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cherrycocaineee · 3 years ago

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14. Naruto Uzumaki - Best Friends

I strapped my bag over my shoulder before throwing on my sweater before heading for the front door of my apartment. It was time to go grocery shopping for the month with the small amount of change I had left from paying rent. The roads weren’t busy today, probably because in just a few moments it would be raining. Wanting to avoid the villagers all together, despite there being few of them wandering around, I hopped on top of one of the multiple roofs and jumped around to find the market. When I arrived, I jumped off the roof and bolted inside just as it started to pour. Thunder rolled against the gray clouds, lightning only poking out a bit through the blankets of puffy, rain clouds. I was thanking the stars that I had made it inside before I got rained on, and sending out another silent prayer that the rain would stop before I had to head home.

The few people inside were giving me side glances and mumbling to one another, however, I didn’t pay attention to them and just did my shopping. After grabbing a bunch of things, I paid for my food and left the store, wanting nothing more than to get home. Luckily for me the rain had stopped, allowing me to make my way home. Once again, I took the roofs to avoid the villagers, however, I didn’t rush home like I had rushed to the market.

As I got closer to my home, I jumped off the roof and started walking past the windows. Most of them were covered with curtains, but some weren’t. I did good to keep my eyes forward, not wanting to make eye contact with someone who may have been looking out the window. But my eyes betrayed me as I passed the open window of a young boy’s home. He was laying on the bed, arms sprawled out, staring at the ceiling with his blue, teary eyes. He looked sad. And even from all the way over here, I could hear his stomach growling. I could see inside his home, and saw that there was no food inside his building. He was hungry.

Having an idea, I ran home as quickly as I could and practically slammed the door closed behind me as I headed to the kitchen with my groceries. I started digging through my pantry until I found a basket holding all of my hand towels. Dumping the towels out onto my counter, I started going through my food to see what I could give to him. Packages of cup noodles, giving him most of them since ramen wasn’t my favorite dish, some fruits and vegetables, one of the two loaves of bread I had bought, eggs, milk, and some of the other things. Once I was finished packing everything together, I didn’t waste time leaving my home again and headed back towards that young boy’s home.

When I arrived at the window from earlier, I noticed that he wasn’t inside anymore. So I decided to sit on the ledge and wait for him. It must have rained while I was inside my apartment because there were drips of fresh water falling from the ledge of the open window. I was surprised that his bed wasn’t wet. Thirty minutes passed before I heard the opening and closing of the front door behind me. I swirled around and came face to face with the blue eyed boy. He was staring right at me when he entered.

“Who are you?” He inquired, his eyes narrowing.

“My name is Akiko Haninozuka,” I introduced, “I was walking by earlier and heard your stomach growling so I went home to make you this.”

I held up the basket of food. His eyes widened and he came bouncing towards me, a grin spreading across his face as he took the basket from me. After taking the basket from me, he waved for me to come inside; his grin still plastered on his face. That’s when I really took his face in; there were these whisker-like things on his cheeks. I climbed into the window, avoiding his bed all together so I wouldn’t get the bedding dirty.

“What’s your name?” I inquired curiously.

“I’m Naruto Uzumaki,” he informed cheerfully.

The name sounded familiar and I tried to think hard about where I had heard the name from. Then I remembered that many of the villagers, when they weren’t talking about me, were speaking about another kid named Naruto. This must have been him. Naruto began putting the groceries away while I walked around his home. It was a bit untidy but not a lot. When Naruto finished putting his food up, he turned towards me.

“Thank you for bringing me some food,” he said, “I really appreciate it.”

“It was no problem at all,” I smiled.

The two of us decided that we’d hang out for a little bit. He wanted to go to the park and play like all of the other kids did when they weren’t in school. So that’s where we were headed, Naruto was holding a bouncy, red ball as we walked. The entire walk home we conversed about ourselves, learning that we had many things in common. Both of our parents weren’t in the picture and we lived alone.

By the time we got to the park, the rain clouds had finally dispersed, and there were tons of children our age already enjoying the welcoming, hot sun. Most of the kids avoided us while staring with slight disgust but others just did what they were doing before we even showed up. Naruto and I went to a small area of the park and started rolling the ball with each other. We shared a laugh as the rolling turned into kicking the ball back and forth.

Soon we started doing other things like swinging, chasing the butterflies, playing chase, and running towards some type of lake or river. We were having so much fun that we didn’t even notice that the sun was going down until it was completely pitch black. Now we were sitting in the dark while Naruto was trying to start a fire to warm us up, neither of us wanting to go home to absolutely no one.

“Ah-ha!” Naruto cheered as the flames erupted making me smile and clap my hands.

“You did it!” I giggled, “you’re awesome, Naruto!”

Naruto’s head snapped up as he faced me, a sheepish grin plastered on his face.

“Thanks, Akiko,” he said.

*Time Skip*

Faded steam rose from the pan on my stove as I stirred all of the vegetables inside. From the other room, I could hear Hanako and Takashi playing a game with Kakashi causing a smile to appear on my face. Having my family sitting in the next room and enjoying each other's company. As I was finishing up some of the cooking, there was a knock on the front door.

“I got it,” Kakashi called from the living room.

“Thank you,” I hummed back.

A few moments passed before Kakashi walked in with our guest, Naruto Uzumaki. Or technically now, the Seventh Hokage. I smiled kindly.

“Naruto,” I greeted, “what brings you here?”

“I was wondering if maybe you and I could speak,” he said, “it’s been a while since we’ve just been able to talk.”

I nodded my head, “just give me a few moments so I could finish up dinner.”

“It’s alright, honey,” Kakashi said, touching my shoulder, “I’ll finish up. You go with Naruto.”

After making sure that my husband was actually okay with me leaving, I followed Naruto out the front door while waving goodbye to my kids. While we walked, I asked Naruto how everything at home was going for him. He wowed me with stories of how his family went on picnics together, how his day with Himawari went during Parent Day, and so much more. I was genuinely happy for Naruto; he finally had everything he could possibly want in life. We both did.

Somehow, Naruto and I managed to make our way back to the lake where he started the fire so long ago when we first met. No one knew how much the two of us would later depend on each other, how we would grow up to be practically inseparable even into our adult years. I’m sure plenty of people were shocked when we didn’t end up getting married but our love for each other was much different than his and Hinata’s or mine and Kakashi’s. It was pure family love.

Naruto quickly started a fire to keep us warm and joined me on the log we had placed here long ago. It was silent for a while, listening to the sound of crickets and toads in the background. My blue-eyed friend looked up at the darkening sky, the stars twinkling, and the moon that illuminated over the lake.

“Remember when the moon was falling?” He asked, eyes still staring upwards.

“Well, of course,” I muttered, “I almost died so it’s not something that I would easily forget.”

The two of us laughed.

“I sure do miss the old day,” he continued, “team 7 going on missions with Kakashi. The many team dinners we had together when we were away. And I especially miss Pervy Sage.”

“Me too. But now look at us. We’ve got beautiful kids and loving spouses, our friends are still around and they’re supportive. Our lives are great now just as they were when we were younger.”

He laughed again and scratched the back of his head, his eyes were closed. I giggled too.

“You’re much more optimistic about our childhood than I am.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

Naruto folded his arms in front of him and sighed.

“Thank you, Akiko.”

“For what?”

“For being there for me. Back then, everyone shunned me and kept me at a distance while telling their own kids to not play with me. But you were there for me, no matter what. Even when we were both bullied much worse after we started hanging out, after I told you that I didn’t want anything to happen to you, you still told me that you’d never leave.”

I remembered that day. Three kids had come up to us while we were playing a board game outside to enjoy the nice weather. They walked over to us and kicked our game pieces before they started harassing the two of us. Calling us freaks and saying how neither of us should hang out with one another because together we were dangerous. At the time, neither of us knew what they meant at the time. But it didn’t matter. After the three of them finished shouting insults at us and hitting us, Naruto had told me that if I didn’t want to be his friend anymore because of it he’d understand. However, I told him that was ridiculous and that I liked hanging out with him. So the two of us continued our friendship.

“Things were different back then,” I whispered, “and I’ll never forget it because it made the two of us closer.”

“It sure did. Our parents would have been proud.”

“Our parents, our teachers, everyone who stood by us.”

Naruto wrapped his arm around my shoulder and hauled me up in a swift motion.

“Let’s get home to our families, huh.”

Nodding my head, I followed Naruto out of the lake area, letting the fire finish burning down what was lit. The ashes, soot, and smoke all collected in the air as we got further and further away. I was smiling the entire way home, feeling absolutely lucky to have a great friend like Naruto by my side. And I knew he felt the same way.

#naruto fanfiction #naruto uzumaki #naruto x reader #naruto uzumaki x reader #naruto imagines #naruto uzumaki imagine #imagines #naruto fluff #naruto uzumaki fluff #naruto fanfic #naruto uzumaki fanfic #fanfiction #naruto uzumaki fanfiction #Naruto Shippuden #naruto shonen jump #boruto #best friend #smut #naruto smut

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canniballistix · 4 years ago

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Parallels/metaphor/whatever of john winchester and god both as absentee fathers in hbo spn?

"I can't," Dean hissed.

His hand was shaking. Why was his hand shaking? This was something he'd done a thousand times. He'd lost track of the number of girls he'd kissed.

And yet… his hand shook. His hand shook as it cradled the one which cupped against his cheek, and it only served to make this whole thing all the more intimate.

The boy sighed, and Dean could feel the weight of his breath. "I thought you liked me."

"I do!" Dean said, even as the hand slipped out from under his. "I do, I do, swear to God I do."

"I-it's okay," the boy said. His hand dropped back onto his knee. "Look, I-- I get it, man. You're a guy's guy, and I'm… I dunno."

"Hey." Dean but his hand on the boy's shoulder and gripped it firmly. Though this steadied his hand, he could suddenly feel the way the boy was quaking. "It's nothin' to do with you, okay? You're… I mean, you're…"

The boy's piercing eyes were fixed on Dean's face as he struggled to find the right words. The longer they alluded Dean, the deeper the boy's heart sank.

At last, Dean sighed. "You're fuckin' gorgeous, okay?" he said at last. "Look at you. Jesus."

The hint of a smile tugged at the boy's lips.

"And you got good taste in music, and you're smart," Dean continued. His list ended there, however.

The boy cleared his throat. "But…?"

Dean closed his eyes. The way a business man closes his eyes just before he fired a good, hardworking family man. "But…" he managed to say, fingers wandering across the hem of the boy's shirt, "as much as I want to… I can't."

The boy sat there a moment longer.

It was a strange sort of quiet here, under the bleachers.

It should have been just as loud as the rest of the football field. Yet, somehow, the sounds of the crickets were so much softer. The wind seemed to miss them entirely. Here, on an autumn night, these two boys may as well have been in their own world.

The boy brushed away Dean's hand. Like it was a mosquito. Like it was nothing. "Fine. I get it," he said, getting to his feet. "Really creative way to get out of kissing me. Dramatic. Shakespearean, even."

Dean pounded the ground with one fist, then leapt up after the boy. "God, Jesse, wait--"

Jesse. That's it. His name was Jesse.

"I'm done."

"Please, if you just let me explain, I--"

"You're not explaining!" Jesse whirled to face Dean. "You're not saying anything!"

Dean took a deep breath in, and he was surprised to find that his lungs seemed to be quivering, as well.

Jesse stared at Dean. His fists were clenched at his sides. The floodlights over the football field cast an otherworldly light over his dark and messy hair, like light from heaven itself.

It did not reach Dean where he stood, still under the bleachers, his hand just barely reaching out into its warmth.

"Well?" Jesse prompted.

"My dad," Dean blurted out.

Jesse raised an eyebrow. "You dad?"

Dean shook his head. "If he found out-- if he knew--"

"How could he?" Jesse asked.

Dean blinked. His heart was hammering against his ribcage.

"He's not watching, Dean," Jesse said, a hand raised to the sky.

Dean thought about that. He looked to the sky, as well, inexplicably feeling as if John Winchester might be peering down at him from the top of the bleachers.

And yet, despite that strange terror that John was watching, that he would somehow know, this was the first time Dean realized that his father wasn't there. And not just on the bleachers, but anywhere-- anywhere at all in Dean's life where it might have mattered.

Wherever a father should have been--loving or kind or cruel or spiteful--there was merely a hole. A blank space where John may have fit, and yet never did.

The fear was melting away.

Because there was nothing there.

Only stars.

