#i just need to post this before i *side-eyes my ever-growing draft list* forget. again.

[a-resplendent-mushroom]

playing around with my robin designs

individuals under the cut!

[azenkii]

A Long List of Trash Fire Lord Zuko Headcanons

...that i couldn't get out of my head:

(warning: SUPER LONG POST i havent figured out how to trim posts yet)

he's the one who unchains azula despite iroh's protests. she doesn't even try to fight him, just cries into his shoulder and keeps mumbling about how father's going to be so disappointed in her. he takes her to her rooms and has her drink a sleeping draught, then stations the best guards he has left outside her chambers.

his first council meeting takes place literally a day after sozin's comet. he hobbles into the council chamber shirtless with his entire torso covered in bandages and every council member just looks at him like '...what'

he does NOT sleep for like,,a week after sozin's comet and then another two weeks after his coronation. katara, aang and suki try to persuade him to sleep and he doesn't listen. eventually sokka, toph and mai team up to literally drag his ass to bed and tell him he's not allowed to get up until he sleeps (does mai pin him to the bed with her knives? yes. is it kinky or sexual in any way? definitely not.)

he drinks So. Much. Tea. at this point it's practically tasteless to him but he drinks it anyway because he just needs something to do and tea is something familiar. he keeps iroh on his toes because he's constantly asking for new tea blends, uncle, i think i actually tasted the last one,

he flat-out refuses to grow his hair for at least a year after ozai's defeat. the second it starts getting close to his chin he shears it off himself, with his knife, and his stylist has a heart attack every single time

when he's tired he'll occasionally jump up when one of his guards moves. it stops after a bit, but for the first month and a half or so he's really twitchy. when sokka asks, the only explanation he can come up with is that he's not used to having people stand behind him silently and not want to kill him, much less want to protect him (sokka immediately takes him out for a shopping trip and makes a point of walking behind him the entire time, but only on zuko's right side, where he can clearly see it if sokka moves towards him)

when the healer declares azula mentally unstable and in need of an institution, he shuts himself in his office for the rest of the night. no one's allowed in, not even iroh. he finally emerges in the morning, eyes red from crying and sleep deprivation, and tells the librarian that he'd like a list of the best mental institutions in the country, please, the best in the world if you can get them

he loves theatre (is this even a headcanon?). unfortunately it practically died out in the fire nation along with the rest of the creative arts, leaving nothing but small troupes like the ember island players. one of zuko's personal goals (meaning things he wants to accomplish that aren't as important as restoring his country) is to bring back theatre; he finally manages to do it after about eight months or so of being fire lord, along with other arts like dancing, music and sculpture

he establishes a national day of mourning, on the first day of autumn every year, to commemorate the genocide of the air nomads. from 100AG onwards, every calendar printed in the fire nation has it marked. at first it was called the day of repentance, but aang persuaded him to have it changed (by arguing that he didn't want guilt to be a literal staple of fire nation culture)

he introduces literally So Many educational reforms, plus a mandatory class that teaches students about the cultures of the other nations (air nomads included) and how some of their traditions overlap

he turns down the offer of having a statue put up of him in the capital. toph ignores him and does it anyway.

he visits azula regularly, makes sure she's (relatively) comfortable and well-fed, and sometimes just sits down outside her door and tells her about everything that's going on right now ('some of the far colonies have developed their own standardised writing, azula, you wouldn't believe it, and i've asked the fire sages to come visit more often—but you never liked them, did you? oh, well; i'll make sure none of them go into your chambers by mistake')

(he doesn't know it, but when he does this azula sits by the door and listens. she wonders what kind of writing the colonists have developed, and whether or not the fire sages have taken on some new recruits.)

he hates being above anyone else. never sits in the throne if he can help it, nor does he sit on the dais in the council room. when he talks to people shorter than him, he finds himself stooping a little bit to talk to them on their level (the exception to this rule is sokka, who he mocks for being shorter all the way up until sokka grows taller than him, the bastard)

the first time he visits the earth kingdom, the earth king's ministers call a toast. he ends up being the only one who has to sit out, because he's too young to drink by earth kingdom law

once his servants figure out he won't kill them for talking to him, they start becoming a lot more bold, telling him off when he doesn't take care of himself. at one point, they force him to let them take care of him so much that he literally just bolts into the gardens and hides there until the staff rope in mai and ty lee

when he needs to escape, he does one of two things: (a) he dresses up as the blue spirit and does some parkour until he calms down, or (b) he goes to work at the jasmine dragon. (b) happens less often bc the jasmine dragon's in ba sing se, but there's been a few memorable incidents when an earth kingdom diplomat walks in and yells, 'LEE?!' when they see the fire lord

the first court artist who draws him also happens to be the one who drew azulon and ozai. he draws zuko without his scar. zuko takes one look at it and tells him, very calmly, that he'd like him to leave, please.

zuko burns the portrait. he doesn't fire the court artist, but he never calls on him again unless he has to. a second court artist is called, and can't help but be a bit confused when the fire lord tells him to be sure to include the scar

he forgets the crown. a lot. sometimes he walks into council meetings in his sleepwear with his hair tied up in a messy ponytail and a bunch of scrolls tucked under his arm. none of his councilmen have the guts (or the heart) to tell him that this is not, in fact, formal council wear

he goes to feed the turtleducks when he's stressed. he thinks he's being subtle. he's not. the entire palace knows, and they consciously give him space when they see him in the turtleduck garden

most of his staff are older than him, so they look at him and see this teeny tiny fire lord who is So Small and who Must Be Protected. the day after zuko's coronation, the head chef holds a meeting where they commence Operation Do-Not-Let-That-Boy-Turn-Out-Like-His-Father (subsection He's-The-Only-Good-Thing-We-Have)

one night he wakes up to find suki sitting in his room, decked out in full kyoshi warrior garb and makeup, and just about screams blue murder. suki tells him there are suspicions of an assassin in the palace, and would you please stop yelling it's very distracting, we won't be able to hear anyone coming over that racket

zuko gets very, very paranoid of random spirits after that. yeah, suki looks like a possibly malevolent spirit when she's wearing her makeup, what about it? (when he tells sokka he's highkey terrified of spirit shenanigans, sokka just looks at him and says, 'man, the stories i could tell...', and THAT'S when zuko remembers sokka spent like six months more than he did travelling with the avatar)

on his first visit to the southern water tribe, he removes his boots and leg guards, rolls up his pants and kneels barefoot in the snow. even though chief hakoda immediately starts trying to pull him up, he's stubborn as hell and stays kneeling for the entirety of his very long, very sincere apology-on-behalf-of-the-fire-nation speech. he nearly loses his toes to frostbite after that, and both sokka and katara never stop giving him shit for it

the first time he grows a 'beard' is completely accidental. he's stressed over some trade miscommunications with chief hakoda, hasn't slept in a few days...and then when sokka arrives as water tribe ambassador to help smooth things over, he takes one look at zuko and says 'man, facial hair does not suit you'

zuko: facial what now

he checks a mirror to find that he's got stubble covering his chin, dark enough that it almost looks intentional, and holy gods how the fuck did he not notice this before

'UNCLE WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME' 'i assumed you were doing it on purpose' 'WHEN HAVE I EVER DONE ANYTHING ON PURPOSE'

he shaves it all off immediately, of course, which prompts a lot of teasing and rib-poking from sokka until zuko finally snaps that he's scared it'll make him look like his father. sokka stops after that.

(the day after sokka leaves, zuko finds that a mysterious someone has scribbled all over ozai's royal portrait, giving him a frankly ridiculous beard and moustache that literally CANNOT be grown in real life. oddly enough, he can't bring himself to care about the defamation of royal property. he's too busy laughing.)

his paths cross with toph and sokka more than any of the others, because sokka is ambassador and toph is technically still a beifong. most of the time, at formal functions, he ends up sequestered in the corner with toph and a hoard of snacks, and they talk and swear much more than they usually do (zuko's ministers once heard him when he was drunk with toph, and the servants swear the older ministers' ears started bleeding)

he restores fire nation cultural festivals, and in doing so subjects himself to learning a lot of complicated dances

during one memorable week, he wrote so many letters and drafted so much legislation that he ran out of paper. he had to go visit the nearest school and ask for some

he keeps up with his firebending and sword training even though it's hard to fit into his schedule. his ministers refrain from reminding him that he has guards to protect him now; it's still hard for zuko to trust his safety with anyone but himself (team avatar is the exception).

he started sleepwalking about two months into his reign. no one knew why. one time, he nearly sleepwalked right off the edge of a balcony, and one of his guards had to grab him by the back of his robes.

the sleepwalking stopped after around a month and never happened again. at this point it's practically palace legend.

after freeing the war prisoners, he went around collecting every single earthbender-proof wooden cell he could find in the capital and surrounding areas. when he'd gotten most of them, he gathered them into a huge pile in the city square and set fire to them with his own hands.

unfortunately he couldn't do that with the waterbender metal cells but he did get toph to come in and bend them all into pretty shapes (well, toph thought they were pretty shapes. everyone else thinks they're meaningless squiggles)

he learned how to write with both hands at the same time out of sheer necessity (he refused scribes until it became clear that he'd be putting some people out of a job; that was when he started letting scribes write very, very minor things, but all important documents/drafts/letters are still written by him)

he once put the wet end of an ink brush in his mouth instead of the wooden end by mistake. didn't even realise until he bit down to keep it in place and ink went oozing everywhere

when his guards rushed in to find him coughing and spluttering black liquid all over his desk they thought he'd been poisoned but no he's just stupid

on his 17th birthday, his first one after being crowned, he got tackled by team avatar in the middle of the ballroom and ended up at the bottom of a cuddlepile for like ten minutes

this cuddlepile happened at an event that was very much public and very much formal. it was a scandal for weeks

just. fire lord zuko, guys. so much potential

[softluci]

hello yes can i just say i l o v e d your gen z hcs and may i acquire more

for starters, i am not religious, but i am PRAYING you don’t think i was ignoring your ask. i’ve been thinking about it since i got it, it’s just that i’m a college student with worms for brains, so hopefully you understand. this is something that i’ve had on my mind for a long time [i’ve been at this on and off for months], and it most definitely can be associated with/attributed to gen z. 

for a fleeting, wonderful period of time, there was a trend on tiktok that went, “buss it, buss it…” are you familiar? 

that should be enough of a summary, right? ah—for future reference, “o7” is like a saluting emote, for anyone who might not know. reader is g/n as usual, enjoy!

[a/n: so because this is so long, this part is going to be, like, the lore, and then the actual headcanons will be right here]

trendy 

the two things most corrosive to the human spirit are easily named—capitalism and boredom. while it would be easier and less taxing to explain the former, the latter was the problem at hand. it’s not that there was nothing to do in the devildom—quite the opposite, actually—it was just that you wanted some time to yourself every now and again. the trouble with trying to take time for yourself in a completely new location, the residents of which are always enamored with you in one way or another, is that there isn’t anything to do. the house was full of adventures for you to take—the trap door under the rug in the library, the other trap door under the dining room table, the small door behind the couch in the living room, and whatever other poorly hidden doors your seven roommates thought you didn’t know about. 

trouble was, you didn’t want to leave your room. you, intelligent creature that you are, knew that the chances of you running into mammon or satan or beel or asmo were all too high, and even higher were the chances of you agreeing to spend time with them if they asked, and you knew they would. what were you to do? 

you stared at your ceiling from your bed, d.d.d. resting on your stomach as you let your mind wander. your d.d.d. was full of things for you to do, the devildom’s ethernet at your fingertips, but you weren’t interested in finding new things right now. you wanted something familiar, like—like your phone. 

what was the point of lucifer taking your phone, anyway? it’s not like you could use it—being here rendered it a useless brick of glass and metal, so it wouldn’t have been a big deal if you still had it. it was funny, though, that you couldn’t use your actual phone when it was still possible to access the human internet from down here. 

at least, you assumed so. 

how else would levi be able to keep up with his human idols, get tickets for their shows—the works, you know? luckily, you were fully capable of asking. 

d.d.d. now in your hand, you rolled onto your stomach and found your messages with levi, nails clacking against the glass as you tried to reach him.

hey, you texted, can you help me with something?

his reply came faster than you expected: ?? what do you need 

how do i access human websites and apps, you asked, rolling onto your side. you know how to, right?

lololol, it’s not possible :p

a grunt, more aggravated than you’d care to admit, escaped from the back of your throat.

don’t lie. 

a few minutes passed with no response, and you wondered if you were too harsh. 

“he’s a sensitive guy,” you mumbled, inhaling deeply. “i probably came on too strong or something.” 

just as you started typing out an apology and a, “forget i ever said anything,” you got a response. 

a vpn and a proxy site. 

a smile crept onto your face as air came out of your nose, the closest thing to a laugh you could muster. 

can you set it up for me? 

after another few minutes of no response, you sit up, wondering how you could’ve possibly fucked up a second time, your d.d.d. buzzed. 

levi sent you a file and a link, with a host of instructions. 

click on the file and it’ll take you to the vpn you need to download. don’t worry about bugs or anything, i made it myself. 

you let out a low whistle, flopping onto your back once more. 

