great, actually. You want another round? On the house?”

“Hey!” Dean protests, wiping tears from the corners of his eyes, “No giving away free booze! That’s our profit you’re eating into…”

“Not yet,” he jokes, digging through his pockets, “Deed’s not yours until the I’s are dotted and money’s in my hands.” Davis finds what he searched for, tossing a quarter towards them. Cas catches it, effortlessly. “Why don’t you pick something from the jukebox, my treat!”

He rises, and Davis turns to round the bar. Davis grabs three smaller glasses, and the Jameson he keeps on the highest shelf. He pours them each a generous fifth, maybe more. It’s a celebration, after all. As he carries the drinks back over, the opening chords of a familiar song start. Davis nearly drops the drinks.

His expression must concern them, because Cas clears his throat and asks, “Is this okay?”

Elvis croons from the speaker. Davis’s face strains from the too-wide grin threatening to crack his face in twain. “It’s perfect,” he says, settling at the table. He distributes the drinks, Cas joining them. “Cal always dug Elvis.”

“I get it,” Dean says, “guy was a hunk, for the fifties.”

They spend the next hour like that. Getting drunk, discussing the hardships of running a business and debating Elvis’s legacy as ‘Can’t Help Falling in Love’ plays in the background on loop. During a lull in their conversation, Davis feels, for the first time, that Cal is alive again.

It wasn’t because of the bar, or how it fares. But because of these two men, a sense of calm washed over him. They make Davis hopeful for the future.

Berens’s is in good hands.

#supernatural #spn #dean winchester #castiel #destiel #destiel fanfic #deancas #deancas fanfic #destiel wedding #destiel honeymoon #berens's roadhouse

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snidgetwidgeon · 3 years

Text

Insurrection Recollections Series: Royal Etiquette & Funding

Zelda sighed and began distracting herself with the clouds rolling by through the large windows of the Reception Hall. About a quarter of the size of the Great Hall, it was filled with amenities for entertaining delegates, courtiers, and their guests. At ten in the morning on Mondays, however- when nothing social was ever scheduled- Governess Beatrice utilized the space to teach young ladies from the upper and middle classes in Castle Town, as well as the noble families across Hyrule, about etiquette. She was currently standing at the head of the table, which was draped decoratively in neutral linens, and decked out with just about every dish, glass and piece of silverware one could imagine; including those that featured on the tables of all the races in Hyrule. Eye-catching pops of color were provided by the matching table runner and napkins, all in complementary shades of red, but to Zelda, it seemed frilly and way over the top.

Governess Beatrice must have known, or planned herself what the display was going to look like today, because she matched it perfectly. She wore a deep crimson gown over a cream chemise with long sleeves trailing from her elbow. In her hand, she held a fan which Zelda could swear was permanently attached to her body if it weren’t for the fact that it always changed to align with her elaborate ensembles. She was also partial to big hair and small hats.

As she droned on, Zelda went further into her daydream and thought she could see the Royal Crest in the clouds. Perhaps it was a sign from Hylia. Maybe if she prayed now, the power would come to her. What if she didn’t even need her robe, heirloom jewelry, or to be penitent before Hylia’s statue? Maybe she just needed to be open to celestial signs in the clouds. She clasped her hands under the table and moved her lips silently in prayer, eyes locked on the crest that had already begun to morph out of shape.

“Princess Zelda? Princess, may I have your attention please?” After no answer, Beatrice smacked her fan on the edge of the table. “Princess Zelda! Pray tell, what is so important that you are ignoring my class?”

Zelda snapped out of her focus and looked sadly at her instructor, “I thought I had received a sign from the Goddess.” She looked down at her hands, “But she has not answered my prayer.”

Beatrice was taken aback, reprimands dying on her tongue. “I see.” She did feel somewhat sympathetic, though still frustrated. When Zelda had first joined her classes, she been instructed to allow the Princess to seek the divine if she felt naturally inclined. After recalling the directive, Beatrice opened the fan with the flick of her wrist and offered graciously, “Perhaps your Highness would like to retire to the chapel to continue communing with Hylia?”

Zelda closed her eyes and nodded wistfully.

“Very well then, you may be excused.” Beatrice clipped.

Zelda stood and elegantly held her hands in front of her the way she knew Governess Beatrice liked. When she stepped away from the table, an attendant skillfully blending into the wall nearby, approached to push her vacated chair back in. They immediately returned to their position of observation.

Before she made her way out, she made a request. “Governess Beatrice, could Lady Agitha please accompany me?”

The two were inseparable, Beatrice noted, and the lesson was nearly done so she couldn’t see too much harm in it. “Lady Agitha, you may join the Princess. I expect you both to be diligent and learn from your peers what you’ve missed. Perhaps you can invite some of them to tea before Thursday.”

Agitha had leapt from her chair and practically scurried over to Zelda. She hadn’t yet grasped the finer points of subversion.

Beatrice clapped her hands, “Ah, ah! Girls... decorum.”

Zelda gave Agitha a look to ‘cut-it-out’ and took her friend’s arm in her own. They departed, Zelda’s steady steps guiding Agitha’s giddy ones.

~~~

It had been a few months of constant tedium and Zelda found that she could not always sealshit her way out of it. Twice a week, they learned how to speak, walk, stand, sit, breath, and exist as a lady. If it had to be done, there was a proper way to do everything, even blow your nose. But no one ever dared break wind. As far as Governess Beatrice was concerned, ladies did not poot.

Zelda’s eleventh birthday was approaching and Beatrice was using the event as a reason for the girls to begin perfecting their curtsies. First, they began by learning basic form. Once the general sweep of the leg, the dip of the head, and suspension of the arm was well practiced, she started to demonstrate the different levels one observed for varying degrees of rank. Zelda had been exposed to this all her life but Governess Beatrice was exceptionally exacting and expected nothing less than perfect preciseness. She thought of attempting escape again but she’d already done it twice this month. Anything more would surely attract suspicion.

Just as she started to feel a brain melt coming on after the fiftieth-odd curtsy, the Governess called an end to their lesson for that day. She entreated them to practice before later in the week when they would continue, and her excitement was practically terrifying when she announced they’d be presented with a varied wardrobe to study with. The morning was sure to be overflowing with petticoats, laces and frills.

Zelda wondered if she could play sick, or hide in the library. She much preferred it there, and recently she had managed to make a friend with an acquaintance of the Head Librarian Laslin. Her name was Impa and she had come to Castle Town recently with her older sister from Kakariko Village up in the Necluda mountains. They were here to research Ancient Sheikah Technology and were apparently already well informed on the subject. Zelda didn’t know much beyond the fact that the Astral Observatory was Sheikah. She adored that part of the castle and held dear a few faint, but very warm memories of her mother teaching her about the constellations.

“I’ll say it one more time ladies. You’d do well to practice on your own because we will be staying on this until you have all transformed into elegant herons.” She finished in the sing song voice that she thought made her seem nice, but really just grated on everyone’s nerves.

Zelda’s legs were so sore the following week after the extra curtsy lessons that it reminded her of the time she had tried ballet. The stiffness of her thighs made everything difficult, even using the lavatory; especially in her court dress. She smoothed the skirts and made sure everything was back in place before returning to the high tea being held in the courtyards. She was hoping she could get away with doing nothing more than sit and look pleasant for the rest of the afternoon, but just as she made herself comfortable under the pavilion, Governess Beatrice announced that they would be taking a stroll through the gardens.

Zelda sighed and rolled her eyes, which her friend Agitha had seen and giggled. She came to join Zelda as the sore Princess got up again and took her arm. “It’s better if you keep walking around you know,” she imparted as if she was full of infinite wisdom.

“How do you know that?” Zelda asked skeptically.

“Because my older brother told me. He goes on lots of adventures.” She paused as they both received parasols upon entry to the gardens, and ignored Beatrice’s spiel extolling the virtues of parasols. “He gets to do all the fun things with father while I have to stay here ‘because it’s tradition’,” she quoted her mother in a mocking voice.

“I thought brothers were no-good troublemakers.” Zelda stated with an air of query.

“Mine’s ok... most of the time.” Agitha laughed at her own joke while Zelda smiled, then continued, “When we’re both at home he helps me to find the best bugs.”

Zelda halted in shock and pulled Agitha to the side of the path so the other girls could pass. She whispered excitedly, “You like hunting for bugs!?”

Agitha dropped her parasol over their heads to whisper back, “I have a collection! I haven’t been able to add to it for a while though. Too much lady stuff to do,” she spat out with a scrunched face.

“I know the best rocks to look under, follow me!”

They were suddenly a flurry of giggles disappearing around the corner of a hedged bush. The other girls rolled their eyes and the teacher’s pet of the bunch took it upon herself to go and inform the Governess that there had been a break of rank in there very serious garden stroll.

Zelda dropped her parasol to the ground carelessly when they arrived in her old hunting grounds. There was a garden bed separated from the gravel path by a curved line of medium sized stones. She dropped to her knees and began turning them over one by one, inspecting the microcosm under each. Agitha joined her on the ground after folding and leaning her parasol against a bush with slightly more decorum, but once she was into the bugs, all sense of propriety was forgotten. They dirtied their dresses in the upturned soil and Agitha stood back up to hold out a layer of her skirts to make a receptacle. She directed Zelda which bugs to throw in and they devolved into fits of giggles as they rediscovered one of their beloved childhood activities. When they were found, Governess Beatrice was beside herself at their display of unladylike behavior.

All the other girls had followed to see what the commotion was about and were entertained beyond measure that the Princess of Hyrule was in trouble. They stood in their pristine, high tea finery, with slightly agape mouths hidden by dainty gloved fingers.

“Lady Agitha! Princess Zelda!” Beatrice’s head kept jerking back and forth between the two of them as if she couldn’t decide whom to admonish first. She decided on the royalty. “Princess Zelda, stand up at once! You have completely dirtied yourself!”

Zelda stood and brushed some of the dirt off the fabric over her knees. She started to tip the rocks back to rights with her foot while Beatrice turned her frustration to Agitha.

“And- Lady Agitha!” she admonished while straightening her back.

Agitha clutched her skirt closed around her waist and started to feel distraught that she would lose her new friends.

“What in Hyrule are you doing? It is very improper to be showing your petticoats in public. Put them to rights this instant,” she demanded. When Agitha hesitated, she became cross. She snapped her fan and came closer in an effort to appear more intimidating. “I said fix your dress, girl. You look like a harlot!”

Zelda glared daggers at the woman and vowed to get her back somehow, but Agitha took care of it herself.

Fear gave way to anger and she decided to unleash her new army upon Beatrice in frustration for not being allowed to be who she was any more. She hated growing up. With a dramatic cry of, “Have them, then!” she flung her dress open and the bugs were hurled in her direction.

The woman proceeded to scream, throwing up her parasol and flapping her fan all over to get the critters away. As she carried on, all the young ladies started laughing... and Agitha curtsied.

~~~

Four Years Later

Agitha kept moving restlessly from the parlor table to the tall balcony windows, peering out at the long and empty road leading up to the Windvane Manor.

After hearing her sigh for the umpteenth time, her older brother Theudric drawled, “At this rate, you’ll dull the marble. Why don’t you busy yourself and go check on the refreshments?” He was draped on the chaise lounge reading and when she came back over to scowl at him, he smirked.

“And miss her arrival? Absolutely not!” Her hip bounced a little and she admitted, “Though I do need to powder my nose.”

Just as her dress swished around the corner and out of the room, Theudric yelled, “Agitha! She’s here!”

“Finally!” She came peeling back round, almost slipping on the polished floors, and raced to the window only to find the same empty cobblestones. She heard her brother snickering behind his book and stomped over with a withering glare. “You remember the last time?” she threatened. “What ended up in your bed?”

His eyes went wide and he fell silent, burying his face in the book again, but his shoulders were still bouncing slightly.

It was still another three quarters of an hour before their guest arrived. Zelda appeared bright and cheerful, too excited to be tired from her journey, and refused offers of an afternoon’s repose. The opportunities to spend time with her friend were dwindling far too much so she wanted to take advantage of all the limited time they’d have. If she could give up sleep she would.

Agitha held her for an age in a warm embrace and then brought her to the parlor where they could all have luncheon. The moment they entered, Theudric snapped his book shut and stood ramrod straight, a slight color entering his cheeks.

“Zelda, you remember my brother, Theudric?”

Zelda smiled as he approached and gave a curt bow. “Princess Zelda, it is my pleasure to receive you to the manor. Lord and Lady Windvane send their apologies since they are away on business.”

“Thank you, and please give them my regards when they return,” she performed a small curtsy.

“Right,” Agitha announced. “Are we done with the pleasantries? Let’s eat! I’m famished.”

They gathered around the table and Theudric jumped to Zelda’s side to pull out her chair. “If you’ll allow me one more pleasantry.”

“Oh, thank you.”