Dean stumbled out into the light. He grabbed Jesse by the front of his hoodie, and kissed him like his life depended on it.

~~~~~

"I can't," Castiel said.

Dean rolled his eyes. "You can't what? You can't taste?"

The angel returned a shrug. This was something new he'd picked up from Dean, though he didn't seem to have it down just yet-- Castiel only shrugged his shoulders when he didn't feel like answering, not because he didn't know the answer.

"You're not even gonna try?" Dean asked, pushing the plate of french fries a little closer. "C'mon, how bad could it be?"

"I told you, I can't," Castiel replied, pushing the plate back towards Dean.

"Now that's just stupid," Dean said. "You can't eat at all? For real? Your vessel can eat, can't he?"

"Of course he can," Castiel said, all but rolling his eyes. "I cannot."

Dean gave into temptation and growled lightly, pulling the plate towards himself and chomping down on another french fry.

The diner was quiet. When he was traveling with Castiel, Dean preferred to dine at night-- in fact, he preferred to work on as much of a night schedule as possible. Castiel was, to put it lightly, a fucking weirdo, and corralling him into acting even remotely human was a full-time job.

But anything goes at three in the morning in a twenty-four-hour truck stop.

All that could be heard was the clattering of dishes in the kitchen-- far fewer than those filling the sink twelve hours previously. Occasionally, something would come flying down the highway. Funny how much faster they seemed to rush by when there was so much stillness in-between.

Dean sipped his coffee.

Castiel sat very still, his hands folded delicately on table in front of him. He was staring out at that highway, and yet his eyes seemed hardly focused at all.

Dean leaned forward, trying in vain to see what it was that had Castiel so captured. As he did, he saw the man's reflection ripple along the surface of the glass, light against the darkness of the night.

In passing, Castiel's reflection looked just as one might expect. He was, after all, a dirty little man in a trenchcoat, and that was reflected quite plainly. The closer you looked, however--the longer and deeper you stared into the forms, into his eyes--the more you would see.

Some people saw God or Jesus or whatever. Some people would catch a rare glimpse of the true angel, its power lessened to that of a sharp headache by the reflection. Most people, though, saw people.

No one in particular. Just shadows of people half-remembered, ghosts of the past.

As Dean looked at Castiel's reflection, he saw something familiar in the sharpness of his eyes. In the dark mess of his hair. In the tautness of his lower lids as he gazed out into nothingness.

A boy. His name nearly forgotten--James or Jonathan or something--but his face as crisp and clear as ever.

His first kiss.

Not his first-first kiss. Not really. But his first kiss that had felt the way they say it should.

"Whaddya mean?" Dean asked.

Castiel turned to look at Dean. He didn't ask for clarification-- not out loud, at least.

Dean set his jaw. "What do you mean you can't?" he said. "You can't… like, physically?"

Castiel frowned. "No. I'm quite capable of eating."

He paused.

A pause so long he may have, in fact, finished talking.

Dean cleared his throat. "But…?"

"But," Castiel said, almost stalling, "it is frowned upon."

Dean scoffed. "Frowned upon?"

"Yes," Castiel continued. "The garrison is very strict about how… involved we should be in human culture. Eating, listening to music, dancing--"

"You're not allowed to dance?!" Dean smacked his forehead, biting back a laugh. "Goddamn. Remind me to show you Footloose sometime. You'd get a kick outta that one."

"Mm."

Castiel did not seem near as enchanted by this as Dean. It occurred to Dean that, if listening to music was forbidden, watching movies was likely on the shit list, too.

Dean cleared his throat again. "I mean. That sounds…" But he couldn't think of the words, exactly. "Wh-who told you not to do that junk?"

Castiel cocked his head. "God, of course."

"Right. God." Dean nodded slowly. "Sounds like a stand-up guy."

"I wouldn't know," Castiel said. "I've never met him."

Dean squinted. "You've never met God." Not a question, exactly, though he intended it to be. "Isn't he, like… your dad?"

Castiel sighed. "I suppose you could say that."

"But you've never met him?"

"I've never met him."

"But you're living your life by his rules?"

"Of course," Castiel said. "He… if he found out-- if he knew that I was--"

"How could he?"

Castiel blinked.

"Cas." Dean pushed the plate of french fries back across the table. "God's not watching."

Castiel thought about that. For some reason, he turned to look out the window once more, gazing balefully at a streetlight in the parking lot. As if God himself would appear under it.

And yet, despite that strange terror that God was looking down at him, that he would somehow know, this was the first time that Cas truly realized that his father wasn't there. Not just under the streetlight, but anywhere-- anywhere at all on Earth that may have mattered.

Wherever God should have been--loving or kind or cruel or spiteful--there was merely a hole. A blank space which may have been holy, and yet never was.

The fear was melting away.

Because there was nothing there.

Perhaps Cas himself was the holiest thing on Earth.

Cas reached out and lifted a french fry from the thick ceramic plate. He made eating diner food look like a celebration of the Eucharist.

#im genuinely diseased #hbospn #hbo spn #dean winchester #castiel #destiel #deancas #fic #spn fic #spn fanfic

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meraki-kintsukuroi · 4 years ago

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a star is dying, but the universe won't let it.

(or alternatively: you're burning out like a dying star but these hands that have loved you even long before will never let you go, even if it means getting burnt along.)

tags/warnings: hurt/comfort, light angst, soft fluff, references to depression and to the pandemic, and maybe probably a bit of child abuse it doesn't happen though its just mentioned, implied long-distance relationship, space, morbid, and colour metaphors, discussions about death and dying, shit writing and word vomit (bc im rusty as hell).

pairings : kindaichi yuutaro/reader (gn! reader & ambiguous relationship bc ytf not)

wc : 1, 755

a/n: dedicated to @haru-senji for being in the same situation as I and to all the other people who are as well, hang in there you guys, love you and please stay safe <3.

"Hey 'tarou are you up...?", Yuutarou hears you call out to him in the dark, breaking the silence in the night with your voice faint and small, almost lost against the loud howling wind of the dim sky.

He shifts, twisting his body to where you are, and in the dark--despite of it all--reaches for you when you don't pull or push him away and squeezes the hand you let him hold.

(Intimacy between skin has always been a line you jump in and out of and yuutaro wonders if there ever could be a day where he can hold you without you flinching or shrinking away, and without him saying that its okay despite the hurt in his heart or the deep open scars in yours.)

"Mm, yeah..?", he asks, voice a deep low rasp from the silence that had long been stretching between you, "What is it?"

There is a pregnant pause before you speak. It stretches long and wide much like the ones before and he can't help but be reminded of sea and the sky and he thinks that even in the vastness of it all with you besides him, your backs against the grass of some far away place, underneath all the darkness and twinkling nights, and far away from all uninvited eyes. He thinks that if you were to say anything here and now he would keep it lock in his chest until the day he died.

(Because happiness is limited in a world that is almost at its limit, only holding on to whatever thin silver lining there was to just not fall into the void of nothingness and cease to exist.)

"Do you know how a star is born?",

The ex-volleyball captain blinks once and then twice, and thinks of a grand king who he had served for three long years, of a boy turned king-enemy, to a friend that he had found once lost, of a gymnasium so big that it had to be the whole universe with how many stars, planets, and other celestial bodies there had been, but no matter how much he had thought of it, those astral objects that he had thought of was only at their prime and not at their beginning.

(Those people, those upperclassmen, those players, those rivals, his teammates, had been and always been stars--the moon, the sun, the planet--his universe.

He wonders how proud, those who have seen them at their very beginning feel? To see the rock with no fuel burn with utmost energy along with others who are just as bright as them.)

"No, I don't.", He says, a quiet thing and hears you hum, before feeling you twist and turn before finally settling again, not once letting his hand go as you did so.

(He does not comment on how closer you are to him now, afraid you'd pull away and distance yourself from him again.)

"How about when they die?", you ask him instead, and across the vast meadow he hears the crickets chirping this season's song "Do you know how they die?"

Yuutaro closes his eyes, and thinks of an explosion, of bright colours and a supernova exploding in the expanse of space, of the destruction that follows the grief that comes along with the loss of something as bright as a star.

He thinks of the king-prince-boy and how he had exploded into nothing but colours of red, black, and blue of the grand king who had burst out crying hues of green, grey, and teal, of a dark black empty gym with no bright light or palette in sight.

"They, uh, collapse i think...?" He says trailing off, trying to rack his left part of the brain of the lessons he hadn't slept in science class, "Yeah they do--And then they, they, uh... explode into supernovas? Yeah they explode into supernovas." He finishes unhappy but accepting all the same.

It's not like he was as blunt but smooth with his words just like his best-friend, not sweet like honey, or rough but straight to the point. He was still an awkward, tongue tied, and still fumbling idiot even after all this time. Even when he had hit a growth spurt or even after hitting a major milestone in his life, He was still the tall awkward boy people know who had just grown into an adults body to fit an adult's clothes.

You hum again, and he feels you inching closer, but not close enough to hold you the way he wants to--needs to--

(He pushes the greed--the fear of loosing you--letting go of you away. He can't, does not, will never be selfish, he can't allow it, not when he knows all too well what happens to you and the people around you, suffer through all too well.)

"Do you think we'll go out like that?", you ask him again, voice almost like a child afraid, "Like a supernova exploding in colours?"

He feels you shift again, and this time he thinks you're much closer to him than before and he thinks that you might be facing him this time too, he doesn't know it's too dark to see (but even so, even so, even so please come closer so I can hold you so--)

"Or do you think, we'll go out like a daisy crushed by the one who's supposed to take care of it?"

And something about that question, something about the way you say those words, makes his heart scream and mind twist in agony.

Because he thinks of the world, and how its marching to an unknown point and how much its scaring people. Thinks of you and your home that's only getting so much colder with each day passing. Thinks of himself and how he's just like a ghost wandering with a lover that's slowly collapsing--dying underneath the weight, of the pain of it all, that's too much for them to bear and not being able to do anything about it because-- "the only person who can save you is yourself, and you know that better than anyone else Yuutaro." His mother had once said.

And he knows, he knows, he knows, he goddamn knows, that things are getting worse for you--for him-and for everyone else, but he will fight God and his angels if it meant at least being able to carry some of the burden you had to carry all because the people who was suppose to do it but couldn't so you had to learn how to carry it all by yourself even after all this time.

Because Yuutaro with all his awkwardness and flaws had never been alone.

You however, have been painfully all by your lonesome.

And you meant to him that much to say the least.

"I don't know really." he murmurs truthfully, and squeezes your hand as an I'm sorry that i can't help you lift your pain that I was years too late to even try to do so and now you're hurting so much that you're almost at you're breaking point, and even if you don't know why or what, he still tries to.

Because he was just a ghost with no body or home wandering around this world, trying his darn best to find himself again for a lover that's slowly collapsing and loosing the brightness that they once were.

"Lots of people die in many ways you know?", He says not having one single clue about what's he saying but continues on because happiness is a fickle thing and is it selfish of him to hold your hand and keep you safe from the monsters that was supposed to love you for a bit much longer?

"We're not stars or flowers or anything,", He says with a finality he didn't know he had.

"We're people and we die when we die.", he goes on to say, and he thinks of an accident on the news, a tragedy in a script, and a genocide written on the history books, and thinks that for all the fire and hydrogen or whatever that makes up a star, planet, comet, or whatever. They were all still painfully human even on their last moments.

That they'd all bleed, cry, turn ugly, and at the end of it all die in more ways than one, because humanity is a fickle thing and they were no different.

That he was still human despite being a ghost of he once was, that you were still human even if you were a rotting corpse murdered by the monsters that were your own flesh and blood by the burdens and self-projections that they always had.

That the tyrant he had hated so much was just a boy underneath all the gore, grime, and blood, and that the grand king he had served underneath all the gold and silver and bronze was just human too.

They all were.

"But what if someone wants to go already and the people around them don't want them to...?" He hears you mutter softly, and he squeezes your hand again replying.

"Then don't.", He mutters tiredly just as much you are to the world, the monsters, and at yourself, "Live."

"Do you think we'll ever...", you trail off, and he knows from your tone that you must be struggling with what words to say so he squeezes your hand again because this is the only way you'll let him show his love for you other than his presence (because you're so, so, so scared and he is too, for you and for him as well.)

"Live again?"

Because he's a ghost of a star cluster once formed and you're a rotting corpse of a white dwarf floating in space with no way or direction to what home once was.

"I don't know really.." He says again, and crosses the gap between you deciding fuck it and presses his forehead against yours pushing on as he goes on, "But we'll cross the bridge when we get there all right?"

You don't pull away nor you push him away, instead you tense before relaxing again, and this time instead of him you're the one who squeezes his hand instead.

"Yeah we'll cross the bridge when we get there."

And in the dark--despite the dark, he thinks that maybe you're smiling in what it seems for a long while now, and he thinks that maybe, maybe he is too.

(And when morning comes maybe you both start trying to live again.)

#FROM THE CARCASSES OF LITERATURE;#haikyuu x reader #kindaichi yuutarou #kindaichi x reader #haikyuu reader insert #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu imagines #kindaichi fluff #kindaichi angst #kindaichi yūtarō #jkfhskfsdfh #pls dont let this flop #im actually pretty proud of this when i was wriing but like #posting this just gives me 100+ anxiety kadshadkja #kindaichi yutaro #haikyuu scenarios

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midnightmoonkiss · 4 years ago

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Summer Nights.

Izuku Midoriya X Reader

Summary: Sweet summer nights paired with some free time with your cute boyfriend always seem to lead to something more.

WARNINGS!: Hand job, slight exhibitionism??

Category: Fluff / Smut

Word Count: 3k

A/N: It is summer time let me indulge in the classics,,

Just To Clarify:

You’re third years

This summer camp is by a river in a forest and not in the mountains

Though it’s not mentioned, summer camp lasts 7 days not 4

Perm. Tag List:

@coupsieddori @desia2 @strwbrry-lia

Ragged breaths echoed in your ear as a toned body leaned back in your secure embrace,

wiggling as his sweaty palms gripped your forearms to stabilize himself.

“(Y-Y/N), wait..!” He gasped, mind filled with dirty thoughts and anticipation as your palms smoothed down his shirt covered belly, fingers tracing the outline of his abs as they inched their way towards the waistband of his black gym shorts with a noticeable bulge.

“Hmm? Why’s that, Izuku?” You drawled out, hot breath fanning over his sensitive ear, adoring the way a whimper slipped past his lips.

“B-because- guah..!”

You nipped at his ear lobe, nuzzling your nose against his hot neck.

“Be a good boy, use your words. Because what?” You purred, kissing down his nape, licking a trail to his sweet spot, latching on and lathering it in attention that had shivers falling down his body, head flopping to the side to give you more room to do as you pleased as if you didn’t have enough room already.

You had barely even begun and yet here he was, sounding wrecked and sporting a cute wet spot on his shorts. The sight of it made you lick your lips, how adorable.

It was strange how this all began, neither of you quite expecting alone time to relax together to take such a lewd turn so quickly, but it was clear neither of you were complaining. In fact, it seemed more like the two of you were wishing for it to happen.

The fourth day of summer camp down by the river during your third year at U.A was coming to a close, hot, blistering day turning into a cool, relaxing night.

Most students were exhausted after such a strenuous day working on their quirks yet again. Some even went straight to bed after dinner was finished and cleaned up, but some, like you, werent tired at all.

It wasn’t that the few left hadn’t worked hard, in fact, some could say that out of the seven of you still sitting around the campfire, three had worked the hardest out of everyone in the class.

But yet, they were still filled with joy, laughter filling the air as crickets chirped all around, the scent of warm vanilla in the air as you all made ‘smores with the crackling heat in front of you.

Ghost stories were passed around, some scary and some eccentric, but each and every one told brought a reaction out of the people who listened to it.

Your hand clutched a much larger and rougher one, warm, scarred fingers encasing your own as you leaned against your curly, green-haired boyfriend who looked scared shitless.

“They’re just stories,” you had whispered in his ear, your words comforting him ever so slightly.

“Scary ones..” he sighed out, never one to be too good at handling anything remotely scary, fictional or not.

“Mmm.. we could go somewhere else?” though you were having fun surrounded by your close friends, the thought of being alone with your sweet boyfriend lit up your soul better than anyone else ever could. After all, who wouldnt want to spend some alone time with their darling after a day of being apart?

Unlike the camp two years ago, this one didnt have any strict regulations. Be in your cabin by midnight, and wake up when the siren goes off.

Simple enough, right? Perhaps it was the fact that it was the last summer camp of highschool that granted students more freedom, no one really knew, and no one was complaining at all.

Villains were out of your mind, fear replaced by fun, relaxation, and throwing up from working too hard and not hydrating enough as the sun beat down on you.

Finding his answer in the shifting of his green eyes lit up by the fire, still far too shy to admit he would love to go somewhere else, you stood up, pulling him with you. “We’re going to head out now. You guys have a good time!”

As you left, you could hear the onslaught of whispers and snickers behind you, no doubt gossiping about what you were leaving for.

But who really cared? Certainly not you, and not your boyfriend either.

No, he was too entranced with that loveable look in your eyes as you gazed up at him to even notice.

Dots of yellow flew around you, glowing brightly just for a split moment before disappearing, fireflies.

The bugs that shone like stars twinkling in the night sky.

Hair messy and heads filled with dreams, the two of you ran around, giggling like little children as a silent game of tag went on between the two of you the deeper you went into the woods surrounding the camp.

There were no security cameras, no lights, no technology for miles.

A way to keep villains off your tracks.

And it was working well enough so far, and it allowed everyone to be themselves in ways previously not allowed.

For you and Izuku, that meant being together in a simple way, basking in each other’s presence as your legs ran faster and faster through the woods, grass whipping against bare ankles as you narrowly avoided running into a tree.

Heavy breaths fell from you as you squealed whenever he would almost touch you, determined to stand your ground as long as possible before the inevitability of being ‘it’ came into play and you had to chase the speedy ball of energy with a mop of green, bouncing curls.