“this guy gets up to more than i thought,” you said, eyebrows raised. “someone get this man some physical affection.” 

you continued to read, growing more fond of him with each sentence.

once you install it, pick the country whose network you want access to. from there, you’ll have a list of that country’s most used applications available for you. again, don’t worry about bugs. 

what’s the link for? you asked, excitement getting the better of you. 

for when you download internet applications. it’s added security, paste the link in before you search anything or you’ll trigger the firewall alarm. 

you blinked. 

you’ll trigger the what? 

i’ll trigger the fucking What? 

levi’s response was the fastest one yet: the Fucking Firewall Alarm. barbatos’ design. he has no idea i know how to bypass it. just do what i said. don’t try to solve any potential issues on your own, come to me for everything.

roger that o7, you replied, thanks levi ^_^

yeah, yeah. come to my room for a hxh binge tomorrow night.

you snorted. what a fucking nerd—in the greatest way possible. 

of course bestie :] ily

ily2 normie -_- 

in his room, unbeknownst to you, levi felt like he made a mistake of some kind. it’s not that he didn’t trust you, it’s just that you had a tendency to end up in undesirable situations, even if it wasn’t always on purpose. he was probably just worried over nothing, or so he tried to tell himself, but whatever. this isn’t even about him.

you sat up once more, this time leaning against your pillows as you started setting everything up. everything went so quickly that you barely wondered if all of this—subverting hell’s firewall, personally designed by a man eerily similar to a 2D crush from when you were in middle school—was worth accessing a few silly apps from the human world. 

a few minutes later, your d.d.d. now a much, much cooler copy of your phone, any and all thoughts of regret and hesitation were absent from your mind. 

your first order of business on your upgraded d.d.d. was logging into your tiktok account, however surprising it was that you even remembered the password. you put your headphones in and adjusted your volume, going back into the dumpster fire that is your for-you page with open arms. 

after around half an hour of stifled laughter and small, offended gasps from being targeted by the algorithm, you came across a rare dancing video. the person on your screen was in casual clothes, making minor, silly dance movements as the music dwindled, only for them to drop into a squat in time with the music, suddenly dolled up. you shot forward, taken aback by their transformation and by their dancing post beat drop. did you watch it on a loop for a few minutes? well, that’s nobody’s business but yours. you clicked on the sound in hopes of finding similar videos, and much to your relief, there were plenty. about ten videos in, a smile still on your face, you got an idea. 

you slipped your headphones out, arbitrarily looking around your room, before whispering to yourself, “i could—i could do that. i could totally do that.” 

and you were right. you had nice clothes and makeup from various shopping occasions with asmo. your room had led strips, courtesy of levi ordering the wrong ones and being so kind as to give them to you. you could do it. 

levi was the only person you’d spoken to since you retreated to your room a few hours ago, and the lights have been off the entire time, which meant that if you worked quietly enough, everyone else had reason enough to assume you were asleep. good! how could you possibly explain what you were doing getting all dolled up at, like, 11:00 on a wednesday night? you couldn’t, even a little bit—not in a way that convinced anyone, anyway. 

come midnight, you were sitting cross legged on your bed, watching your final product. not to be vain or anything, but you were looking very respectfully at yourself. since when could you move like that, anyway? the wonders of being alone, you supposed. 

you didn’t post it publicly, electing to save it as a draft just so it would save to your d.d.d. maybe you’d post it once you were back in the human world, when your friends wouldn’t swarm your comments asking where the fuck you were. 

yeah, lucifer told you, “everything was taken care of,” but regardless of whether or not you believed him, you knew it wasn’t a good idea to risk finding out if he missed something. 

boredom creeping up on you again, you elected to go through the messages on your d.d.d. it would be better to make yourself laugh before you were fully bored again, right? you stood up and stretched, opening the group text with the adults. luke doesn’t know about it; he thinks the one with everyone is the main one, and everyone lets him think that so he feels included. 

walking around your room in small circles, you scrolled up to the older conversations and read through them, rolling your eyes and chuckling to yourself. very rarely did they talk about anything of importance. it was mostly diavolo, barbatos, and simeon making quips and jokes at lucifer’s expense for everyone to see. it was gold in its purest form. 

you contemplated sending one of the many cursed things sitting in your camera roll, just to keep them on their toes, but just after opening your gallery, you resigned not to, figuring it would be best to leave him alone. 

you stretched again, the hold on your d.d.d. a bit looser this time. it nearly slipped out of your hands, but you caught it, tossing it onto your bed. as soon as you resigned to start getting ready for bed, you turned back around and picked it up. 

there was no rhyme or reason to your actions; if someone in that moment were to ask you why you did it, you would’ve said, “just ‘cause.”

human intuition is a wonderful thing.

your d.d.d. was still on, still open to the group chat. you’d sent something, evidently a second ago, as indicated by the time stamp. the thumbnail was of you, in casual clothing—the casual clothing you were wearing before you got dolled up, actually. huh. 

huh. 

the weight of your mistake came crashing down on you in full force, a chill sinking into your skin and running up your spine.

you were suddenly acutely aware of the concept of time, how it was of the essence and you had absolutely none to waste.

what were you to do? it wouldn’t be long before your favorite person saw it. you had to do something. 

you could say nothing. you could tell the truth and say it was an accident and that you were embarrassed, but that was even worse than saying nothing because it meant you were set to be the target of teasing you didn’t even wanna try to imagine. you could say it was an accident and be confident about it, telling them, “enjoy!” but that was a dangerous game to play, and you knew it. 

well, i do admire you for taking time to think, but, unfortunately, there was a checkmark next to your message. oh, a number as well—eleven. you just can’t catch a break. what were they all doing up at this time, anyway? it was a school night🤨. 

[broadstbroskis]

five times you shared a bed with your best friend plus one time you didn’t | matthew tkachuk

lol so @slimskjei-dy requested the prompt 16. We’ve been sharing a bed since we were little so why is this weird now? from a list i put out a couple days ago to write blurbs for and this spiraled out of control, so here’s nearly 4k.

one

The Tkachuk’s move into the house next door to your family the summer before you start preschool and at the ripe age of three, you are too young to have any idea what going with your mom to drop off “welcome to the neighborhood” brownies is going to mean for your future.

Really, it likely has more to do with the fact that “welcome to the neighborhood” brownies turned into a glass of “welcome to the neighborhood” wine between your mom and Chantal Tkachuk, which turned into a bottle of wine while you and Matthew played in the backyard with Brady’s chubby little baby legs trying his hardest to keep up. 

By the time Keith arrived home from a midday skate session, with your dad awkwardly following behind, babbling about how your mom had just planned on dropping something off quickly but was still missing, their friendship was basically cemented. Chantal and your mom did everything together. And your dads’ friendship didn’t take long to form after that. 

Which meant you and Matty were right there with them.

But neither of you cared. You’d settled quickly into a friendship, just like your parents had, where you’d play hockey with him and he’d begrudgingly play soccer with you, and you both pretended you had no idea what Brady was talking about when he ran to tattle that you were ganging up on him and not letting him play.

There’s countless pictures of the two of you growing up, getting into all kinds of trouble, but then also, of the quieter moments too. Sitting too close to the TV watching movies, eagerly waiting by the door for Keith to come home from a road trip with souvenirs, the naps curled up around each other in one of your beds. 

“The quietest twenty minutes of the day.” Keith continues to joke, anytime one of those pictures resurfaces.

two

You wince at the sound of glass crashing behind you and decide the best course of action is to keep moving forward with your mission to find Matthew. Whichever hockey bro of Matthew’s house this is can take care of that; it’s not your job.

Besides, the room is spinning from the cheap beer and booze you’d been drinking all night since the two of you arrived at this party, and you’re pretty sure it’s a bad idea to go near glass.

You find Matthew in the kitchen, with a few of his St. Louis hockey bros, a couple of them guys that you’re still friends with even after he’d left to go join the NTDP, as well as a few faces you don’t recognize. You slip up into their circle, sliding under Matty’s arm when it lifts to wrap around your shoulders, grateful for the solid body to lean against.

The room is really starting to spin.

“You okay?” He asks, ignoring whoever’s speaking.

“I don’t think I can go home tonight.” You admit.

He laughs. “Text your mom and tell her you’re staying with me. Big Walt and Chantal are at a tourney with Brady and Taryn; nobody’s home.”

“You don’t think she knows your parents aren’t home?” You scoff, but you’re already pulling out your phone and carefully drafting the text, making sure to avoid any spelling errors that might give your drunkenness away.

“Yeah, but she can’t prove what she hasn’t seen.” Matty winks at you and you roll your eyes.

“Is that what you told your mom after you left her a three minute voicemail at 3am last month?” You chirp at him, smiling at the instant laughter from the friends around you and accepting a fist bump from Luke Kunin.

That line of chirping continues for a few minutes, until Matty manages to turn it around on one of the boys, and then it dissolves into a free for all before they’re all just laughing at each other.

By the time the giggling ends, you’re about three seconds away from falling asleep on Matt’s shoulder, and it’s his nudge that wakes you. “You ready?” You nod, joining him in making goodbyes to your friends, and then following him out the door to begin the walk back toward your houses.

The fresh air does some good to sober you up and you feel marginally less dizzy by the time you and Matt make it to his room. He throws you a t-shirt to change into and you fall into bed after changing, waiting for him to join you, eyes shutting the second you feel the bed settle beside you.

three

The night before Matty’s due to leave for Buffalo for the draft, your phone buzzes with a text from him. You’re expecting more of the same that you’ve been exchanging all day with him-in various group chats with your friends, at a barbeque with both your families, when the two of you were chatting with Brady while you hid in the far corner with the beers you snuck while Taryn and your sister were off doing their thing.

It’s not. Let me in the text says, so you shove the blankets down and make your way downstairs to open the door for him.

“Shh.” You tell him. “They’re all asleep.”

“It’s 3am, of course they are!” He whispers back.

“Well so was I until you woke me up!” You start walking back toward your room, knowing he’ll follow.

Matthew doesn’t speak again until the two of you are in your room, the door is closed, and he’s lying on his side to face you in your bed. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“You can’t possibly be nervous.” You whisper back, knowing he’s talking about the draft. He shrugs and you reach your hand out to shove his shoulder down, allowing it to rest there. “Matty.” He blinks at you a few times as you think of what to say next. “You’re gonna go somewhere and you’re going to be great. One of these teams is going to love you enough to draft you and everyone after them is going to be mad they didn’t have the chance to and almost everyone before them is going to be mad they didn’t end up picking you and you’re going to go off to whatever city does and forget all about me back here.”

Matthew wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you closer to him so you move your hand from the top of his shoulder around to rub at the blade gently. “First of all, that’ll never happen. You’re stuck with me forever.”

You nod seriously. “Somebody’s got to put up with you.”

He pokes you in the side for that one and you have to bite your lip to keep in the squeal of laughter. “Second of all, almost? Almost everyone is going to me mad they didn’t pick me?”

“Leafs got first pick to get Auston! I just don’t think they’re going to regret that!” He pokes you again and you don’t manage to hide the squeal this time. “Matty! Everyone’s sleeping!”

“You should be nicer to me.” He tells you, once you settle down.

“I should be nicer to you? You wake me up at 3am to talk you off the ledge and I should be nicer to you?”

He nods, pulling you even closer to bury his face in your hair. “Always.”

You laugh, the sound muffled into his chest now. “Are we all good now?”

“Hmm?” He says, sounding sleepy already.

“Never mind.” You tell him, rubbing his back again. “Good night, Matty.”

“G’night.”

four

Calgary is a thousand times more incredible than you’d ever imagined. You’d been teasing Matty about being stuck in a frozen wasteland, sending him snaps from sunny gamedays at Mizzou and laughing anytime you get one in return with snow in the picture.

There’s snow on the ground when you arrive in December, fresh out of finals, and still feeling both the mental exhaustion from your exams and the hangover from a day of binge drinking with your friends immediately after they’d ended. You’ll never fly hungover again; the next time you do this, you’ll leave yourself a day of rest between exams and flying up to visit your best friend, since you know you won’t stop drinking earlier.

College is making you smarter already!

Matthew actually laughs when he meets you in the pick up lane, like puts his head on the steering wheel and has to hold off on driving. He gets honked at by the car behind him. “Your laugh is making my headache worse.” You whine.

“So I take it you don’t want the bottle of wine I bought for us to split tonight?”

You look over at him suspiciously. “What kind of wine?”

He laughs again, but softer this time. “Atta girl.”

It’s a red blend, a favorite of the two of you, but a much nicer one than you’ve ever bought before. You let out a low whistle as Matthew places the order for dinner. “Suddenly you’ve got some cash flow and Barefoot’s too good?”

“Hell yeah! Wait until you see what kind of vodka I got for us for Saturday.”

You perk up. “What’s on Saturday?”

“Party with the team before my parents come in.”

You laugh, accepting the glass of wine he pours for you. “You don’t think Big Walt would want to come to the party?”

Matty gives you a look. “I know that’s exactly what would happen and that’s why I told them to come Sunday.”

“Smart thinking.” You admit.

“See, who needs college?” He teases, which settles the two of you into your familiar teasing and banter while you wait for the food to arrive. 

It isn’t too long after dinner and Netflix that you and Matthew are heading to bed, pressing yourself as close as you can to suck up as much warmth that he’s radiating. “Fuck, your feet are cold.” Matty mutters as you giggle and press your toes into his calf.

“Haven’t you missed me?” You sling your leg over his for maximal toe digging, laughing when he jumps.

“I guess.” He says, but his tone says Absolutely.

five

“So what are your plans for after graduation?”Ashley, Sean Monahan’s girlfriend (and soon-to-be fiancee if Matty was to be believed) looks at you during a stoppage of play late in the third.

“God, don’t remind me.” You groan. You’d wrapped the fall semester of your senior year a couple days ago and then taken off to Calgary in what had become your annual post-finals trip. It’d be the last one you ever took, with your final semester of college looming over your head. 

Ashley grins. She’d become a close friend of yours over all your trips to visit Matthew, even flying down to St. Louis last season when the Flames were in town and spending a weekend with some of the other girls visiting you at school afterwards. “Just come hang out up here forever.”

You burst into laughter. “And live where?”

She gives you a look, like it’s the most obvious thing ever. “With Matt?”

“Oh my god, you’re serious.” It takes a full minute for you to recover. Play has resumed, there’s a minor scrum on the ice in front of the two of you but you barely even notice, too shocked by Ashley’s words.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because why would I ever?”

“Because you already do.” She says, with more patience than you’ve possessed in your entire life combined, and then laughs at the look on your face. “YN, what you two have is so special! To fall in love with your best friend at age three and still feel that way is amazing! If Sean and I can look at each the way you and Matt do after twenty years, we could only be so lucky.”

“We’re not in love.” You deny. “Matty and I-we’re just-we’re not.”

Ashley bites her lip, but doesn’t push it any further. “Alright.” She agrees, and thankfully, the game ends there, so you’re able to just gather your things with her and make your way down toward the family room to meet the boys.

But you can’t get her words out of your head as you and Matthew arrive back to his place and start getting ready to go to bed. You move around each other with a practiced ease, handing him the toothpaste before he even asks for it and accepting the oversized sweatshirt he passes to you, somehow knowing that you’re extra chilly tonight. 

Lying next to him in bed, the same way you have for nearly twenty years, suddenly feels suffocating. You roll onto your side, hoping for some room to breath, but now it just feels awkward; this isn’t how you sleep.

You sit up, ditching the sweatshirt. Maybe you’re just too warm. Lying back and pulling the covers back up does nothing to solve that problem, and actually, you’re shivering, so you sit back up and yank the sweatshirt back on.