Agitha stood near her own chair watching the lingering interaction and then cleared her throat.

Theudric shook his head a little in exasperation, “Oh, of course. Let me get that for you Aggi.”

They caught up while they ate and shared their latest interests. Agitha declared that she had a lovely surprise for Zelda in the lower storerooms of the house and Zelda spoke about her obsession with ancient Sheikah technology after the Divine Beasts had been discovered. A new friend, Dr. Purah, had lead the excavation for the last one in Eldin about two years prior and her younger sister Impa had begun advising the King on the subject. Zelda had since signed on to help where she could.

As she continued regaling her company with anecdotes about her translation work, Theudric sat riveted; he was so impressed with her academic achievements. A lot of people held the incorrect assumption that the Princess frittered away her time in court. She did make appearances in court- he had seen her himself on a few occasions when he went to the castle with his father on business- but she hardly wasted her time there. In fact, it seemed to him that she stayed the bare minimum that was acceptable. He vowed from then on that he would defend her honor and brilliance to anyone who stated anything to the contrary.

When he joined in the conversation and spoke of what their parents were up to lately, Agitha put on her most irksome, bored face. “Theu, that’s not interesting in the slightest- Zelda, have you had enough?” she interrupted herself to change the subject. “I can’t wait any longer to show you my new collection.”

Zelda laughed and regarded Theudric with a look of apology. “Forgive me Master Theudric, I appear to be summoned to the bowels of the house. Will you be joining us?” she asked as she stood.

He rose with her out of respect and opened his mouth but Agitha cut in, “He will not. He told me earlier that the day was so lovely he might go riding, and it’s about time I got you all to myself.”

Theudric put on mock dramatics, “I’m afraid I can’t join your Highness as I have a previous engagement with my horse. Missing an appointment with her would be a most egregious offense.” He bowed deeply. “Please forgive my absence.”

Agitha rolled her eyes and Zelda smiled bemusedly. She heard pandering like this all the time but it was much more palatable when delivered in jest rather than earnestly. It could become very tiring when people tried too hard and spoke only to her rank instead of to her person. It was why these less frequent opportunities to visit her friend away from the castle had become all the more important. She could relax and be herself out here, especially with Agitha. The only other respite she had was Gerudo Town and a trip there was even harder to wrangle as her responsibilities grew with each passing year.

“That’s quite understandable,” Zelda related. “My Rune also gets temperamental if I don’t visit him regularly.” She dipped her head and took one more little triangle egg sandwich from the table as Agitha dragged her off. “Enjoy your ride!”

Agitha led Zelda downstairs to one of the cooler, stone-lined basement store rooms. Behind the heavy wooden door that Agitha held open for her, Zelda’s breath was taken away by all of the glass terrariums lit by a plethora of lanterns. Each one had a manicured ecosystem and held from one, to many different species of bugs. Zelda bounced from one to the next as Agitha stood back, pleased with her reaction.

“This is wonderful Agitha! How did you manage to curate this?”

“Mother finally caved and said I could pursue my entomology hobby as long as it ‘doesn’t interfere with my other obligations’,” she quoted, exaggerating her mother’s shrill voice.

“I’m so happy for you. Oh! What’s this one? It doesn’t have a sign yet.”

Agitha approached to get a closer look. “Ah, that’s one of the rainy beauties, a Thunderwing Butterfly. Mother had a cow when I went to collect it because I was running around the meadow in a downpour.” She sighed, “Honestly, I’m so glad when she goes away because then I can just do my thing without her fretting over me.”

In a soft voice that sounded wistfully sad, Zelda offered a different perspective. “I’m sure that whatever she does, she does it out of love.”

Agitha was about to argue but when she noticed Zelda’s face after turning her attention away from the butterfly, she understood what she’d done. “Yeah... I’m sure you’re right.”

~~~

The next morning, Theudric found himself in front of the mirror trying to make himself look extra spiffy. He’d already asked his valet to put out one of his smartest ensembles. It included a red vest with gold buttons, brown trousers and calf-high boots. He was about to second guess if it was too fancy when he got distracted by his hair and proceeded to fiddle with it for a good twenty minutes. There were only so many things he could do with a short brown mop so finally, he just slicked it back and finished with a spritz of cologne.

He came downstairs, ready to entertain but he couldn’t see the girls anywhere. Their breakfast was half eaten and in his curiosity to find out where they could have gone, he gulped a bit of apple juice and grabbed a boiled egg to eat on his way out.

He wasn’t expecting to run right into them after turning the corner of the garden hedge, so he covered his mouth unceremoniously as he chewed quickly, the pasty egg yolk clinging to his teeth and tongue.

Zelda looked up and smiled radiantly under her sun hat. "Good morning Master Theudric." She was bent over the rim of a new large terrarium on a table, carefully placing a bit of hollow log inside to add to the habitat.

“Yes,” he finished swallowing his breakfast, “it is indeed a very beautiful morning. What are you ladies up to?”

Agitha gave him a withering stare. “What does it look like, genius?”

“Give me a break, I haven’t even been able to have my coffee,” he defended himself. “Had to come looking for you instead, didn’t I.”

“And just in time too. This one’s almost finished,” she said as she placed seedlings in pre-prepared holes in the soil at the bottom. “You can help us carry it downstairs.”

“Oh! Ah, I just remembered,” he started with a pained look on his face. “I have this thing.” He started to retreat and Agitha produced a flat and unamused expression that made him chuckle. “I’m just kidding Aggi. Are we carrying it or is it heavy enough that I need to get Genly?

“Mmmm, yes. I think Genly would be a good idea. I saw him in the stables earlier when I went to get some manure.”

“Wow, you aren’t messing around,” he said with a mix of curiosity and disgust.

“Only the best for my babies,” she answered.

His brow raised skeptically. “Riiiight... I’ll just go fetch Genly, then,” he stated while letting his gaze linger on Zelda as she brushed her hands together to remove the soil.

He had just turned away when she looked up to speak, the thought of allowing some self indulgence crossing her mind. “Master Theudric, do you mind if I join you? I’d love to meet the mare that stole you away from us yesterday.” Of course all three of them had known it was a pretense, but she enjoyed keeping up the ruse.

Theudric curtly bowed at the waist and gestured toward the stables. “Absolutely, your Highness. Posy would be enchanted.”

“She’s enchanted by hydromelons and if you visit her without them she’ll be a right little piece of twatittude,” Agitha warned. “I’m going to water this in. Don’t take too long.”

While Zelda bribed her way into Posy’s affections, Theudric searched the stables for Genly and found him organizing in the tack room. He was a kindly, middle aged man who’d worked for the Windvane family since he was about fifteen. His family ran the Highland Stable down south but rather than taking on the business and starting a family as he would have been expected to do when he got older, he decided to make his own way and live quietly alone in a little house on the grounds.

“Ah, Master Theudric,” Genly greeted him with a smile under his bushy mustache, tipping his hat. “Going for a ride this fine morning?”

“Morning Genly. Not at the moment.” He was about to continue with his request when an idea occurred to him. “Though maybe a bit later. I’m afraid I’m just after assistance with some heavy lifting. Aggi needs a new tank taken downstairs to her lair.”

“Righto,” Genly said as he laid some rope on the table to return to later. “Always happy to help; point the way.”

Zelda opted to continue making Posy’s acquaintance. She was entertained by the fact that the temperamental mare was pacified by hydromelons. They weren’t the usual fare at the castle stables and she thought perhaps she should acquire some for Rune to try. Maybe it would help them to bond better.

Theudric wasn’t long in returning and Genly, who was in tow to head back to what he’d initially been doing, took one look at them and steered clear out the other end of the stables to do something else. He tipped his hat as he passed by, “Your Highness.”

She smiled and nodded, then regarded Theudric with a hand on Posy’s muzzle. “Well, shall we get back? Agitha will certainly be getting restless by now.”

He leaned against the gate of Posy’s enclosure and smoothed his hair back with one hand before saying, “Actually, I’m wondering if you’d be willing to humor me for awhile. I’d love to hear more about the ancient Sheikah research you’re into.” His face was all keen interest.

“I’d be wary of that if I were you,” she warned. “Once you get me going on the subject, I’ll forget the time and talk you to exhaustion, I’m sure!”

His lips turned up into a dashing smile. “Try me.”

She seemed reticent but still in good humor, so he pursued a different tactic. “How about a deal then?”

She forgot her manners and snorted derisively, accidentally startling Posy. “Of what sort- oh, sorry Posy, I’ll leave you to the rest of your melon,” she said as she put the remaining pieces in her feed trough.

“A hobby for a hobby. You tell me all about yours while I escort you to mine. That way, there will be mutually assured boredom.”

She enjoyed his company. He seemed to not judge her natural proclivities and she appreciated that. “I really can’t fault your logic, Master Theudric.”

“Please, call me Theu,” he requested earnestly.

Agitha had just arrived on the scene to find out what had been keeping them and rolled her eyes so hard her whole body teetered to one side. “Uuugh, you’re not taking her to the Collie, are you?”

“Why not? If we take the horses, it will be a fun, midday outing. We can take a lunch.”

“What’s going on at the Coliseum?” Zelda asked, unable to hide her curiosity.

Theudric began to speak but Agitha cut him off again, “Only his pet project which daddy is sooo proud of.”

Before Agitha could continue teasing, Zelda said earnestly, “It’s a wonderful thing to have a father’s approval. I think I’d like to see the hobby that garnered such a thing. Maybe I can get some tips so father can see the value in my hobby as well.”

Theudric’s ears perked up and he asked, “Are you short of funding?”

“Honestly, I can’t complain. The research has been well funded, but it has grown to the point where we need a second location. There is an energy source that must be tapped if we want to progress as quickly as possible.”

“Sounds very interesting.”

“You say that, but there’s a catch. It’s almost as far east as you can get, near the Village of Hateno.”

“Ahh, the boonies. Father calls it bum ffff- never mind,” he caught himself from almost being incredibly uncouth in front of the Princess of Hyrule and straightened his posture. He just found her so easy to be around. Quite a different flavor from other young ladies he’d socialized with.

She suppressed a chuckle and caught Agitha’s bored expression from where she was sitting on a bale of hay, twirling pieces in her hand and waiting. “Agitha, are you going to join us? I think a ride with lunch sounds lovely.”

“It’s ok. You two go on ahead.” She stood up and stretched. “I’m going to finish the habitat for the second tank. I’ll send something from the kitchen while the horses get tacked up.”

Theudric looked incredulous. “Thanks Aggi.”

She left the stables and just as he was about to continue his conversation with Zelda, she poked her head around the corner. “Don’t take all day, you hear?!”

Zelda waved cheerfully and had a look at the other horses in their stalls. “So Theu, who shall I get ready to ride today?”

“Oh! Um...” he quickly turned away from her so he could hide the warmth he felt on his cheeks, no doubt manifesting as a full on blush at hearing his nickname as he’d requested. He led her to a brown and white spotted mare about three stalls down. “We’ll have to take Daisy because she’s the only one that Posy likes hanging around with.”

“Daisy and Posy, hm? All we need is another flower and we’ll be on our way to a bouquet,” Zelda joked.

And she made silly jokes. He was a goner.

Theudric led Daisy out to introduce them and laughed nervously. “Actually, you’re not far off. All the horses have been bred at my Uncle Talon’s farm on the other side of the field and he’s a... a quirky one. Names all his horses after flowers.” He leaned over to look past Zelda outside, “I’ll just find Genly to tack up.”

As he brushed past, she touched his arm, “It’s ok, I like doing it myself. Besides, that way Daisy can get to know me better before we go. Isn’t that right, beautiful girl?” she cooed, gently stroking Daisy’s face.

Theudric felt rude for letting his surprise show but she was paying more attention to Daisy anyhow. “Alright then, let’s get ready.”

He collected saddles and reins from the tack room and they got to work. She asked him about his project but he only touched on it briefly, wanting to share the full story during their outing when he could show as well as tell. He did let on that it was his innovation to combine the annual Kingdom Games with a harvest market. It would be a whirlwind fortnight of competition and bartering, boosting trade in the region for smaller, local farmers, and trades people. It was also ideally situated to receive the quality gem crafts and fabrics coming out of Gerudo Desert.

Zelda sat astride her mount first and was glad she brought her hat as she rode out into the clear summer day. Genly came past with another tip of his hat and handed her a packed lunch. “This came from the big house. I hope you enjoy your ride, your Highness. I’ll take care of the girls when you get back.”

“Thank you, Genly,” she beamed.

He shrugged shyly over the Princess of Hyrule remembering his name and passed Theudric’s lunch to him as he emerged next from the stables astride Posy. The two horses nibbled at each other and snorted, but otherwise got on.

“Well, then. Shall we?” Theudric asked.

Zelda clicked her heels and set off at a cantor. “We shall!”