But you were foolish to think you could ever last so long, for before you knew it, you were being tackled to the ground by your sweaty boyfriend, his arms protecting you from a heavy fall as you both tumbled to the grassy ground, rolling down a small hill together before coming to a stop.

Propping himself up on his forearms, his bright eyes bore into your own, noses brushing as you both took a moment to catch your breaths, stray giggles mingling together.

Fireflies flew up from the ground, seemingly circling around the two of you if just for one magical moment, encasing the two of you in a warm glow that outshined the full moons own silvery one trickling through tree leaves.

You were completely and utterly in love with this freckled man above you who smiled victoriously, and you couldnt help but show it by leaning up, placing a kiss onto his cheek, feeling him go still as his face heated up.

This only led to you peppering his face in kisses, teasing him just to see his face scrunch up in frustration until he whined for a kiss on the lips, to which you eagerly gave him. With each kiss, heat passed between the two of you on that soft, grassy forest floor, your arms wrapping around his neck, his hands pulling you closer as your tongues intertwined.

Wet smacks echoed in the back of your mind as your lips continuously met, the sweetness of marshmallow and chocolate flooding your tastebuds, leaving you desiring more and more.

A small moan in the back of his throat was what set that night off, starting with you threading your fingers in his hair, pulling at his locks just to hear him moan once more, his hips pressing into yours instinctively, which is what lead you both to where you were now. Your back pressed against a locked bathroom's metal stall door, and your boyfriend back pressed against your chest as crickets drowned out any outside noises from the campers not too far away.

“B-because..” it seemed like his argument was dying on his tongue, your thumbs circling over his hips catching all of his attention despite the teeth nibbling on his skin, “i-it’s.. wrong..”

He audibly gulped when your fingers passed over the tops of his thighs, knee wedging in between his perfectly toned, tanned legs just to spread them wide open, giving him something to just barely grind against, much to his internal frustration, as you traced his inner thigh, teasing him enough for his hips to jerk the moment your touch went too close to his twitching boner.

You knew he liked this.

You knew he adored the prospect of being caught.

He was such a perv at times, desiring the kinkiest of things in wrong and right places, but you couldnt help but love that side of him as much as you loved him shy and sweet side. Afterall, he was still your baby boy, and that would never change, no matter what.

“Don’t you think it would be even more wrong to go back to your cabin sporting an erection for all those awake to see?” you questioned innocently, popping wetly off his neck just to gauge his reaction.

His spit-slicked red lips pressed into a wobbly thin line, slowly shaking his head up and down.

“Why don’t you let me help you out, love?” you kissed his cheek, humming lightly to calm his nerves.

He always was a nervous boy when it came to these things, even if he liked it and even if you had helped him out multiple times throughout the two years you’d been together.

“Please..” he pleaded, voice just barely breaking through the air as his eyes squeezed closed.

“Hm? What was that?” though you had heard his response, you wanted him to speak louder, to gain that fraction of confidence, to understand he didnt have to be so shy, not around you.

“Please.. (Y/N).. please help me..” he whimpered, hips shimmying, grinding down onto your thigh, hesitant eyes fluttering open to gaze into your own (E/C) ones, seeking encouragement, something you were all too willing to give in the form of a reassuring kiss on the lips.

He immediately fell into the rhythm of your lips meeting hotly with his again, helping him relax against you.

Your tongue invaded his hot mouth once more, running along the side of his own before exploring every crevice, brushing against spots that made his breath hitch in the back of his throat, causing him to desperately lean in for more.

A loud gasp tore from his throat as you grabbed the waistband of his shorts again, yanking them down so that his large member could be freed, slapping up against his tummy as you stared down in awe. He pulled away from your mouth, a string of saliva momentarily connecting your tongues, hissing as the cool night air hit his heated flesh.

It was embarrassing for him to see just how hard he had got in such a short amount of time, and from kisses alone no less.

But he had no time to be embarrassed or ashamed. After you lowered your leg, removing that sweet friction, your hand was quick to wrap around his thick shaft, eliciting a soft groan from him at such intimate contact.

His tip was already flushed red and oozing with precum, a bead of it trailing down his throbbing cock.

“Mm~ Already so hard for me,” your thumb ran up the underside of his dick, collecting that drip of precum, “my good boy.” you praised, eyes sparkling with excitement as his thighs twitched at being called such a name.

Your voice always had such an effect on him, only bringing out a more dominant side of yourself whenever you got to witness it, which was quite often.

You chewed at your lips as you thought of all the fun you could have with your sweet boyfriend, an action that his ever-observant green gaze picked up and made his dick twitch in anticipation for what was surely to come.

You always left him guessing.

He adored that.

Never being able to read you just right. Never being able to predict your actions, you were an enigma in these moments, and he wasnt afraid to admit that it was a huge turn on.

Slowly, your hand began to glide up and down his hardened member, careful to avoid stimulating his glans or going too fast, wanting to drag this out until he was begging for more.

He always did.

And it was always such a joy to listen to.

His hands pressed against the walls on both sides of you, unsure of where else to put them as he breathed heavily, eyes closing as he let himself bask in the pleasure your touch brought him, despite it being too slow for his current liking.

His hair tickled the skin of your neck as his head rested back on your shoulder, his jaw slack, eyebrows pinched with concentration, pants and small whimpers right next to your eagerly awaiting ear.

He was always so cute, it was hard not to flush as his hips jerk with every few pumps, subconsciously begging you to go faster without the words falling from his parted lips.

You complied with a smile, speeding up just enough to rip a stuttered moan from deep in his chest, body squirming against you at the sudden change in pace, the wet squelch of excessive precum coating your hand as it traveled up and down his length echoing in the bathroom.

“A-ahh.. hahh.. f-feels.. feels s-so nngh.. so nice..” he spoke breathlessly, as honest as always.

It filled you with glee to know you were doing well at pleasuring your man, even sparking that fire of cockiness deep within you.

“Is that so, darling?” Though it was more of a question to be left unanswered, he replied automatically, “Y-Ye- ah! H-hah! Oh! Mmmng! Ooohhh, fuck!” only for your pace to increase tenfold, twisting your hand up and down his length, fingers brushing over his leaking tip, making his hips jut forward for a mere second.

Though the thought of teasing him until he was weeping sparked your interest, you knew you had to be asleep soon, and honestly, it didnt hurt to spoil the man you loved rotten every once in a while, right?

With a clear mindset, you freely let him thrust his hips into your hand, matching the pace he was setting himself as his loud moans bounced off the pristine, white cinderblock walls, making it seem like he was much louder than he actually was, but only fueling the heal swirling in the pit of your stomach.

“You’re such a good boy for me.” you mumbled, eyes trained on his cock fucking into your hand like the horny teen he was, his arms falling down to grip at your shirt, body hunching forward as you only sped your pace up.

“G-g-od! Ah! O-oh f-fuck! A-ahhnn… g-ghhuwaahh! (Y/N)! P-princess..! H-hah-hah..! M-more..! More ple- hahh.. please!” he begged you, back arched yet head thrown blissfully back as moans flowed from his mouth like prayers, cheeks burning and thighs spreading even wider to let you move as freely as you wanted, not caring how loud or exposed he was.

He loved exposing himself completely to you.

He didnt even care that he was so turned on and leaking so much that his precum dripped messily onto the floor, all he cared about was you.

You.

Your scent.

Your touch.

Your voice.

Your breath.

You, solely you.

You always had his attention.

He was in a constant state of euphoria whenever around you, intoxication muddling his thoughts whenever he smelled your sweet scent.

“Please..!” he gasped, tummy and thighs tightening up in that familiar way they always did before his orgasm took control over his body.

Eager to oblige to his request, your other hand finally joined the party, using your palm to circle around his bulbous head best you could.

Shlick. Shlick. Shlick.

He screamed out in ecstasy, green sparks cascading around his body as his hips thrust forwards at an inhuman pace, fucking your hand that felt so good and small wrapped around him, desperate to cum, to take as much as he could while you still let him.

“My sweet baby.. You’re doing so good~ you’re so close, arent you..”

You spoke out, being met with moans that got louder and more high-pitched with each passing second, no doubt loud enough to breach the thin barrier of protection around this bath house, seeping out into the woods surrounding it.

“S-so good! So good! G-gahh.!

Ah!

So! So! G-good!

Fuck..!

F-fuck!

Fuck~!

Oh, fuck!” he chanted, broken words stuttered by his own moans of pleasure, drool dribbling down the corner of his mouth as his tongue flopped out, dripping onto the exposed skin of your neck, but you were too focused on the way he cutely got himself off with your hands alone.

He was such a big boy, you couldnt even fully wrap your fingers around him, and you knew that only made him hornier each time he noticed it.

“Aaah! (Y/N)! (Y-Y/N)! I-i! Mmghnmn! Ahh-ahh! I’m g-gonna!!”

“Cum for me, Izuku.”

The second you allowed him two, his back was arching, body stilling as a silent scream flew from his vocal chords, fingers digging into the flesh of your hips.

A heavenly moan, louder than the ones youve heard all night, thrashed its way from his throat, shaking your very soul as thick ropes of thick, hot cum spurted from the tip of his flushed cock, spilling into the toilet you had aimed him for below, hand continuously pumping him to milk him dry, the last bit of cum falling onto your fingers wrapped below his head.

His body relaxed, slumping against you as he fought to control his breath from such a mind-numbing orgasm.

Pleased at his performance, you sweetly kissed his temple, nuzzling your cheek against his sweaty head as he slowly calmed down.

“Thank you…” he wheezed out, voice cracking as his eyes opened just barely to look over at you, a small smile on his plump lips.

“Of course.” You’d do anything for the man who lit up your life like the stars in the sky, but that’s not to say he wouldnt do the same. Before you knew it, he was on his knees and eager to please.

Who were you to say no?

#izuku midoriya x reader #deku x reader #izuku x reader #midoriya izuku x reader #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bnha x reader #mha x reader #n/sfw #bnha deku x reader #mha deku x reader #mha izuku x reader #izuku midoriya x you #deku x you #izuku x you #midoriya izuku x you #hhhhh

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wreckofawriter · 5 years ago

Text

Heartbeat Part 2

(Final Part) <Part 1>

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader

Word Count: 3,580

Warnings: Angsty at the beginning, umm mentions of suicide and depression, swearing

Summary: An idea given to me by @mcluuvin666 Thank you so much! Reader moves on from Sirius and he realizes he made a mistake

A/n: This took me forever to write, I hope you guys like it!

You used to tell yourself you didn’t cry, that it was weak. But that was never true. The truth was you had cried far more in your life than you would ever admit. You had cried when your parents yelled at you or when your father hit you or your mother cursed you. You had cried when you fell from the tree in your backyard and when you slipped off your bike when you were nine. You had cried when you failed your first exam in the second year and recently you cried for no reason at all other than you simply needed to. You never let anyone see it but you cried a lot. But you had never cried like this before

You lay in that classroom for what could have been an hour or could have been a year. Loud sobs clawing from your throat like a feral beast that had finally been released. You felt your head pound as you pressed your forehead to the floor. After some amount of time had passed your throat no longer allowed any sound but whimpers from you. You could still feel tears slide down your face dripping off your nose and pooling on its curves. Your face felt hot, too hot like it was boiling, flesh burning.

Your mouth tasted bitter. You felt so frail. So incredibly weak. When you finally managed to get to your feet it was dark out, the moon nearly full, stars so bright they seemed only inches away.

You made it outside easily, no one was around to stop you if there was you doubt they would have succeeded. You stepped out onto the dewy grass where you once lay with Sirius. Where he had kissed you, where you had said you loved him and where he hadn't responded.

You should have felt stupid, so fucking stupid, but you didn’t. You didn't feel anything, anger, misery, hatred, despair and so many other bottles of feelings had been released. And now they were gone. And you felt numb. Your heart had slowed to its normal pace as you continued across the grass appearing silver in the moonlight.

You walked until your feet met with wood, you traveled out to the dock, the sound of crickets and small frogs filling you.

You stopped at the end of the dock. You contemplated taking another step, letting your body become a part of the darkness before you.

And then you did.

Your body hit the water and you were plunged into a cold you had never felt before. Your robes soaked instantly and you began to sink. You slowly parted your eyelids, you looked upwards at the celestial being above you quivering under the lense of wetness. You could see the moon, but your eyes didn't stay on the small planet for long. They traveled to the brightest star in the sky. Sirius. It blinked back at you slowly moving further and further away as your lungs began to burn. Your hair began to float in front of your face, your robes reaching towards the light as you were dragged backward by an unseeable force.

Then your eyes slipped shut and the fire inside you built, the burn strengthening. You could still see the bright star in your eyelids.

You felt the numbness suddenly disappear and for the first time in your entire life you were alone and you actually felt alive.

Your feet began to kick, black dress shoes moving in a flutter. You pushed yourself upwards, arms pumping as your eyes popped back open, your chest burnt, you would make it you knew you would, because you were still alive, and you would stay that way.

When you broke the surface of the water you immediately drew in a harsh breath forcing water further down your lungs as you began to cough. You managed to the shore collapsing in a heap of coughs. Until your lungs cleared and you were finally allowed to breathe normally again.

You're sitting staring out at the lake, ripples lingering from your plunge. The moon and stars reflected back at you making you feel as if you were trapped between two godly works of art and you could only stare, your heart thumped loudly you felt amazing, amused, and absolutely alive. Because you were alive. And you weren't about to let so asshole with mommy issues change that.

You felt a smile creep onto your lips as you stood. Your robes weighed what must have been thousands of pounds but you didn't care. You let out a light bubble of laughter chin tilting upwards as you breathed in deeply the scent of midnight dew and pond water filling you as your hair clung to your face. You extended your arms, spreading them like an eagle.

"I'm alive." You whispered up in the sky. And you were.

You awoke the next morning feeling as if you had dropped 50 pounds. Standing wasn't a struggle, your eyelids didn't drag downward, your heartbeat was lively and awake. You simply felt good.

When you arrived in the great hall for breakfast you were met with quite a few surprised faces. You could see Sirius staring at you from his corner of toxic masculinity. The surprise in his eyes made rage cycle through you. You were tempted to run and scream at him, but you didn’t. You took a deep breath reminding yourself that was exactly what he wanted and you refused to give in to his wants ever again. You ate breakfast while reading one of your favorite books you had dug out of your trunk that morning. Everything seemed so much easier after last night.

You surprised just about everyone in your herbology class by being quite kind to the Hufflepuff who sat next to you. You had even asked for some help baffling the light-haired girl. During Transfiguration, you had made a point to apologize to McGonagall for missing that morning’s detention. Her eyes had gone wide and she had looked a bit pale, asking if you were alright which you assured her you were.

On your way to lunch, you did something absolutely unliveable. A young Gryffindor had been cornered in a remote hallway you used as a shortcut. You had come across five second-year girls who were teasing the poor girl, snickers leaving their mouth. You had debated continuing walking but you let out a sharp sigh and took a few steps towards the girls grabbing the two who were currently taking charge by their hair.

They had shrieked as you yanked them backward. Once they had turned and met your face the color had drained from their own. A sweet smile graced your lips. You asked them if they knew who you were. Both nodded quickly.

“Good.” You continued to grin, “Then you should know I don’t bluff. Now I will ask you once. Leave this girl alone or next time I will rip the hair from your head.”

They had scattered after you released them, their friends already long gone. You walked towards the girl on the ground. She had on large horn-rimmed glasses which magnified her sky blue eyes. Her teeth held bright pink banded braces, her hair a dirty blonde.

“Let me guess, you’re a mud- muggleborn.” You said catching yourself quickly.

She nodded slowly, she looked terrified.

You laughed a bit and she jumped. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you. I’m a changed woman, plus muggles write the best books.” You winked. “I’m y/n y/l/n.” You extended a hand.

“Rebecca Lastings.” She responded quietly, taking your offer as you helped pull her to her feet.

“Well, I’m starving. You wanna get lunch?” You asked as you helped gather her scattered books.

She smiled a bit, “Yeah sure.”

Lunch was... interesting. Turned out that Rebecca had an older sister named Laney Lastings - in your opinion a very catchy name - and when she saw her sister eating lunch with one of the most infamous Slytherins she was reasonably concerned.

When the Ravenclaw had marched up to you as you were shoveling chicken salad into your mouth you had once again done the shocking thing. You smiled and greeted the girl.

“What are you doing with my little sister.” She had hissed cutting you short.

You shrugged, “Eating.”

The blonde scoffed, “Becc lets go.” she snatched her sister’s arm but to her surprise Rebecca resisted.

“But she was just telling me about a book she read.” The younger girl spoke softly. By the look on the older’s face, you guessed she didn’t defy orders often. “It sounded very interesting.”

Laney looked up at you. You just shrugged. “What is going on?” she looked a bit shook up.

“Look I know what you think of me, hell what every single person in this room thinks of me but I’m a changed woman.” You explained, “I am honestly just talking to your sister, I have no intention of hurting her in any way shape or form.”

Laney’s eyes narrowed but Rebecca sat back down and took a bite of her peanut butter sandwich. “Come on y/l/n people don’t just change overnight.”

You shrugged again, “I did. Feel free to join us.” You motioned to the seat next to Laney’s sister and to your surprise she took it. And for the first time in your entire life, you had made actual friends.

You dreaded detention the next morning but to your surprise, it was rather pleasant. When you entered the large room it was already sanctioned into two groups. One contained three boys sitting in neighboring desks while the second held one dark-haired boy at the back of the room glaring at the former group.

You raised an eyebrow in confusion and sat a few desks away from both crowds. You then began to sort the paperwork you were told to, taking a walkman out and clipping in a favored artist.

About halfway through the hour, you were drawn from your work when a figure appeared before you. You looked up to see a pair of hazel eyes and curly hair hidden under a navy beanie. You removed your headphones letting them rest around your neck giving him a questioning look.