“Could you settle down?” Matty mumbles, pulling you into his side the second that you’re flat again. His arm rests on your waist, thumb in the dip of your hip, a position it’s been in many times, but suddenly you think you’re having trouble breathing. You open your mouth to tell him this, but he presses a kiss to your temple and says, “Relax, just sleep.”

You don’t sleep a wink the entire night.

plus one

“What do you mean you’re not coming?” Dylan, a good friend of both yours and Matthew’s, is usually one of the most upbeat people you know, so the sound of disappointment coming throughout your phone actually makes you wince. “YN?”

“I just-” You hesitate. You’d have to leave right now in order to get to St. Louis in time to make the Skills Competitions, and even then you might be pushing it, and things were still weird for you with Matty, as evidenced by how things were between the two of you when he came home for his short Christmas break. And things were weird. Everyone noticed- your families, your friends, Matthew. The two of you had spoken only once since, in the group chat where Matthew had texted an invite to your group chat to come home for the weekend for the All Star Weekend and you’d noncommittally responded wow that’d be awesome. “I’m super busy.” You finish lamely.

Dylan sighs. “Look, YN, I don’t know what the fuck is going on between you and Matt and I don’t really care. It’s not my business. But I know he’d really want you there no matter what’s going on and I know you’ll regret not going if you don’t.”

You close your eyes for a second, taking a deep breath. He’s right. “I’ll see you in a few hours, Dyl.”

“Hell yeah,” Dylan cheers.

By the time you make it to St. Louis, you have to race to meet your friends in your seats and the cheer they send up is poorly timed, but it does make you smile. “Shitty seats.” You accept the bottle of Bud Light someone passes you.

Dylan laughs and points up to the giant platform next to you guys. “He’s going to be shooting from there in a while.”

“Alright.” You nod. “I guess this is acceptable then.”

It’s a good while before Matty and the rest of the guys participating in the Shooting Stars event start making their way up, but it’s nice to catch up with your other friends while you wait. If you got a big cheer when you rolled in, the one that goes up when Matthew walks by is deafening (and boostered by the friends of Brady’s that are sitting right behind you guys). The two of them look over at you guys, grinning already, and you see it in Matthew’s face when he spots you, the smirk softening a little and his eyes locking on you.

You’d read about moments where time stands still but it’d never actually happened to you until now. It’s like the crowd doesn’t exist around you, like you don’t actually need to breathe. The only thing that matters is the moment in time when your eyes meet Matty’s. 

And that moment’s broken by Brady shoving him forward. 

As you watch Matthew throughout the entirety of the last event, you know you’re screwed. You’ll get through this weekend, go back to school, and get over these thoughts by the time summer comes. Everything will be back to normal by the time you see Matty again.

In the meantime, you do your best to avoid him once the Skills Competition ends and you join everyone at the after party on the rooftop bar of the hotel. It’s easier than you think it would be to do. When Matty’s talking with some of your local friends, you find yourself catching up with both sets of your parents. When he starts making his way toward your parents, you excuse yourself to the bathroom. You see him make a beeline towards the bar, so you dart off in the opposite direction, where Brady is talking with a couple of his Atlantic Division teammates and push yourself in between the height of him and Auston Matthews, which seems like a safe spot to hide.

“YN!” Auston grins, throwing his hands up in the air, in a drunken greeting that you’d love to be more lowkey.

You reach up and grab them, yanking them down. “Listen, I know it’s been a while since we’ve last hung out and all, and I know from the way you talk and dress and everything about you that this is a hard thing for you to comprehend, but I’m really going to need some subtlety from you.” Next to him, Mitch and Freddie burst into laughter. “Down low, boo. Down low.”

Auston is laughing as well and you remember that while the times you’ve spent with him have been few and far between, unable to visit Matthew as frequently during his time with the NTDP as you have been in Calgary, they’ve certainly been memorable...so moments like this are unshocking to him, to say the least.

They don’t even faze Brady, who’d grown up with both you and Matthew, and is merely looking at you with an entirely too familiar smirk and a raised brow. “What’s the subtlety for, YN?”

“Fuck off, Brady.” You flip your middle finger up at him quickly but it’s just enough time for the entire group of hockey players around you to pounce. You really should have known better.

“I knew something was up!” Auston grins.

“Nothing’s up.” You deny, very poorly.

“Really?” Brady grins. “‘Cause Matt’s like right there.” He points. “On his way here. So I guess if nothing’s wrong, you can-” He starts immediately laughing when you shove your way out of them.

You think you manage to lose your best friend by pushing through a large group of players and family from the Metro and Central divisions and throwing yourself out the door to the outdoor patio, which is mostly empty, despite the unseasonably warm winter St. Louis has been experiencing. You can see Brady, Auston, and Quinn laughing together through the glass door, but Matty’s nowhere to be found, and you sit down on the closest bench, taking a minute to just breathe.

“You gotta tell me what I did.” The voice scares you, but it shouldn’t, because you really should have known better than to think that Matty wouldn’t be able to find you.

When you look over at Matty on the bench beside you, you can’t think of another time he’s looked this devastated. Maybe that semi-final loss in World Juniors? Maybe? It’s all over his face and you can’t just leave him like this any longer. “It’s not you.” You tell him, holding back tears. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Then tell me what’s wrong so I can fix it!” Matthew says, frustratedly.

“You can’t fix it!” You sniffle, trying to scoot away from him, to give yourself some distance, and feeling the tears start to fall when he closes that space again. “You can’t go back and stop Ashley from making me realize that I’m in love with you, okay? So you can’t fix this and I just-I need some time, Matty! Okay? I need some time!”

“Don’t be fucking stupid.” He breathes, like he’s only just recovered the ability to talk, which, he might have, and you tilt your head to meet his eyes, which puts you in a perfect position considering he’s already leaning toward you.

Matthew fumbles for a second, his hand reaching for your cheek and catching your ear instead with you turning, but he recovers quickly, stroking gently down the side of your face. You gasp, the kiss entirely unexpected, and Matty takes the opportunity to tug on your lip gently before pulling away and you let out a whimper at the loss of contact.

He smirks.

“Don’t be smug.” You shove at his shoulder.

“Don’t be stupid.” He repeats, pulling you closer. “How could you ever think I wouldn’t be in love with you?”

“I didn’t want to ruin us.” You tell him softly. “But I am willing to concede I was wrong.”

Matty grins. “Sure were. Can do this anytime I want now.” He kisses you again, leaving you just as breathless as before.

You suppose, at some point, that’ll start to wear off, but as the two of you trade lazy kisses on the rooftop, you can’t imagine that point ever coming. This is perfection, this is the piece of your relationship you didn’t even know was missing coming together, this is-

-Brady knocking on the window?

What?

You blink again, realizing where you’re at. Still on the rooftop bench, with your arm wrapped around Matty’s neck, your legs draped over his lap, and your face tucked into his shoulder. Matthew’s arms are wrapped around your waist, holding you close, and his head rests on top of yours. Somehow still asleep through all the banging Brady’s been doing. 

“Matty.” You poke him awake.

“What?” He groans, sitting up.

“Brady.” Matthew looks over at the window, where Brady is still gesturing that it’s time to leave, with a very smug grin on his face.  Matthew lifts one hand off your waist to flip his brother off, allowing you to climb off. 

���You couldn’t have answered any of the texts we sent you?” Brady asks, once you step inside, but he doesn’t sound annoyed at all, still looking between the two of you with the biggest grin on his face.

Matthew shrugs. “Must have fallen asleep.”

“Bullshit.”

“You just saw us!”

Brady rolls his eyes, knowingly. “Just kiss her already.”

Matty grins. “Gladly.” And then he’s pressing a heated kiss against your lips, looping his arm around your waist, and it’s all you can do to grip his arm with one hand to keep yourself standing and flip off the crowd around you with your other as whoever’s left at this after party burst into applause and wolf-whistles.

[ohemgeeitscoley]

Ben Solo is the recently assigned editor for Rey Johnson’s book about star-crossed lovers in space when the world is turned upside down and stay home orders are issued. Ben and Rey begin working together over Zoom and their relationship grows.

Or, an and they were zoomates fic.

Based on this Tumblr post. 

The one I have been waiting for (Part One of Two)

Fandom: Star Wars

Pairing: Rey/Ben Solo (Reylo)

Note: This was going to be a really, really short one shot. It turned into a 12k two-shot. Whoops. This is pure fluff. 

As always, the biggest thank you to @andyouweremine for being the world’s best beta and friend. Seriously, thank you for all of your cheerleading and input and for convincing me that one more scene never hurt anyone. You’re the absolute best.

Read below or on AO3.

From: Leia Organa-Solo <leia@rebelpublishing.com> To: Benjamin Solo <benjamin@rebelpublishing.com> Subject: Quarantine assignments 

Ben,

Unfortunately with everything going on right now, I've decided that we are going to close the office and have everyone work from home. I know you were looking forward to the big welcome lunch I had planned. Hopefully we will be able to reschedule in a few weeks once the risk of spreading COVID-19 lessens.

In the meantime, I am going to assign you to Rey Johnson. She is working on a new novel with a goal of having the first draft submitted by May 30. I'm attaching her contact information and what she has sent over so far. Please coordinate with Rey to schedule an introduction meeting. 

Warm regards,

Mom

Leia Organa-Solo CEO Rebel Publishing, LLC

From: Benjamin Solo <benjamin@rebelpublishing.com> To: Leia Organa-Solo <leia@rebelpublishing.com> Subject: RE: Quarantine assignments

Leia:

I am deeply saddened that the welcome lunch you coordinated over my many, many vocal objections to has been cancelled. I suppose we will have to plan another inner-office get together wherein I can find a way to embarrass and let you down. I'm greatly looking forward to the opportunity.

On that note, was it really necessary to use my full name in my email address? Was Ben already taken? I am fairly certain as my mother you are aware that you are the only person who ever calls me Benjamin. Would it be possible to have IT change this before tomorrow? 

I think closing the office is the right decision. Social distancing is quite important now more than ever. I'm assuming this means that Saturday dinners will also be postponed?

I'll look over what you sent and reach out to Ms. Johnson. I'm looking forward to working with her. 

Sincerely, 

Ben Solo Editor Rebel Publishing, LLC

From: Leia Organa-Solo <leia@rebelpublishing.com> To: Benjamin Solo <benjamin@rebelpublishing.com> Subject: RE: Quarantine assignments

Benjamin:

I distinctly remember writing Benjamin down on your birth certificate. I'm unaware of any name change order being in your personnel file. The email stays.

The lunch has not been cancelled, it has been postponed. Despite your assertions, you will not embarrass or let me down in any get together. However, I make no such promises. Seeing as how I'll be trapped at home with your father for the foreseeable future, maybe I'll finally have time to find some of those old pictures of you. I've been meaning to redecorate my office.

It does appear that Saturday dinners will need to be postponed. However, I am working with Chewie and Luke to see if we can perhaps get them set up to attend virtual dinners. I'll keep you updated.

Warm regards,

Mom

Leia Organa-Solo CEO Rebel Publishing, LLC

-----

Ben sighed, pushing his hands under his glasses as he rubbed at the corners of his eyes. It wasn’t that he necessarily thought that agreeing to go work at his mom’s publishing company was going to be the easiest of transitions, but he also hadn’t been prepared for his name to be on the list of things they would argue about. 

It only made sense, then, that it was one of the first things. 

He considered sending another email, pushing the issue. But he knew better than to think it was an argument he was going to win. And, honestly, he was hopeful that if he didn’t respond maybe she’d never again think about coordinating, or asking him to coordinate, a virtual Saturday dinner. 

Instead, Ben opened the contact card his mom had sent for Rey, and got to work.

From:  Benjamin Solo <benjamin@rebelpublishing.com>  To: Rey Johnson <ReyWrites@gmail.com> Subject: Introduction Meeting

Good evening Ms. Johnson:

I’m the assigned editor for your next book. Leia has already provided your initial pitch, character sketches, and outline. However, I usually prefer to talk with an author prior to reading these materials. I have found in the past that going into these conversations without any preconceived ideas based on the initial workups leads to a more organic understanding of the material. As such, I’d love to have the chance to talk with you about your book prior to looking over the material.

Given the increased concerns of spreading the virus, Leia has closed the office and has asked that we conduct all of our work from home. Please let me know what your availability is tomorrow or the next day so that I can coordinate the conference. I am just transitioning to Rebel Publishing, so my calendar is currently fairly open.

Of course, if you’d rather me read through the materials and start the process that way, just let me know. 

I look forward to working with you.

Sincerely,

Ben Solo Editor Rebel Publishing, LLC

From: Rey Johnson <ReyWrites@gmail.com>  To: Benjamin Solo <benjamin@rebelpublishing.com>  Subject: RE: Introduction Meeting

Mr. Solo,

Leia let me know today that we would be working together. I’m really looking forward to hearing your thoughts. I’d love the opportunity to talk with you prior to you reviewing the materials that have been previously sent. This is a different approach than my previous editors have taken, but I am intrigued by your theory. 

With that said, given the recent orders to stay home, my schedule is very flexible. I usually try to block out specific times to focus on writing so that I can turn off notifications and limit distractions. With the times I had previously blocked out for tomorrow, I could make an 11:00 am work? If that doesn’t work, just let me know what does and I’m sure I’ll be able to make that work.

I look forward to meeting with you.

Sincerely,

Rey Johnson

-----

Rey was the first one in the Zoom meeting the next morning. She fidgeted with her web camera, adjusting the angle until the image on the screen blocked out most of her messy apartment. She spent a few minutes pushing things out of the way before sitting back down and waiting for Ben to appear. 

She glanced down at the clock on her computer screen, sighing at the time. The meeting wasn’t supposed to start for another five minutes. Being early had never been one of her defining characteristics, but she also hadn’t had any real human interaction in days. 

The day the stay home order had been issued by the Governor, Rey had planned on meeting up with Poe and Finn for drinks. They had been on her for days to avoid slipping into a writer isolation. Poe had a lot of experience in knowing just how easily Rey could spiral when she was writing, hiding away from the world for days at a time. It had always just been easier for Rey to stay in when she was writing. Easier to stay focused on what kept her paid and fed and a roof over her head. 

She didn’t have to worry about getting too distracted and forgetting where she left off or what she had planned for another scene if she just stayed home. Poe liked to remind her that she was ridiculous and that going out also was what provided her with actual inspiration to write.