~~~

The moment Zelda pulled away and the last of her small retinue were out of earshot, Agitha turned on her brother with a look of disdain. "I hardly get to see Zelda anymore. I'd appreciate you not stealing her from me next time she visits."

He finished waving and rolled his eyes at her as he turned to go back in the house.

When he didn't say anything, she kept on. "Theu! Seriously, you used to pay us no mind whatsoever. Why are you butting in?"

He kept walking through the vaulted foyer and answered nonchalantly, "I like her."

She froze in a silent gasp but recovered from the shock quickly, catching up to him in a flurry of clicking steps that reverberated off the polished floor. "Well- then-," she struggled to retain the argument after such a bombshell. "Then go see her on your own time and-"

He whirled on her, having become slightly annoyed at her petulance, "Honestly, I don't know why you're so upset. If she likes me back, you two could end up being sisters, and then you can spend as much time with her as you like."

A loud and deep gasp filled the room this time, as if she'd inhaled all the available air in the house, "YOU'RE RIGHT!"

She then left him with a bemused expression as she made a mad dash to her writing desk upstairs. She'd begin matchmaking right away, starting with a letter to Zelda. Subtle hints, not too overt. She'd have to gauge if he was even on her radar. Probably not, all she talked about was ancient Sheikah tech...

She giggled as she wrote, imagining the day when they could be sisters.

#breath of the wild #fanfiction #writing #Royal Etiquette & Funding #Insurrection Recollections Series #snidgetwidgeon scribbles

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himbowelsh · 4 years

Note

If you want to, 9 or 19 with webgott? I hope you have a wonderful week 💕

i’ve got another prompt for #19, so how about #9?

sha-la-la-la my oh my, looks like the boy’s too shy 💋 (accepting!) ��9. one small kiss, pulling away for an instant, then devouring each other

The stars are brighter tonight than any other time in recent memory... and it’s not like Austrian skies aren’t impressive as a rule. The nights shine brighter in the countryside than they ever did over the bustle of New York City. No matter how many times he sees the skies alight, David will never get used to it. Something divine shimmers in each blinking star, something earnest and mythical in the constellations strewn like New Years’ confetti across the sky. He is not a spiritual man, but Austrian nights make him feel like he could be, maybe.

Tonight, the sky is putting in extra effort. Each star feels like a beacon, calling him away from war and mourning. One of them, he muses, might be Janovec.

He spun off the road just that morning, with little warning and no fanfare. One second, he was alive. The next... the war had claimed him too, and he didn’t even have a bullet wound to show for it.

The men who died on D-Day were heroes. David saw them drown in waist-deep swamps... gurgle to death on blood and bullets... strangled by their own risers and left hanging from trees like Halloween decorations. Heroic deaths, all of them, and their parents must claim some sense of pride in knowing their sons lives ended, not in agony and fear, but in resolute patriotism.

American heroes still sob for their mothers in their last moments. David still hears their screams.

Isn’t it such a privilege to die for one’s country?

Janovec didn’t even get that. He wasn’t taken out by enemy gunfire — only it was an American Jeep, and an enemy tree. Hoobler didn’t die in the heat of battle. His killer was a German pistol, but an American hand. Van Klinken caught machine gun fire, but he bled to death on Dutch soil, with Dutch dirt in his mouth and Dutch ash mixing with his tears.

Will they be called heroes, now that the fighting is done?

Austrian summer is warm, but there’s always a chill this high up. It bites at David’s exposed skin. He draws himself up a bit tighter, knees pulling close to his chest. There’s no real danger of overbalancing. The street may be a dizzying distance below, but this part of the rooftop is steady and nearly flat. He’d never have climbed out otherwise. David is not in the business of risking his own life unnecessarily. He fought a war, which ought to be enough; he’s got no intention of dying now that it’s done.

(Done for some, in limbo for others. In a few months, will they all be speaking Japanese?)

It’s chilly up here, but quiet, and perfectly dark — exactly what he was looking for. The sky sprawls above him, endless and alive with constellations. Each one welcomes him, calls out to him, tugs at the exposed threads of his soul. There, glistening brightly off to the right — is that Janovec? There, the one with the steady glow — Hoobler? Or maybe it’s Jackson — maybe those twin stars, glittering playfully side by side, are Muck and Penkala. Maybe there’s a place in the sky for more — hundreds, thousands, him —

“You gotta be kidding me.”

The unexpected voice jars him, like waking from a deep sleep. David flails. If the roof were any more perilous, he’d have certainly gone over the edge — but if this occurs to the intruder clambering out the rooftop window, he doesn’t seem to care.

“Of all the places — ow, fuck —“ Joe Liebgott smacks his head against the top of the frame. He’s too lanky; on the ground, he carries his long limbs with the grace of a feline, but he clearly wasn’t made for cat burglary. David sucks his lip, determined not to laugh, as Joe awkwardly forces his too-big body through the opening. “Of all the places to get yourself killed, Web, you know how to pick ‘em.”

“Figured it would have happened by now, in some way or another,” he replies with an easy shrug. “Why wait for anyone’s help?”

Joe says nothing — unless another muffled curse as his foot gets caught on the frame counts. By the time he manages to haul himself out onto the rooftop, he’s got a tear in his shirt sleeve, and multiple bruises to show for the effort. Never mind the fact that David didn’t invite him, or tell him where he was going; Joe still huffs at him as if it’s somehow his fault.

“People who can’t climb out windows typically shouldn’t,” is all David has to say on the subject.

“If they were made to be climbed out of, they’d be bigger.” Joe inches forward on his hands and knees, peering over the ledge with his typical morbid curiosity. A low whistle echoes through the quiet night. With a sigh, David settles back in his comfortable spot, watching the interloper warily. He doesn’t know why Joe’s here. Nevermind what he wants — he’s never been able to figure that out, and they’ve known each other for nearly a year now.

Instead of explaining himself, as he can usually be relied on to do, Joe goes quiet. It’s... somehow worse than chatter. Silence is heavy, like a lead blanket draped over their shoulders, weighing them both down. It feels more intimate, somehow. There’s not much space on this rooftop, only a few feet of distance between them, but the longer the quiet stretches on the more that distance shrinks to inches.

If only he’d brought cigarettes — that’s something to share, and a good excuse for sitting alone at night. As it is, if Joe asks what he’s doing out here... David doesn’t know what he’d say.

Joe isn’t paying attention to him, though. His gaze, too, is trained on the sky. No one can escape it tonight.

Unexpected, unbidden, Joe breaks the silence. “You ever think about what’s up there?”

David tenses. Too close to home. “I mean... sure. Sometimes. I guess... lots of gasses, and dust particles, water vapor... and that’s just in our atmosphere.”

Joe casts him a glance that’s half-annoyed, in the way that isn’t really annoyed at all. David hates how accustomed he’s grown to all those outspoken looks. “You know what I mean,” Joe says — and David says nothing, because he does.

“I used to... think there had to be something up there. Not really people, y’know? My Mom, she tried to raise us the right way — when our pet hamster died, she told us about immortal souls, olam haba, everything that’s supposed to come after. Except I never really...” He gestures for a minute, snapping his fingers like the words elude him. “Got it. My Mom will give you her opinion on anything, but even she can’t say for sure what happens when you die. It was all too hazy for me as a kid. I didn’t know what to look for, or... what it meant.”

David tries to understand. He comes up short, in ways he can’t identify but is painfully aware of. Even so, he tries.

“My mother’s family was Protestant. She used to say there were angels watching over us all the time.” His nose crinkles. “Just to get me to eat my Brussels sprouts, I think. The angels saw me feed them to the dog.”

Joe laughs, sound sharp as a knife in the gentle night. David can’t say why he’s pleased.

“Exactly, though. You Christians pretend to have it all figured out. God’s up there, he’s watching everything, and when your time’s up you’ll either go upstairs or downstairs.” His lips purse, the way they do when he’s trying and failing not to grin. “Jews are still arguing about how many heavens there are.”

“What do you think?” He asks the question before he means to, without really thinking. As soon as it’s out, David regrets it... but Joe doesn’t even spare him a glance.

“Aliens. Real ‘War of The Worlds’ type shit.” Finally, he allows himself to grin, and it only widens as he keeps talking. “Like to think Flash Gordon’s saving the universe up there somewhere. Maybe Superman too, but he’s kind of a chump. Probably some planets we ain’t found yet, suns and moons we ain’t seen.” He’s hesitates. “But I think I like that other idea now... that maybe there are people up there. Maybe there is something... something real after.”

He falls quiet. His hands are braced in front of him, taut as straining metal. David studies them, and doesn’t dare look at Joe.

“How many stars d’you think there are, Web?” Joe asks after a moment.

David has no damned clue. “A lot,” he answers confidently. “Millions.”

“Millions,” echoes Joe. The glittering stars are reflected in his eyes, like black pits sending each beam of light back outward. It’s almost hypnotizing, the way they flicker. If he stares too long, David knows he will get lost in them, so he forcibly tears himself away. Wherever Joe’s mind is going, he can’t — possibly shouldn’t — follow.

Guessing isn’t safe. Wondering isn’t safe. Seeking insight into Joe Liebgott’s mind, when it’s so… enigmatic to Webster’s own has never been, and will never be, safe.

The acrid smell of tobacco startles him. When he looks back over, Joe has lit up a cigarette, and is blowing a long cloud of smoke against the black sky.

“No, really, I’m fine. Thanks for offering,” David drawls, inching closer. Joe’s eyes flicker towards him; his mouth curls up around the cigarette.

“Only got this one left, Web. If I had one to offer, you know I would.” He clicks his tongue. “I’m generous like that.”

“A modern day Santa Claus, huh?”

“Ho ho,” Joe replies.

David reaches for the cigarette. He doesn’t know why — it’s not like he really wants a smoke — but the idea of doing nothing, of letting silence linger between them as they both stew in their own thoughts, is worse. Also, if Joe gets a bit of relief via Lucky Strike, he’s got no right to hoard it. Determined, David leans forward, even as Joe angles away from him.

“Yeah, no, nice try.”

“Share! You — quit moving, we’re going to fall off the roof.”

“You’ll fall, and I won’t catch you.”

“I’ll drag you down with me!”

He catches the cigarette between his thumb and forefinger, and deftly plucks it from Joe’s grasp. Victorious, David brandishes it high, letting a thin stream of smoke blaze into the night. Over the chorus of Joe’s curses, he takes a drag. It goes too deep into his lungs, too quickly; he ends up sputtering, lurching forward in a chest-rattling burst of coughs. His grip on the cigarette goes loose, and it falls from his hand.

“Shit, Web!”

David is too preoccupied with his lungs turning themselves inside-out to pay attention to Joe… until a hand finds his back, rubbing steady curves between his shoulder blades. He sputters, but Joe is there, coaching him through it, until he’s finally able to take a breath without gagging.

“Oh boy,” he mutters. “Oh god.” Then, realizing Joe’s last cigarette has fumbled straight off the roof, to the cobblestones down below, he hisses. “Shit. Sorry.”

“Nah. Don’t bother.” Joe is still rubbing his back, even though there’s no need to — really, he’s fine. “I can get more when I need ‘em.”

“No, I’ll — I’ll give you some of mine when we get back inside.” He breaks off with another harsh cough. By the time he’s done, David is spent; only a moment too late does he realize he’s slumped back against Joe’s chest.

The other man doesn’t pull away. Joe supports him, easing David upright and bracing his weight. He handles him like a delicate thing… and from Joe Liebgott, who David has never known to be delicate in his life, the treatment is jarring. David looks up at him, gaze pulled as though caught in a magnetic current; he finds Joe staring back. His eyes are dark as ever, still lit with starlight. His lips are wet.

“You okay?” Joe asks.

“Yeah. Fine,” David replies.

“I ain’t mad, Web,” he says, “but I would’ve liked a little more of that smoke before you tried to eat it.”

“I got enough of it to share.”

David’s not sure what the hell he's saying. It doesn’t matter. Joe’s lips twitch.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

His head tilts. David’s eyes close. A second later, Joe’s mouth is on his, warm and tender, and he couldn’t exhale even if he remembered how.

Maybe David’s the first one to cup Joe’s face; maybe Joe’s hand is the first to find his hair; maybe they're twined together for hours, or only a few precious seconds. When they break apart, none of it matters. Joe’s eyes are wide, pitch black. Surely his incredulity must be reflected back in David’s own face, because right now, his heart wants to pound out of his chest.

Joe’s hand is still on his face. He only realizes this when a rough-padded thumb caresses his cheekbone, unspeakably tender. “You okay, Web?” Joe asks again.

“Yeah,” he replies, voice shuddering. “Incredible.”

He’s not sure who moves forward then — it’s probably both of them at once, seizing that impossible instinct driven only by heat and instinct. Everywhere Joe’s skin brushes against his, his nerves explode into an electric shower; his mouth is hot and needy, consuming David’s as soon as they find each other again. Joe draws him in like he’s the only thing left that matters, and David is helpless in his desire to give himself up.