“Hey.” He managed, looking a bit unsure of himself.

“Hey?” You responded, glancing at the group he had left meeting to pair of eyes which quickly darted away.

“So umm, I know it's not really my place to say but I’m sorry,” Remus spoke, biting his lip.

“Why are you sorry?” You asked, still visibly confused.

He lowered his voice, “What Sirius did was really fucked up.” Suddenly the sanctions made sense, “And I just thought I would let you know that I’m sorry on his behalf.”

You let out a small laugh, “Please don’t Remus, you clean up enough of that boy's messes already, don’t put this on yourself. But thanks anyway.” You shrugged going to put back on your headphones.

“Laney told me about what you did for her little sister.” He spoke in a rush.

You stopped, “And?”

“She has been trying to get those girls to leave Becc alone for like three months, she started skipping classes and meals to avoid them, it was bad. But you stopped them with one conversation. That was really nice of you y/n.” Remus stated.

“It was whatever.” You answered with a shrug.

“It really wasn’t,” He protested, “But look we both wanted to ask you if you wanted to come to our study session tomorrow night. We get together three times a week, it’s me Laney and a few others, they’re all pretty chill and it would be great if you could come.”

A smile found your face, “Really?”

“Yeah, we meet in the library after dinner.” He was playing with his fingers now.

“Okay, sure. That sounds awesome.” You said.

“Great.” He grinned bouncing on the balls of his feet before turning and leaving.

“Hey, Remus.” You called just before he made it back to his seat. He whipped his head to look at you. “Thanks.”

In all honesty, being nice was completely exhausting, actually caring what others thought of you took its toll, especially after the well-crafted reputation you had built for yourself. You had also started paying attention in classes for the first time in a long time so you had mountains of homework and suddenly understood your peer’s desperation for good grades. You tried to convince yourself that a study group was a brilliant idea but your worries ate away at you.

What happened when most of the group hated you? Would they cuss you out? What if they refused you despite Remus’s invitation? There was so much room for failure. Godric making friends was difficult.

You busied yourself with the nightly homework in the common room, you had gotten used to the strange looks you received. A whistle drew yourself from your herbology sketch.

“Wow y/l/n, I did not expect you to turn into a loser when you found out.”

You rolled your eyes at the familiar voice, “Avery.” You drawled.

“What has gotten into you?” He asked, taking a seat next to you, “First you help out a mudblood, then you go and make friends with her filthy sister and now you're doing Herbology homework?”

You glared at the boy, “Don’t call them that.”

He only smirked back, “I must say you look much prettier without the bags beneath your eyes and a little effort put in.”

“Go fuck yourself.” You spat resisting the urge to strangle him.

“There’s the y/n I know.” He smiled triumphantly, “But where has she been? People don’t change overnight.”

“Well, I did douchebag.” You hissed.

“No you didn't.” he sneered, “You're still the same stone-cold bitch, you’re just hiding it and let me tell you, I can’t wait for that mask to break.”

Your hand tightened around your quill, “Shut up.”

“I’ll be there to catch you when you fall y/l/n. I’m glad you’re wearing skirts again, you look hot.” He taunted his face so close to your own you could smell his cologne.

You were about to slap him but before you could a voice resonated through the air, “Avery back off her.”

You both looked up and you met the gaze of a Slytherin you swear you had never seen before. He had dark hair and darker eyes, his face was sharply cut, lips looking far too rounded on his visage.

“What do you have on it Dapperton?” Avery asked leaning away from you.

“Just back off.” His tone was harsh, a thick Scottish accent in his voice.

“Whatever.” Avery scoffed standing and shooting you one last glance before leaving the room.

“You okay?” The boy you now knew as Dapperton asked.

“Yeah, fine.” You managed.

“Cool, listen I was wondering if you could help me with my Arithmetic, I’ve heard you are pretty good at it.” He said.

“Sure. I’m y/-”

“I know who you are.’” He laughed, “I’m Lewis. Lewis Dapperton.”

“Okay, nice to meet you, Lewis.”

You had made three official friends.

You tried not to let Avery’s words bother you as the days passed. But it was hard. The study group had been a bit awkward but not all that bad, Lewis was actually a member much to your surprise. Nights became difficult again. The idea that maybe this was just a passing phase and that it was simply a few good days got to you. I mean people didn’t just change overnight.

But I did. You screamed at yourself. I swear I did.

It all came crashing into a dreadful climax two weeks after night it all started.

It had been two weeks of confusion that morphed to anger and soon into sadness and jealousy for Sirius Black. When he had seen you in the great hall the night after you had found out about the thirty points he had almost shit his pants. You were up? And you were smiling?! He was sure you were going to come over and rip his throat out at breakfast. But you didn’t You just sat at your isolated seat at the end of the Slytherin table and read, looking surprisingly relaxed.

You had left a bit early and Remus had dumped his pumpkin juice on him saying he was a complete objectifying asshole and part of the reason why women were not viewed equal to men. Leave it to the feminist to ruin a perfectly normal bet. He had made the mistake of saying that out loud and caused an uproar at the Gryffindor table.

He had seen you working in the few shared classes you had and had been quite surprised. How was it you were having a better day than him? He supposed karma bit harshly. When you saw you at lunch sitting with a young Gryffindor girl he had once again been completely boggled. And soon you were joined by a Ravenclaw as well. What universe was he in?

That night he had gotten into another heated argument with his best friends. One that ended in him sleeping in the common room, locked away from his bed.

He had dreamt of you. That night when you had stargazed. When you had kissed him. When you had told him you loved him. He dreamt of your lips on his, hands in his hair, the dew seeping through his robes and the chirp of crickets.

The next morning sucked. He sat alone during detention forced to watch as you happily hummed along to your music. Your hair was pulled back and it looked surprisingly nice. You were also wearing a skirt. When did you get so pretty? Remus talked to you and mentioned him. Sirius bit his tongue not wanting to cause a scene. Plus the glare James was giving him hurt on another level.

The week got worse and worse. Suddenly you had friends and had started hanging out with a far too handsome Slytherin. You also choose that week to look ridiculously gorgeous and suddenly his thoughts were full of you. He found himself missing your scent and the texture of your hair. The sound of your laughter was a drug he had been deprived of.

His dreams of you got worse. He dreamt that he had told you he loved you when you asked. He dreamed he hadn’t left you alone. He dreamed of laughing in detention with you, making out in broom closets, going to quidditch matches together, sleeping with you.

He woke each day more aggravated than the last. Why the fuck was he the one suffering? It wasn’t fair. Well, he supposed it was. Finally, he gathered his remailing pride and tossed it out a window before cornering you on the way back from herbology.

“Y/n please just give me a minute.” He begged as you began to walk away.

“Sirius I have wasted far too many of my minutes on you.” You spat glaring past the boy.

“Please.” He pleaded.

You sighed tapping your foot angrily, “You’ve got one minute.”

It was then Sirius realized he had absolutely no plan, “What’s up with you?”

“What?” You glowered refusing to meet his eye.

“I mean you’re all nice and shit and you’re actually hanging out with people. It’s weird.” He explained.

“So, me being nice is weird?” You clarified.

“Yeah! People don’t change overnight!” He rationalized.

“So I’ve been told.” You murmured, “Look if this is all just about me being nice then please save me time and leave me alone.”

Sirius groaned, “It’s not just that! How are you so, so I don’t know okay?”

You finally looked him in the eyes and he really wished you hadn’t. Your eyes were dark with anger, narrowed to slits, reminding him of a snake. “You wanna know why I’m so okay?” You asked and suddenly he didn’t. “Because I was really really not fucking okay.”

Sirius was visibly confused, “What?”

“I almost drowned myself that night Sirius.” You hissed.

His heart stopped. “What.”

“Yeah.” You snarled, “I walked straight off that dock, shoes and all, and I let myself sink halfway to the bottom before I decided I wanted to live.” You spoke gesturing towards the lake.

Sirius wanted the earth to swallow him whole. You wouldn’t have opposed.

“And when finally reached the shore I had an epiphany.” You spoke with false glamor. “I suddenly realized I wasn’t going to let cock suckers like you and my parents decided anything about me and the way I live my life.”

Sirius wanted to break into tears. He started at you. The face he had been dreaming of for weeks meer meters from him and suddenly realized how desperately in love with you he was.

“So guess what, I changed overnight because I would have died if I didn’t.” You spat before brushing past him without another word. Sirius grabbed your wrist as you passed.

You turned glaring at him.

“I think I’m in love with you.” He spoke his voice breaking halfway through the sentence.

“You know I can’t answer that.” You scoffed snatching your wrist from his hold and turning to leave.

Sirius watched as you left so full of regret he couldn’t think of anything but what-ifs. When you were out of sight he sat on the ground and began to cry.

Taglist:

@wtfdanness

@darkhorse-of-your-dream

@geeksareunique

@songforhema

@wangmangagavroche

@evyiione

@accio-rogers

@roslea

@k3nz-doodl3

@theseuscmander

Masterlist

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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years ago

Note

88. I dropped my watch in an open grave, jumped in to get it, and while you were visiting your dead grandmother, you saw me climbing out of the grave (credit to @enchantedcass)

Indruck, sfw or nsfw, please!

Here it is! This is technically SFW, though there's some discussion of sex and a bit of steaminess at the end.

“Here, these are fresh.” Indrid sets the wildflowers on the small, stone marker, so covered with moss and worn with age that no one can read it. He only knows where to find her because he watched from the Barrens as she was put in the ground.

Temperance Leeds. His grandmother, the one who narrowly avoided accusations of witchcraft, the only human who ever set foot deep enough in the trees to bring him food, to drape blankets over his shaking shoulders. She never forgot him, and he shall return the favor as long as he lives.

There’s a thump of earth behind him and he whirls; it’s midnight in a graveyard, who could possibly be here? The ghosthunters usually wait for darker nights to come. In his periphery, a hand rises from an open grave.

Great, if the dead rise he’ll probably be blamed for that too.

“Fuck” A young man pulls himself from the grave, staring at his cell phone, “c’mon, please don’t be fuckin cracked.” Light illuminates his face and sighs, “thank fuckin christ.”

The light disappears and he blinks, eyes adjusting to the dark. Indrid, too caught up in working out why he’s in the ground, hasn’t bothered to hide as he should. The human notices.

“Uh. I. Uh. Dropped my phone checkin the time. I, uh, definitely wasn’t smokin in the off limits, uh, fuck, graveyard I, uh, I fuck, promise I’ll clean up my beer bottles I mean, uh, fuck.” He scratches the back of his neck, “please don’t call the cops?”

“Can you see me?” Indrid cocks his head.

“Yeah?”

“And you are worried about me alerting the police?”

“I mean, guess we’re both breakin the rules but I kinda figured you were staff here because of the clothes.” He gestures to the ensemble Indrid cobbled together from clothes lines.

Indrid stands, stretches his wings, flicks his tail and watches the human slowly notice the color of his eyes and the outline of his horns.

“Fuck. Look, man, whatever you are, I swear I won’t tell, I’m just tryin to keep busy, please, my folks are already worried about me-”

“I’m not going to harm you.” Lightning cracks through the sky, flashing his shadow across the frightened human, “I just wanted you to see me clearly.”

Rain patters on the leather of his wings. The man looks up at the sky, face seeming even younger as it fills with resignation. Indrid recognizes it’s source.

“You have nowhere to go, do you?”

“No. I, uh, decided I wanted to get outta town and never come back, made it as far as here before I ran outta money.”

Indrid offers his hand, watches the man’s face zero in on the claws, “You may spend the night with me, if you wish. My home is a ways into the woods, but it is dry and warm.”

“Okay.” The young man replies softly, letting Indrid help him up as the dirt turns to mud. Indrid shelters him as best he can with a wing until they reach the cottage. Indrid kneels by the fireplace, lumps kindling into a pile as the young man sets his backpack on a chair.

“Nice place. Gotta admit I was expectin somethin more dilapidated. On account of the whole, uh, y’know.” He gestures to Indrid’s horns and cloven feet.

“It was much like you expected, once upon a time. But a human named Arlo Thacker took pity on me and helped me build it with the aid of a few friends. There.” The fire flickers merrily, “that should keep us warm. You may--ah, what are you doing?”

The young man has removed his jacket and shirt, revealing what Indrid recognizes from human magazines as a sports bra. His hands are now on the fly of his jeans.

“You said I was supposed to, uh, spend the night with you?”

“Yes, in that you may sleep here to be safe from the weather and any who might wish you harm. Not so that you may keep me warm. So to speak.”

“You’re not gonna fuck me?”

Indrid flicks his tail, surprised, “You would offer yourself to me, looking like this?”

The man nods in a way that suggests he’s run a calculus in his head and decided Indrid’s desire was less abhorrent than some other option. Indrid crosses the small living room, bringing them face to face. He reaches out a hand, runs his claws through black hair until the human closes his eyes. Then his hand slides to cup his cheek, one nail tracing fond little shapes on the skin as the man sighs. Against his better judgement, he tilts his head down to nose the dark locks; smoke lingers there, just as alcohol hangs on his breath. He’s so warm, so willing and so very soft. Indrid wants nothing more than to undress him further, carry him to his cozy bedroom and discover what sounds come when he fits their bodies together.

“What’s your name?”

“Duck. It’s a nickname.”

“A charming one. But no, Duck, I will not take such advantage of you. I may be called a devil, but I do not believe in making one trade their body for basic kindness. Come along, the bedroom will allow you more privacy.”

“Thanks.” Duck sways, and Indrid senses a weariness he’s not certain a good nights rest will fix. Tomorrow he will be sure to be gone when Duck awakens, leaving his dry clothes and a map back to town outside his door so that he can do what Indrid can dare to; leave the Barrens and find a life waiting for him in the world beyond.

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

There are some days when Duck thinks his encounter in the woods was a dream. The hand-drawn map he keeps folded among his books tells him otherwise.

He’d come home after that night, made his peace with Kepler for a few years more, and often awoke from dreams where he was pushing through brush in pursuit of a strange shadow. He never cites these as a reason for his taking a job at a state forest in New Jersey that includes the Barrens.

Now, he’s decided to upgrade from his apartment to a house in the woods that’s been listed for over two years and is a goddamn steal because of that.

“As you can see, there’s another residence across the clearing; that’s why the company that built this lovely dwelling was able to do so. They intended to build a nice little community here.”

“The fact that ain’t happened got anythin to do with the reason I gotta stay the night before I make an offer?”

Ned’s smile falters, “Indeed, dear boy. I like you, so I’ll be forthcoming; we’ve never seen anyone in the other house. But they have most certainly seen us.”

Duck settles in for an uneventful afternoon and evening, reads his book and considers whether he could fit some windowboxes on the house for garden space. It’s not until it’s pitch black outside that it starts; footsteps on the roof, followed shortly by red eyes peering in through the living room window.

He opens the front door, the undergrowth rustling hurriedly to his left.

“Uh, hey there. You may not remember me but, uh, we’ve actually met before. About ten years ago. You uh, you let me stay the night?”

Only some crickets, unaware of the tension in the air, reply to him. Then the bushes grow two, ruby red flowers.

“Duck?”

“Yep. Y’know, you never told me your name. If we’re gonna be neighbors, feels like I oughta know what to call you.”

A shadow moves from the trees, stopping when it reaches the light spilling from the windows. He’s as Duck remembers him; short horns sprouting from a mop of silver hair, claws on his fingers and black wings folded on his back. His skin is a swirl of ashy grey and ember red. And his face, while striking, is human. That was the part that always tripped Duck up; the Jersey Devil was always drawn with a goat or horse face, making him question whether that’s who he met all those years ago.

“Indrid. My name is Indrid.”

“Nice to see you again, Indrid.”

The other man smiles, and Duck knows what will replace the mad hunt through the brush in his dreams, “Likewise.”

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

“You know, she had three more children after me. None of them suffered the same curse.” Indrid kicks idly at the long decayed remains of his family home. Their nightly walk brough them close to it this time around, and Duck had been curious. His interest is never prurient or morbid; Duck wants to get to know Indrid, not his legend.

“That fuckin sucks.”

Indrid chuckles, “I do enjoy how you put things so plainly.”

“I’m serious, what kind of folks put their kid out when it’s a baby? I mean, mine weren't always the fuckin parents of the year but at least they understood lookin after me was part of the deal.”

“It was a different time.”

“Fine, but I’m still judgin the hell outta them.”

Indrid looks fondly down at the human, “That’s as fair a fate for them as any.”

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

“It don’t weird you out?” Juno indicates Indrid’s house from where she and Duck are sitting on his front porch. The twin Adirondack chairs are a new addition, as the warmer months mean he and Indrid spend ample time trying to see the stars through the treetops.

“Nah. Indrid’s a real good neighbor when he’s around. He’s uh, from an old family so he don’t gotta work. Part of why he keeps such weird hours.” Duck wishes he could introduce them; it’d be nice for the three of them to have dinner before Juno heads south again. But Indrid has several centuries of shitty human encounters that dig under his skin like splinters, and Duck will never push him to ignore that pain. Besides, there will be other visits.

The summer and fall pass in much the same ways last winter and spring did. Duck works in the park, visits friends in town, runs errands, and generally goes about all the mundane moments that make up a life. Then he spends his evenings in one of the two cottages, or walking alongside Indrid on long-overgrown pathways.

The hardest part of it all is not mentioning Indrid in every single conversation; Duck is already tempting disaster being unable to lie and the neighbor of a cryptid. He doesn’t want to also drive his friends up the wall talking about said cryptids art, or his laugh, or the little herb garden Duck is helping him grow.

They’re in the stretch of days between Christmas and New Year, and Indrid has just finished opening the gift Duck brought him; a thick, soft sweater that Duck stitched a “I” into the front of along with a few little pine tree patches. Indrid smiles at him and notices that Duck’s sweater is done in a similar fashion (in fact, everyone in the Newton family wears one like this). The grin turns bashful and Indrid rubs his cheek against the fabric.

“Thank you, Duck. I, ah, I’m sorry I do not have anything to give you. Holidays are not my strong suit.”

“Just gettin to see you is enough.” Duck stands to refill his tea, Indrid’s gaze caressing his back as he moves through the room. He almost hadn’t gone home, had offered to stay and keep Indrid company. But his friend insisted, reminding him that while it felt odd to be without each other, they both had spent plenty of time apart and been fine. All the same, when he got home yesterday Indrid was knocking on his door before he even put his bag down.

Duck didn’t mind at all. No more than he minds when Indrid sleeps with his head in his lap or strokes his hair while they read on the couch.

The cryptid stokes the fire as the snow gives way to sleet, streaking the windows with icy drops.

“Goodness, what a frigid night.”