There was a balance, she was sure. She just hadn’t achieved it yet. Then the stay home issue was ordered and Rey found herself wishing that she had listened to Poe sooner. 

Not that was going to tell him that.

The computer dinged when Ben joined the meeting room. The image was fuzzy at first, Rey could really only make out that he had dark hair and rather broad shoulders. In fact, he looked rather… large, his body taking up most of the space that she could see. The image cleared and Rey took in the rest of his features, the sharp nose and pouty lips. 

He was definitely attractive. Which was not what she needed to be thinking about at the moment.

“Good morning, Mr. Solo,” Rey said, smiling politely as she held her hand up in a tiny, awkward wave.

“I would say Mr. Solo is my father,” he responded, shaking his head slightly. “But he also hates being called that.” 

“Right, so, Benjamin then?”

“No, no, no, no,” Ben grimaced, as if the word personally offended him. “Ben. Just Ben.”

“Okay, just Ben,” Rey laughed softly. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you too, Ms. John-”

“Rey,” she interrupted him with a grin. 

“Well, Rey, tell me about your book.”

Rey took a deep breath before, running her teeth over her bottom lip before she began. She started by attempting to introduce the main characters, Kira and Kylo, and their backstories, but she was easily distracted with certain points of plot that felt so imperative to interrupt and explain.

By the time she finished, she wasn't really sure what information she had shared or left out.  But she was fairly positive that she had failed to hit all of the main plot points.

Rey waited for Ben to say something. She knew that he had told her that he found it beneficial to hear about the story in an organic way, but the longer the silence stretched, the more she wished she had spent more time preparing last night to explain to him the story and the characters in at least a logical way.

“So they are connected?” He finally asked. “What was the word you used?”

“A dyad,” Rey answered. “Soulmates, really.”

“Star-crossed lovers fighting on opposite sides of a galactic war," Ben paused, jotting something down on a piece of paper next to his computer. "Doomed from the start?"

"Hardly," Rey snorted. "It won't be easy, but I fully plan on a happily ever after ending for them."

"Really?" Ben seemed surprised. "That's unusual for star-crossed couples."

"Your words," Rey reminded him, "I said they were soulmates."

"That you did," Ben conceded. "I just assumed since they are fighting for different things that one would fall."

"But they aren't."

"What?" 

"Fighting for different things," Rey clarified. "It seems that way, at first. But really, they are both fighting for a place in the world. For a family. For a balance that they are being told can't exist."

"It sounds like quite a world," Ben noted. "I'm excited to see you build it."

"Yeah," Rey looked away from the screen, staring at the knick knacks that filled up the shelf across from her. "It's a little scary actually, creating a world this complex."

"That's what I'm here for."

"Right," Rey smiled at him. "Well, I'm glad I have you."

Rey thought that maybe Ben was blushing, even though logically she knew that it was more likely just a shadow or reflection from his computer. Either way, she liked the way it made him look.

"So, same time next week?" Ben asked. "I'll go over everything Leia sent me. Now that I know what I'm getting into, I think my notes will be a lot better."

"Yeah, same time next week," Rey glanced down at the notes on her desk. "Should I send you things throughout the week as I'm working? Or save it for next week?"

"For now I say save it for next week. I have a lot of material to get started with."

"Sounds good."

"It was nice meeting you, Rey." Ben held one hand up in an awkward wave.

"Yeah, you too, Ben."

-----

From: Rey Johnson <ReyWrites@gmail.com>  To: Benjamin Solo <benjamin@rebelpublishing.com>  Subject: Earlier meeting?

Hi Ben:

I know that we have a meeting scheduled in four days, but I was just wondering if you might be available earlier than that? I’m having a bit of difficulty with the corner I think I’ve written myself into, and I am hoping that a fresh pair of eyes might help me find my way out. I understand if you want to keep the meeting as scheduled, I know you haven’t had a lot of time to go through the materials that had already been submitted, but I’d really appreciate any insight.

I hope you are staying inside and staying healthy!

-Rey.

------

Rey groaned, rereading the email she had sent Ben. It wasn’t necessarily a bad email, it was actually lightyears better than the first draft she had written at 2 am. Which went something like ‘Hi Ben, as it turns out despite my years of believing otherwise, I need human interaction and your face is the only face I’ve seen in a week and I’m slowly losing my mind. I sang to my plants. I’ve never written this much in my life, I’ve started reading the dialogue out loud because I’m no longer sure what human conversations sound like. So, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble, could we move up our meeting? I’m a little worried I’m becoming an insane person. I swear I’m not normally this weird. Quarantine life.’

She, thankfully, pressed the delete button instead of the send button. The other three drafts were slightly more professional, but all with the same undertone of her being slightly desperate for any conversation that didn’t involve her voicing both sides. She had tried facetiming Poe, but he and Finn had been keeping each other plenty busy. Which really, she should have expected.

Logically she knew that she could reach out to either one of them anyways, or Rose, or any of her other friends and just tell them that she was potentially on the verge of a self-isolation mental breakdown and they would be there for her.

But that was a showing of vulnerability that despite years of therapy Rey wasn’t comfortable with demonstrating.  And so she emailed Ben instead.

It wasn’t like it was a complete lie. She had written more than usual and she was at a point in the story that she would appreciate some feedback at this point. 

Kira and Kylo were at a turning point in the story. Their connection had been steadily growing stronger and more frequent, forcing them to face each other. Now was the time for them to come together and join each other or for them to pull away and keep fighting against each other. 

It wasn't a terrible idea for her to get some feedback and opinions before moving forward full speed. Her reaching out to Ben for an earlier meeting had nothing to do with her ever increasing thoughts about how he was rather attractive and his smile was rather enticing and that she wanted to see it again. 

At least, she was fairly confident that wasn’t the main reason.

She glanced at the sent email one last time before closing out of her email tab. Only fifteen minutes had passed since she sent the email and she already felt regret settling over her nerves. 

It was going to be a long day waiting for him to reply.

-----

In hindsight, Ben probably should have found it strange that he had not received a single company email in over 24 hours. Especially since Leia had a habit of sending him personal messages to his work email. Despite him reminding her numerous times that she had his personal email, and his cell phone, and, really, at least four other ways of contacting him.

A part of him knew that Leia did it because she genuinely enjoyed reminding herself that he came back to her company, that he came home. He also knew her well enough to know that the larger reason was because she also genuinely enjoyed annoying him. And Leia had to know that he would find knowing that her personal assistant had access to all of her emails about whether or not he was interested in attending a virtual dinner, if he had enough food in his apartment or if he would like her to make an instacart order for him, and that Han had been cleaning out the garage to make more room for his ‘quarantine projects’ and found boxes of his old toys and baby blankets and she was just wondering if he perhaps wanted her to bring the belongings home so that he could come get them, you know, for the future.

So, he should have known that something wasn’t working, but he had been distracted going through Rey’s materials, making notes of his questions and of his proposed edits. She was a fantastic writer. The world she had built was fresh and lively, jumping off of the pages in clear images and descriptions. She had provided extremely detailed character sketches for most of the characters, but he hadn’t found that he had to read through them or refer to them to understand any of the characters or to analyze any of the choices the characters had made simply because she wrote them so well.

It was very impressive.

He had finished going through the materials that Leia had sent him in two days. He was working his way through them again, going slower and providing more detailed notes and able to ask more pointed questions given the knowledge of where the story was heading. Still, he found himself wishing that he had told Rey to send over more work. 

He noticed his phone light up on the corner of his couch. He picked it up, glancing at the message icon showing that he had four messages from his mother and… 48 unread emails.

Mom: Servers are back up at the office.

Mom: Sorry for the onslaught of emails you are probably going to start getting in five minutes.

Mom: I didn’t realize at first that they weren’t going through.

Mom:  It’s possible 75% of them could have been text messages.

Ben: The server was down at the office?

Mom: You didn’t notice that you have received no emails in the last day?

Ben: I guess not. 

Mom: That’s an unusual thing for you to not notice.

Mom: What have you been doing?

Ben: Going through the materials you sent over for Rey’s book. 

Mom: Ah.

Mom: That makes sense then. 

Ben sighed, closing the messaging app to start going through the emails from his mother.

They were exactly what he had expected them to be. A few emails from HR and IT that were sent company wide about how to submit hours when working from home, a reminder to sign up for direct deposit if you hadn’t already, and a few guided walkthroughs on common computer and technology issues. His mother’s emails focused more on whether or not he had all of the ingredients for the Risotto she wanted to make for dinner on Saturday. Followed by an email with the receipt. And another email that went to him, Luke, and Chewie, wondering why it was too much to ask them all to make the same meal as her so that the virtual dinner felt like an actual dinner and not a happenstance of people meeting at the same time.

He almost missed the email from Rey.

 -----

From:  Benjamin Solo <benjamin@rebelpublishing.com>  To: Rey Johnson <ReyWrites@gmail.com>  Subject: RE: Earlier meeting?

Dear Rey,

I’m truly sorry for my delay in responding to your email. I was just informed that the server at the office went down, which affected our email host and I am just now getting this message.

I would love to go over this with you sooner than we had planned. I have already reviewed the materials you had previously sent, so I believe I will be of much more use in hopefully helping you figure out where you want to go next. I do find it hard to believe that you’ve written yourself into a corner, you seem to have a great grasp on the characters and the story you want to tell.

I’d hate for any future requests to be severely delayed due to technological issues beyond our control. My cell phone number is 917-555-3298. 

I am available whenever. I suppose that’s the upside to a quarantine.

I look forward to receiving the materials and discussing them with you.

Ben

Benjamin Solo Editor Rebel Publishing, LLC

-----

Ben: I think it’s abusing your power as owner of a company to go through and change your employee’s email signatures without consent.

Mom: I have no idea what you are talking about.

Mom: Benjamin

------

929-555-4593: Hi Ben. This is Rey. I just got your email and figured I’d send you a message so you have my number. I sent over what I’ve been working on. I’m also free whenever. So, just tell me when and I’ll be there.

Rey Johnson: Thanks again for agreeing to meet up with me earlier than planned. I appreciate it. 

-------

Rey threw on a blazer over the red tank top she had been wearing for the last two days when she got the Zoom invite from Ben. She glanced at her reflection in the mirror to the side of her desk, double checking to make sure she didn’t have dried mascara on her cheeks and that her hair looked moderately presentable.

She clicked on the link in the email and---

Oh

Ben wore glasses. Ben wore glasses and Rey was not at all prepared for how he looked wearing them. Really, it didn’t seem quite fair that something as innocuous as glasses managed to make him go skyrocketing up from ‘fairly attractive’ to ‘how inappropriate would it be to initiate sexting with her new editor that she had maybe spent a grand total of twenty minutes communicating with’ in her mind. 

Rey really, really needed the stay home order lifted. Clearly, she was worse off than she thought.

“Hey,” Ben greeted her. “How are you surviving the stay home order?”

“Oh great. Some might even say I’ve been thriving,” Rey rolled her eyes, shaking her head as she laughed. “At least I’ve been able to get a lot of writing done.”

“I would say,” Ben ran his hand through his hair, and Rey could hear him clicking open something on his computer. “I’m not going to lie, I’ve only skimmed through everything you sent over today. So, depending on what has you stuck, I’m not positive this will be a very productive meeting.”

“The part I think I’m stuck at?” Rey opened the word document on her computer, her eyes narrowing in confusion. “You mean it isn’t obvious?”

“I guess, no?” Ben responded, and Rey can tell from the way he’s focusing on his computer screen that he must be going through the document again. “I just assumed you were stuck on what to do after Kira took Kylo’s hand? But that didn’t make much sense either because you have such a clear plan for the story.”

“Kira doesn’t take Kylo’s hand.”

Ben glanced up to the camera, his mouth slightly open. “What?”

“Kira doesn’t take Kylo’s hand,” Rey repeated, lifting her shoulders in a small shrug. “At least not yet.”

“What do you mean she doesn’t take his hand yet?” Ben asked, and Rey has to bite down on her lip to keep herself from laughing at how insulted he sounded. “You’ve spent the last eight chapters building their relationship for her to take his hand.”

“That doesn’t mean that this is the right moment,” Rey pointed out. “I’m not sure it’s the right moment.”

“Okay,” Ben leaned back in his chair, lifting his hands to rest behind his head. “I guess I’m going to need you to explain to me what you think the right moment will be then.”

“That might take awhile,” Rey admitted. “I don’t know that I even know the answer to that.” 

“That’s okay,” Ben said with an encouraging smile. “I have plenty of time.”

-----

They ended up talking for over two hours. By the end of the call, Rey at least had a better idea of the different paths she could take Kira and Kylo down. Even if she still didn't know which one she would choose.

But they also talked about other things besides the book and Rey's struggles with where the characters should go. Rey discovered that Ben was also sheltering in place by himself. She was pretty amused when Ben didn’t immediately end the video call when she started discussing the finer points of being ordered to stay in, like what Netflix show he was binge watching and whether or not he had enough toilet paper to last.

She was oddly unsurprised when he refused to discuss his toilet paper situation with her and when he said that he didn’t watch a lot of TV and wasn’t planning on binge watching anything. Rey gave him a week before he caved on that.

It was nice. 

Rey’s mood had significantly improved half way through the conversation. She had forgotten just how wonderful it was to talk to someone else. It also didn’t hurt that Ben Solo wasn’t exactly hard to look at for two hours. It wasn't even the obvious physical features that Rey found herself thinking about hours later, although she was certainly going to be thinking about them for a while. But Ben had a certain way of moving and mannerisms that only added to them. 

Getting to know someone over a video call was interesting. Rey kept waiting for the normal wave of must look away to hit her like it would if they had been face to face. Staring at someone the entire time you were together wasn't normal.

If they had been in person, Rey would have felt uncomfortable with the amount of time she had spent just staring at him. Noticing the way his hands dwarfed the size of his coffee cup and the way he talked with his hands when he was particularly passionate about whatever he was saying.

She particularly liked how his face was open when she said something he disagreed with, the way he would narrow his eyes and shake his head, but waited until she was done to raise his counterpoints. There was something about the way that he was just himself that was refreshing. 

He listened intently, scribbling down notes when she talked about the story. Even when she started mentioning shows that he should watch, if he were to get really desperate, and he pretended to be uninterested, Rey was fairly positive she saw him write them down as well. 