Please, he thinks desperately, kiss me like I matter. Kiss me like we’re both alive, and going to stay that way. Kiss me like the stars aren’t watching, and we’ll live forever.

Joe’s lips are a fantasy, and they thoroughly carry him away. For a moment, he lets himself go. Nothing matters but the pressure of Joe’s lips, sucking dark bruises along his jaw, or the determined hands that grasp at his shoulders. In the heat battle, you learn to zero your focus in on one thing, and that concentration keeps you alive. This is a different heat, a different ear waging between them, but David gives every ounce of attention to Joe all the same. He drives him forward, keeps them moving even when their hearts are beating out an urgent symphony in twin ribcages, and David’s is ready to burst.

“Joe —“ He gasps, over the sound of the other man’s harsh breathing. Joe shushes him, fingers brushing his swollen lips. David leans into the touch. Joe leans back to accommodate him. They both lean too far.

“Shit!”

For a second, it’s blind terror — the ground sliding away beneath them, fumbling for a hand of foothold as the ledge looms closer…

David catches them both, his heels catching on a gutter and halting his descent. Joe’s still holding onto him, so the momentum carries over. They’re dangerously far down the inclined roof; a certain broken back looks twenty feet below, the ledge within spitting distance. They don’t go over, though, and that makes the difference.

After a moment, Joe exhales a great, shuddering breath. One hand runs through his hair. “Fuck. Jesus fuck. Just lost two decades off my life.”

“Better than losing it all,” David mutters. He’s determined not to look over the ledge. Unconsciously, his grip tightens around Joe; he doesn’t realize Joe’s holding him just as fast until a small tug pulls him back from the roof.

“Come on,” Joe mutters. “Let’s get the hell outta here before we both end up weird stains on the ground.”

He doesn’t need to tell him twice. David casts one last look up at the night sky — serene, twinkling like it knows a secret but doesn’t dare say — before huffing, and clambering up in Joe’s wake.

Existential questions can wait until morning. Joe, on the other hand, has never been good at waiting.

#webgott #david webster #joseph liebgott #my writing #this is?? my first time approaching joe's jewish faith in any substantial way #and i was kinda uncertain about it bc its a topic i've always treated with kid gloves #i'm NOT jewish so did a lot of research beforehand about jewis belief in the afterlife #not sure how i handled it but... hmm #good-night-space-kid

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the-scavengergirl · 4 years

Text

Be Delicate ( not the title )

Haven’t written a Reylo or any Fanfic in a hot minute. Thought I wrote this for someone, perhaps it was just for me. Who the fuck knows. And I’m teetering on maybe seeing my way out of the fandom, still not sure. So if you like this. Thank you, if not, that is fine as well.

Per usual I own no one. Not that characters, especially not the lovely Daisy or Adam. And certainly not the horrid song exile feat that got this stuck in my brain by miss T.swift.feat. the glorious Bon Iver So that being said. Lets carry on. Also some parts are memories so there are no confusion. Also may post this on AO3 same pen name <3 on with the Bullshit. Also the pic that was inspo isn’t mine, it was a screenshot from the movie clip.

It didn’t take her long. She’d always spot him out in a crowded room. It didn’t matter how many there were she’d always see him over everyone else. But it didn’t appear to go both ways. She’d been four drinks in when his head turned, the girl at his hip catching where his attention had gone off to, and everything came to a stand still.

I can see you standin', honey With his arms around your body Laughin' but the joke's not funny at all And it took you five whole minutes To pack us up and leave me with it Holdin' all this love out here in the hall

And she’d never hated him more in that moment. She had to press her fingers against her face to look at him properly in the lighting, the flickering catching the frame of the stupid issued glasses. The way the lights gave his nearly translucent skin an odd sort of glow. Never before had he looked more perfect.

She was already three steps ahead of his one as he came towards her, her head shaking slightly beneath the hat Poe had found her, stating it would go in the ridiculous outfit she was currently mucking around in, Her drink pressed so tightly to her mouth she was sure the glass would shatter. “ Please don’t--we can’t do this anymore Ben. There is nothing more to talk about.”

Rey watched the way his jaw shifted. Sometimes it was the only way to tell his mood, as he could be a man of few words. But Ben Solo was annoyed, he didn’t like being silenced. But they’d been down this road too many times. And she was done.

“ It is quite obvious what has happened, and I’m tired of it. You’ve played me as a fool, and I let myself believe you actually had feelings for a girl like me. I believed you Ben--”

I think I've seen this film before And I didn't like the ending You're not my homeland anymore So what am I defendin' now? You were my town Now I'm in exile seein' you out I think I've seen this film before

The tears were never part of the game. She thought when she and Poe had shared a bottle of wine prior to coming, and his grand idea of changing her style that had her ready to face the real issue...Ben Solo.

But he always had a way of looking about her that made her feel as if he were undressing her. And not always in a way that sent shivers down her spine. As if she were to be reprimanded at any given moment, the way she had been time and time again back in the home and she hated it, because he knew that about her. He knew everything about her. She’d laid herself open for him like an open book, and he’d thrown it in her face. Just as he’d promised not to.

“ You’re running Rey. You know you can’t run forever. Not from me.”

It was as if Poe could see her panic, pulling her from the place where she shook, and yet remained rooted in place, unable to walk away. Because Poe knew, she’d never be able to walk away. She did have that power, no matter how toxic their relationship had grown. And their last fight had done her in, Ben’s words a seething venom that even Poe felt hit extra hard, especially hard when he knew where she’d come from, promising to love her, to fix all the pieces that had been broken. Split wide open.

I can see you starin', honey Like he's just your understudy Like you'd get your knuckles bloody for me Second, third, and hundredth chances Balancin' on breaking branches Those eyes add insult to injury

“ You come from nothing. You’re nothing.” She couldn’t describe the sound that left her, only the feel of the glass as it slipped from her fingers, shattering to pieces, one shard catching her in the pad of her foot, due to the stupid sandals that Poe said would be a smart purchase.

Her body pitched backwards as if she’d been thrown, an invisible force propelling her away from him as she felt something along the plains of her cheeks, doting them like the constellation like freckles she hated so. *Tears*.

“But you said--”

“Who the fuck cares what I said Rey. What about the things you said. What about the promises you’ve made, and broken. I’m done. I told you that. Rey it’s been 6 months. I told you, it was time to let old things die, and you couldn’t--you wouldn’t do it so I’m done. We are done. In case you didn’t notice that one.”

Of course he’d use her past against her. The one thing he promised he’d never do. If there was one thing Rey wasn’t proud of it was how she’d treated him. In the end. She knew in the process of finding herself she’d treated him horribly. His childhood had been difficult as well, and perhaps after their first breakup, when they stood shouting at one another, anger radiating off of them in waves as they stood in the rain outside his uncles they should have called it quits. But they were electric, like two magnets, when things were bad nothing could bring them together. But when things were good, they were drawn together so tightly, it was like they seeped into each others every being.

“ Yes--I’ve noticed Ben. You’ve made that very clear. In every text. In every call. In every attempt at getting into touch with you. Yes this is some plot, such a great one, poor Rey, so desperate she had to involve your Mother.”

Rey hadn’t realized the magnitude or the moment in which the octave of her voice changed, only that everything sounded like she was trapped in a tunnel, and everything around them seemed to fade out. The noise around them suddenly reverting to nearly nothing.

“ I forgot the world revolved around Benjamin Organa Solo. Maybe if you answered your fucking phone I wouldn’t have to search you out, but forget it. And just so you know, this wasn’t about us. I give a fuck about us. I’m actually packed up, I won’t be a problem to you anymore so don’t worry. It’s your dad Ben….he’s sick. Thought you’d want to know since you won’t speak to anyone but what’s her name right here.”

I think I've seen this film before And I didn't like the ending I'm not your problem anymore So who am I offending now? You were my crown Now I'm in exile seein' you out I think I've seen this film before So I'm leavin' out the side door

She didn’t wait for Poe, or remember her feet carrying her to the car, only the feel of the way the shard of glass dug further into her foot, and the way the blood seeped and flowed across the bridge of her foot freely as she pushed down on the break.

Seattle rain had always been one of Rey’s least and most favorite things about where she lived. Some Days it made her want to do nothing more than tuck herself away in the depths of her blankets and sleep until little glimmers of sun broke through, and that could be days. It wasn’t until she met Ben, with his boundless bursts of energy, and his stupid need for a dog, the one she ended up with that gave her an excuse to pry herself out of bed on the harder days, after copious amounts of coffee of course.

But as she pulled away, Ben screaming her name the rain made her more unsettled than it ever had. She was glad she couldn’t see her phone, knowing she’d forgotten to remove that picture of him. Her fingers reached for the dial to turn whatever song was playing.

All this time We always walked a very thin line You didn't even hear me out (You didn't even hear me out) You never gave a warning sign (I gave so many signs) many signs) So many signs So many signs (You didn't even see the signs)

It sounded like the blade of a handsaw being pressed against her ear despite the fact she was in her own car. Her eyes widened in horror as she watched the car from behind her hydroplane across into the other lane hitting not only the oncoming car, but the guardrail. It took another 30 seconds for her to realize, and the moment her head made contact with the widow a sickening crack reverberating through the cab. It was then and only then through the sticky trickle of blood she realized it was Ben’s car that had slammed into her after ricocheting across the two lane highway like some sick game of pinball.

They always said in moments of trauma, your body floods with adrenaline, the shock taking over so the pain becomes nearly nonexistent. But with Rey this was not the case. The lights were blinding, and she couldn’t for the life of her figure out where the horrifying screaming was coming from, until she realized it was coming from her. But nothing she was saying made sense, and then there were hands, soft, soothing.

“ Hi honey, my name is Rose. You’ve been in an accident. Can you tell me your name?”

“ Ben--is”

“ Your name is Ben? I need to keep your head still sweet girl, you have a cervical collar and some facial swelling.I need to know your name if you can.”

“ No my name is Rey--the other was he brought in? He is Ben--I’m fine I need to know if he is alright.”

But she wasn’t fine. The swelling in her brain was severe enough it took 4 days under constant watch, and intervention to get it to a point where the doctors felt she was out of the woods. 4 days before they lifted her from that dark and heavy underwater feeling where time never changed. 4 days before she saw Rose again.

The human body at nearly 200lbs endures the average impact force of 43,050lbf traveling at 65mph, assuming the driver was wearing a seatbelt. Meaning the body feels like it's getting hit with a mass of 43,035lbs. But knowing Ben, in his anger, and the fact on more occasions than not he would forego the seatbelt all together, complaining that they needed to survey people his size as to make proper seat belt placement so they weren’t so fucking usless and uncomfortable.

Therefore changing the schematics drastically, a person Ben’s size, of nearly 200lbs, because he’d taken up the gym again, and quite diligently from what Rey could see, a man of Ben’s size at nearly 200lbs traveling without a seat belt at 65mph would endure the average impact force of 215,248 lbf. Meaning on initial impact with the oncoming car it felt like getting hit with a mass of 215,174 lbs.

An African Bush Elephant weighs 13,000lbs.

Ben was hit upon impact, with the weight of sixteen African Bush Elephants before hitting the guardrail, and bouncing off of her. *Sixteen*. And didn’t die upon impact.

That had to speak for something.

She thought she could see his face, in the darkness. Perhaps it had been wishful thinking, or the drugs they pumped through her veins. She didn’t hear anything Rose said to her after that, the number sixteen playing over and over in her mind like some annoying buzzing noise that wouldn’t go away.

Of course she didn’t need to be told he was gone, she could feel it. She startled awake, the only thing to greet her was the beep of the machines hooked to every bit of her being. And she just knew. She couldn’t feel him, from the moment she’d seen him across the library there was something about him. The way he’d smiled at her, making her shift uncomfortably from where she was hidden in the stacks, there was this connection. Like he’d split her whole being open with that one look and nod of his head. She was done for.

“Do you believe in soulmates?”

His voice was low and lulling. And she could honestly listen to him speak about anything well into the hours that would make her regret life in the morning. And that was exactly what was happening. She’d just been dozing off when he fired off one of his questions, the bed dipping with his weight which meant he’d turn to face her. His fingers brushing a curl from her face and removing the glasses she’d forgotten to remove in her drowsy state.

“ What? Soulmates--what are you on about?”

She didn’t turn on her side the way he had, instead opting to simply turn her head a bit on the pillow. Perhaps afraid of what she’d find if she really looked at him.

“ Yes, soulmates. I mean I’m not sure I believe in the everyone has someone made for them and that fucking garbage, but we’ve gone to the same school for years. We’ve had classes, and not said a word or given each other a glance.”

“ You did lop me in the head with your paper while I was at the pottery wheel that one time.”

“ Yes, but it wasn’t intentional, and you didn’t move. So irrelevant. But never once did we really pay each other any mind, brushed shoulders, passed things without glances, or words beyond our work. Then one day, it was like something just aligned, and you were right there, and you looked up, and I knew you felt it too.”