“No kiddin.” Duck sets his mug down, turns just as Indrid gets to his feet, “can’t say I mind, kinda reminds me of the night we met.”

The colors of Indrid’s skin make a blush difficult to spot, but Duck’s learned which dip of his head and quirk of his lip means it’s there.

“‘Drid? Did you ever think about that night? Because I did. I, uh, I do.”

“Yes.” Indrid’s tail twitches.

“What do you think about?”

“I, ah, I...you first.”

Duck crosses the creaking floorboards, looking up into red eyes, “I think about how safe it felt when you brought me here. How when I woke up, I felt like this was some kinda weird sign, that I needed to rethink some things and that’s how come I went home, which turned out to be a good call. And” he smirks, “I think about how I was drunk and desperate enough to ask the fuckin Jersey Devil if he was gonna fuck me.”

Indrid blushes once more, studies the ground as Duck touches his shoulder, “I must say that is the part that dominated most of my thoughts. Not right away; for the first few weeks when I thought of you I only hoped you were alright. Then I would let myself imagine that I had been devilish indeed.”

Gently, Duck raises Indrid’s hand and cradles his cheek with it as they did that night, “What would you have done, devil of mine?”

A snicker, “I will answer that only if you tell me whether you are angling for the demonstration that I think you are.”

“Damn right.” He closes his eyes, heart swelling and skin prickling as Indrid steps closer and nuzzles the top of his head.

“I would have asked if you were tired of running. If you wanted a home. And would you like to make it here, so that we could keep each other company. I know in my heart this would have been a selfish offer. I am glad I did not make it, did not trap you here, resign you to a fate that was not what you would have chosen freely.”

“I’m pretty fuckin free these days.”

“And that all on it’s own fills me with joy. But yes, there were nights where I wished I’d been selfish.”

Duck tips his head up, brushing their noses together, “Say you made that offer and I accepted. What then?”

Indrid cups his face with both hands. The kiss is chaste, Indrid sighing against his lips as he twines his claws in his hair. Duck wraps his arms around his waist, lightly teasing the edge of one wing.

“Then” Indrid murmurs, “I’d carry you to bed.”

“Yeah, that part woulda been easier when I was seventeEEN” he laughs as Indrid scoops him into a bridal carry with ease. He’s never been in Indrid’s bed, so he giggles again when he discovers it’s ten times squishier than his own. The cryptid sinks onto it with him, guiding him so they’re face to face on their sides.

“May I undress you?”

“Knock yourself out, darlin.” Affection deep and warm as a thermal spring wells up in him as Indrid carefully removes his sweater and shirt before dainty setting his claws to work on his fly. When Duck is down to his boxers, hunger enters Indrid’s eyes for the first time.

“Oh you are divine.” One hand strokes his leg, pausing at the crease of his thigh each time it reaches there. The other curves along his belly up to his chest before caressing his face, the black claws making his skin seem oddly pale and very fragile in comparison.

Duck touches the hem of Indrid’s shirt and the cryptid freezes.

“‘Drid? Is this okay?”

“Do you...truly wish to see me unclothed?”

Duck surges forward to kiss him as he rucks up his shirt, the movement a sufficient answer for Indrid to raise his arms and let him pull the sweater and battered shirt beneath it away. His skin here is the same swirl of colors as the rest of him, but there’s a dusting of peach fuzz fur across it. It’s delightful under Duck’s tongue, though the little keen of pleasure from Indrid is even better.

“It’s strange” Indrid traces hearts and zig-zags with his claws along Duck’s sides as the human continues kissing his chest and neck, “I thought that seeing you like this would so overwhelm me with need that I’d beg to have you this instant. But it seems I feel much the same way I did in my fantasies of that night.”

“Oh” Duck reaches up to toy with the base of a horn and Indrid groans happily before continuing.

“Had you stayed, knowing you were now mine, I’d have taken my time. Nestled you under the blankets, opened you up on my tongue until you were weak from pleasure. That way it would be easy to take you when I was ready. Perhaps on your back, so you had me to hold onto if you needed. Or on your belly, so you would be even more sheltered from the cold, cruel world by my body and wings. And I’d stay there for hours, make up for decade after decade of touch starvation by glutting myself on your young, willing body.”

“Holy fuck, ‘Drid.” Duck pulls him down into a kiss, “christ that’s a fuckin good image.”

“Mmmm” the cryptid licks his cheek, “it is, isn’t it. But since you are not going anywhere, and we are not limited by the confines of my imagination, I am even less inclined to rush. Will you indulge me with just kisse tonight?”

Duck brushes silver hair from his forehead, planting a kiss there when he’s done, “Of course.”

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

The morning brings several feet of snow and announcement that those who can stay in their homes and shelter from the ongoing storm should. The pines drop heaps of white across the ground, and frost makes the windows so icy it’s better to draw the curtains and stay curled up in the dark.

Duck doesn’t mind at all.

#indrid cold/ duck newton #indruck #meet ugly #monster boyfriend

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theuniversitychallengereview · 3 years ago

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UC 51.28/29 - Edi vs Trinity & King’s vs B’ham

There is always so much stuff to do. I got a new desk on Friday, got halfway through putting it up on Saturday only to realise that one of the screws didn’t fit properly (turned out there was a rogue bit of metal on the end of the thread which I had to jimmy off with a screwdriver). So I had only just finished putting it up when I became immensely hungry because I hadn’t eaten anything since midday, meaning I had to go and eat some dinner, which then led onto my being distracted by the TV show my housemates were watching on Netflix, which in turn meant that I only had eight minutes in which to write both my review of last week’s episode and my introduction to this week’s. It was at that point I realised my Internet wasn’t working because I had unplugged the booster when I was moving things around to put my desk up, so I am now three minutes into this week’s episode with none of my preparation done, besides from this waffly nonsense…

The first of the two episodes covered in this post was Edinburgh vs Trinity, Cam - the last of the first set of quarter-finals. Both sides had been impressive in their opening two matches, but it was Edinburgh who romped to a comfortable victory in this match-up.

Taking the first five starter questions gave them a massive cushion right from the off (the kind of cushion which is sort of oppressive, and dominates the sofa to the extent that you start to wonder if it should really be placed on the sofa at all and doesn’t deserve to be its own pseudo-seat placed directly on the floor). When Trinity finally win a buzzer race Paxman hits them with a wry ‘Oh, you’re awake. Good’

Trinity do have a go at trying to beat the cushion down to a more respectable size, but every time it looks as though they might get a foothold in the game, Edinburgh returned fire with some excellent buzzing, fluffing it right back up. By the time the gong sounded the gap was 135, only twenty more than it had been after the first five questions, showing that Trinity weren’t altogether outmatched, they were just a little late for the class trip to Dunelm.

Final Score: Edinburgh 230 - 95 Trinity, Cam

King’s, London vs Birmingham

The second episode of tonight’s double feature was between King’s College, London and the University of Birmingham, who had both lost their opening quarter finals. Heavily, in the case of King’s, and narrowly in the case of Birmingham. This, and their previous results might have indicated that the Midland side were the favourites, but you can never be certain of anything in the Challenge.

Beard opens the scoring for King’s with ‘pulse’, but they are unable to capitalise on a fun set of bonuses about places sharing parts of their names with Star Trek captains, giving, perhaps unfortunately, Picard instead of Picardy when the question had asked for the latter. Birmingham negged the next starter, allowing Rashid, dressed more for cricket than University Challenge, to make up for his mishearing blunder with ‘gossip’.

King’s aren’t doing too well on the bonuses, but another neg from Birmingham, this time a very flustered one, lets Bedwin in to bring up their half century. The picture starter is an incredibly easy family tree, one about The Godfather, and again this goes to Rashid, who is able to recognise The Buendias from One Hundred Years of Solitude to take one of the bonuses.

Finally, Birmingham get off the mark, with a starter from McParlan. This brings them back to their starting score of zero, and a couple of bonuses brought them for the first time into the positives. Sathyanath then gives Birmingham a taste of their own medicine with an incorrect interruption, but their Midland rivals are unable to take advantage of this, and King’s get back in with the very next starter. The teams now share one hundred points, ninety of which belong to the Londoners.

On the music starter, Sathyanath thinks that De La Soul are the Beastie Boys, while Robinson knows that its De La Soul. The first bonus is the Beastie Boys, however, so Sathyanath hadn’t been that wrong, despite the initially scathing tone of the above sentence when I first wrote it. Next up is Public Enemy, which they get, and Run DMC, which they don’t.

This lights a fire under Birmingham though, and they go on a bit of a run themselves, closing to within ten points. Rashid got the next starter to spoil the fun, but the teams now shared two hundred points, ninety of which belonged to the Brummies. A viciously early buzz from Bartelle gave Birmingham the chance to draw level with only a few minutes left, which they duly did, with a full set of bonuses on British politics.

Last week, I had been planning on weaving an analogy involving the stupendous comeback made by Rafa Nadal in the final of the Australian Open. But unfortunately, its taken me the whole week to get round to writing the review of that episode, and Edinburgh won so comfortably as to render the comparison unmakeable. It is also unfortunate that I cannot use that analogy about this week's episode, because although Bimingham battled valiantly back from the brink, and indeed tied the game, it was King’s Rashid, on this occasion, who was able to win the final starter. Game, set, match (and in the case of King’s, another match, because they have to play and win again if they are to progress beyond the quarter-final stage)

Final Score: King’s 140 - 115 Birmingham

I’d like to end this post with a word on Bamber Gascoigne, who passed away on Tuesday at the age of 87. I wasn’t around to see him on University Challenge in his pomp, but recently I’ve been watching a lot of archived episodes on YouTube, and his energy and enthusiasm for the show is infectious. He’s clearly having a great time presenting, and the contestants feed off of this.

By all accounts he was a charming man, and he had a massive cultural impact as a result of his twenty five years hosting the program. He also shared his exact birthday with my Nan, so he must have been great. Let’s keep his legacy going, with another starter for ten…

#university challenge #bbc2 #edinburgh #kings #trinity #cambridge #birmingham #jeremy paxman #quizzy mondays

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talkfastromance4 · 4 years ago

Text

/clementine/part 3: Ashton Irwin

Thank you all so so much for giving this new series a chance!🧡It will probably be structured like my Luke&Lily series where I’ll have open discussions about this family with little blurbs and then some one shots like these. Catch up below and please tell me what you think! Much love🧡

Part 1 // Part 2

Word count: 3.5k

Warnings: sweet moments, mentions of pregnancy

Masterlist

•••••

Preparation for the baby began minutes after Y/N and Ashton celebrated the happy news in their garden and after many photos that Ashton took. He had her pose in the swing then sit on the edge of the pond so the vases could be seen behind her. She thought his excitement was so wholesome it wasn’t hard for her to have a genuine smile as he had her hold one of the vases. When he stuck a small orange flower in her hair she used that opportunity to give him a quick kiss.

“I’m so happy you’re happy,” she whispers.

“I’m over the moon,” he grins, eyes twinkling like stars. “Can I ask why you chose the colors orange and green?”

“Uhh…well. I really love your album and it’s like…” she touches her belly lightly, “this baby is our own superbloom.”

More kissing ensued then Ashton was rattling off paint ideas and how the room next to theirs would be the perfect nursery once he finally cleaned out the leftover packing boxes and some of his things he shifted there to make room for her stuff.

He began sketching the nursery right away but kept his drawings away from her until he could color them in, so she’d have the perfect visual of what he saw in his mind’s eye.

Later that night while they were getting ready for bed, after he checked the locks and security cameras he found her in their bathroom with her shirt yanked up to her breasts and her shorts pulled down a little staring at her reflection. She twisted every which way, a glowing smile present. He’s only known for a few hours and she’s already glowing.

It’s not until he shifts his focus from her face to what she was looking at, a small round bump. Ashton becomes transfixed as he admires her and the life that is very apparent growing within her.

“Do you see this?!” she squeals finally turning around to face him.

“I do see, and it’s incredible, angel,” he smiles moving behind her. He places his own hands over the small roundness of her belly then turns them towards the mirror. “You’re so beautiful.”

He rubs her stomach, fingers tickling her skin until she’s sighing against him. “You’re sure you’re happy?”

“I’m beyond happy, angel.” Then he frowns spinning her around so she’s facing him. He turns her chin up. “Why do you keep asking if I’m happy?”

“Because this wasn’t planned, and I don’t want you to feel stuck with me or something…” she shrugs, eyes lowering in shame.

“You can get that out of your head right now,” he cups her cheeks forcing her to look at him. “Remember when I told you there’s no downside to us not using protection? I meant it. Yes, we absolutely should have used protection, but this isn’t a bad thing, yeah? I’m so happy we’re having a baby.”

He kisses her forehead then her lips once, twice, three times. His hazel eyes search her face for more signs of doubt, but he sees the resolve appear.

“Okay, you’re right,” she sighs. “I’m overthinking it. I’m happy too.”

***

As months go on and Ashton continues to clean out the soon-to-be nursery, Y/N’s showing more and more. Their friends and family were ecstatic about the news of their bundle of joy that would be making their arrival in the middle of June.

Ashton has been more than happy being her support as her body continued to change. He made sure she had plenty of fluids, taking all the necessary prenatal vitamins, gave her the best herbal teas and didn’t mind running to the store for her odd cravings. For a straight week all she wanted was an apple and chicken sandwich.

The holidays went by and Y/N had a constant glow about her that radiated to everyone in proximity. Even through her migraines, nausea, back pain and heartburn, she was still extremely happy to be pregnant.

Mornings are spent by Ashton speaking to the baby while he rubs her belly. He and the boys have started working on the nursery and at nighttime Ashton has set up a little woodshop in the garage where he’s making the crib. He wants it to be circular and painted a light green.

She enjoys watching him work, loving the way his muscles ripple and flex, his sweat making his tattoos shine. Her raging hormones were also very apparent and fired at all times. Once, when Ashton came home he saw her crying on the couch because she had a really good sex dream and was very upset when she woke up. As of late, their best position is from behind while laying on their sides, fingers interlocked and Ashton’s lips on her neck. Because of her heightened arousal, her orgasms happened very quickly.

She’s eight months along now, both her and baby are extremely healthy. Her baby shower (that Ashton insisted on attending) is this weekend in their backyard, but the girls wouldn’t let them lift a finger.

They’re sitting out in the garden now watching the fish swim around lazily as dragonflies kiss the top of the sparkling water. The garden has expanded even more with overflowing green ferned plants and a small bird bath.

“I was thinking of having pork chops for dinner tomorrow and don’t forget we have a doctor appointment on Friday,” she tells him while playing with his fingers. They have more callouses now from all of his woodshop making, the crib is finished and drying in the garage. She looks over at him to see he’s staring off into the distance. “Ash?”

“Hm?”

“What are you thinking about so hard?” she taps her fingers delicately on his temple.

“I’m thinking about the night we met,” he sighs bringing his other hand to cradle her belly. “Do you remember?”

“Of course, I remember. Why are you thinking about that?”

“I had a thought that night and it popped in my head just now,” his fingers create soothing circles on her stomach.

“What thought?”

Ashton ignores the question and starts telling the story of the night they met fifteen months ago.

They were strangers then, both of them agreeing to a speed dating night but there was a twist, it was held in the dark. The waiters wore night vision glasses and walked the daters to their tables, fate had Ashton and Y/N be at the same table.

“They really took ‘blind dating’ literally, huh?” she laughed nervously trying to break the tension. She’s only been on less than a handful of blind dates but this one takes the cake.

“Yeah, I get the concept, but I wish I could see you,” he complimented. Her teasing piqued his interest immediately, she sounded feisty but also clever. “You sound pretty.”

“Yeah? How does pretty sound?” she giggled.

“Just like that,” he pointed then placed his finger down since she couldn’t see it. “Your personality is in your voice. You’re funny and witty and your giggle is just adorable.”

“Well, thank you,” she said feeling her face warm up. “You have a nice voice too.”

“I’m Ashton.”

“Nice to meet you, Ashton, I’m Y/N.”

The evening continued with more laughter as they tried to eat their food in the dark. It took them forever to find their forks and couldn’t stop laughing as they patted the table trying to find a knife.

“Maybe we don’t need one?” he asked.

“But it’s chicken! I don’t want to pick it up with my fingers, we aren’t in the stone ages.”

“Maybe it’s already cut?”

“You test it first.”

She listened as his fork stabbed onto the plate, then it clattered while he yelped in surprise.

“Did it bite you?” she laughed.

“No, it’s just very hot! Be careful.”

When the date has ended with a chocolate mint, the host of the blind dating soirée thanked everyone for participating and said if you’d like to meet your date face to face then take the door on the left, if not then come out the way you came. Ashton and Y/N’s nerves heightened, would the other walk through the left door or leave?

She followed the waiter to the left, hoping Ashton did the same. They had nametags on so it would be easy to find your date if you chose to meet them afterwards. She blinked a few times when the light from the streetlamps met her eyes and standing below a hanging flower basket filled with orange flowers was Ashton.

He smiled at her as she approached, her arms crossed over her chest as a slight breeze drifted through the street.

“Nice to put a face to the name,” he said.

Attraction was immediate and after a few minutes of chatting he asked if she’d like to get a coffee down the block. She accepted and told her friend she’d see her later. Her friend was going to a movie with the girl she had dinner with, and they were already holding hands. Y/N smiled that they hit it off right away.

Ashton and Y/N stayed at the coffee shop until it closed, neither of them wanted the night to end so he invited her back to his place. Normally she would never do that on a first date, but the way she and Ashton connected was unlike any other first date.

He gave her a tour of his house then turned on some music that floated outside onto the patio where he flicked on the small bulbed lights. He noticed she kept shivering and made a fire in his small pit, thankfully it was gas so it would warm up quickly.

“Thank you,” she smiled leaning closer to the flames.

Conversation was so easy between them, they discussed the universe, books, music, everything under the sun that helped define a person. When Lord Huron’s song ‘The Night we Met’ started she gasped.

“I love this song! I know the lyrics are sad, but it makes me feel like it’s a happy nostalgic song, you know?” she said.

Ashton stood up holding out his hand. “Care to dance?”

She stared up at him in shock, excitement and nervousness flowed through her, but a small burst of confidence had her hand fitting into his. He pulled her from her chair then held her close as he shifted from side to side. As the song continued the electricity between them accelerated.