They set up another meeting in two days, and Rey was determined to have at least made a decision on whether or not Kira was going to take Kylo’s hand by then.  She had to admit that Ben had made a convincing argument as to why it was the right moment for the characters to move forward together. 

Rey sat down at her writing desk, opening up the current version of her project, and began writing.

[shewrites02]

The Trinity |Golden State Warriors| Chapter One

Summary: Golden state rookie Quincy Williams feels he has found the love of his life, but how can he balance basketball, a new relationship, and growing fame.  

word count: 2.8k

"QUINCY! QUINCY!" Reporters shouted in the little room containing only his 5th post-game interview. He fiddled with the Rolex Stephen bought him, after He won their very first game for them. Now he began to feel as if he didn't deserve it. The screaming of reporters grew louder and Quincy new it was time to face the beast he created. He looked up and choose a reporter in the front row to answer to first. The room fell silent and all eyes now laid on the nervous ESPN reporter. He spoke timidly but his voice fell on Quincy like a thousand pounds. "You scored 23 points in the first quarter, an all time high for you so far this season. How much of an accomplishment was this for you in your rookie season?" Quincy's eyes squinted at the reporter causing the reporters hands to shake more vigorously. It was obvious that Quincy's 6'6, stocky, shooting guard stature was intimidating. And His hard expression helped none, at easing this reporters nerves. "It doesn't mean anything! We still lost, and a personal win doesn't mean a thing if your team lost. Ask me this when we win." Quincy hissed. He refrained himself from cussing knowing that wasn't a good headline for a rookie player. He didn't want to be labeled as another player with a "bad attitude." He knew that could ruin careers, and he didn't want to end his career before it even really began. "Just eight questions." Quincy mumbled to himself. Reminding him of the NBA regulations that permitted the players to only have to answer 8 questions in any interview. "QUINCY! QUINCY!" The reporters started to bark again. He picked another reporter. This time a women, who sat in the back with her hair tied. "Quincy do you feel your team mates gave this win away? Or do you think you needed more help out there? " "I feel as if mistakes were made among me and my team. Dumb turnovers and lazy defense on my part. Next question." He quickly brushed the insult he felt off his shoulder. He hated the fact they acted like Quincy was the only player out there, as if he didn't have the legendary Klay Thompson, and Stephen curry playing along side of him. It seemed to him these reporters were always trying to twist his words into him saying something bad about his team. As if he wasn't truly blessed to play with these guys. As the interview continued Quincy continued to get the usual post-game questions. Like 'why that shot? Or what was going through your head when..?' The same old things. Well that was until... "Quincy, you're known as showtime do you think you still live up to that expectation, or do you feel stripped of your title? " Quincy had never felt so offended. Them asking him that question was like them asking if he felt all those long practices on the court were for nothing, or if getting up at 5 o'clock to train alone was a waste of time. They were asking if HE had given up on his career this early in the season. Quincy clenched his fist and sat up in his seat. Fuck his image! He was finna tell every reporter how he felt! He opened his mouth to finally speak his mind like he's wanted to this entire interview. but then came Stephen, shirtless in his game day shorts, storming up the stairs of the stage like platform, then snatched the mic from Quincy. "Quincy Williams is still showtime, will always be showtime, and is the best rookie out right now! And anyone who questions that, questions me and the golden state warriors!" He defended. He then snatched Quincy up and dragged him to the locker room. The vets in the locker room laughed. Not at Quincy, but at the memory of their rookie seasons. They've all gone through being eaten alive by the press, and this moment just reminded them of that. "Are you stupid?" Stephen yelled at him jokingly before draping his towel across his shoulders. Quincy remained silent. He was still pissed and talking to his teammates, that took nothing but the games seriously, wasn't on the top of his to-do list. He just crossed his arms and leaned against his locker. "C'mon man. This shit happens to every great player, especially rookies. You gotta prove yourself. Despite the score." Klay informed him then headed to go take a shower himself. Quincy listened to his advice, but just didn't want to acknowledge it. Not now. His stubbornness wouldn't let him let this go. He snatched the basketball he kept in his locker and headed to the court. "Bruh, where you going?" Andre called after him. But nothing. Quincy walked on the court and took in the empty stadium. This was like his home to him, but he felt like his city was beginning to turn against him. He walked over to the 3-point line. Pulled up and shot the ball. Swish. "He dribbles down the court! The shot clock winding down, and for the game win..." He shot the ball again after acting out his play by play commentary, and once agin, swish. "Quincy Williams with the game winning shot!" He fetched his ball that was now down the court and headed to the center of the Golden state emblem. He sat down the ball in his lap then laid back staring up at the ceiling. "You need to go home rookie! Fuck the media!" Green yelled out to him as he exited the stadium. Considering the number of people left in the stadium was dwindling down, he agreed with Green's suggestion. He then entered the locker room and changed into his grey slacks with a red polo sweater, and exited the locker room with Steph. Some paparazzi still lingered, but wasn't too obnoxious that steph, and Quincy couldn't continue their conversation about the game. "That 3 you made in the corner toward the end of the second quarter was dope! I can't do that with all the luck in the world." Quincy confessed. Steph laughed. "Practice rookie! It took me from freshman year in high school til sophomore year in college to master that." Steph informed him. Steph had really taken Quincy under his wing, and watched out for him. He knew what fame could do to boy who never had anything. It could make him become arrogant, cocky, and NO golden state rookie was going to be that. They continued their conversation, and all Quincy could do was mess with his rolex. He was disregarding almost everything around at this point, even what steph was saying. All he could think was that he didn't deserve this anymore. Eventually they reached the player exit where Reily, and Ayesha where waiting. "Daddy!" Reily yelled. Her little legs moved swiftly as she went to embrace her dad in a hug. He swooped her up then swung her onto his hip. Ayesha then came and gently kissed steph, and whispered what Quincy assumed was good game. "Hi que!" Reily yelled, flailing her arms in a waving motion toward Quincy. She had trouble pronouncing his whole name, so he let her call him by his nickname. "Hey Reily, hi Ayesha.... I'll catch you later steph." Quincy went to exited from the family scene when steph called after him. "I bought that for a reason Quincy... believe in yourself." Quincy smiled and gave Steph a slight nod. He went out to the the car lot. The brisk Oakland air hit his face and immediately he regretted wearing a sweater in the hot Oakland weather. Moving quicker to get out the heat he found himself in front of his 2015 Benz that he bought himself the day he signed his contract. When he got in ESPN radio blasted throughout his car. "I don't know what got into Quincy Williams tonight Mike. He just.. wasn't himself." The radio host commented. Immediately Quincy shut off the radio. He looked down at the Rolex on his wrist then chunked it into the backseat. He didn't want to think about it let alone see it. As he cruised around the city he passed a diner his mom used to take him to when he was sad. Dirty Diana's. When he was in college he would drive all the way from UCLA to Oakland just to feel at home after a bad game. He parked and just peered into the tiny diner. Except from a little boy with his grandfather, and what looked to be a construction worker, the diner was empty. He took one deep breath before turning off the car and proceeded in. The little boy gasped as he noticed the first round draft pick in front of him. He repeatedly nudged his grandfather and pointed. Quincy noticed, and waved, but decided not to say anything. He loved his fans, but he wasn't in the mood right now. Quincy sat in a booth toward the back, and after a few seconds he was greeted by a waitress. When he looked into her eyes he was mesmerized at how beautiful simple brown eyes could be. It felt like just the two of them in that diner. Her smile was so soft and bright, it almost made Quincy forget how horrible he played tonight. Not only that but, her straight black hair reached down her back and shined against her brown skin. It reminded him of how his mother's hair was when he was younger. Her name tag read rosemary. "Sir?" She asked interrupting all these thoughts Quincy had going through his head. "My bad." He mumbled timidly. Which was strange for Quincy. He had always been so confident, so out-going, and definitely never one to shy away from a beautiful girl. "Can I have a slice of pie please?" "What kind?" "Which ever is your favorite." He replied softly. His flirting was almost so settle, she didn't notice. It he wasn't obnoxious like she was used to. So she didn't really know how to react to him, so she smiled and went to go his pie. "Rose, do you know who that is?" The cook, Sam, asked dragging her into the kitchen. She looked down at his hand on her arm, and his bug-eyed expression, and gotten a little afraid. She didn't know who he was, but apparently he was some big deal. "That's Quincy Williams! First round draft pick, plays for golden state! The boys the best rookie, since Jordan!" He whispered. He looked around as if he were afraid that Quincy was just gonna walk up behind them. Rosemary looked at him with a blank expression, he said a lot of words that she didn't understand. Like rookie, and first round draft pick. "Great?" She said in more of a question than an actual statement. She freed her arm from his hold, and went to get Quincy's pie. "Here you go." She smiled softly as she put the pie down in front of him. "Apple pie with ice cream." He announced before taking a big bite. "My favorite." She reminded. Quincy dropped his head and smirked a little bit. He thought she had kinda blown what he said earlier off, and paid it no mind. But he found it cute that she remembered. Rosemary went to continue her shift, but Quincy grabbed her hand and drew her back. It wasn't like she had a dinner of people to attend to. "Here." Quincy said handing Rosemary a spoon. She looked at him then around the dinner, as if she had a big responsibility to attend to. "C'mon... it's your favorite." She untied her apron then sat in the booth across from Quincy. "I'm taking a break sam!" She shouted over to the cook that had previously held her hostage in the kitchen. He glanced up at her with his eyebrow raised. She ignored him and took the spoon from Quincy. At first they sat in this comfortable silence. Quincy just admired her beauty as she sat in front of him oblivious to all the thoughts he had going through his head. He was astonished of the fact she hasn't said one thing about his career, or asked 'what is like being a pro-athlete?' Or any other question females, or people in general usually asked when first meeting him. "You have no idea who I am uh?" She had shoved another bite of pie in her mouth so all she could give Quincy was a puzzled look. She wondered why he cared so much whether or not she knew about his career. Then she came to the realization of how hard it must be for him to find a girl who's not a gold digger or something. "Well sam said something about you being some rookie baseball player or something.... Quinton Williams? And Something about you and Jordan. I don't know. " she confessed. To be honest she really hadn't paid that much attention to what sam was saying. She just assumed he didn't know what he was talking about. "Quincy." He stated laughing. She was the first person in a while who hadn't known him. Rosemary gave him another puzzled look. "What?" "Quincy... My name is Quincy. I'm a basketball player, I play for..." Quincy just stop talking. It was obvious that it didn't matter to Rosemary where he played, and if she didn't care it wasn't worth him talking about. "Your name, rosemary... I haven't heard that name in a while." She ran her fingers across her name tag, with a small smile on her face. It made Quincy curious to know what about her name was so special to her. "Common tell me." He cooed to her. She blushed a little bit. There was something about Quincy that reminded her of a high school crush. There was just something so... fun, and genuine about him. "I'm named after my grandmother. She was my best friend growing up.... I used to get picked on because of my name in elementary school. People would tell me to watch out before someone ate me or something. It's stupid now." Quincy couldn't refrain from laughing. Knowing him, he would've been one of those kids. She gasped hitting his chest. She wasn't mad he laughed, but she definitely didn't expect that! "I'm sorry. I'm sorry." He pleaded. "But you have to admit... it's pretty funny." "It most certainly was not funny! I would cry because of that!" But rosemary, herself laughed. This was the first time she had laughed about the situation. She usually thought about as such a tragic thing, but now... it seemed less of a big deal to her. It was finally funny. "Before I started playing basketball I tried to play football, and I- I sucked. I was really bad." Quincy confessed as rosemary was dying laughing. "I tried to play almost every position. Quarterback, but I couldn't throw to save my life. I would constantly hit my line man with the ball in the back of the head. And I couldn't catch so the ball would fall right through my hands. I got called butter fingers til my freshman year " Rosemary laughed harder. She liked the fact Quincy would embarrass himself to make her feel better, and Quincy didn't mind doing so if it meant he got to see her smile again. "Well i guess it doesn't matter now Mr. Superstar." He looked down, after his performance tonight he was feeling less than a superstar. Rosemary sensed the tension that now lingered between them. "I'm didn't mean to say..." "No, it's not you. I just... bad game." He ended the conversation. He loved that he didn't have to talk about basketball with rosemary. He definitely didn't the want to start now. "So rosey...." Quincy went on to interrogate her on her whole back ground, as did she. Like where they were from, their family. Things like that. Quincy even told her about being cut from his his school basketball team his sophomore year, because of selling drugs trying to be a thug, and he had never told anyone that. Not even his mother. They had talked and laughed for hours. Shared secrets with each other. They even talked about their future goals. This was the first time in a long time Quincy had felt like he meet someone genuine. Someone who finally didn't care, or barley even knew about his career. I mean she didn't know much about basketball, but he could change that! "Rose, it's time to get back to work!" Sam yelled at her. She took a deep breath, and rolled her eyes. Only three more people had walked in, it wasn't like they really needed her. But Rosemary knew she couldn't argue after a 3 hour break. "I gotta go. But I'll see you later."

A/n: I really hoped y'all enjoyed this. I already have 5 other parts written so if you would like me continue lemme knowwww. Also if you’d like to be added to the tag list lemme know. 

Tag list: @loganwrites20 @terrablaze514 @shaekingshitup @highasfantasy

[geminimoonbeamx]

Oh, Baby: Chapter One

A/N: Okay so I’ve literally had this in my drafts for the last...six months or so? And I figured I’d tweak it and edit and post it since I’ve been so AWOL on this site lately, and so that I can give you guys some new content from me.

Word Count: 3k+

Warnings: Heavy cursing. This chapter is pretty PG, talks of mental illness, unexpected pregnancy and contemplating abortion- but she doesnt go through with it. Smut to come. AND LOTS OF FLUFF TOO, I promise lol

Summary: After a drunken night, Y/N finds herself having to face the biggest decision of her life; is she ready for motherhood? And a better question, is Bucky Barnes, her long time friend and womanizer extraordinaire, ready for fatherhood? They’ll just have to go along for the ride and find out together. A Bucky Barnes x Plus Size Reader Story 

Chapter 1/6: The Baby Woe’s and Oh No’s

You knew it.

You’d known something was off, different, changed.

You sit on your toilet, your world spinning as you attempt to wrap your mind around what was going on. Everything seems sludge like, too slow and too fast and not real.