She wanted to tell him he was fucking crazy. To ask him if he’d eaten one of Hux’s fucking edibles again. But she could tell from his tone he was serious.

“ Yea, maybe. It would be nice you know…”

Ben didn’t answer, instead allowing his fingers that he’d held in the air like a giant web, as if tracing the stars to fall over her face, giving it a gentle squeeze before tightening his hold to place a kiss on her lips. No further words exchanged. Only the soft sound of his breathing as it evened out in sleep.

Rey had wanted to pretend she was asleep that night.She was selfish like that. She’d been exhausted from being hunched over the pottery wheel all day, and then her shift at the gallery seemed never ending. And so when they finally climbed into bed nearing 1 a.m. She just wanted to sleep.

She was glad she stayed up that night.

Because he’d been right. She had felt him the moment he looked at her. And now she couldn’t and she’d never felt so alone. And she’d grown up alone. She knew loneliness. Until Ben came along, filling all those spaces as if they’d never existed.

“Rey--”

The noise caught her off guard, causing her to bump herself against the bed in a way that made her realize just how poorly she was, her eyes falling on the frame of Leia Organa nee Solo and then once again Solo. Her normally pristine appearance looking about as wonderful as Rey was sure she looked.

“ You had me as your next of kin, in case of emergency, after Ben…”

It was not only the tone in which Leia spoke, but her last words that solidified Rey’s assumptions. Between that and her hesitant and careful approach, and the emptiness and fluttering anxiety that was threatening to burst from her chest, Rey wasn’t sure if she could handle it, her finger reaching for the button hoping for at least some small miracle that the kind woman Rose would appear, because if she was about to be told what she knew, she didn’t think she’d be able to bare it. It would kill her.

“ You’re awake. Miss Organa you’re here. Oh honey--”

One look from Rose’s face Rey knew the woman was slowly piecing everything together.

“ Alright, let's get this in and sit you up a bit yeah?”

Rey didn’t ask questions, allowing the small womans hands to do its work. She watched as she scurried out, Leia remaining rooted in her place, but out of the way, a syringe making its appearance and then disappearing again. As she suspected the medicine was for her nerves, a wave of calm settled over her, followed by Rose as she sat besides Rey, her fingers plucking at the small brush.

“ Ms. Organa, why don’t you take a seat.I did this while we had you sedated and resting. You got horrible knots. So let's keep that up, what do you think?”

Rey was used to this sort of talk, the social workers would use deflection to let her know her parents, or her mother in particular, weren't coming. She supposed it was to make the let down easier. And in a way it worked. It was soothing she supposed.

“He’s gone isn’t he?”

I think I've seen this film before And I didn't like the ending You're not my homeland anymore So what am I defending now? You were my town Now I'm in exile seein' you out I think I've seen this film before So I'm leaving out the side door

She figured she’d save them both the trouble. Rose was a godsend and Leia looked as if she couldn’t do or say another thing.

“ He is, would you like to see him?”

The sheer thought of him still being in the same place as her, but not really existing, sent Rey’s stomach turning, and poor Rose didn’t have a moment to escape, not that there was much. It was violent, and clawing. And it rolled through her in waves.

“ We wanted to give you the option first.”

It was Leia this time. Who’d finally come to Rey’s side. Her fingers holding Rey’s as Rose held the small basin, whispering nonsensical words of encouragement.

“ No--why would I want to see him. He is gone. I killed him.”

Her cries must have been loud, she vaguely remembered a passing nurse placing a sign outside her door before closing it. Apparently it was something they did. All Rey knew was she wanted to be alone, more alone than she already was.

“ No my dear, you didn’t kill him. You more than anyone else knew how Ben was with his temper, and the rain that, especially up the pass.It was no one’s fault, no one but his own. He drove like an idiot. It could have happened to anyone.”

She could tell even Leia had a hard time believing her words. And yet she said them with no blame, so kindly. As if she really believed Rey was completely innocent.

“ We’d been fighting though, at that damn party. I’d gone by to talk to him, because he wouldn’t answer me. He was avoiding me. And we fought, he doesn’t even understand anything. He would hear me out, he was making assumptions. And it wasn’t until I mentioned Han. But I needed to go. I was just going to let him stew in his own misery for a bit. But he followed me--if I’d just spoken to him. Or answered my phone. I could have told him to pull off.”

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

She hadn’t attended the funeral. Rey was released three days before. Instead she fetched what was left of her life, and with Poe driving headed back to blistering Arizona.

Staying away was simple. At least for a while, until she couldn’t. Demons always had a way of making themselves known. And she couldn’t run away from what had happened and Ben forever.

Of course the weather would be the exact sort she hated when the plane landed, cold and drizzly. The sort that clung to you, damp, unrelentless. Ben’s favorite. Especially if there was a fog.

It took them a bit longer to get off the plane, with an infant, and cripple. Poe’s wheelchair being placed in the back of the plane rather than the front.

“ Just think when I get my Prosthetic--”

“When you get your Prosthetic you wont be fucking useless, this is like having two kids. Come on, there is your wheelchair, hold Brynlee.”

Rey watched as her best friend slid over magically with her three month old daughter, with one arm, she could barely do anything with two, and yet he managed it impeccably, having only one leg.

“ Come on Benny, your mama is in a mood. I think she is nervous. But you shouldn’t be.”

Benny was Poe’s name for Brynlee, whose given name was Brynlee Lynn Organa Solo. Lynn after Poe’s Mother. At first Rey had been livid, but the more he did it, opting to do it quietly, or in the other rooms, or passing, the more she got used to it, and it was a tie to Brynlee’s father. As if her looks weren’t enough.

“ There you are, I’m sorry we are late, oh my.”

Rey knew exactly what Leia meant. Her daughter's firm stare from beneath the dark waves of hair, the bow of her lips when she was concentrating on something, was all her father. She even had his fingers.

“ Yes indeed, she has quite the temper and appetite. Would you like to hold her?”

From the moment her daughter had been brought into the world, with her best friend at her side, three weeks early, Rey had kept her mostly to herself. That emptiness she’d felt when she lost Ben, slowly felt as if it were dissipating. As if pieces of herself were being woven back together. As if somehow through their daughter.It was as if he was with her again. Although she knew she’d never feel complete without him again.

“ Hey kid.”

Rey had become so enthralled in watching Leia with her granddaughter, her fascination making it obvious she too was feeling much of what Rey often felt, and saw. That she hadn’t noticed the approach of Ben’s dad until his frame loomed over her, pulling her into a one sided hug, tucking her into his frame.

Han wasn’t as tall as his son, but he was by no means short in stature, tall enough to provide the relief Rey needed in that moment.

“How are you feeling? Is--”

“ It’s good, it’s good. I’m still taking it easy. It’s weird some days. Like some days I’ll be in the shop working on the Falcon, and it’s like I can just feel him more with it you know. Or does that sound weird. I am getting old, you know.”

She knew it would happen, the topic would be approached, the flood gates would open, the tears would be shed. But she didn’t think it would happen in the middle of Seatac airport. And certainly not because the discussion of the donation of Ben’s heart to his Father.

“ Can I hear it? Please--I just.”

“ Come here kid.”

“You know if you press your nose like this and stare really hard you look like a cyclops.”

He had to be high, she was sure of it. Hux always used him as the guinea pig, and with his sheer size he felt the need to eat the entire whatever the fuck it was Hux was testing. And it never ended well. Never. It was the only logical reason. And now his face was pressed so tightly to her own she couldn’t breathe. And he was laughing the most hideous laugh she’d ever heard.

“ Thank you? I think.”

She couldn’t get much out of him, a hum before a fit of laughter again, and then just like that he was serious again.

“ I liked the cyclops things, you know like in where the wild things are. That was one of my favorite books when I was little. Dad was the one I actually made read it to me nonstop. I think he finally hid it.”

She could only shrug her shoulders, her head shaking gently as she watched him lift his head, his fuzzy gaze taking her in as if to see if she were simply joking.

“ Wait, you don’t know where the wild things are?”

“ Not everyone gets goodnight stories Ben.”

Her past wasn’t something they often got into unless Ben pried. And it usually ended in argument, which was why she avoided it. She often tried to justify bad behavior, and why she was the way she was, and Ben wouldn’t stand for it, especially when it caused her to act a certain way towards him.

“ So what did you have? Didn’t you have something you liked like that?”

“ Yes, I had a stuffed bear, and I’m sure at some point it talked, but no one would replace it’s batteries. So when you pressed its hand the sound sounded like a heartbeat. And at night I’d lay with it and press it. It made me feel safe.”

Ben had never experienced such things that Rey had gone through. Of course his parents had been busy with work. So often he’d get taken to his Uncle Luke, whom he’d been close to until they had a falling out. And then there was the nannies. It was his parents' lack of presence that finally sent him out on his own at 17, as soon as he graduated. While he stayed in the state, he refused to have many interactions other than the ones that were obligatory. Not until his parents accepted fault and their wrong doing, without excuse.

“It got taken away, and I’m assuming it was thrown out. I was told I was too old. And that was that.”

Rey could see his face clearly, even with her eyes closed. Her arms wrapped tightly around Han, who she’d hugged plenty of times in the past at family gatherings. Knowing exactly what his heartbeat sounded like, and the one she currently was hearing was not that. It was Ben’s.

And she later learned there were no Cyclops things in Where the wild things are.

“ That is why you always fall asleep with your head on my chest.”

She wiped her eyes quickly, her fingers pressing against Han’s chest as she released a shaky breath. Part of her having a hard time wrapping around the fact she’d just heard the heartbeat of someone she’d thought was gone forever. A heartbeat she’d longed to hear for the rest of her life.

“ I know kid, I know. Lets get home.”

Rey opted to sleep the entire drive, taking one of the proffered anxiety pills that had been prescribed and collected per Leia. Leia sat in the back with Brynlee nestled tightly and safely between them, sleeping peacefully, while Poe chatted with Han from the front.

It was dark by the time they reached the house, and the rain had begun to pick up. And for a solid five minutes Rey stood in the doorway of the house, listening, and waiting, wondering if she’d made a mistake.

The house was too quiet, Rey kept expecting Ben to jump out from the corner scaring her half to death, causing her to drop her coffee, or throw him a punch.

It wasn’t until she’d gotten Brynlee to sleep that she finally had a moment. Changing, and sitting in the living room, surrounded by so many things that were him. And what should have been overwhelming for the first time was comforting. Seeing so much of him.

Rey found Ben’s parents chatting with Poe, as she expected, dropping into the space her friend had made, handing him the baby monitor, signaling he was on baby duty, minus feedings. Removing her glasses to wipe the gritty feeling from her eyes and buy her more time, Rey finally settled in her place.

“ I want to tell you what happened.”

There was a shift in the atmosphere, a tangible one. And for a moment it set Rey on edge, making her wonder if she was picking the wrong time, or if she were making a mistake. But was there ever a right time?

And if she were going to be living at the Solo’s until she got a place of her own, and moving back wouldn’t it be best to get it off her chest right from the get go?

“ I need you to know.”

“ Rey, we’ve never once questioned, or thought--”

But she wouldn’t hear any of it. They deserved the truth. The truth their son wouldn’t hear. She wouldn’t be silenced again. She didn’t want anyone else thinking differently of her.

“ I didn’t help my mother. I didn’t break my word. He told me if I helped her again we were done. She was sober, and one of the times she was sober before she’d told me one of her case workers was diagnosed with cancer, that they had an amazing Oncologist. That doctor specialized in certain things. I only called her and spoke with her because I needed that information. Leia...Han. Other than Ben, Poe is the only family I had.”

“ You had us Kid…”

Han’s words tore through her like a molten blade, hot and leaving her raw, and for the first time since the accident, it left her feeling as if she couldn’t breathe.

“ Yes, but Ben was making it very clear there would be consequences if I continued to have contact with my Mother, she was causing issues in our relationship. But this time it wasn’t that sort of interaction, but he wouldn’t even listen to me. But in his respect she did fall off the wagon 3 weeks later. But I just needed the doctor's name, for Poe’s leg.”

“ Yea, might not be alive now if it wasn’t for that doctor. Not only was he amazing, but the cost. I’d never have been able to afford it, and that is with my wheelchair, they’ll pay for a prosthetic if I want one, and car modifications.

Rey was thankful for Poe’s chime in, although she was quite sure it was unnecessary, she knew Ben’s parents didn’t need nor necessarily want a play by play as to what took place. They more than anyone knew their son’s temper and what he was capable of.

It was Leia who collected Rey, followed by Han as he ushered them towards the room.

She stilled at the doorway, she’d slept in the room nearly as many times as her own at one point. And if she breathed deeply enough it was like she could smell him there, a notion she knew was crazy.Not with the way Leia was about cleaning. But the more she stood rooted, the more it permeated around her. Making her feel crazy.