The song stopped and crickets filled the silence.

“Can you keep playing that song?” she asked quietly.

Ashton nodded taking his phone from his pocket and clicked on the song again, making sure that it would be on repeat. He pocketed his phone then took her hand back in his picking up where they left off on their dance. They inch closer, their interlocked hands cradled between their chests. The yearning song mirrored their actions as his forehead pressed to hers.

On the third round of the song he found his own courage by pressing his lips to hers, soft, warm, and perfect. He felt her nerves slip away with his as the first kiss delved into a kiss that felt like a lifetime. It was new but felt so familiar that transcended time.

In that moment he decided that this was the girl he’s going to marry, start a family with, and dance to music under twinkling lights when they’re seventy-five years old. This blind date opened his eyes to a world of possibilities with her and he wanted them all.

The next day the state of California issued a statewide lockdown and their journey began.

“When we were dancing on the patio and we kissed for the first time,” Ashton says coming back to the present, “I knew then that I was going to marry you.” He leans down and kisses the highest point of her belly before taking her hand.

“Y-you did?”

“I know we haven’t talked about marriage, but…with this little one on the way soon I’ve been thinking about it a lot.”

“We can talk about it,” she nods.

“What are your thoughts on it, angel? I’m feeling some hesitation,” he smiles but it doesn’t meet his eyes. He concentrates on their hands folded together over their baby.

“No, no! Hey,” she turns his head, so he looks at her. “I want to marry you; I’d go right now and waddle down the aisle, but I just don’t think it’s the best time right now. With the baby coming soon we’re going to be really crazy getting a schedule down and we’re going to be extremely tired…”

“You’re right. I don’t want to rush things. But you do want to marry me?” his hazel eyes widen a little.

“Of course, I want to marry you,” she smiles pecking his lips quickly. “I probably would have married you the night we met to be honest.”

“Yeah?” he grins.

“Yes, crazy boy.”

“Come on, why won’t you tell us what you’re having!” Luke whines adjusting his pacifier necklace. It’s their baby shower and one of the games includes wearing a necklace of pacifiers, if you hear someone say the name ‘baby’ you got to take their pacifier. The one with the most won a prize.

Ashton and Y/N had the envelope of the sex of their baby at her four-month ultrasound. Neither of them were really desperate to know so the envelope stayed on their nightstand. Each night they bounced back names and settled on two for either a boy or a girl which they also haven’t shared with friends or family. It’s not that they were scared someone would steal their names, but they liked having it just be known to them.

On the morning of their baby shower she found Ashton eyeing up the envelope after his shower.

“I’ve been thinking about opening it, too,” she smiled picking up the white envelope. Scrawled on the front were the words ‘Baby Irwin’.

“Do you want to?”

They opened it together, tears filling their eyes as they read the one syllable word underneath ‘you’re having a…’ they hugged and kissed in excitement then Ashton kissed her belly.

“Hello baby love,” he murmurs. “We’re having a party for you today, where you’ll be getting lots of clothes and toys. You’re already such a joy, your mama and I love you so much.”

“We’ll tell you,” she nods.

“As soon as Y/N gives birth we’ll let you all know,” Ashton finishes.

Luke was the only one affronted by not knowing, he wants to know the name and everything.

“But that won’t be until the middle of June!”

“Luke, relax. We promise you’ll be the first to know,” Ashton rolls his eyes as he hands Y/N another gift.

They’re all sat by the flower oasis; the fish splash every now and then almost is if they want to know what the gender of the baby is as well. She’s been spending a lot more time in the flower garden, talking to the baby and imagining sitting out here on the swing watching the fish swim.

The nursery is finished, one wall is painted in orange flowers growing up to the ceiling. A green plant sits in the corner next to the teal armchair. Ashton’s circular crib is all set up along with the other furniture in the room and some toys are scattered around. The room is absolutely perfect.

Y/N’s become a bit more emotional now as her due date draws closer. When opening presents are finished and they’re all eating cake (Luke was disappointed there wasn’t blue or pink frosting hiding inside) she teared up.

“Hey, are you all right? Does something hurt?” Ashton asks swiping away a tear from her cheek.

“No, I’m just so happy,” she cries dabbing at her eyes with the peach napkin. “All of our friends and family are here because they already love our baby so much.”

“Oh, angel,” he smiles as she hides her face in his chest. He rubs her back affectionately and kisses the top of her head. “They love you, too.”

As the party dwindled down, she went upstairs to lay down, her feet swell a lot more these days. Ashton helps clean up and brings the gifts inside the nursery. When the last guest leaves he’s exhausted as well and heads upstairs.

She’s sprawled across the bed her pregnancy pillow enveloped around her. That thing was a God send; it was the only way she could sleep through the night without any pain. Ashton was glad it helped her sleep; the only downside was that it was much harder for him to cuddle her close.

He removes his blue silk pants and tugs off his light pink shirt (an outfit choice he wore to mess with Luke) and joins her on the bed. He kisses her forehead, brushing his fingers through her hair then holds his hand on her belly. He feels a slight kick from the baby, and he smiles.

“Don’t wake mama up, baby love,” he smiles, “she’s had a long day on her feet. Take a nap with us.”

Ashton rests his head on the pillow then begins to hum a song until the baby’s kicking ceases and the family of three snooze together until dinner time.

Ashton is about to pull his hair out. It’s been two weeks past Y/N’s due date and she’s miserable. They’ve been trying everything their doctor has recommended to induce labor, spicy foods (after it made her cry she tossed that idea out the window), eating bananas, using the exercise ball and walking. But to no avail, their little baby was as stubborn as Y/N and Ashton.

She’s not sleeping well; she gets nearly six headaches a day and can’t stand for longer than ten minutes without her back hurting. Ashton has suggested trying to have sex as that’s the number one trial to induce labor, but she shot that down quick too.

“Ash, listen, I love you and you know I think you’re sexy, but sex is the furthest thing on my mind right now. I feel like a whale and I’m so hot and uncomfortable…”

When tears sprung in her eyes he never brought it up again but still, he wants their baby to arrive now so she’s not in this state anymore. She’s sitting on the couch with her feet propped up on the coffee table, a fan blasting on high directed right at her.

“Do you want anything to eat or drink?” he asks leaning over the back of the couch.

“No,” she grumbles rubbing her stomach. “Can we try walking again?”

“Around the block?”

“No, just the backyard,” she sighs trying to sit up. Ashton helps her stand then holds her elbow with one hand resting on her back. “My womb can’t be that comfortable.”

Ashton smiles but doesn’t say anything. He learned two weeks ago that any form of compliment towards her womb accommodations made her angry. She sighs when her feet touch the warm patio then into the soft grass.

They start from the opposite end of the flower oasis where now a small well resides with vines growing up. Ashton holds her hand as they walk through the garden, each section resembling a chapter in this part of their life. It’s filled with color and vibrance and was made from love. When they reach the koi pond, Felix, Oscar and Patricia are gathered together near the edge.

“Can you hand me the food?” she asks.

Ashton removes his hand to grab the fish food and hands it to her. She pops it open then sprinkles the food into the water.

“Do you think they know I’m pregnant?” she asks.

“Maybe…are they like dogs in how they can sense it?” Ashton asks.

“I don’t know. I like to think they know. All right,” she sighs heavily, “lets’ head back inside.”

As soon as she crosses the threshold, she hears a small pop then something trickling down her legs. She gasps and looks down at her feet to see water covering her orange colored toes (courtesy of Ashton painting them since she can’t see her feet). Her water broke. It’s time.

“Um, Ash?” she reaches towards a chair and holds onto it.

“What’s up, angel?”

“My water just broke.”

“In the pond? How? Wait—what?!” he spins from the fridge and stands in front of her. His eyes widen. “Okay, stay right here, let me get you some new pants and we’ll go to the center.”

After twelve hours of labor, their baby girl was born on July 1. They both cried tears of joy at the sight of her, her face was a perfect circle with long lashes and an already apparent pair of dimples on her round cheeks. Ashton couldn’t stop staring at her as Y/N held her in her arms, he strokes his finger over her forehead gently. The peach fuzz of her skin is warm and already familiar.

“Here’s our superbloom,” she smiles to Ashton.

He meets her gaze, eyes filled with love and admiration that she carried their baby girl for this amount of time. He kisses her and rests his forehead against hers.

“Our darling Clementine.”

•••••

Taglist: @galcalirwin @cashtonasff5sos @thecurlsofgod @myloverboyash @rotten-kandy @tea4sykes @jannimoeller3 @loveroflrh @iovehemmings @cxddlyash @princesslrh @here-for-the-uproars @katiaw2 @g-l-pierce @fairyintheglass @gosh-im-short @banditocth @dezzym17 @koalacal @lukeisbaby @spicycal @mysticalhood @notinthesameguey @wastedheartcth @atlcalm @itjustkindahappenedreally @calumance @babylon-corgis @thew0rldneedsmcreycghurt @lanternlover2 @istaywithmyjonas @calteahood @sarcastically-defensive17 @another-lonely-heart @devilatmydoor @frontmanash @philthepegacorn @mantlereid @lukedorkyhemmings @addietagglikesbands @kikixfandoms @sanrioluke @mayve-hems @morguelth @haikucal @thatscooibaby @meghanrose05 @idontneedanyone @dinosaursandsocks @haveufoundwhaturlooking4 @suchalonelysunflower @burstintocolor @zhangyixingxing1 @dead-and-golden @mymindwide @everyscarisahealingplace @stardust-galaxies @blackbutterfliescal @redrattlers @lovelybonesetc @karajaynetoday @quasighost @i-like-5sos @creampiecashton

#ashton irwin one shot #dad!ash #ashton irwin fluff #ashton irwin writing #ashton 5sos #dad!sos #clementine #ai writing #ashton one shot #ashton fluff

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highly-impatient · 4 years ago

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Missing Your Touch Ch. 1 (A Glimbow Fic)

Written By: highly-impatient or highly-impatient013

Summary: When you spend all your days together, it feels like years when you’re apart. Glimmer has been recently abducted to space stuck on Horde Prime’s ship as the Rebellion fights off the Horde’s soldiers on Etheria. This story re-imagines season five of She-Ra: Princess of Power as Glimmer and Bow confront their feelings of missing each other’s presence and touch. Expect angst, warmth, hurt, and a beautiful love story!

Available to read on FF.net

Will add it to AO3 as soon as I can

“You know looking back, it was quite obvious that I was jealous,” Glimmer laughed to herself. She had been locked away for who knows how many hours in an empty room. There was nothing but white walls, a large bed, and silence. No one could hear her, maybe Horde Prime, but it’s not like he would care. “When Perfuma asked you to the ball, I was mad you agreed because it was natural to always have you by my side. I felt like I was being left behind, and now, look at me. I’m all alone.” Tears rolled down Glimmer’s eyes. She and Bow always trusted each other. They were best friends, but after becoming queen, losing many in the Rebellion, and her...mother, things were not the same. Her insecurities crushed her, and she kept asking herself if she would ever be good enough. Would she ever be like her mother? And with Adora, Glimmer felt like their relationship had become fragile like eggshells. Glimmer knew others saw Adora as more of a leader. After all, she was She-ra. Glimmer could not help that every time she saw Adora that she was reminded of losing her mother after disobeying her orders. Like a knife plunging through the palm of her hands, Glimmer was left with her thoughts and emptiness, “Bow,” Glimmer whispered. “I miss you.”

“Glimmer!” Bow shouted. It was another nightmare, but could it be a nightmare if the event was real? Only a few hundred feet away, the moment of Glimmer being pulled into space by Horde Prime continued to replay in his dreams every night. He was so close but not close enough. Now, he had no idea what happened to her. What were they doing to her? Or worse, was she even alive? The thought sent an unnerving chill down his spine. The last time he saw Glimmer before she was abducted into space is when the three of them got into a fight. Bow could feel the lingering touch of Glimmer brushing her thumb against his calloused clamped hands. She had begged him to trust her. As much as Bow did trust Glimmer, she had been wrong. Trust comes from being honest and telling the truth, even if it is not something the other wants to hear. But why did she not trust him? It probably did not help that he and Adora had ignored her orders and went to Beast Island without her. Maybe if they had stuck together, they would not be in this mess. The two had spent everyday together for years, and Glimmer’s short absence felt like weeks. Glimmer had become more erratic since becoming queen, and Bow could tell that she was frustrated with how plans were falling apart. It was hard to watch knowing how optimistic she had been. Fighting a constant war was taxing on all of them, so when Bow grabbed onto Glimmer’s hand to comfort her, he did his best to empathize her pain and loneliness. When she pulled away, he could only think about how their intimate friendship was unraveling every passing second. Did she not trust him anymore? Were they not friends that could talk or let the other one know how they felt? Bow scratched the back of his head as he slid from under his covers. How did Bow feel? He already knew how he felt. The person he cared for most was gone, and he missed her dearly.

“Bow, are you up?” Adora whispered. “I couldn’t sleep either.”

Bow replied, “Yea.” Bow got up, in which he came face-to-face with Adora when he exited the tent. After Horde Prime had located Etheria, Bright Moon had been overtaken. They had lost many in the Rebellion, while whoever was left remained in the tents. They were constantly on the move. Adora and Bow sat themselves across each other on logs separated by a burning fire. Streaks of red, orange, and amber shifted in front of them. The sounds of crickets and a gusting wind filled up the air void of their voices.

Adora spoke, “It’s all my fault, Bow.”

“No, it’s mine,” Bow said.

Adora shook her head, “If I hadn’t insisted that we go to Beast Island, then Glimmer would still be here. If She-ra was still--”

“No, it was the right thing to do. We brought back Entrapta, and we found King Micah. We stopped the Heart of Etheria.” Bow swallowed what felt like a lump in his throat before continuing, “I wasn’t fast enough. I was so close, and I let her disappear right before my eyes.” It was clear that Bow was trying to hold back his tears until they had begun to drip like a faulty faucet. Adora ran up to Bow wrapping her arms around his shoulders as the two clung onto each other. Their hearts ached losing their close friend.

“We will get her back,” Adora muffled out of her throat strained from emotion.

Morning came and the Rebellion was back to its regular duties of recovering towns from the Horde. Strategic meetings about what to do next along with the knowledge of safe zones were extensively discussed.

“Entrapta!” Bow called. “Do you think we will be able to fix Mara’s ship for outer space?”

“Space travel!” Entrapta smiled. “I just have to run some tests. With some adjustments and my tools, Darla will be ready to go. Emily, we got work to do!” Entrapta was overjoyed at the thought of seeing what was beyond their planet.

Bow looked up to the sky as the clouds drifted slowly. The stars were dim and not yet in sight, but there was a world outside of Etheria, “ We may not know where you are or how to find you, but I’m bringing you home, Glimmer.”

Puzzled by Bow staring up at the sky while holding his electronic communication device, Micah finally decided to approach Bow with a question that he had on his mind for some time now. Micah asked, “Bow, can I ask you a question?”

“Yes, King Micah, sir,” Bow stood upright.

Micah glanced over at the boy before proceeding with his question, “Are you dating my daughter?”

Bow was flustered by the unexpected question and his cheeks blushed briefly. It was not the first time he had been asked this question, but Micah had been rescued from Beast Island a week ago. “N-no, sir. Glimmer is just my best friend.”

Micah sighed in relief, “Okay. I like you boy, but my Glimmer is too young to be dating.” Micah patted Bow on the shoulder. Micah had no clue how old Glimmer was. It never bothered Bow that people had mistook them for a couple. When you spend that much time with someone, it’s understandable that anyone outside of the relationship may see differently. It had been weirder that Micah had also made that assumption since he had never seen Bow and Glimmer interact with one another. There was a tightness in Bow’s chest.

“Yes, sir” Bow responded. Micah returned as they were prepping to split into groups for the next mission. The tightness in Bow’s chest had not lightened up. Micah’s question repeated again in Bow’s mind. Are you dating my daughter? For just an instant, an image of Glimmer smiling had crossed his mind. This time, Bow’s chest began to thump and Bow looked down confused by the offset feeling, “That’s weird.”

A/N: I originally wanted to post this first on Fanfiction, but I have to wait 12 hours before I post after creating a new account. I wanted to start a new account since my other one is when I was 12. AO3 says I have to wait for an invite link, but the other chapters will be posted on there. Hopefully, you enjoy the story so far because I really love Glimbow as well as all of the characters. I’ve re-watched this show like 5 times already T_T

#she-ra #spop #glimmer #bow #glimbow #glow #fanfic #glimbowfic #adora #entrapta #micah #glimbow fic #glimbow fics #glimmerbow

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nav-arre · 4 years ago

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Hang the Stars, and Name Them Too

Read on AO3

It was cold. It wasn’t winter, or he wouldn’t be here, but it put an anxious feeling in the pit of his stomach regardless. Three months until he left for Kaer Morhen, and yet there he was, bundled up in his bedroll, an extra blanket stuffed inside, letting the warmth of the campfire linger on his face for at least an hour longer than he would have normally. Geralt lay there silently.

Jaskier, however, did not.

The topic of conversation had moved from Roach, who earlier had snatched Jaskier’s last apple and eaten it in record time, to apples, to orchards, to the unseasonable weather, to …wind, maybe? To the moon, to stars, to the sky, and now to Jaskier’s Oxenfurt days.

“Really, though, I don’t think I should have earned half as good a mark as I did. I’m not knocking my abilities! Well, I am though, but only in Astronomy. I only did so well because Adrien let Essi and I borrow his astrolabe last minute. Pretty little thing, I think it was his grandfather’s; don’t you just love seeing little trinkets like that passed down through the generations?”

“Hmm.”

It was one of the nice things about traveling with Jaskier. It had taken Geralt a long time, years longer than it should have, maybe, to figure out what Jaskier wanted from him. The answer was nothing. Perhaps ‘nothing’ was a bit too simplistic, but Jaskier had really meant it when he’d said he just wanted to see the world, write some songs, travel the Path. He wasn’t after a conversation partner, or even someone to listen, necessarily. Frankly, Jaskier hadn’t even been looking for someone to be kind to him, which put a discomfort in Geralt that he didn’t bother addressing. So Jaskier would talk, and Geralt would allow it to wash over him, and if it happened to keep his mood up even when things got difficult on the Path, well, that was fine.

A wind picked up, strong enough that Geralt felt a chill run down his body, as wrapped up as it was. The fire flickered for a moment, bending against the wind and slowly climbing back as the air around them settled. He tossed a glance at Jaskier. After years of traveling with Geralt, the bard’s bedroll was a least sufficiently packed; warm, largely weatherproof, and, when they had time to stop by a market, scented. But even still, he could see Jaskier shudder against the cold with a small wince.

It wasn’t that Geralt didn’t think of Jaskier as human, it’s just that he preferred not to follow the line of thought. Early on, he’d pointedly remind himself every time they crossed paths; Jaskier was human, Jaskier was no different than any other human, Jaskier would either turn on him, or grow tired of him, or, at the very least, one day grow old, or get injured, and die. And Geralt would have to move on, without him. Years later, it had become more and more difficult, especially as they spent longer stretches together.