You’re definitely going into shock, you point out to yourself. The catatonic kind. You’ve been staring at the bright, sunny lemon print of the shower curtain, your eyes focused but not seeing. Your elbows rest on your knees and your hands cover the entirety of your lower face.

At least you’re not crying anymore. 

Nope, your body had moved past that-Maybe, it felt like the tears could start rolling again at anytime.

Oh god, what are you going to do?

Why, why, why?

Why you? You’d been a good person- well a decent person at least… You recycled and tipped more than twenty percent. Didnt vote for Trump and ate your vegetables.

And your life was just seeming to even out. You’d somehow landed your dream job a couple months back- every Wednesday night your voice could be heard on WNEX. You we’re making enough money to finally be comfortable- doing what you loved. Gaining a wide audience and wiggling your way into the industry. Your mind was so career oriented, so focused on your end goal that you’d never even considered something like this.

Throwing a big fat wrench in the gears.

One night, it had only been one stupid, drunken night. Hadn't you racked up enough karma coins to cover your ass for one fucking night?

Are you there god? It’s me, Y/N, and I really fucked up this time.

Wanda comes back into the tiled room a few minutes, her dark features soft and a colorful mug in her hand.

“Are you okay?” She gauges, gently, as she reaches out to you.

You snort and shrug, but accept the steaming cup from her anyway. You look down at the swirling, murky drink.

Wishing for just one moment that you could drown yourself in it.

“Look, babe, I know you’re dealing with some major shock right now- but maybe you should go lay down. We’ll figure it out later-” Wanda’s voice is even and you appreciate her being so calm and sure during all of this but you just can't process the situation enough to accept it.

You can't go lay down.

“Why not?” Wanda questions and you didn't realize you’d said that out loud, you hadn't even felt your mouth form the words.

Your head really is swimming. Disconnected from your body a little bit. You force yourself to take a drink of the tea as she gives you a more pointed look.

“Because I have to- I don't know. I have to figure all this out” You protest. You can't hear your voice, how spiked with anxiousness it is.

“There’s not much to figure out” Wanda supplies, unhelpfully as she leans against the counter, arms folded over her chest and you give her a look that’s half between a glare and a gape.

“Um, what the fuck do you mean? There’s so much to figure out, I don't even know where to start” You give a short, sharp, slightly hysterical laugh gripping the mug hard enough to hurt with one hand while cupping your forehead with the other.

“Okay, first things first. And this is the big one: do you want this?”

Well, that whole ‘I'm done crying’ thought you’d had before was a lie. You feel the tears well up once more and overflow, spill down your already swollen cheeks. Your face is hot. Your tummy is full of rocks.

You’d always hated crying. It never made you feel released or freed or lighter like it did for other people. It made you feel icky and stupid. And afterwards it always felt like you’d gotten punched in the nose.

Yes, you did have a therapist to work out those issues with, thanks.

Your mind doesn't know what to do with that question.

You look at Wanda, searching her face as though she might have the answers but she just shook her head and reached out her hand to rub your shoulder. That’s all she could offer. Her support in whatever path you we’re about to embark on.

And then you look down, at the countertop. That was usually littered with stray tubes of mascara or straightening irons. Bobby pins and half lit candles. All the things that resided in the bathrooms of girls in their mid twenties.

In place of those was now four pregnancy tests. All of which read positive.

The first two had been those double lined ones. Two bold lines- both times. Then you’d ran down to the bodega at the end of the block and gotten two more. And those we’re more straight to the point. They literally read the word pregnant- in a font that you don't think you’d ever forget.

Did you want this? Did you want a baby?

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“I dont know- I’m not ready. The timing is all wrong” You croak.

“Okay” Wanda coo’s “well there's alternatives then-” you squeeze your eyes closed at that thought “Either way we should make a doctors appointment to make sure you’re actually pregnant. I’ve read so many stories about how unreliable these things are”

She holds up one of the tests and rambles on about all of the online articles she’d come across. How some woman had taken a dozen of ‘em, gotten all positive results and then went in and had an empty uterus.

“For one, ew. I peed on that” You nod your head at the test in her hand and she rolls her eyes.

“Other side of it- and I held your hair when you got food poisoning from that shrimp shack. I’ve come into contact with worse body fluids of yours”

“For two- I’m pregnant. I know it. I’ve known it for weeks. I knew something was wrong and I just tried to...think it away, you know? Out of sight, out of mind? I sound insane” saying the words out loud makes you realize how...ludicrous those thoughts had been. But still. It was the truth.

She just nods though “You don't”

There’s a moment of silence. Stretching, as you stew in your reality.

“I’d be doing it alone” you whisper into the mug as you sip on it “I really dont think he’d want a baby”

“You would never be alone, you know that. You have so many people in your life that would support you with this” Wanda protests, sad that you’d even say that.

“You know what I mean” You push on. Because having a good group of friends and family wouldn't change the fact that you were possibly looking at the possibility of being a single mother.

If you decided to keep it, that is.

“Yeah I do- and I don't know if I agree with that. Bucky's a lot of things, an arrogant asshole at that top of that list, but he’s a good guy and I think he’d want to be involved. He doesn't give off deadbeat dad vibes”

All of that was true. Bucky is a good guy, at the core of him.

He was kind and decent and the two of you had been friends for years upon years. He was charming, magnetic and women loved him- you’d found it amusing, before you we’re the one in his bed after a drunken night a month ago.

He’d left your messages mostly on seen since then. You’d only sent a few, but still that had stung. Him icing you out the moment he’d gotten into your pants pissed you off, not only because it was rude but because it was expected.

You knew how Bucky was with women, it had been such an idiot move to sleep with him.

It made it all the more complicated that you ran in the same social circles- had all the same friends. Sam’s small promotion dinner a couple weeks ago had been extremely awkward for you, to say the least.

He’d earned himself the cold shoulder from you and no matter how many times he’d try to broach a conversation with you, crack a joke in your direction, or single you out in a group conversation you pretended he didn't exist.

“Damn, re-jec-ted” It had been so obvious that Clint had of course pointed it out, which was uncomfortable but expected because Clint had no filter like that.

Bucky had stopped trying after that- and started flirting back with the waitress that had been throwing herself at him throughout the night. You cut out early, claiming tiredness. And upset stomach. Whatever to get you out of there.

To say it was a shitty night was a bit of an understatement and you hadn't spoken one word to him since.

“I haven't talked to him since that night- and now I’m what, supposed to call him up and tell him I’m carrying his child because he doesn't properly know how to operate a condom?

“I don't know, yeah? It doesn't mean you two need to get married, but if you choose to keep this baby, that’s going to be a conversation you’re going to have to have” Wanda is so annoying sometimes. She was such a sharp thinking human- always grounded and level headed. She claimed it was from always having to be the “good twin” growing up.

Of course she was rationalizing this whole thing while you we’re floundering about it like a fish.

“I think I should make a doctors appointment” You just mutter. You’d rather focus your attention there. It was easier, cleaner for you. A goal you could actually accomplish.

And so that’s what you did.

//////

They were able to get you in at the end of the week, which in overpopulated New York City was a godsend. And still, it felt like far too long. Like the reality of it couldn't sink in until you talked to a medical professional so you we’re left in some kind of fucked up long until then.

You tried to keep your anxious mind busy, throwing yourself into work. Talking to people over the static airways of the radio about their lives; about the world and all of its workings was so much easier than talking to anyone about what was going on with you.

The only person who knew was Wanda and you’d canceled all of your other plans during the week, not able to face anyone. Not yet.

Lots of sleepless nights, staring at the ceiling. Thinking until your brain physically hurt.

And then you’d turned to you journal- maybe if you wrote everything down it would make sense. If you could see it all, inked out, you could make a decision.

Did you want this child?

Wanda had suggested making a pro’s and con’s list and while it sounded crazy and unhelpful, and you rolled your eyes at it ‘As though that will help’, you ended up doing it anyways.

You start with Cons, naturally. Always had been too damn negative.

Cons:

-I have no fucking idea how to be a mom

-Bucky???

-My job. My career. Who’s going to watch the baby while I work?

-How in the fuck am I going to financially support a baby.

-No room in the apartment/My room is fucking tiny and where will we put a baby

(Wanda said we can turn half of the living room into a playroom/makeshift nursery. How fucked up though? Not even a real nursery)

-No car? A baby on the subway? No thank you.

-Weird to explain to people even if Bucky wants to co-parent. All our friends??

-PAIN

-Pregnancy looks so painful. Birth looks scary. My poor vagine.

-Life is basically over

-The baby will not have a grandmother from your side...

You could keep going on, but you decide to stop there. You could go on, make the list pages and pages long but you decide against it.

Pros:

-I’ve always wanted to be a mom. Always dreamed of babies and motherhood, baby fever crashes over me in waves.

-Me and Bucky’s baby is going to be cute AF(and that just pure facts)

-I have a great support system- amazing friends and family who I know will help

-Bucky could want to be involved. He probably will...maybe?

-He has a big family, i think. The baby would have lots of family

-I don't want to have an abortion. All about pro-choice, but I just...don't know if I can.

That had made you bite the end of your pen.

Adoption?

Could you give a child that you went through nine months of pregnancy up for adoption? Knowing yourself- probably not. You cant even get rid of the moth hole ridden clothes at the back of your closet. Not comparing a baby to a jean jacket- fuck, see how unequipped you were for this?

-I’d be a good mom(I think)

-I could swing it financially. Maybe get a second job

-At least I have a good insurance plan now

-My life might have more of a purpose?

You hide the lists away in one of your many journals. Stick it in the wicker basket under your night stand- and revisit it too many times in those days between.

You make a lot of other lists in that time, too. 

//////

One of them sits tucked in your purse as you make your way to the eighth floor- Arms folded across your chest and the inside of your bottom lip speared between your teeth as the elevator takes you up.

Wanda stands beside you, of course. Sipping on her iced americano. You’d tried to tell her that she didn't need to come, that you were perfectly okay with going on your own. You’d gotten about two words out before she shut you down-

“I already took the afternoon off, don't be ridiculous”

You both know you wouldn't admit it, stubborn as you we’re, but you’d let out a big sigh of relief. You really didn't want to do this alone.

The waiting room is standard for this building, looks similar to the one that you sit in when you see your GP- save for a sign hanging about the door that labels it the OB-GYN.

Fake plants and those standard waiting room chairs that had that weird diagonal print on them TV’s that we’re playing the local news and tables stacked with months dated magazines. There was no windows though and it made the back of your neck feel hot.

The receptionists is nice. Middle aged with mild with droning, mellow voice. She checks you in fast and efficiently and tells you that you’ve got about a 15 minute wait on your hands.

Annoying, you think even though you give her a big grin and a sweet ‘thank you’. You’d been right on time. Why in all offices of all kinds is there always a fucking wait?

Wanda has plopped down on a chair in the corner and is fingering through an issue of LIFE, her long legs crossed at the knee. you sit next to her. The office air conditioner is blasting, it had been a muggy May in the city, but you feel overheated. You let the chunky cardigan you’d donned slip down one shoulder, exposing your skin to the chilly air.

You should feel the cold but you’re over heated. Nervous as hell. Why doesnt anyone else in this office seem nervous?

You tend to people watch when you get overly anxious like you are now. Tend to take in every little detail of every little thing around you.

There’s a black couple- the woman doesn't look pregnant but they’re holding hands tightly and they keep whispering to each other. He smiles and nudges her shoulder with his. Then there’s a Latina woman who looks just about ready to pop and is reading one of the kids book to a little boy with her eyes. A white lady, with twin carriers rocks them gently as she chats with a woman who looked to be related to her, maybe. Older and graying.

You feel like a creep but you can't stop looking at them all. Staring at each of the people who are at different stages of the same  life-path you found yourself on.

Wanda clicks her tongue as her dark eyes focus on the magazine. Muttering, her accent thick, about how the lenses they used for the shoot on the page was all wrong.

Her photographers eye was snobby and elitist.

“Y/N?” The nurse calls you back, not butchering your name which is nice and look over at your best friend.

“Are you sure you don't want me to come back with you?” Wanda whispers, big gingerbread eyes searching yours and you shake your head quickly.

You had to do this, on your own. What if...what if you ended up having to do this whole thing alone? You had to be grown, had to face this solo. That’s just how you felt, even if it might not be true.

“It’s just another appointment- I can do it on my own. I’ll live” there's a reasoning lilt in your voice that she doesn't quite buy but she nods all the same. Tells you that she’ll be waiting right there for you as you muster up all your courage and train your face into a smile, following the nurse into the back offices, the door mechanically closing behind the two of you.

The OB’s office is...warmer then you’d thought it would be. Her desk has frames of all types and her walls are plastered with colorful posters, making the alabaster of the wallpaper less daunting. There was even a window in here.

You’re perched up on the exam table/ chair thingy, staring out at the tall buildings across the street, at the people moving fast below on the sidewalks. You wonder what all of them are doing? How many of the have kids?...

When there’s a soft knock at the door your attention snaps back to the present.

Doctor Helen Cho is a petite Asian woman. She has glossy dark hair that's tied up in a clip high on the  back of her head, and her voice is friendly and her expression open as introduces herself to you and reaches out to shake your hand.

“I’m Y/N, it’s nice to meet you, too” You sound so much surer and more confident then you feel. It had always been your party trick- meeting new people and being able to talk to them. Leaving trails of barley there acquaintances in your wake.

“So it says here that you think you’re pregnant, yes?” She gets right to it, and your appreciative for it.

“Yeah, I know I am.  I took four tests and they all came out positive and I...I feel really off” you try to explain it, poorly but she seems to understand.

“When you say off, do you mean like bad feeling off or?” She probes as she sits at her desk, swivels her chair to face you. Her chocolate almond eyes weren't piercing or clinical, just waiting.

“Not really bad? But I’ve just been so tired lately and I’ve had like, zero appetite. And my breasts have been so sensitive that it hurts to put on a bra” as you tell here these things you could slap your head for not assuming you were pregnant before you’d taken the tests.

Dr. Cho hums and nods as she looks over her tablet “Well from the look of these results from those blood and urine tests your nurse went ahead and gave you when you came in, I can tell you that you are definitely about nine weeks pregnant- so those symptoms are right on with where you are”

You inhale and exhale, bigly. It’s real. It’s been real, was a notion, a happening but now...it’s so freaking real.

And there's a real life changing decision to be made-

That you’d already made before you’d even walked into this office but now seemed even clearer. Crystal, in that moment of clarity.