“There is a box, well boxes. In the closet. We thought you’d like to go through it”

So that was it, she wasn’t crazy. And perhaps Leia wasn’t attuned to it the way she was, her head nodding as her legs magnetically seemed to draw towards where she’d been directed.

A sound behind her signaled perhaps Leia had wanted to say more, before Han had ushered her out, opting to check on Benny from what Rey could guess, and join Poe once more. There were more than a few boxes, each one marked with his name. But it wouldn’t be hard to figure what was what. Her arms straining to reach the top one, Leia ever the logical one, and Rey had been right, it was the one she’d wanted, the touch of fabric greeting her fingers at the handles nearly causing her to drop the box.

Setting the box on the bed, Rey closed the bedroom door with a quiet click. Before moving towards her favorite window. Their window. Flashes of moments with Ben playing behind her eyes as she grasped the box settling on the floor. She wanted no other distractions. Just this.

She was surprised to find his pants on top, the order making no sense to her, but as she unfolded the clean fold of the heavy material she knew she wouldn’t be able to hold the tears in long, not when remembered the last time she’d seen this exact pair, draped sloppily over her corner chair, the one that she hunched over to study in the earliest hours of the morning.

“ Ben--your pants please.”

She could hear the thundering footsteps, most likely in their kitchen, followed by the giggled that he saved for when he knew he was going to annoy her.

“ No, they’re fine. You worry about too many things Rey. Just live a little.”

His words, had done their job, because she now stood before him.And just the sight of him in his work shirt and underwear and stupid beanie made her a little less annoyed. Especially when he looked at her the way he was.

“ Ben you’re a nightmare. Pick up your fucking pants.Please, because there will be another pair on top of their friends tomorrow and--”

“ And you are too uptight, and isn’t that what I have you for? And to make sure I don’t starve.”

He was lucky she was shoe less that day, an entire mouthful of milk falling from his mouth and onto her shoulder, making her gag. But it didn’t stop him. It never did, instead he simply shoved another spoonful of the disgusting matter before pressing his lips to hers firmly, pulling away only to chew twice and swallow.

“ You won’t ever get rid of me, remember. That feeling. You and me.”

She could only nod, untangling herself from him, unable to take him seriously when he spoke like that. The intensity shaking her to her core. And in the next moment, he was swatting her in the bottom with an old piece of mail. Another thing he promised to take care of, and forgot.

“ Hey Rey--I love you.”

His words stopped her retreat. They weren’t said often, and the fact he’d stopped grazing on his awful bowl of cereal, his voice so soft she actually had to focus or she wouldn’t have heard it, she knew he meant it.

“ I know--”

She always felt sometimes she should have said more, she often professed her love, and they’d decided there wasn’t a need to reply to it every time it was said, there were moments like this, in which sometimes it needed to be one sided.

“ Ben--put your fucking pants away though.”

The simplicity of words after such a moment was worth hearing his laughter again, although the combination between it and his eating is what nightmares were made of, and in the end she put the pants away. And as she held them, she was thankful Leia kept them. But knowing Leia she kept everything.

It didn’t take her long to find it, and she didn’t look at it at all, he had three, one being the one he’d worn *that* night, but it had been very clear, that had been the newer of the set. The one she fetched out was the oldest, torn in one spot, stretched out, and soft. And every fiber of it smelled like him, and she slipped it over her head, feeling the sleeves reach past her finger tips for a single moment it felt as if he was holding her.

There was no concept of time as she sat at the window, a soft knock interrupting her thoughts, Poe sliding through the door on his crutches, face softening at the sight of his friend. “ Lets get you to bed kiddo. Want me to fold these up?”

A wave of panic rolled through her, causing her to jump up from her place, grabbing the pants and few other items that had gathered around her.

“ Okay kiddo, no worries. I get it. You don’t want it smelling like anyone else. I was like that when my mom died. But when you’re done, I’ll tuck you in okay? And before you worry, Han fed Benny, she’s all sorted. Used some of the milk you pumped. So for tonight just rest. Please Rey, if not for anyone else, Benny included, for Ben. You know it’s what he’d want.”

That was the downside to Poe Dameron, he was one of the most entertaining people she knew, he was ravishingly handsome. And many a time Ben thought there had been an interest beyond friendship, until he himself had taken the time to get to know Poe and then he said in his own stoic glory. “ I totally get it.” Because that was Poe. But the thing that annoyed Rey the most, was his way of being right.

So often he was happy and go lucky, she supposed having cancer and later losing a leg to it did that to a person. But he also had a seriousness that he approached with sheer positivity. If he knew he wasn’t right, he didn’t push at it, he might mention it but that was all that would come of it.

Unlike Ben who would argue the sky was green if need be.

But Poe was right, if there was a heaven or whatever, and they really did look over you from above. Perhaps Rey should ask Leia what Jewish believed, but then she could hear Ben rattling on about how she isn’t even really Jewish. Only when she sees fit. Holidays, and the naming of children. Or child in his case.

Another conversation that had lead to endless laughter and the promise if they had children they’d absolutely not name their children anything biblical, simplify because Ben knew it would send Leia into fits, a bit of a fuck you for making his childhood rough. He wanted something modern, but not too fussy. And if they had a girl and fuck him if they did, somewhat girly. But nothing fucking stupid like Fanny, as he heard those names were making a comeback.

But Rey knew if there were such a thing, Poe was right. Ben would have wanted her to take care of herself, and this entire process, returning back to Seattle, making it home again, forgiving herself, that was going to be hard enough.

The morning was quiet, a soft rain, or drizzle as she learned they like to call it here fell softly outside. The smell of coffee lulled her to the kitchen, but the ache in her chest let her know there were other matters that needed to be dealt with first.

She wasn’t surprised to see Han in the kitchen, Benny tucked contently in his arms, her eyes, another thing inherited from her father gazing intently at her grandfather as he walked and poured cream into the cup before him, sliding it across the counter.

“ Who do you think taught him to make a proper cup? And I think this little lady is ready for her breakfast. Go take my chair, I can sit in Leia's. She went to the market.”

Han let Rey get settled, both herself, and Benny before taking a seat in the other chair, his finger reaching out. “ So you found the stuff. I told Leia you might like it. She wasn’t sure. She wanted to donate it at first. But I told her you might like it for something. There are somethings in there, perhaps we can cut them to make a blanket for Benny. I don’t know that might be silly I’ve just seen--”

“ No it’s perfect, thank you Han. For everything. I know this isn’t easy.”

“ You loved him Rey. Probably more than any of us. Hear me out please. You’ve always come here and seen us, and we’ve loved that. We knew you were it for him. And before you argue that you weren’t together when all this happened, none of that matters my son is pigheaded. He gets it from me, well and his mother, but don’t tell her I said that. You were it for him. I know that soulmate gibberish he talked about. But what you don’t know is it’s because that is what I believe, he probably heard it from me.”

Rey could only imagine what her face must have looked like, and she must have been surprised because she heard Benny make a noise, meaning she’d pressed her into her a bit, but she’d been so blindsided by the omission. Han Solo foul mouth, and dry humor extraordinaire, romantic and believed in soul mates.

“Did you know Leia and I weren’t together when she got pregnant with Ben? Bet he didn’t tell you that. Or that she was dating someone when I first saw her, not met her, saw her. And it felt like someone electrocuted my feet, and I walked up to her and told her she was going to be my woman one day. She tossed a drink at me and called me a neanderthal. But I genuinely felt it in my soul. It was out of nowhere, and we’d been sitting two tables away for hours.”

It was weird, hearing the parallels. Even weirder hearing the soft side of Han, but now that she looked deeper, having seen her with her daughter, *their* daughter, someone so reflective of the man they both loved, and had lost, it made perfect sense.

The shuffle in his pocket didn’t go unnoticed, although whatever she’d expected him to produce certain wasn’t what he held. It was in better condition that she’d expected. Considering it held no case, something Ben griped her for endlessly. The sticker of the shop he worked for still somewhat holding it place firmly, although its corners were beginning to pull and fold. Like the petals of a wilting flower, fitting given the circumstances.

“ There is something on there. You can call the company it turns out, and they can save it permanently. I figured you’d want it. Perhaps take it to the Hollow.”

Of course he’d be there, the trek was a bit of a hassle, and how Han had made it after a heart replacement, she’d never know. But then of course he would, if he died making his way to his son’s final resting place she knew he’d have left content.

“ You know he was a weird kid, always running up there to talk to his Grandpa, they’re buried next to one another.And old Chewie. Get bundled, I’m sure that ugly plaid jacket of his is in that box too, I’ll watch the Princess. What you say kiddo? Hang out with Pop-pop?”

The phone felt hot in her hand as she clutched it, tucking it away so she wouldn’t be tempted by it. She dressed quickly, her fingers throwing her hair that she’d grown after the accident into a plait in record time. An old pair of jeans and T-shirt before throwing the Old Black sweater overhead. Han had been right, the eyesore of a jack lay folded neatly in a second box, along with one of Ben’s rattier beanies. “ The perfect lumberjack.” He’d have called her.

With one last check to be sure everything needed for Benny was present, and a reassurance from Poe, Rey headed up the trail behind the Solo’s property. Their homestead sat on 200 acres, most of it undeveloped forest, including its very own small stream and what could have been called a waterfall, because of course it did.

It was so perfectly simplistic, it nearly looked as if it came from a time well before they ever existed, and perfectly Ben.

*Benjamin Organa Solo*

*Beloved Son*

*Father*

*Soulmate to Rey*

*November 19, 1993 - January 15,2018*

two souls are sometimes created together And in love before they’re even born

f.scott fitzgerald

She hadn’t expected it, the star of David of course was a bit of an overkill, and it was probably good that Ben wasn’t around to see it, but it was a good distraction, but Ben would have been horrified, and knowing that and hearing his voice in her head, it made Rey laugh.

She sat on the mossy dirt, the rain having slowed to a light but chilled drizzle. The phone felt like a brick in her pocket. But she knew what she had to do, it was the only way she’d get any closure, if this could be called that. But her anxiety was through the roof.

It appeared Han, or Leia had taken the initiative and charged the phone for her. The homescreen screamed at her, of better times. A picture she hated, but Ben insisted on, but of course he would, it was mostly him, his arm wrapped around her tightly, her eyes pinched closed as his face took up most of the screen his tongue nearly touching his chin as he refused to take a proper picture, in protest of her requests to look like a normal couple. And to infuriate her more he set it to her screen shoving the phone back at her his tone petulant as he tugged her further down the pier.

“ There, we don’t need some typical picture to prove we are a couple Rey, I’ve been inside you 50 million ways, besides this is far better than any cliche picture we could have taken, I can see your freckles, and you can see proof I no longer have tonsils, and that my parents should really have invested in braces, cheap fucks.”

Her passcode was the last step to whatever Ben had to say, his last words. To her at least. And part of her didn’t want to know, but then again she wasn’t sure if their exchange at the party was what she wanted to remember as their last moments together.

It made her wonder, did he know? Did he have any sort of inkling of what was to come?

Her finger hovered, but only momentarily, because she knew if she waited anymore she wouldn’t follow through.

It was static at first, and then she heard it, muffled, but there, rich and quiet, even behind the slap of the rain as it beat violently against the windshield.

“Rey--it’s me. But you know that. Please, pickup the phone. I know you won't, you’ve probably flipped your phone over, or tossed it in the back, and it makes me hate you that you wouldn’t let me install one of those smart stereos, the one with the bluetooth, and navigation. Because you are horrible at navigation, and then you’d have to see my phone calls, and it would disrupt you. But anyways.”

Even in the middle of a fight, Ben knew how to be somewhat humorous and she wasn’t sure if that made it worse, or better.

“Look, I’m sorry. And if you’d just answer your phone, perhaps we could pull off, have a romp? I’m sorry that was crude and I was kidding, unless you know you wanted to. But no really, we can get coffee. I wasn’t fair to you. And it’s obvious we have things to discuss, just please answer me. And Rey--”

She could hear the pause, the skid of his tires, through the other line, and for a moment she was sure the call would drop, hoped it would, because she couldn’t bear hearing it.

“ Rey--I love you. I’ll talk to you later. Bye.”

The phone call dropped, and she wasn’t sure if he knew what was happening, the way his voice sounded, the change in his breathing said perhaps he did, perhaps it had indeed happened and he’d saved her from hearing it. She wouldn’t doubt it. He’d always been somewhat of her White Knight.

But in the end, she couldn't help but be relieved, their last exchange wasn’t completely that of anger. He loved her. Despite it all, even in the end. She knew he knew. He always had been good at reading her, she’d been nothing but an open book from the moment she met him. And it was no different in the end. Even if she hadn’t gotten the chance to tell him. She knew he knew. And that gave her a bit of peace.

“ I miss you so much.”