The thoughts of Jaskier turning on him had faded fairly quickly— if nothing else, Jaskier was loyal to a fault. It had taken years for him and Yennefer to get close, and longer still to not worry when she and Geralt fell back into bed together, time and time again. Geralt was grateful the two had moved on, even if they were an absolutely devious pair.

The thought that the bard would grow tired of traveling with him faded as well; much as Jaskier complained, Geralt had learned he needed to be a bit dramatic to let off energy, to not keep the frustration inside him. It was always surface level.

By the time the final options were all that was left, Geralt had just… stopped thinking about them so much. He didn’t like to think of Jaskier as a fragile thing. He didn’t feel fragile. He felt whole, and solid, and there in a way very few people had felt before. Most everyone felt like wisps of smoke, here and gone before Geralt had really registered them; his bard was not.

“…and, in any case, I don’t think he knows what he’s talking about anyway, but I wish I did know, just so I could write something scathing to have published in a journal. Maybe that’s what I’ll spend the winter doing, hmm? Learning about the stars just to tell Valdo fucking Marx his song is off. Is that awfully petty? I know it’s petty, but is it overboard? Before you answer, I want you to know I respect your opinion, but I may not care about what you say; this is almost certainly happening. But I do want the approval.”

Geralt snorted a laugh, and Jaskier gave a small giggle in response. All was quiet for a moment, and Geralt turned his gaze skyward. The clouds passed over the moon quickly, and a few bats flew to some nearby trees, wings flapping excitedly. A cricket chirped somewhere south of them, Roach was nibbling on some grass, and Jaskier’s heartbeat was pleasingly calm and steady. He still itched to pack up and start heading North, but the constancy of his bard kept him anchored. More clouds moved aside and then the sky was open above them, hundreds of stars glinting down.

“Wow,” Jaskier said, and that was enough. The night sky was irreplaceable, and even Jaskier knew when to let things speak for themselves.

“Hmm,” Geralt hummed again in response. They lay there in silence again. Geralt wasn’t really good at showing affection, and his gestures of appreciation were more often practical than frivolous. But the stars had given him an idea, and though Jaskier had never asked for kindness, Geralt liked giving it when he could. Time had softened him, a bit. “Come here.”

Jaskier looked over at him, bemused, but Geralt simply gave a ‘come here’ motion with his head.

“Alright, alright. Give me a second, and if it’s bumpy over there I’m moving right back, do you hear me?” and Jaskier shuffled over, head inches away from Geralt’s own.

Bracing for a moment before the chill, Geralt maneuvered his top half just out of his bedroll to point up at the sky. “Polaris, Sirin, Caph, Alpheratz, Hadar, Octantis, Elviran— you know where those are?”

“Oo!! Okay, a lesson on the stars, yes, let me see, ah—” and slowly, Jaskier pointed them all out one by one. “Got that, I think. Directional stars I remember, only way to figure out my way half the time.”

“Mmm. Do you know their constellations?”

Jaskier blinked. “I absolutely do not. I mean. Vaguely, maybe? They’re somewhere in my brain, probably.”

Geralt smiled and pointed up. “So, Caph—” Which was directly above them, “Is part of the Dragon constellation. It’s the eye, see it?” Geralt traced a rudimentary image of a dragon with his pointer figure, and Jaskier’s eyes followed dutifully.

“Alright so,” Jaskier said, wiggling a bit out of his own bedroll and a bit closer to Geralt’s, for warmth. He pointed up. “So that’s the eye, and then this— this is the neck?”

“The nose,” Geralt corrected.

“Neck, nose, all the same really—”

“The same? I feel sorry for your bed partners.”

Jaskier swatted his hand. “Oh, hush. Now— now so that’s the— oh, oh! Oh, this is the foot here, isn’t it? And that’s the wing and that’s the— Oh, Melitele I actually see it now,” he said softly.

“Mmm. Want the story?”

“The— the st— yes of course I want the story, Geralt, who do you think I am?! You’ve been holding back on stories from me, I knew it.”

“If you’d paid attention in your Astronomy class, you might already know it.”

“Yes, but then you wouldn’t be the one to tell it to me, and that’s far more fun.” He snuggled back into his bedroll. “Alright, Alright, Tell me.”

So, he did. Eskel had always been better at telling stories, and Lambert had always made them more exciting, but Geralt remembered the details well enough and made sure not to skip the parts he knew the bard would most enjoy. But nobody told the stories like Vesemir, who had read every version, studied every line, translated a few copies himself. He knew every detail, made sure to preserve them all in his library, but most enjoyed telling the version he’d been taught as a boy, before even his own trials. Those were the versions he'd tell his wolves gathered around a fire in the dead of winter, sipping on something warm, all kept close to him.

The story came to him more naturally than he had expected. Geralt figured it was easier to tell stories that weren’t your own— no need to hide the pain or the details that stung your eyes. No obligation to the truth, if you didn’t know it. Really, it didn’t matter if the stories attached to constellations had any truth to them, the only truth that mattered was that they had been passed down for generations. So, myths, legends— Geralt could enjoy those, to an extent. Telling his own stories— there was nothing to tell, was there?

When he’d taught the constellations to a much younger Ciri, she had always wanted to add in her own details, change the stories and make them her own. Maybe that was its own sort of tradition.

“…so, they shuffled around the stars, and made the constellation,” Geralt finished and then pointed to a small cluster of stars just below it. “There’s the apple.”

“You hear that Roach? An apple you can’t reach,” Jaskier said, muffled by his bedroll. “That was really good, Geralt.”

“Mm. My brother tells it better. And Vesemir tells it best.”

“It’s like—” Jaskier yawned. “It’s like the astrolabe a little then, isn’t it? It’s the thing you pass down. I know Witchers aren’t especially materialistic, but this, you have. It’s,” he paused, looking anywhere but at Geralt, “It’s nice. You can’t lose a story.”

“Mmm.”

“I think that’s really why I like writing songs so much,” Jaskier said quietly. “Nobody can really take that from you, can they? It gets remembered. Even if it’s changed, it keeps getting passed along. Not everybody even has to like the story, it’s just got to be someone. Anyone can tell you you’re going to be forgotten, but that way you really can’t be.” Jaskier shifted. So did his mood.

“Now, I don’t— I, I mean, a songwriter, a writer of any kind, a storyteller, really, that’s all you need, they’re going to be remembered more than many kings and queens and earls and duchesses and so on and so forth. You don’t have to be some powerful person to be remembered! You don’t! You tell a story, and really, it sticks there. In fact! The people who hear it don’t even have to know they like it or say they like it!” Geralt smelled Jaskier’s anxiety rising, tart, and sour, and his heart had begun to race.

“Jaskier.”

“I mean, really,” he continued, allowing no pause for Geralt, “Nobody will care about some obscure law or edict or whatever. This, this is the way you can be rememebered. You tell stories and you write things that make the world maybe a fraction of a kinder place to be, and that, that, you won't get forgotten like that. There’s always someone who will hear it, and remember, and tell someone else, and if it’s good enough, you know, really good enough, people care about getting it right, about remembering what you said, and how you said it. Right? Even—” he sped up a bit, the same nervous energy he got when he knew Geralt would reject his idea to stay at an inn, or when he asked to divert their travels to stop for a Bardic competition.

“I mean, even Yennefer once told me that at Aretuza the students stay up all night sometimes, telling versions of the same myth they heard growing up, trying to compare versions from all over the Continent and figure out how much could be true. What the original story was. Tracing them all back. Finding themselves, finding other mages, discovering feelings or experiences they thought they were alone in having. But the storyteller knew, or the characters knew, or someone, somewhere in the past, they knew. And you feel less alone and so you hold onto it. And then you remember the person who told it to you and then in some way you remember the person who told it to them, and back and back and back to the very first person who told it. I don’t know, it’s nice, right? Keeping someone else close like that, even if you never met,” he finishes, almost breathless. He waits a beat. “Even when you’re gone.”

There was a silence. Geralt’s hand had yet to retreat back to his bedroll, and Jaskier’s breath had begun to be visible right above his lips. Geralt closed his eyes. He knew Jaskier, knew he was waiting for Geralt to shut him down, even playfully. But he didn’t have the heart.

“Mm. You’re right, for once,” He said, voice gruff with tiredness. If Geralt had been expecting a playful retort from Jaskier, it never came. They lay there, side by side, and watched a lone cloud roll by.

The sounds of the evening fell around them. Roach let out a small huff, and Jaskier’s heartbeat slowed a bit. Geralt’s itch to move was still there, his thoughts still gravitating back to the halls of Kaer Morhen, but Jaskier’s warmth kept him steady.

“We should put out the fire,” said Jaskier softly.

Geralt just looked at him for a moment— his gaze was still skyward, his eyes a little lost. It didn’t happen often, but it reminded Geralt of just how little he knew about his bard, sometimes. He knew everything and nothing. Jaskier didn’t talk about his past much, save Oxenfurt, and Geralt was fine to leave it that way. And then occasionally Jaskier would look lost, like now, and he’d wonder.

“Mm.” Geralt agreed. The fire, he noticed, was dimming on its own. “…One more?”

“Hmm?” Jaskier asked after a moment, confused.

“One more constellation?” Geralt asked. “There are plenty.”

Jaskier blinked at him, once, twice. “You’re talkative tonight.” He’d been more talkative for ages now. One of Yenn’s more positive influences. Ciri’s, too. Ironically, Jaskier’s chattiness usually enabled his desire to keep silent. But there was something else in that moment that he wasn’t willing to name, easing his way.

Geralt shrugged. “Some nights it's easier.” He looked at Jaskier. “Some nights are harder. Just happens.”

“…Yeah. Ah, yes, yes please, another tale would be lovely. Bedtime stories with Geralt! Perfect way to end the night.”

“Elviran?” Geralt asked, and Jaskier was quick to pull his hand out again and point it out. “Good. That’s Lara & Cregan— it’s where their hands join.” He pointed to the left, “That’s Lara,” and to the right, “That’s Cregan."

“Ah! Yes, this one I actually know, I wrote a song all about them at Oxenfurt. It wasn’t terribly good— I should rewrite that one, actually, now that you’ve mentioned it. An elf and a mage, the bridge between cultures, all dashed to pieces… it’s a good story! I mean, tragic, I almost hope it’s not true at all, but a good story is a good story.” Many years ago, Geralt would have been fooled by Jaskier’s deceptively cheery tone, but he knew his bard well enough now.

“Mm. Sirin?” He asked.

Jaskier pointed the star out once again and said, “That’s the wolf one, though I’m afraid I don’t know more than that.”

“That’s the chest— the head is here—”

“Do you mean— wait, I can’t see. Is it the—”

Geralt took Jaskier’s hand and guided it along the unseen lines of the constellation. Both their hands were so cold it didn’t even register as such, and Jaskier’s head twisted to see the stars from another angle, hitting the side of Geralt’s neck. “Oh— oh! Oh, I see, so—” and then Jaskier’s hand, still gripped in Geralt’s own, had begun leading them both excitedly. “So, head, this is the head, yes? And then Sirin is the chest, and the legs go here, and then the tail is this way? Okay yes, yes, yes, absolutely, I am on board with the star dog, I see him now. Is this a special one for Witchers? Wolf Witchers like yourself, at least?”

“Mm,” Geralt hummed, and went to nod, but knocked his chin into Jaskier’s head a bit. He let it rest a moment in the soft hair, the breath from his nose hitting back at him, warming his face.

“He always caught what he hunted,” Geralt began, and let Jaskier’s hand warm his own. Or, maybe he was the one who warmed Jaskier’s hand, it was hard to tell. The two were truly huddled now, Jaskier’s head rested comfortably in the crook between Geralt’s chin and shoulder, and their bedrolls nearly overlapped. He used their joined hands to point out more of the constellations, more stars, and eventually, Jaskier made the simple but somehow stunning gesture of interlacing their fingers together. It was practical, it was easier to guide Jaskier’s hand around that way, but then, Geralt hadn’t needed to do that, had he. Just wanted to, he supposed. He continued the myth as Jaskier’s heartbeat slowed, and their hands got somewhere close to truly warm. It was just returning the favor, he reasoned; every day they had traveled together, Jaskier talked and allowed his words to hang in the air, not expecting a response or even acknowledgment; now it was his turn. After all, Geralt more than most understood the value in someone trusted filling the silence.

By the time he was finished, Jaskier’s arm had turned a bit heavy and they were both nearly asleep. Geralt let their hands come down to rest between them, though still outside the bedrolls, which was just too cold to maintain. But neither moved.

“You really are good at that,” Jaskier said eventually.

“Not like Vesemir. Or you.”

“Yes, well I’ve had lots of practice. You’re good at it, really.”

“Hmm.”

“Thank you, by the way. I’m sorry I— it just happens, you know—”

“Nothing to be sorry for.”

“Thank you, still,” Jaskier said, and a moment later he had untangled their hands, and it slipped away as though it had never been there at all. The itch the cold brought, to pack up and move on, head North, returned. He tried not to think about it. The cold settled around them, and Geralt put out the fire with a wave of his hand while Jaskier, head still nestled under the witcher’s chin, let out a soft breath. Geralt adjusted his arm back into his bedroll, and relished the warmth the fur inside brought; it was never the same as the contact with skin, but at least this was familiar, and didn’t promise to leave him one day.

“Geralt?” Jaskier whispered, as though they weren’t pressed up against each other. He felt the breath on his neck and tried not to think about the ghost of a touch. “Would you mind if I— You’re warm and— ah, fuck it,” he mumbled, and suddenly Geralt felt Jaskier shift his body to lie on his side. A warm, calloused hand slip between Geralt's bedroll and landed on his chest, sitting just below his medallion. “I’ll move if you mind, but your bedding has fur, and—”

He didn’t think about it, really. He just reached up and grabbed Jaskier’s hand with his own, kept it safe and warm between his own hand and his chest. For a moment, it was as if the night held its breath. Geralt thought about how rarely Jaskier’s fingers stood still, and waited for something to break.

Jaskier exhaled softly, and Geralt could feel his smile against his shoulder. “This is nice,” he said, not a whisper but still almost lost on the light breeze that blew past.

“It’s cold,” Geralt said, because it was all he could think to say. It was Jaskier’s turn to hmm a response, and soon Jaskier’s breathing had evened out, and sleep finally claimed him. Geralt followed soon after, the itch to move finally settled, a warmth blooming within him.

In the morning, they’d slid apart from each other as they always did after nights they’d huddled close. It wasn’t that unusual; sometimes it grew cold, even in nicer inns. Sometimes it was something else unspoken, the need to hold, or be held, and it had always just been allowed to exist between them, a quiet reality. This had been something else, and he’d feared the worst when he woke. But whatever existed in that nebulous space, whatever had been built the night before didn’t feel quite broken to Geralt, at least not yet. He had been braced for impact, even if it were small, and yet… the day felt… delicate, not fragile. Jaskier’s mood was lifted considerably from the night before, and was happy to go on about how all the talk of myths and constellations had him dreaming up a new song. And eventually, a new idea entirely.

“Alright! New goal,” the bard said as they walked the Path, the sun high in the sky, chill of the evening prior replaced by a pleasant breeze. Roach walked between them, soaking up the sun and setting some safe distance between the two travelers. Jaskier let his fingers dance over the strings of his lute as he spoke. “I’m getting you a constellation. It’s happening! Do they still make those, actually? When was the last time we got a new constellation? I think it’s far past time for a new one, don’t you think?”

Geralt’s brow furrowed. “That’s not how it works.”

“You know, people have been saying that to me my whole life, and I’ve never listened. And now look where I am!” he strummed a few notes. “Valdo Marx wants to write a song about stars, he can do what he likes. But I’m getting you a constellation. Another crown jewel in my legacy.”

“If it’s your legacy, why would I be the constellation?”

Jaskier waved him off. “Oh, you’re far more memorable. More adventures, more stories. Really, now that I’m thinking about it, if I really work at it I think I could write enough that they’d make a constellation for Yennefer, too. Maybe Ciri as well, but I think another bard might have to come and finish what I started with her. She’s so young! Do you ever think about that Geralt? I know she’s grown, but Melitele, she’s still so young.”

If a pit had formed in his stomach, he didn’t mention it. “I’m not sure you’d be able.”

“You doubt my skills, after all these years? Geralt please, my stubbornness is outdone only by your own. I’m a master bard. Crafting myth is my bread and butter.” Roach huffed, and Jaskier squinted. “I’m going to choose to believe that was an agreement, but you’re still on thin ice, miss. I haven’t forgotten your apple-related crimes.”

“You could manage all three,” Geralt allowed, hiding a smirk. “But you wouldn’t have time to sleep with anyone. So I don’t think you will.”

“Rude!” Jaskier exclaimed, “Rude, terrible, you’re so cruel to me. I write you songs, I make you famous, surely I’m allowed a dalliance or two!”

“Or ten.”

“How could you ever imply— I’ll have you know my reputation is impeccable, in many social circles—”

“Twenty. More in the winter.”

“This is— this is friendship treason. And here I was, thinking we had grown closer last night! Listen, I may not be alive to see it, but when you inevitably get that damn constellation, you better remember it was me that put you up there.”

It was all fun, really it was. But it was like Jaskier had shone a light on the delicate thing, and Geralt didn’t really know what to do with it. He tried to remember the truths about Jaskier he used to recite to himself. He’d grow old, he’d die. He’d be remembered, but Geralt would have one fewer constant in his life. And still, he’d spend his life hanging stars in Geralt’s honor.

“…with the way things are now,” Jaskier said as Geralt tuned back in. “See I couldn’t do it this winter, I don’t think, I’m fairly set on the course, and much as I love scrapping everything and starting again, I really am trying to get in the new headmaster’s good graces. Her name is Beatrice— have I mentioned her? — A goddess, truly, but she comes from the history department so she’s far more structured than we are. Actually, history, mythology, sort of the same almost, don’t you think? I’d have a good shot at convincing her to let me teach it next year. Wait! Let’s think of names. A good course must have a good name, it’s where half my colleagues go wrong. Okay, I go first, You’re second. Roach can go third if she likes. How about— how about, ‘Hanging the Stars: Crafting Your Own Mythology’. Is that something?”

“I’ll remember,” Geralt said.

“Hmm? I’ll Remember— actually you know what, that’s not half bad for part of the title at least—”

Geralt’s grip on Roach’s reigns tightened. Jaskier made many things easier, but this was not one of them.

“No. I mean. I’ll remember. What you were saying earlier.”

There was a pause as Jaskier muttered softly to himself, tracing the conversation thread. Geralt took the relative quiet to appreciate the rolling hills around them, and fought the urge to run for them. Jaskier made a small sound of realization. “Oh. Oh. Oh, Geralt, no, I know you would. You know I know you would, don’t you? I don’t worry about you remembering me, so much. I used to, early days, you know. But not now. No, I know you.”

“Mm.”

“Everyone else, well, we’ll see. Or, you will. I won’t. Ha. I mean, unless I haunted people, but I don’t think you’d appreciate if I turned into a ghost, would you? I’m certain you’d be cross with me. I’m not even sure I’d enjoy it, really. I like touching things too much.”