“I want to keep it” Your confident as you say it. Your voice cracks with some kind of emotion you couldn't even begin to explain, but you’re confident. You’re sure.

Dr. Cho grins at you, and stands, congratulating you then, after she’s sure you even want a congratulations. You like her, think you might.

It’s hard to focus on her voice though because all your mind can think of is the next big obstacle, the next big step in all of this.

How were you going to tell Bucky?

Okay guys? I posted? Crazy right? lol give me some feedback! Comment and tell me what you thought of this. I absolutely love interacting with you guys, but I’m sure ya’ll know that. 

Also- the taglist for this story is still OPEN, so if you’d like to be tagged in future chapters just ask!

@peacefulwriter88 @jaamesbbarnes @jalapenobarnes @brieannakeogh @gifsbysimplysonia @lostinthoughtsandfeelings @lostinspace33 @4theluvofall @plumfondler @tatathekissypotato @siren-kitten-his @skishenanigans @geekyweed @spidey-babe-parker @lastfallenstar @rachelle-on-the-run @prettybubblesintheair @dani-si 

[blankdblank]

Back Again Pt 3

Pt 1 - Pt 2

Tags –

@himoverflowers​, @theincaprincess, @aspiringtranslator​, @sweeticedtea​, @ggbbhehe4455​, @thegreyberet​, @patanghill17​, @jesgisborne​, @curvestrology​, @alishlieb​, @jogregor, @armitageadoration, @fizzyxcustard, @here2have-fun, @abiwim​, @jotink78, @c-s-stars, @evyiione, @deepestfirefun, @thequeenoferebor

…

Curiously your eyes focused on the large bright green demantoid garnet square stone surrounded by six other square black opals wrapped in lines of diamonds resting on your finger. It sat underneath the simple courting band coated in etchings of ravens and Dwarven runes marking his name and clan markers you’d tearfully removed and dropped onto the floor in his angered shout to ‘just leave then and forget him and his kin’ before your turn to slam the door. The painful loss of that ring linking you to the only family you’d known stabbed greater than you’d ever imagined with the sound of its clink on that shining floor echoing in your mind almost daily since then. Wetting your lips you shifted and slid to the edge of the bed and brushed back the covers to walk through the house at the sounding of the doorbell after the text that had woken you.

Through the main hall you spotted Dis through the glass panes around the front door with a growing smile as you brushed your hair from your face and opened the door. “Dis, morning, did you want some tea?”

She shook her head, “No, sorry to wake you, just wanted to stop by real quick and possibly see if you could look at something for me?”

You nodded as she stepped inside the doorframe showing you the bound manuscript in her hands barely an inch thick and asked, “It’s called Tortimer the ornate wonder. Bit grand of a name but it really is adorable, little girl who finds an imaginary friend that takes her through her dream world after a Kelpie takes her. Really adorable, we got it a few weeks back and our illustrators really can’t find images that live up to the author’s expectations.” She wet her lips as you met her eyes again, “Now he dropped by yesterday and he spotted your picture in my office, simply demanded to work with only you.”

You nodded and claimed the book, “I’ll give it a read through, just the chapter illustrations and front intro pages?”

She nodded as her smile grew in passing you a worn folder containing pages of poor copies of sketches and doodles from the author after catching a glimpse of your rings. “From the author. Said you’d just know what to make of them.”

You smirked at her after flipping through them then met her gaze again, “Shouldn’t take me long too read through it. I’ll draft up what I can for him.”

She claimed a quick hug from you, “Thank you, so much! Let me know when you get a few and I’ll pass on copies to him, he’s scheduled a meeting at the end of the week. Eager, but at least he’s been patient with our team in waiting for a suitable illustrator.”

You smiled at her as she turned to head off to work, “Have a nice day. Go ahead and pass it on to him if he calls. I’ll keep you posted.” As she hopped into her car she gave you a wave as Vili was still hunched over securing the ties on his shoes in the passenger seat before he glanced up giving you a friendly wave. Waving back you slipped inside again and locked the door behind you on your path to start on your breakfast, ignoring the usual ache in your body adjusting to the new weight on your chest focusing on the manuscript.

By the time your plate was cleared you had a flurry of ideas flowing through your head. Quickly you rinsed your dishes and added them to the dishwasher then carried the papers to your bedroom. Against a stack of pillows you lounged with your tablet in your lap leaving your laptop Dis had gifted you, to help you upload your work to the company server aiding your work at home, beside you to save each of the images in order. A growl of your stomach signaled you to the lunch you nearly missed. Your tongue dipped out to wet your lips as you sent the last image to join the others you added to your account with a message you sent to Dis alerting her to the additions on your path to the kitchen.

By you return you read through her glowing review of the images along with the eager drop by the office the author had made leading him to tears nearly at your perfect renditions of the first half of the book. Ones that were soon joined by the second half by nightfall shifting the book to nearly double the size to add in the images the author demanded be included, wishes that the entire company agreed upon when seeing the skills of their new hire. Those images stirred up a race to go through your extensive list of books and company projects you had worked with leaving the entire team, including Dis, baffled at what you had grown capable of bringing to life since the last project you had seen completed before graduation had separated you.

The naming of your place in the company brought on a few of your former coworkers calling you and wishing you well in your new position after asking why you had been forced out of your spot. Unable to share that just yet you simply stated you were unwell and had to return home to be with family, the only response being their irritation at not giving them notice at having to take over your projects that soon cut off as a good number of clients left when they heard you had left the company.

.

With dinner time nearing the front door opened allowing Thorin inside to find you seated on your bed after moving the laptop and tablet to the dresser along the wall, grumbling as you tried to stretch your stiff back. An easy smile spread on his face as he paused in your doorway lowly rumbling, “Need a back rub?”

In a glance at the door you smiled up at him saying, “Yes, please. Spent too long in one position I think.”

Allowing his bag to slide form his shoulder he said, “Brought a few things, hope you don’t mind.” Setting it on the dresser on his way to sit behind you, leaving a gentle kiss on your cheek as his hands gently slid onto your shoulders.

“I don’t mind, thought you might be bringing more than just a bag with the ring you left me.”

Unable to contain his smile catching a glimpse of it when you retwisted your hair into another bun allowing him to see the muscles you had that had lost some of their size in your bed rest and recovery. “I wouldn’t assume I had the right to, no matter what I gifted you. I do hope you don’t mind. I couldn’t think of a better time to hand it over. Besides, by all accounts you should have had it by now if I hadn’t driven you away.”

Dipping lower onto your back you bit your lip at the sore knot his fingers hit, “By that logic I assume each gift giving holiday I’ll have mountains of gifts under that same explanation.”

“If that’s what you wish for.”

In a turn to face him you caught his loving gaze and weak chuckle at your playful glare, “You know I don’t want a mountain of gifts, you know that.” Through his low chuckle stirring from your hand gripping his collar to pull his forehead to rest against yours he nipped at his lip then released it to accept your kiss. Softly your hand eased around the side of his neck through the loving lip lock as his hands eased over your cheeks only to chuckle again at his drawing back.

In a purr he stated, “Your back Love.” A grumble came from you as you rolled your eyes and leaned in to steal another kiss when his hands lowered, gliding your arms around his neck while climbing onto his lap.

After a few minutes of fighting a losing battle against his own wish to hold you in the now heated tangling sprawl across you bed a low muffled growl sounded along your neck at the doorbell pulling him off of you as he said, “That’d be dinner.”

Furrowing your brows you sat up fixing your top asking, “Dinner?”

He smirked back at you, “Ordered it on my way over.”

Following him through the house you eyed the large order he and the delivery boy carried into the living room table before he paid and tipped the boy and showed him back out again. Back at your side he curled his hand around yours setting you on the couch saying, “Back rub Love. Then food and as many kisses as you like.”

Firmly his hands returned to your back and the knots he had yet to ease away, “How long have you had the ring?”

“It,” Weakly chuckling behind you he replied, “it’s the final design after a long line since graduation.”

“So you just kept working on it, after?”

He wet his lips behind you, “Part of my role in courtship is to honor my word to you. I promised you one of the rarest set of stones and designs I could find. I’d already secured the stones from my Uncle, before, and well I spent a decade working them off. Wasn’t till the past year I’d finally understood the design perfect for it. Your notes in psych, they all had that little doodle on them marking which columns you marked things in trying to keep your Dwarvish runes in line.”

In a scoffing chuckle you fired back, “I will have you know switching from Hobbitish to Khuzdul is not easy.”

He chuckled lowly, “I remember our lessons in Uni perfectly and every dent in the walls we made in our frustrating vocab lessons.”

“I’m certain it’s all gone now no doubt.”

Wetting his lips through his smirk he switched to Hobbitish, “I’ll have you know, out of spite Bilbo enforced our lessons on the whole family. Boys are fluent now too. Though names are a bit tricky.”

With a soft giggle you replied, “Figures, he was the best at enforcing studying habits. Except for when Dwalin wore those shorts of his.”

Thorin laughed behind you, “Ah, those, still has them.” Leaning in he lowly added, “Doesn’t think I know about him still having them tucked away.” Making you giggle again.

“They do make his thighs look incredible I bet still.”

You giggled again at Thorin’s chuckling lean in to kiss your cheek, “I am certain he would love to hear he’s still got his ‘honey thighs’ from someone other than his Hubby.”

In a firm pat on his legs beside yours he smirked as you said, “Why didn’t we ever get you a pair again?”

He chuckled replying, “Because you kept giving me that smile and my pants never really stayed on long enough for you to have enjoyed them.”

You nodded as his arms snaked around you when his hands had finally reached your hips, resting against his chest you stole a peck on his cheek, “Can I ask how the acorn’s holding up?”

After a nip at his lip he rumbled back, “Still intact. Dain demanded a touch up last year.”

“Demanded?” you fired back in a giggle.

Chuckling he replied, “Yes. Even my testicles are not free from his demand for his pristine condition on his work. Dwalin made sure I was cooperative.” You giggled again, “Frerin even stated you would want the marker of our shared secret intact when we got back together.”

“You, all planned us getting back together?”

Thorin nodded, “Bilbo even got time off in a few weeks, was going to go out there and find you. Demand you come home. The kids were going to be involved, pouting and crying until you agreed.”

“I don’t think it would have taken all that to get me back…”

“Did you enjoy it at least? Grey Havens?” His arms loosened helping you turn to start on the food.

“Um. I had a nice garden Lovely set of wind chimes. Drew in flocks of humming birds my neighbors hated, but I loved them, so beautiful. Work, was work.” His brow rose when he met your eye curiously, “I love my art, all the projects I have loved it, my boss, utter trash, but work I loved it.”

He smiled at you, “I did get a message from Dis on lunch to ask for a glimpse at what you’d done today for the project she left you.” His eyes scanned over you, “You are able to handle work right now?”

You nodded, “Ya, just got a bit wrapped into it. Habit with the old schedule. Used to get so many projects, had to go through novels in a matter of days.”

“Really? Can’t imagine you got much sleep.”

“I made time.”

He smirked at you, “Juice?” You nodded and watched him walk to the kitchen to fetch your drinks and return eyeing you rotating your shoulders, “Still sore?”

You shook your head, “No, just have to stretch and rotate them or they try to lock up when I sleep since bed rest.”

“I noticed you’re a bit slimmer.”

You nodded accepting the glass from him, “I’ll be happy when I can start exercise again. It’ll help with the new jiggly bits, and I’ll steady out again, not feel so helpless.”

Seated beside you he cupped your cheek stealing another kiss, “You have never been helpless.” Holding his adoring smile even through your eyes filling with tears, “I love you, and I know it doesn’t feel like it, but you’re far from helpless.” Stroking his thumb across your cheek claiming the tears there, “You managed to illustrate for an entire children’s book today. In one day! Dis hasn’t been able to do that in a week most cases!” After a gentle kiss on your cheek he continued, “You are magnificent, and no one in that office could have imagined anyone being able to silence that man and his expectations.”

With a smirk you replied, “Bard really put a lot of work into it.”

“Ooh, do tell?” His smirk eased out as he filled your plate and then his own scooting a bit closer to you, letting you continue your old habit of laying your legs across his.

“It’s a bedtime story he told his daughters and Son after their Mom passed. Apparently Dis says he’s got a whole series he’s wanting to put out, just couldn’t find the right person to illustrate it.”

His smile inched out more through your explanation, “No wonder he’s so certain on wanting you for it. I can’t wait to see what you’ve come up with. Dis mentioned you’ve made quite a leap since uni.”

“Well I’ve had a lot of time to practice since I’m done with all that studying.”

“I bet, and all those hours you used to spend sleeping in your extra jobs, hell of an addition to your free practice time.”

“Exactly.” His smile grew as you gave him a playful smile and soft giggle.

.

When dinner was through you helped him clean up and followed him back to your room where he poured a bath for you as you pulled out a change of clothes. In the bathroom you set your clothes on the counter catching his smile as he stood from adding the oils to your bath in a glance over his layers he couldn’t help but smirk. “I know that look. That look got us nearly naked in that cabin.”

Smirking at him in return, “If I remember correctly I was not the only one giving a look. You did that whole, pouting smirk thing.” He shifted his face to try and remember the look as you giggled pointing at him, “Close.” Drawing his smile back, “Have to furrow the brow too.” Earning a chuckle from him, “And don’t think I didn’t hear the Boom from Frerin and you when we hit all those courting markers. Including when you first sat around me in class.”

He nodded and chuckled softly, “Ya, we haven’t, haven’t said Boom in ages it seems.”

Smiling at him you replied, “I miss the Boom.”

His smile grew moving closer to help you out of your shirt, “We’ll bring it back then.” Leaning in as he tossed the top onto the sink he pressed his lips to yours, “Just for you kurkarukê.”

Rolling your eyes you eased your hands around his neck as he stole another kiss and pressed his forehead to yours, “Would it be strange to ask if you’d join me?”

“Not strange at all.”

Pulling your head back you nipped at your lip before saying, “Cuz I sort of need help with my back and hair.” His smile grew, “You’re a bit broader, I can help with yours too if you like.”

He chuckled softly, claiming another kiss, “Only if you want to.” Leaning down he helped ease you out of your pants and panties while you undid your bra and tossed it onto your discarded tank top, stepping out of your clothes he added to the pile before starting to unbutton his shirt. As he eased it down he caught your lips purse in your inspecting his reflection in the mirror. 