The trek back to the house left her feeling heavy. But the emptiness had somewhat lifted. And when she reached the living room, she was somewhat surprised to see Han and Benny in the same place she left them, as if a pause button had been pressed. The only thing that had changed was the fire that had been started.

“ Hey kid, better?”

It was the first time Rey realized she had placed the phone back in its hiding place, her hand rotating it towards Han.

“ Yes, Better.”

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justtoarguewithyou · 4 years

Text

9/25: Returning

my contribution to the @swottypotter comfort minifest. i didn’t have anything for today, but then i got stranded with a dead battery...this is a little “returning” and “solitude” which is tomorrow’s theme (but i have an idea for tomorrow, too)

Albus Dumbledore had sent Remus to “liaison with werewolves.”

Dumbledore didn’t seem to hear Remus when Remus argued that You Know Who was luring people (people, never werewolves, because it irked Remus to be defined by his condition; because he was a person, dammit) to his side because he promised to do away with the Werewolf Registry altogether.

Because of the Registry, Remus couldn’t hold a job for very long; the Ministry had strengthened it since he was a child. He had been one of the last exceptions to a magical education. No provisions had been made for other children bitten by Greyjoy. At least, not as far as Remus knew.

He knew that it was difficult for people with lycanthropy to get a wand, even if they could teach themselves some magic from QuickSpell courses, or just reading Hogwarts text books.

Remus’s work had been fruitless, as there was nothing the Order could offer in any real, concrete way. Just a promise of “a better tomorrow,” Dumbledore had said. But politician’s promises weren’t going to win anyone over. It was nothing. The Order could offer them nothing. The Ministry offered them less than nothing.

“At least here we have each other,” a woman had said. She’d been looking for a “mate,” as she called it. “I was bitten when I was 10. My parents kept me home afterwards, and once they learned there was nothing they could do, they abandoned me. I woke up one morning and everything was gone. I lived on the streets. I found a pack of my own. Stay, Remus. We will take care of each other.”

Remus slept alone. He hated it.

The transformation had been terrible—his anxiety heightened the transformation. The wolf had howled long and loud; it didn’t appreciate being surrounded by other wolves. The wolf had a pack, and this was not it. The wolf picked a few battles that full moon, and though he had come off victorious, it didn’t sit well with those the wolf had challenged.

Then, there came the rumors that Greyback was coming to the den.

“Sod this,” Remus muttered, and decided to leave; this mission had been, frankly, a waste of time.

Remus couldn’t go straight to Sirius. He had to make sure he wasn’t being followed. One man in particular seemed to hold a grudge against the wolf. Remus had managed to shake him off after a day of running.

As a person with lycanthropy, Remus never had any steady income. But Sirius would secret wizarding and muggle money into his pockets. Sirius loved muggle paper money, as it weighed nothing, and Remus never knew it was there until he needed it.

On the second day, Remus unbuttoned the pockets on the front of his denim shirt. Sirius had put in a £50 in one pocket, and two £20 notes in the other. They weren’t crisp bills. They were well worn, silent. Remus grinned, and went to have the biggest breakfast of his life.

While he ate, he thought about the futility of his mission, and the absolute blessing that was Sirius. Remus didn’t have a lot of things, would never have a lot of things. But he did have the love of a generous wizard, and he always thanked his lucky stars. He laughed, as he chewed his toast, and drank his coffee.

He ordered another two eggs, and some more pork sausage. The transformation always left him starving, and he hadn’t been able to each much the day before.

Remus didn’t have his wand. He’d left it in their flat; though he was proficient at nonverbal, and wandless magic, having taken extra lessons with the newly appointed Professor Flitwick, who knew just as well as Remus that one day, Remus might have his wand taken from him.

“Your wand is just a channel for your own innate magic,” Professor Flitwick had told him. “Of course, the wood and the core help your magic resonate. But it’s all you. Try again.”

The third day, Remus risked apparition, and went to his great-grandmother’s house where he’d played as a child in Northern Wales. It had long been abandoned, and looked like a witch’s hut from a muggle fairytale. He smiled, because his great-grandmother had been a very nice sort of witch. He was exhausted from the moon, and from running, his whole body ached. He didn’t have all the niceties that Sirius had kept at their flat for his post-transformation care. He’d lost the little first aid kit that Sirius had tucked into his things. All Remus could do was sleep. He woke up starving.

The fourth day, Remus found himself in Manchester where he and Sirius had come once for a Muggle football match the summer after leaving Hogwarts.

“We can do anything, go anywhere,” Sirius had said excitedly.

Remus still wasn’t sure how that translated into seeing Man U play their opening game against Birmingham City. But they’d gone, gotten very drunk, and Sirius got his first tattoo: a triple moon symbol on the inside of his left wrist. An old pagan symbol.

“But it’s for you, really,” Sirius had later whispered in his ear, while nuzzling his ear, kissing his neck. “My Moony.”

Remus wandered around the city, paid to see a movie he slept through, and went to the same tattoo parlor that Sirius had gone to. Remus paid to have the Canis Major constellation tattooed over his heart. A little sentimental maybe, but he missed Sirius so much.

He took a muggle bus to London, and slept.

Remus opened the door to the flat.

“Sirius?” he called.

He heard Sirius’s toothbrush clatter in the sink, and suddenly Sirius was out of the bathroom, and had his hands in Remus’s hair, clutching his face and pressing desperate kisses to his mouth.

“Moony, Moony, Moony,” Sirius cooed, holding Remus so so close, almost as if Sirius could hide him inside himself. Remus felt himself relax for the first time in more than a month, melting against Sirius’s chest.

“I’ve been so miserable without you,” Sirius said.

“You have no idea,” Remus said. “They’re just people Sirius. They just want to live, and have a safe place to transform, and care afterward. No one is biting children except Greyback. I didn’t meet one person who’d turned anyone. And if people are angry for being shunned and ostracized, I can’t say that I blame them. It’s not like the Order is doing anything about reforming the Registry.”

Remus’s eyes blazed. He’d had this argument with Dumbledore before.

Sirius led Remus to the bathroom, and helped him into the bath. Sirius delighted in Remus’s tattoo, kissing Remus’s red chest. Sirius coated in a healing salve, and kissed Remus again for good measure.

Remus told him everything he’d learned and heard, and as he talked, Sirius shampooed his hair, and washed his back. Sirius was extra gentle, as he could tell the transformation had gone poorly. He knew Remus’s body better than his own.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you, Sirius,” Remus said, as Sirius dried him off and took him to bed.

Remus didn’t ever want to find out.

#10daysofhealing #wolfstarcomfortminifest #justtoarguewithyou #day 7: returning

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saang · 4 years

Text

accidentally just stayed up all night writing more of my medieval au 👀👀

anyway this one goes out to @rllyjohnrlly because they made me art so i wrote them a fic!!

word count: 1900

read on ao3

“We could take the long way to the kingdom,” Toph suggested. “That way we can guarantee more time together.”

“To swordfight, I presume. You wouldn’t have an ulterior motive,” Aang smiled.

“Of course not, who do you take me for?” Toph reached out for his hand and held it. Her sword fastened in his belt with his own for the time being, until she got a safe place for it herself.

“Then, we’ll take the long way to the kingdom. Effectively adding two additional months to our journey. To swordfight, of course,” Aang squeezed Toph’s hand lightly. Her hand fitting perfectly in his. Her hands weren’t calloused like his, they were soft. They were soft, but she knew how to use them.

Toph let out a small laugh as they walked on the beaten path of the forest floor. They walked on a patch that had been once crossed a thousand times, but seldom still knew it existed. Aang led her across vines and branches and grass.

“This path was once the most popular way to get to the coast,” Aang said. “But when the earthquake happened and left the cliff, it was completely forgotten.”

“There’s a cliff? I never knew that.” Toph reached out feeling the close net trees of the path. It was amazing how nature reformed after human interference. The leaves tickling her fingers as they brush by.

“Very few do. I did say it was completely forgotten, didn’t I?” Aang lightly nudged Toph’s shoulder. Toph scoffed playfully. “We’re coming to a clearing pretty soon. Do you want to have your first official swordfighting lesson?”

“Do you even have to ask?” Toph stepped forward, urging Aang to move faster.

“I guess not,” Aang chuckled. He walked towards the clearing faster, Toph keeping pace with him.

“Alright, so,” Toph started. “What are we going to learn first?”

“We are going to learn the proper stance.”

“Ugh, boring. When are we going to learn the fun stuff?”

“After you know how to uphold a good stance,” Aang explained. He guided her into a proper position. “Stance is the most important part of swordfighting. Without a good stance, you’re off balance and it is much easier for your opponent to gain the upper hand.”

“Ugh, fine,” Toph said, holding her sword out in front of her. Aang had taken great care in restoring it for her. Cleaning off the rust, sharpening it. Making sure it was at tiptop shape for when Toph actually started using it.

Toph was a quick learner, picking up proper etiquette easily and well. Training went swimmingly for the next few weeks. They’d travel, train, set up camp or stay in an inn, but the closer they got to the Beifong Kingdom of Gaoling, the more they started to realize what would happen in the end.

Aang would go back to his kingdom. Toph would be married off to a nobleman to carry on the family lineage. They would part ways, and the only thing Toph would have to remember him by was a sword that her parents probably wouldn’t let her use.

“Aang,” Toph said one night. Her head rested on his chest as he stared up at the stars. “Is this really the last time we’ll ever see each other?”

“Do you want the hopeful answer or the realistic answer?”

“Realistic.”

“As much as it hurts me to say, even think about,” he took a deep breath, preparing to say the words he had been dreading. “Probably not.”

“Two weeks,” Toph said. “That’s how long we have with each other until we never see each other again.”

“Fourteen days, three hundred thirty-six hours.”

“What’s the hopeful answer?” Toph asked.

“Well, we would show up to the Beifong Kingdom and your parents would immediately accept our relationship. We would live out the rest of our lives together.” Aang dreamed up the scenario. He squeezed the arm around Toph a little tighter.

“We would have kids, three of them,” Toph played along. Aangs shirt was getting wet from Toph’s tears, but neither cared.

“What would their names be?” Aang played with Toph’s fingers. He was desperate to keep the tears at bay and unsuccessful.

“Bumi, Tenzin, and Poppy.”

“Poppy is your mother’s name, right?”

“Yeah, it is,” Toph said it softly, barely able to be heard. “I was six, when I ran away.”

“You don’t have to tell me, Toph,” Aang told her in response.

“If there’s anyone in the world I want to know this, it’s you.”

Toph described it in such vivid detail, that even without visual cues Aang was able to picture it all. Toph was six when she ran away. She had disguised herself as a servant and snuck out. At last, she was free, to do what she wished without anybody telling her to have better posture, or sit like a lady. She could feel the fresh grass in between her toes. The chilled air against her arms and the warm sun on her face.

It was amazing, Aang felt a sense of freedom listening to her tell the story. However, all stories have a twist. Toph had had her first taste of freedom ten years prior, quickly she learned that freedom also meant danger. She learned how scary being blind could actually be. She sought refuge in the Southern Kingdom. It was cold, icy, barren, but the people were kind. They gave her food to eat and clothes to wear.

Katara and Sokka, the crown prince and princess of the Southern Kingdom. Passionate, kind, caring. They weren’t too much older than her at the time. Katara was eight and Sokka was nine. They left her with a new sense of hope that she could make it in the world. They assured her that she always had a place in the Southern Kingdom if she were to need it.

She set off on her adventure, replenished, revitalized and ready to take on the world. She was faced with challenges of all kinds. People wanting to undermine her. People who wanted to hurt her. People who thought she looked a lot like the Beifong’s missing princess. No one really looked that far into the last one.

People were rude and scary, like the princess of the Equator Kingdom. Azula. Azula’s uncle and brother saved her, gave her shelter, food. Somewhere safe from not only Azula but the harsh realities of the world. Zuko was four years older than her, already fourteen when they had met. His uncle, Iroh, was a lot older, he never said his age but Toph guessed it was quite old.

She left the Equator Kingdom, ready to face the world, knowing the dangers of it. She stumbled upon where she would spend most of her days until a ceratin soldier from the Eastern Kingdom would walk in.

She arrived in the Republic of Kyoshi, the first and only Republic in the world. The ruler wasn’t decided by parentage but by merit. She was adopted into a group of strong-willed girls, not unlike herself. Eight years were spent living peacefully, well as peaceful as it could get. That is, however, until a soldier came along. He found out who Toph was, they had agreed that they would return Toph to her kingdom. The Beifong Heiress would return. Toph couldn’t remember the name of the soldier, it was a complete blank.

“I think it started with an ‘E’?” Toph joked. “Then again ‘I’ and ‘O’ are also very realistic,”

“Did this soldier happen to fall in love with you?” Aang asked, going along with Toph.

“I think I can remember that happening,” Toph laughed. “I can also remember falling in love with him too.”