Your curious walk around him stirred a chuckle from him as he tossed his shirt away with yours and reached down to add his socks to the mix joining the pile. His hands paused when your fingers tapped your name across the rim of the anvil between twin ravens across his shoulders forming part of what would begin the family tree for you both under the seven stars, six black and one bright blue for his clan, to be added on with small hammers and axes for each pebble under the anvil.

Your soft sniffle caused him to turn and curl you in a tight hug. Against his shoulder you mumbled, “Dis saw the ring this morning.”

“I’m surprised I haven’t heard of it already.”

“It does look an awful lot like an engagement ring.” He couldn’t help at your slightly leading statement silently requesting a clarification.

“That’s because it is, if you’ll have me?”

“This isn’t just because of the Pebbles question?”

Pulling back he shook his head, “Not at all. I mean it, I want to have a family with you. No matter what, I’m yours.”

“I can keep you?”

He nodded purring back, “You can keep me.” Your smiles fought to grow nearly ending the kiss you pulled him into. In a momentary parting he said, “We should get you in the tub.”

As he let you down he claimed another kiss from you then turned you guiding you into the tub, lowering down behind you after moving the soaps within reach. Each gentle caress over you was thoughtfully given, assuring you were lovingly soaped and rinsed off, leaving it purely as his doting way of ensuring your every inch was cared for before moving to your side to carefully washing your hair for you. Curled against his chest after he braided your hair into a braid he twisted into a bun. You nipped at your lip when he helped you out and to dry off you slid your fingers along his asking, “You wouldn’t happen to have your ring still?”

Reaching up he wove his fingers into his hair in a tucked bun, with a hidden braid he drew out to unhook the ring from and passed it to you stirring your smile wider at the acorn and Hobbitish runes around the simple band marking your name and Mother’s clan markers. Carefully you slid it back into place on his ring finger widening his smile as you peered up at him and giggled softly through his crashing kiss he wrapped and lifted you in his arms carrying you to the sink where he helped you into another pair of pajamas and into the bedroom where he pulled on a new pair of boxer briefs and a pair of sweats over. Then grabbed all your dirty clothes to add to the clothes hamper and joined you on the bed, stealing another kiss from you before nipping his lip as you pulled up the first of the images drawing an audible gasp from him.

By the fourth chapter’s images your front door opened and Dis with a long stream of Durins behind her filled the house as she called out, “I know I promised myself I wouldn’t say anything until the morning, but, well, I lied. We’re here,” her eyes landed on you as she climbed onto the bed curling at your free side pulling you into a tight hug, “It’s long overdue. Officially, welcome to the family.” One by one they all claimed their own hugs and offered their dessert offerings between sharing their own Khuzdul sentiments and well wishes between your happy tears at the sudden family gathering.

Pt 4

[jayankles]

Romantic?

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 2594

Warnings: Nothing but FLUFF. So much fluff!

A/N – This is one of two of my submissions for Ang’s 2K GIF Challenge (@atc74) I apologise for being late, my laptop was being a piece of shit and I thought I saved it to my drafts to post the final thing but I guess not. All I can do is apologise over and over again. I’m so sorry.

A loud laugh resounded through the bunker walls.

Sam's.

He clutched his chest as he heard Dean's plan. Never had he heard something so ridiculous coming from Dean. It was so out of character for Dean to do the things he spoke of.

‘You're serious!’ Sam exclaimed, calming down from his laughing fit. ‘Wait, wait, wait. Tell me again what you're going to do.’

Dean’s face was a little flushed; a pink tinge on his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

Forgetting about his little brother being a little shit, Dean adjusted his flannel and confidently stood to his full height. (Although it didn't make a difference to the younger, six foot four Winchester. He was still taller than Dean.)

Dean cleared his throat then proceeded to tell his brother his plan in less detail than the first time.

‘No hunts. Breakfast in bed. Nice relaxing bath with rose petals and that smelly stuff she likes.’ He waves a hand around in the air as he continues. His hand gestures a comical thing when he's like this. A mixture of nervous, excited and he thinks he's either going to pee or mess this up. ‘Whatever the hell she wants to do for a few hours, we may need you to leave for that. Once all the fun is done and dusted.’ He winks and lowers his voice. ‘Candle lit dinner at a fancy ass restaurant.’

He's excited for something. Sam can tell by the smile that's growing on his face, he's practically been beaming from ear to ear ever since he rolled out of bed. Sam just can't put his finger on why. He's never seen Dean in such a giddy mood but he likes it, he's happy that his brother is happy because when they live the life they do happiness is a little far fetched. The world rests on their shoulders but suddenly, especially today. Was it her birthday? Did he forget the date?

Sam squinted at his brother, deciding to give him a little bit of a hard time. They wouldn't be brothers if they didn't torment each other now, would they?

‘This is a little romantic for a random date though, isn't it?’

‘Aha!’ The little dork interrupted a little too late. ‘That Sammy, is where you are wrong. It's not just a random date. It's the going to be the best day of her and my life so far.’ He smiled and nodded, not giving away any more to his brother. ‘As for romantic? Yeah. It's kinda my thing.’

Dean left the younger Winchester bewildered. He patted Sam on the shoulder and asked if he could move out of the way so he could make a start on the breakfast that sure to start the day right.

Sam shook his head at his overly enthusiastic brother. Cooking his own breakfast, before ten, was a novelty and was pretty sure that it wasn't  going to happen anytime soon or if the occurrence was to happen again, it wouldn't be for Sam, only her.

Only ever for her.

Fifteen minutes had passed when Dean was plating up the last of the breakfast extravaganza. It might have been enough to feed an army but he only wanted the best for his girl.

Wiping the sweat of his brow and forehead, he admired his handiwork and thanked whatever cooking god there was upstairs that this had came out right and not burnt.

But he wasn't done, not yet.

He mentally ticked off the items on his to do list.

He still needs to find the last component - well two components - to complete the first stage of this special day that only he knew about.

From the cupboard, he pulled out the vase that held the two flowers that reminded him of you. Half a dozen calla lilies mixed with half a dozen pink carnations.

They weren’t your favourite, no. Your favourites were reserved for your birthday and when he had royally screwed up and was trying to win you over. These flowers are the ones that Dean would compare to you. The calla lilies symbolising magnificence and beauty.

Dean was pretty sure you had bewitched him from the beginning, your beauty mesmerising him and gripping on tight, never letting go.

The pink carnations. When he searched them up, he found that they meant the love of a woman. He couldn’t have found anything more fitting for the love of his life. He hadn’t said it all the time but when he did, you could feel it and even when he didn’t you could tell he meant it through the little things he did. The touches, the smiles, the forehead kisses, the kisses he gives every inch of available skin to him. He does it all, and you catch every single one of them, but you hadn’t caught onto his nervousness yesterday. He had never loved a woman quite as much as he had loved you.

With the plate on a tray and the vase arranged so it wouldn’t fall over when h   e brought it to you. He picked it up and balanced it in his hands, making his way to the room that the two of you shared.

Pushing the tray against the frame of the door so he could twist it open, he walked in and a smile instantly grew on his face.

You hugged his pillow to your chest, your face buried in the place where he had been laying – his scent strong. You looked so peaceful that he almost felt bad for waking you, almost.

To be on the safe side he carefully put the food tray on the chest of drawers next to the bed you lie on.

Folding a leg under himself, he sat on the edge of the bed, sweeping your hair out of your face and scraping his thumb over your lip before he leaned down and planted a soft sweet kiss on your lips.

Groaning, your leg shook out of the sheets and hooked it over what you could only assume was Dean, pulling him in closer and snuggling into him, albeit a little awkwardly.

He sat up slowly, not wanting to ruin the moment but wanting to move on with the day and get it on track.

Dean got you to sit up with your back against the headboard, where he would hand you your breakfast and explain what the flowers meant getting a few tears from you and a few more kisses which you had both got a bit too carried away with it.

Dean had Sam run you a bath, all the instructions left on the piece of paper where the taller Winchester could easily see. Once he was done, Sam walked passed and discreetly nodded his head and left you and Dean to it.

It was about an hour later when you and Dean had emerged from the bathroom, although at the beginning you were relaxed, it was Dean who thought it was a good idea to give you a massage which led to some pretty lewd moans. You’d flopped onto the bed with Dean in a tangle of limbs but laughter had bubbled up and you couldn’t help but trace the happy crinkles around his eyes that only appeared when he was truly happy.

‘You love me?’

‘Yeah, Y/N, I do.’

‘I can tell you’re happy, I just don’t know why.’ You bit your lip in confusion, he was acting very strangely today.

His brow furrowed and he scoffed as if that was the most ridiculous thing that you had ever said/

‘What are you talking about? I’m happy because I’m with you, ya weirdo.’ His fingertips stroked against your cheek before he dipped his head lower and lower, his lips once again slanting over yours. He was happy because today was going to be, what he hoped was, the best day of your life. Starting after you got out of bed; two hours later.

When Dean told you he was taking you to a fancy restaurant - not the regular greasy food diners - you couldn't help but panic a little. You couldn't even remember going to a place that nothing more than the basic cutlery. What on earth were you going to wear?

He assured you that the lace covered, navy blue evening dress would do the trick.

Whilst you were sorting out the straps of your heels, Dean had entered the room. He simply took your breath away.

His legs were clad in a navy blue suit pants, a white button down with an untied tie hanging from his neck and a matching suit jacket folded other arm.

He was making such an effort for you, you didn’t know you could love him more than you did but in an instant, you did, you fell deeper and deeper in love with him. It was like you meeting for the first time and falling in love all over again.

‘Well, young man.’ You cooed. ‘Don't you look deliciously dashing.’

Dean tipped his head down in thanks and in shyness. He threw his jacket on the back of the chair and moved to stand behind you, his arms winding around your stomach and pulling your back towards his chest. The heat of his body radiating against you - one of the perks of having a hot boyfriend.

More ways than one to be hot. And he was both.

Tilting your head back, you kissed his stubbled jaw and leaned your forehead against his temple.

‘Love you.’ He whispered, the movement of his jaw making his whiskers tickle your skin.

Humming, you responded with the same sentiment, equally as quiet but loud enough to speak volumes.

He kissed you once more before checking his watch and telling you it was time to go before you'd miss the reservation.

In the impala, your fingers intertwine together in the middle of you before he brought your hand to his lips where he could kiss the back of it.

The two of you drove in a comfortable silence until you arrived at the restaurant.

Too excited to wait for him to open the door like he promised, you hopped out of the car and rushed to his side where you could bathe in the pretty lights surrounding the entrance.

Like the gentleman he was, he pulled out a chair for you to sit down.

‘Thank you, Dean. I'm not complaining because the whole day has been pretty freaking amazing but so you mind of I ask why? I mean you already got me so you don't have to try and impress me anymore. It was your beautiful car that reeled me in.’

You smiled sweetly, extending your hand over the table and covering his with your own.

‘Ha ha.’ He deadpanned. ‘This is going to be an even better day if it goes to plan.’

‘Did you get me a puppy?’ Your mouth drops open over enthusiastically.

‘I'm sorry. I'm not getting you a puppy, you know they just deal everywhere and they are basically demons.’ He says with no remorse, you knew it was too good to be true to get a puppy but it was a nice try.

‘What is it?’ You giggled. ‘Did I win a secret bet? Did I say a word that made you take me out? Is this a joke?’

Dean gave out a hearty chuckle to your questions. ‘Not a joke, pretty girl. Can't I just take my beautiful girlfriend out for dinner and pamper her without any reason?’ He feigned a hurt expression. The hand that wasn't encased in your own slapped over his chest, his body hunching over as if he was in pain.

‘Such a drama queen.’ You said, rolling rolling your eyes and curling your fingers tighter around Dean's hand. ‘Can’t you just tell-’

It was at that moment that the waitress had brought over the food you had ordered.

A smug grin found it's way onto Dean's face, you knew he was happy for two reasons. One, he got his food and two, he almost let it slip. Almost told you why this day was so important to him. If it wasn't for the waitress, those big Y/E/C eyes of yours would have cracked him wide open.

Your eyes turned into slits as you narrowed your eyes at him, digging into your food.

Dean excused himself to go to the bathroom for a moment and you let him, anxious for his return.

He came back a few minutes later, unusually slow for him, you had noticed.

‘You okay, Dee?’

All his worries melted away in an instant so he smiled. This is what he loved. That you were concerned for him, that you cared for him, noticing the little things like the dimple that appeared in between his brows when he frowned or was nervous. Like right now. Nervous as hell and the tell tale sign visible.

With the smile still on his face, he reached for the red wine and took a sip of it to replenish his dry mouth. He put the distraction down and mumbled under his breath before he asked you for your hand.

Unhesitating, you placed your hand in his; palm to palm.

What puzzled you was when his hand disappeared under the table, that was until he removed whatever it was and dropped to one knee.

A nervous giggle overtook you as you felt the other customers in the restaurant begin to stare and coo at Dean's gesture.

He was a very brave man.

Thank God he had asked for your left hand, it would have been a little awkward if it was your right.

He flipped open the box to reveal a sleek, simple silver band with a sparkly diamond gleaming in the restaurants light.

‘I was scared as hell to do this because of all that romcom shit you make me watch.’ You roll your eyes but bite your lip because you know that he loves to sit down with a bag of popcorn and watch those awful movies with you. ‘The reason why I don't like them was because I can't live up ta that but I'm just gonna come out and say it. Y/N, darlin’, will you marry me?’

‘Definitely better than the romcoms that we watch because it's happening to me, to us. We're gonna be happy. Winchester does sound better than Y/L/N, though, I must admit.’

‘Come on darlin’ you're killin' me.’

‘Yes Dean! I'll marry you.’ You say, almost squealing with joy. You can't wait to spend the rest of your life with Dean Winchester, even if it may be a short life - you don't care.

Dean will be yours and you will be Dean's. Forever.

He doesn't even have time to slide the ring on your finger before you're pulling his face towards yours so you can kiss him.

You can feel him sigh against you, sag in relief as you kiss him and assure him that he never needed to be worried about you saying no.

Your emotions were bubbling over, spilling all the love you had into the kiss, you needed each other, that was all you both needed to know.

The incessant clapping of the customers breaks you and Dean apart, .

You're breathless and giddy when you pull apart, his sweet breath fans over your lips and cheeks but suddenly the realisation sets in; you're going to be a Winchester and so is your baby.

Lemme know what you think...

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