“Oh, really now?” Aang played with Toph’s hair that was sprawled on his chest. “And you still don’t remember his name?”

“Let me think about it,” Toph paused. “Nope, nothing.”

The fall asleep under the full moon and the bright constellations. They woke up to the rising sun in the east. They packed up their makeshift campsite and continued their journey. They tried to justify extending their trip. They bought themselves a few extra days before they were face to face with the doors of the palace.

“I remember there being a few artisans booths, we could stay at one a little while before we enter the palace?” Toph suggested. “Besides, I bared my whole life story to you, I need something in return.”

It was a dry attempt at humour, but it was the only thing keeping them from breaking down. “Alright, where to start?”

Aang told Toph about where he was born first, hr figured he would start at the beginning. A little hospital outside of the capital. The fire that ended up taking both of his parent’s lives and many others. The heat that Aang could still feel at night sometimes.

He was adopted by a monk, Gyatso. He trained his whole life to be a soldier. He wanted to save as many lives as he could. He looked out the window sometimes wod=ndering when it would be his turn to protect the people he cared about.

His hope and his determination depleted when Gyatso passed away when he was twelve. The soldiers saw the boy with a dream and adopted Aang into their ranks. For three years he trained with the best soldiers of the Eastern Kingdom.

One day, Aang was sent out to patrol. He got lost down a beaten path that led to a cliff. An old man drinking tea told him about the cliff’s past. The earthquake the path once taken. The life lived before the generation came to be.

He followed the cliff, the shoreline until he found the Republic of Kyoshi. He saw a beautiful girl, arguably the most beautiful person he had ever seen. He introduced himself to the girl, telling her his name. Although, he can’t seem to remember her name. He discovered she was the princess that had ran away ten years ago, and they set a course for Goaling.

“And here we are, you're all caught up,” Aang said. “My whole life story.”

“Alright,” Toph smiled sadly, “I guess its time for us go to the palace.”

They arrived at the doors of the palace for the second time that day. Aang stood by her side as she greeted the Kingdom again. After a decade of being lost, she was finally found.

“You’re alive!” Her father shouted. “I never thought I’d see you again!”

“We did everything we could, we’re so glad to have you back!” Her mother welcomed her back with a hug. She had a faint sense that Aang was getting ready to leave. She let go of her mother’s hug and stepped back.

“I’m back on three conditions,” Toph said.

“What are they?”

“One, Aang gets to stay.” Aang turned around, eyes wide in shock at Toph’s condition. “Two, he can court me if he so chooses, and three he gets to teach me swordfighting.”

“Toph, you can’t be serious,” her mother laughed. “A woman wielding a sword? That’s blasphemous.”

“You do need an heir, don’t you?” Toph asked.

“I suppose that Aang can stay. He can court you, and he can teach your swordfighting, if he so chooses.” Toph turned to Aang and ran into his arms.

“I guess we don’t have to choose between hopeful and realistic.”

#taang #atla #aang #toph #toph beifong #medieval au #avatar: the last airbender #tophaang #toph bei fong #toph bei fong x aang #toph beifong x aang #toph x aang #fic #taang fanfiction

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ehstarwar · 4 years

Text

under thy own life’s key (6/7)

They’d been like this the whole night. Sleeping only periodically, spending the majority of their time fucking. Slowly sometimes, without any real desire for release, just the feeling of each others bodies. More roughly, other times; desperate pounding that Rey is sure leaves bruises. But she loves it.

Ben and Rey celebrate their first time having sex with more sex.

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2K

Read on AO3

Notes: thank u all so much for the love so far; u are all my favorite people ever. also plz don't hate me.

Chapter 6: they kill me with a living death

She doesn’t know what time it was. It could be four a.m.; could be noon; could be an entire different year for all Rey cared.

Ben worked his mouth over her chest, laving at her hard, pink nipples that felt perpetually hard. His mouth sucked on one, the other being attended to by his hand; caressing, tugging, flicking. Like it was his one and only purpose. His come was still running down her thighs, combined with the slickness his mouth was creating. His other hand was pulsing in and out of her, two fingers deep in her cunt. His thumb teased her clit until it felt like it was about to fall off.

Her orgasms now don’t come as shocking currents, but more like tidal waves that wash over her entire body. His fingers work her through it as his mouth continues sucking hickeys over her chest. When he withdrawals his finger, Ben brings them to his mouth, sucking every last drop of Rey he can.

Reys’ hand delicately traces all the moles on his face, making a constellation that she’d repeatedly kissed through the night. His eyes were hooded, she didn’t know if that was from lack of enough sleep or desire for her. She’d like to think it was both.

“What time is it?” She asked, voice hoarse from screams she muffled with pillows or Bens’ hand.

“Who cares,” Ben says, peppering kisses up her neck.

“My body has gotten quite used to eating multiple times a day, so, it cares.”

Ben scowled. “I’ll bring you food.”

“You don’t think our friends will notice it’s odd that you’re up and I’m not?”

“I’ll tell them you’re feeling under the weather. That I’m probably already infected with whatever you have, so I’ll take care of you.”

“That sounds nice…” Ben chuckled into her skin, tickling her neck. “It may be more believable if I go up and say you’re sick. They think you’re a vampire that got sun poisoning yesterday.”

“Our friends are idiots.”

“Yeah, but we choose to be friends with them anyways.”

“Hmmm…” He rubs his face into her hair, inhaling deeply. “It may be wiser for you to go up. That way you won’t fall asleep in a post-orgasm haze. Again.”

“Ugh,” She lightly smacks his arm, cheeks turning red. “I fall asleep because of some sort of sex hormone that orgasms produce. If anything, the blame is on you, not me.”

“I totally believe you, baby.”

There it was. That term of endearment that made Rey hot in all the best ways. Which is bizarre. It’s a very common nickname for significant others that Rey just so happens to have never been called before and now Rey doesn’t want to be called literally anything else.

It also presents another problem.

It was an endearment that couples called each other. People who were dating. Had established that they were seeing each other. Who could, for the most part, talk to their partner and figure out where their relationship stood. Something Rey and Ben had yet to do.

The idea of the forthcoming conversation that they needed to have (they were well beyond the point of being able to put it off), was enough to make Rey shoot up from the bed and out of Bens’ grasp. She rooted around for clean underwear and clothes she could slip on so as not to scar her friends for life.

“You really are hungry,” Ben comments, still laying on the bed.

“Benjamin, have you met me?”

“Fair.”

“Any particular order that you’d like to place? But I’ll have you know that my culinary skills peaked when I learned to put an egg in instant ramen.” Bens’ mouth twitched up at the corners.

“I’m sure you’ll get enough for the both of us. I’ll just eat whatever scraps you leave behind.”

Rey side eyes him as she begins to climb the stairs. She hears an even toned voice call up ‘try to throw a vegetable in there, too’ before she opens the stairwell door.

After their bellies are full and Ben eats Rey out again (his desert, he’d teased), they wind up in the shower. Ben holds her up, using the tile wall as a support as he relentlessly thrust up into her. Their bodies are slick and Rey would normally be worried about the likelihood of slipping, but she doesn’t with Ben. At no point did his muscles feel like the were ready to give out. He just held her, pounding into her with ruthless abandon, making her chant his name like a prayer.

“You gonna come for me, baby? You gonna get us all filthy again right in the shower?” Rey could only manage to moan for him, nodding her head against the cool tile. Bens’ mouth descended onto her shoulder, lightly biting down as he began to come. His hands held her hips flush with his, leaving no option for Rey other than to just hang limply in his arms as her orgasm crashed through her too.

Ben was sweet with her then, sinking them both to the shower floor, still attached, as he brushed the water and wet strands of hair out of her eyes. They were like that a minute until she heard a bottle being opened, then felt ben work shampoo into her hair.

“You’re gonna make my hair nice… like yours?” She asked, still a little breathless. He just hummed in acknowledgement. He rinsed out the shampoo before putting conditioner, then worked a soapy wash toweled down her whole body, missing no nook or cranny, even cleaning each toe individually.

Rey felt like a fucking queen.

Rey returned the favor to him, taking advantage of being able to run her hands through the glorious mop of black hair on his head, and tracing all the hard plains of his muscles. Rey though she’d get scored for taking extra good care washing his firm ass, but Ben didn’t seem to mind.

They rinsed off, and Ben got out before her, so that he could dry himself off before wrapping Rey like a burrito in a warm towel. She brushed out her hair, applied lotion down her whole body; pampering her for reasons she was too high to question.

They ended up back on the bed, Ben finding new sheets in the small closet and placing them on there. They’d have to think of a believable way to wash the come stains out of the others before they left. Neither of them seemed to care too much at the moment.

Rey went back to munching on some wheat thins she’d snagged from the kitchen on her run while Ben sat, facing her, rubbing her legs.

“We should probably talk about… this,” Ben spoke, suddenly, causing Rey to choke for a second on the four wheat thins she currently had stuffed in her mouth.

“About what?” She questioned, mouth still full. Ben gave her a pointed look.

“Rey.” She waived her hands in surrender, setting down the box beside the bed and swallowing the rest in her mouth.

“You’re right, you’re right,” She says, while situating herself a little straighter. A hollow feeling formed in her gut at the thought o having to talk about their relationship, but it’s what adults did. Get through something uncomfortable so that something slightly less uncomfortable would be waiting for her after.

“I guess I just want to know where we stand… like after… everything.” Ben gestures vaguely to the dirty sheets in the corner.

“After all the sex, you mean.” Bens’ ears turn red and Rey can’t help but caress them.

“And.. things like that. We didn’t used to do that before.” Rey drops her hand slowly.

“I guess… I don’t know where we stand. It’s… a lot to process.” His face falls.

“We’ve had all night to process.”

“We were sort of busy all night, if you’ll remember. Plus, we’ve been friends for eight year, Ben. Twelve hours isn’t exactly a ton of time to think things over.”

“What is there to think about?”

“You can’t be serious.”

“I am. What is there to think about Rey?”

She gets up from the bed, needing to put distance between Ben and herself.

“Eight years, Ben. We’ve been best friends for eight years. Going from platonic emotions to very sexually charged emotions, merits a little bit of thinking.”

“Such as?”

Rey huffs, searching her head to find something that wouldn’t make Ben scoff at her. Like there was chance of that happening.

“Like… who I��m going to call when I want to get drunk in my apartment and watch trashy shows with if I can’t call you.”

“Why wouldn’t you call me? If we’er together, wouldn’t I be the person you’d do that with, no questions asked?”

“What if we fight, Ben? What if we do what we’re doing right now? Who could I call then?”

“We both have other friends! Hell, we’re in a house full of them right now.”

“But you’re different. It’s different between us, Ben, it always has been.”

“That’s exactly why there’s nothing for us to think about! We were always headed towards this!”

“It’s not easy for me to just accept that! You’re my best friend! If it turns out that we weren’t meant for this and we do break up, what am I supposed to do? I can handle loosing a boyfriend, but I can’t handle loosing my best friend on top of that!”

“That won’t happen.”

“We’re fighting right now and we’re not even officially dating.”

“We wouldn’t break up, Rey. We’d make it work. I’m not your parents, I’m not going to leave you like garbage.”

Rey goes rigid. Her whole body tenses as the words play over and over again in her head.

“Everyone I’ve ever loved has left me, Ben. You can’t be upset with me for being scared.”

His jaw works as his eyes continue to stare deeply into hers.

“I’ve proved myself for eight years that I won’t leave you, Rey. What more do I have to do?”

Rey stares right back at him, unmoving.

“Maybe not be a huge asshole to me while asking for us to be together would have helped.”

Neither of them can move, both unyielding in their respective ground. When it’s clear that their thoughts on this won’t change either, Rey turns around to grab clothes. She takes off the comically large t-shirt that Ben placed on her, replacing it with her own clothing.

“I’m going to stay with Rose for the rest of the trip.” She doesn’t turn to tell him that, but she can hear the squeaking of the bed as he gets up. He doesn’t say anything. When she turns to face him to grab her phone, she sees that his expression is still hard, but his eyes softened a bit.

Rey forces down the tears that will absolutely be spilling soon.

“Rey, I-” But he doesn’t finish. Rey looks at him, willing from him to say something, anything, but he doesn’t. He closes him mouth and Rey leaves the room.

When Finn opens the door to Roses’ room, he’s met with a watery-eyed Rey.

“Oh, hey Rey. Rose and I were just playing cards. But like, we didn’t have any cards so we were playing with ones on our phone. That’s why there’s no actual cards here. What did you- Are you okay?”

“Finn, I think I messed everything up.” Rey breaks into sobs before she can finish speaking.

#just fyi #im a serial HEA-ist #plz keep that in mind my loves #reylo #ben solo #kylo ren #rey #ben solo x rey #kylo ren x rey #sw #star wars #fan fiction #ao3 #adam driver #daisy ridley #ben x rey #rey x ben #my work #utolk

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