He meant to let Jaskier’s words was over him again, but he couldn’t. Jaskier wanted nothing from him; he didn’t even feel compelled to ask for kindness. It was stinging in Geralt now, hitting the same place the itch to return to Kaer Morhen had the night before. Instinctual, almost familiar. He thought of Yenn’s fear of being alone for too long, of Ciri’s hands gripped tight when something startled her, thought of his own need to soothe those worries, and the knowledge that had come with age that he couldn’t. Could only ease their way.

“You’d end up there too,” he said. “A constellation.”

Jaskier paused, and the sound of their footsteps against the soft dirt road sounded so much louder than they had even a moment before. “Well. Maybe. That’d be nice, I think,” Jaskier agreed.

And suddenly it hit him like a torrent. Like he had broken a dam he didn’t know was there, and all he could see and feel was that delicate thing that sat between them. “I’d want you up there. You deserve to be up there just as much.”

“Geralt—”

“I mean it.”

“Is there…” Jaskier frowned and kicked a stone from in front of him. “Is there something wrong? Can you smell me dying, or something? You’re not usually like this.”

“You’re not dying,” he said through gritted teeth.

“It’s not that I don’t appreciate it! Really, Geralt, trust me, I do, I’m loving this, I’m just... I want to make sure you’re not saying it so that you don’t say something else, I suppose.”

Well, there it was again. “And if I am?”

“I’d prefer you just say it,” Jaskier said, though it sounded like a guilty admission. “But— I know you’re not one for words. Which is fine! It’s why I’m relishing this right now. But sometimes… well, I don’t think it’s surprising that a bard enjoys hearing words, really.”

It was true, Geralt knew he’d lap up any gesture, any token, but Jaskier lived on words. It had never been that words had been hard for the witcher, but words related to... emotion, to feeling, to himself, those never quite came. These, though, these were words he could give Jaskier. Ones he deserved to hear. Geralt sighed. “If I have to end up some… some constellation, some amorphous... thing, I’m dragging you with me.”

The silence was comfortable, at least. Jaskier played a short, wordless tune. Then; “You really would, wouldn’t you.”

“I really would,” Geralt replied. It wasn’t serious, he didn’t think a constellation could possibly have consciousness. But it felt serious, somehow. And he’d long since given up believing anything was impossible.

“Well! Well, to the stars we go, then. I’ll look forward to that.”

“Mm,” Geralt said, and gods, did he desperately want to leave it at that because saying anything else truly scared him, he was willing to admit that. But time had softened him, and if his child surprise had taught him anything, it was that sometimes the scary thing was the thing you needed to reach for most. “I will too.”

“Eternity with you doesn’t sound half bad,” Jaskier said, and if he blushed, Geralt didn’t look over to see. “You know, it sounds like a joke. ‘A Witcher, a Mage, a Child Surprise, and a Bard walk into the stars and become constellations.’ I don’t know what the punchline is, though.”

“‘And the sky was never silent again’?”

Jaskier barked a laugh. “Good! Get them all talking. Good, yeah, I could spend eternity with you, I think.”

Geralt swallowed. He would have to talk to Yenn about this. “I could too.” She would probably agree.

“Mm, and Yennefer? Don’t think she’d get sick of me?” Jaskier’s hands brush against the strings of his lute, and a few high notes ring out.

“You’re too fun to tease.”

Jaskier brightened with everything Geralt said. Surely at some point, he’d grow too brilliant to look at.

“And Ciri? Think she’d grow weary of me?”

“No more than she would of me and Yenn. Better make her a comet instead,” Geralt reasoned. “Don’t think she’d like staying put very long.”

“Mmm, you know that girl well. Oh! Roach. Dear girl, I haven’t forgotten you. I figure she’ll be in your constellation though.”

“Roach is her own horse.”

“Actually— yep, no, you’re right. She gets her own. We’ll keep her close to the Dragon constellation, so she can finally get some elusive starry apples. You’d like that, wouldn’t you girl?” Jaskier asked as he gave her a pat on the neck. She tossed her mane in response, before she gave Jaskier's shoulder a gentle nudge with her nose.

“You know, if we were up there together, you’d have to hear me ramble on and on and on. No breaks in the winter, or slipping out of the inn before I wake up and running off somewhere. I’d be up there watching the turn of the world with you forever. I’m certain you’ll both lose your starry minds over me eventually.”

For the first time that day, Geralt looked over at Jaskier for longer than a glance and waited until Jaskier had finally looked up to meet his eyes. “I wouldn’t. We wouldn’t.”

Jaskier flushed in the cheeks, and for once, Geralt didn’t want to wave it off as the sun, or Jaskier being a bit out of breath. Geralt had done that, had caused that blush. The delicate thing grew more solid, then, took root somewhere in him, and he let it. Jaskier swallowed, and Geralt watched the bob of his throat, and missed when they’d been so close he could feel that small movement against his own skin. (Yenn would have a field day with this.)

When Jaskier speaks next, his voice has that honest, soft quality Geralt had always liked, the kind Jaskier only had when he was saying something he’d kept close to his chest. Like he was offering something to you, hand out, knowing you could grab it, twist it, ruin it, and trusting you not to. And yet, still, bracing for impact.

When Jaskier speaks next, it sounds like every song he’d ever sung and a million more he hadn’t even written yet.

“Then I’m with you,” he said, “Til the stars run out.”

“And every day after that,” Geralt replied, and he let the words wash over him, and into him, and he kept them there, like a star to guide him and ease his way.

#The Witcher #Geralt #witcher fanfiction #Wiedźmin #Geraskier #Geralt of Rivia #Jaskier #From the Inkwell #Short Fic

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ca-8 · 3 years ago

Text

Sokka x (Y/n) Scenario (How You Meet: Part 1)

It was cold. No, it was freezing. (Y/n) wanted to cuddle up in a bisons' fur while watching the sunset. But first, she wanted to open her eyes to see where she was. She tried moving her eyelids, then her shoulders, and then the rest of her body; nonetheless, she remained as still as a statue.

Was she sleeping? She didn't remember collapsing on her bed and dreaming about the usual giant lemurs and bison the size of mice. The only thing that occurred to her was yelling at someone and falling into something deep, and the darkness took over from there.

Yelling at someone...pleading them to calm down and think...negotiating with them to at least let her go with them...

Aang!

All of a sudden, a bright light filled (Y/n)'s vision and her body fell from a great height, collided with something cold and hard, and then rolled onto the floor. She heard a high pitched yelp, and her head and back we're elevated by a pair of hands.

Muffled voices played in the back of her head as she tried to regain consciousness. It was when her best friend's voice called out, "(Y/n)!" that made her eyes snap open. Though, instead of seeing a young boy with large blue arrows on his bald head, a brown-skinned boy with suspicious blue eyes was staring down at her.

(Y/n) smiled weakly. "H-Hey, handsome..." she mumbled. The boy shrieked, she was suddenly out of his arms and dropped onto the hard icy floor. "Ow!" she yelled out, sitting up and rubbing her back. Her (e/c)-grey eyes glared at the boy, who was holding his staff in a defensive position.

"Sokka! You can't just drop someone like that!" a female voice scolded loudly. (Y/n) whirled her head to where the voice came from. Not too far from the boy was a girl with similar features as him. But, what (Y/n) immediately noticed was she was holding-

"Aang!" she yelled, scrambling to her feet. Aang was already wide awake and staring at her with a bewildered look. He got out of the other girl's arms and ran over to (Y/n), wrapping his arms tightly around her waist.

"Are you okay?" he asked when he pulled away.

"Thanks to you, I am," she said. Aang grinned.

"...Okay, this is nice and all, but WHO ARE YOU AND HOW DID YOU GET IN THAT ICEBERG?" the boy yelled, pointing his staff at the two of them.

They both whirled their heads toward him. "Um...I'm not sure," Aang replied, scratching his head. (Y/n) tried to recall what happened before the deep sleep, but she can only hear her voice and Aang's arguing.

All of a sudden, something softly growled behind them. (Y/n)'s heart leaped as she knew who it was.

"Appa!" Aang cheered.

The two kids laughed as they climbed the ice wall. Once they reached the top, a cute sleeping bison was in their view. Aang and (Y/n) floated down to him, landing on Appa's white fur.

"Wake up, buddy!" Aang said. (Y/n) softly pulled his fur, hoping it would cause some sort of reaction, while Aang lifted his eyelid, revealing a large brown pupil.

Aang jumped down to Appa's mouth and lifted his giant lips. Appa groaned and opened his eyes, then hoisted Aang up in the air with his tongue. (Y/n) floated down to the ground. "You're okay!" Aang laughed.

The other kids appeared around the corner of the ice wall. Their eyes widened, and the boy's mouth practically fell to the ground.

"What is that thing?" the boy asked, carefully walking towards them. (Y/n) put her hand on Appa, and he leaned against her touch, groaning affectionately.

"This is Appa, my flying bison," Aang answered.

The boy raised an eyebrow. "Right. And this is Katara, my flying sister," he said, motioning to the girl beside him.

Appa abruptly inhaled a large breath, and then another, and another before a large ball of snot flew out of his nose. It flew over and hit the boy perfectly, covering half of him in snot.

He panicked and frantically tried to wipe it off, bending down and rubbing himself in the snow. "Don't worry, it'll wash out," Aang said casually.

(Y/n) covered her mouth as she giggled, and the boy glared at her. "Hey, do you guys live around here?" she asked, walking up to Aang.

"Don't answer that," the boy said to his sister, pointing the staff at them. "Did you see that crazy bolt of light? They were probably trying to signal the Fire Navy!"

"Oh yeah, I'm sure they're spies for the Fire Navy," Katara said, shoving past him. "You can tell by those evil looks in their eyes."

Aang grinned while (Y/n) blinked innocently. "The paranoid one is my brother, Sokka. You guys are Aang and (Y/n), right?" Katara said.

"Mmh! Nice to meet you guys," (Y/n) said. Her eyes wandered around the area. The vast ocean sprinkled with icebergs gleamed exquisitely. "It's so beautiful here..."

Katara smiled. "We're near the Southern Water Tribe. Where are you guys from?" Sokka watched them carefully but stayed silent as if he wanted to know as well.

"We're from-...ah, ah, AH CHOO!" A huge gust of wind swirled around them as Aang shot himself up in the air. The three of them snapped their heads up to where he was. (Y/n) snickered as he slid across the ice wall and landed where he was before, whereas the water tribe siblings stared at him wide-eyed. "We're from the Southern Air Temple!" Aang finally said, wiping his nose.

"...You just sneezed and flew ten feet in the air," Sokka stated, pointing at the sky.

"Hm, I'd say it was higher than that," (Y/n) guessed. Quickly, Sokka turned his head to her. "Can you do that too?!" he asked loudly.

"Well, I'm not as good as Aang, but I had my fair share of air bending," (Y/n) answered, shrugging.

"Oh! You're airbenders!" Katara concluded, her blue eyes glimmering with excitement.

"Sure are!" Aang said.

"Giant light beams, flying bison, airbenders--I think I got midnight sun madness." Sokka started to walk to the edge of the ice. "I'm going home to where stuff makes sense."

He stopped suddenly, probably realizing that he can't swim in the freezing cold water. "Well, if you guys are stuck, we can give you a lift," Aang said, then jumped onto Appa's head.

"We'd love a ride. Thanks!" Katara replied. She and (Y/n) ran to the bison's side, and (Y/n) flew on top of his back. She held out a hand for Katara, to which she gladly took.

"Oh, no! I am not going on that fluffy snot monster!" her brother declared. Once she was on top, Katara glared down at him. "Are you hoping some other kind of monster will come along and give you a ride home? You know, before you freeze to death."

Sokka opened his mouth to say something, then gave up and approached Appa's side. (Y/n) bent down and held out a hand. He reached for it, then retracted his hand, raising an eyebrow in suspicion.

"Come on, I don't bite," (Y/n) joked. Sokka sighed and grabbed her hand. She hauled him up to the main seat on the large saddle seat and sat behind the siblings once they got settled in.

"Okay, first-time flyers, hold on tight!" Aang announced. (Y/n) and Katara smiled widely with excitement. Sokka, on the other hand, had an irritable face with his arms crossed.

"Appa, yip yip!" Aang gently patted the bison's head with the reins. Appa groaned and growled, then lifted his round tail in the air. He walked to the edge of the ice and thrust himself high up into the air.

The cool air gently pushed against (Y/n)'s face, bringing a soft feeling of nostalgia in her chest. She unexpectedly missed the feeling, despite the fact that it was only yesterday that she was riding her own bison.

But the sentiment didn't last long. Instead of flying through the air like he usually does, Appa fell into the water and started to swim.

"Come on, Appa, yip yip!" Aang urged, and yet Appa refused.

"Wow, that was truly amazing," Sokka remarked in a flat tone.

"Aw, poor thing must be tired," (Y/n) pointed out, rubbing Appa's fur. "Do you guys have any apples in your home? Or maybe some hay?"

The water tribe boy scoffed. "Oh of course we have those things in the freezing south."

Katara glared at her brother. "Don't worry. After he gets some rest, he'll be soaring through the sky in no time," Aang said.

(Y/n) laid down on her stomach beside Sokka and glanced up at him. "You know, it's an amazing experience to ride such majestic animals. Maybe you and I can ride him together sometime?"

Sokka glimpsed down at her for a second, raising an eyebrow. "Pass."

She frowned. 'So cold. He must still think we're working for the Fire Nation,' (Y/n) thought. She looked down at the back of her hands where the blue arrows partnered with her (s/c) skin. 'But how could he? We're obviously airbenders. What do the airbenders have to do with them anyway?'

The night sky was filled with stars when (Y/n) and Aang sat on the empty side of the Air Temple. "Aang? What's wrong?" (Y/n) asked.

The young airbender was tracing his finger along the dirt ground with a gloomy face. "It's nothing," he replied.

"You sure?"

He glanced to the side. (Y/n) scooted closer to him until she was right by his side. "I don't want to force you to say anything, but I'm here if you want to talk about it."

The sound of crickets and distant screeches of Lemurs filled the air for a moment. "I'm the next Avatar," Aang finally said.

(Y/n) eyes fluttered open. She rose up in her sleeping bag and looked around. She was in some sort of tent with Aang still sleeping across the room, then remembered that they arrived at the Southern Water Tribe last night and offered them to rest here. It was cold, but bearable.

She yawned and rubbed her eyes. 'That dream...' Her eyes landed on Aang. 'He's really the Avatar?'

"Oh, you're awake."

(Y/n) turned her head to the entrance and saw Katara peaking in. She smiled. "The village is excited to meet you guys," she said, entering the tent.

"I guess not many airbenders travel to this place, huh?" (Y/n) said jokingly.

"Um, you could say that," Katara replied, fiddling with her thumbs. "So how did you guys get here anyway?"

(Y/n) hesitated for a second before saying, "All I remember was there being a storm, and we just ended up here."

The brunette furrowed her eyebrows, letting out a quiet "Oh..." while looking like she was in deep thought. She sat beside her, eyeing Aang. "So you guys are from the Southern Air Temple?"

"Mm-hm! Even though boys were only allowed to live there, I did too. That's how I met Aang."

Katara's eyes widened. "Really? Why were you able to live there?"

"My father hid me. I think it was because..." (Y/n) stopped. She couldn't remember anything else other than staying inside the house most of the time.

"Hey, if you don't want to talk about it, that's alright." Katara's hand inched over to (Y/n)'s. "I'm actually glad you guys came here."

"AH!"

The girls snapped their heads to Aang when he sprang up in his sleeping bag. "Aang? Are you okay?" (Y/n) asked.

He sat there for a moment, then replied, "I guess."

"I'll wait for you guys outside." Katara got up and exited the room. (Y/n) crawled over to Aang and put a hand on his bare shoulder.

"I remember what happened," he admitted. "I was flying Appa in a storm, and you were on his back, yelling something. I couldn't hear you. Then we landed into the ocean, and I made an iceberg around us." He looked at her, and she recognized guilt in his grey eyes. "I was trying to run away."

(Y/n) embraced him in a hug. "So you remember being the Avatar?" she asked, and felt him nod. "I know you have to face the Fire Lord someday, but I also know you should spend more time being a kid first."

They pulled apart and Aang held a tiny smile. "I hope I do. Come on, let's go meet the village."

After Aang put his clothes back on, he and (Y/n) got out of the tent after grabbing their airbending staffs. The first thing they saw was Katara and a large group of people. (Y/n) scanned the area and saw Sokka sitting beside the entrance, staring down at a boomerang. He glanced up at her, and she waved with a grin. He narrowed his blue eyes and instantly gave his attention back to the boomerang.

"Aang, (Y/n), this is the entire village. Entire village, meet Aang and (Y/n)," Katara introduced. The airbenders bowed as their greeting. The villagers had uneasy expressions; some even pulled the children towards them.

"Uh, why are they all looking at us like that? Did Appa sneeze on me?" Aang asked Katara.

"Well, no one has seen an airbender in one hundred years, much less two of them," an elderly woman from the crowd pointed out. "We all thought they were extinct until my granddaughter and grandson found you."

The airbenders sat there, stunned, and (Y/n) thought her heart had stopped.

"'Extinct'?" Aang echoed.

"Guys, this is my grandmother," Katara said.

"Call me Gran-Gran," the woman advised.

"What is this, a weapon? And why do you have it?" (Y/n) jumped slightly when Sokka suddenly appeared beside her. He grabbed the staff from her and observed it carefully. "You can't even stab anything with this!"

"It's not a weapon," (Y/n) explained, quickly drifting the staff back to her hand. "It's an instrument used for airbending." She pressed the button near the bottom, and the red fan popped out of the sides. Sokka jumped and shielded his face as if it was supposed to be an attack.

"Magic trick! Do it again!" a kid said enthusiastically.

"Not magic, airbending," Aang clarified, doing the same to his staff. "It lets us control the air currents around our gliders and fly."

"You know, last time I checked, humans can't fly!" Sokka argued.

(Y/n) smirked. "Really?"

"Yeah, so how can you possibly-" (Y/n) and Aang held onto the handles of their gliders, and they soared up into the sky just as if they had wings on their backs.

They swirled around the village with its people gazing up at them in awe. The winds gently pushed against (Y/n)'s face, and she felt she was back home.

"Hey Aang!" she called to her friend. "Remember this?"

Once Aang's eyes were on her, she let one hand go off one of the handles. She swung back and forth, and she flipped over on top of the glider, using the winds to boost her up. With the air mostly helping, she was perfectly balanced on the thin back of the glider.

"Oh yeah!" he said, then proceeded to do the same.

(Y/n) glanced down at the ground and saw that she was almost over Sokka. He, as the rest of the village, was bewildered. An idea popped in her mind, and dove off the glider and plummeted towards him.

"AH!" Sokka shouted, raising his arms to shield his face. The very last second before (Y/n) could touch him, her glider swooped down below her, and she dashed right past his head.

"Hey! You almost hit me!" Sokka called, and his little sister only laughed.

"But I didn't, did I?" (Y/n) called back. She couldn't hear him, but she knew he was growling through his visibly clenched teeth.

Aang cracked up, but his joy didn't last long when he plowed into a tall snow tower. (Y/n) snickered and watched as he tried to get his head out of the side. When he succeeded, he tumbled down to the ground with a pile of snow following him, covering him once he landed.

"My watchtower!" Sokka said. He ran towards his precious snow building while Katara went to Aang.

"That was amazing!" she said, helping him up.

(Y/n) landed beside them and saw Sokka get dumped with another pile of snow while trying to observe the damage. She ran up to him and held out a hand for him to grab. He stared at it for a moment before frowning and getting up on his own.

"Great. You two are airbenders, Katara's a waterbender. Together, you can waste time all day long," he said.

The airbender perked up. "You're a waterbender?" she and Aang asked at the same time.

"Well, sort of. Not yet," Katara answered.

"All right. No more playing. Come on, Katara, you have chores," Gran-Gran said, approaching them. They walked off, leaving Aang and (Y/n) on their own. She looked over her shoulder and saw Sokka in the distance.

"Hey, I'm gonna go catch up with Sokka," she said.

"Alright," Aang replied, and the two departed.

"Hey! Wait up!" (Y/n) called, jogging up to the Water Tribe boy.

Sokka turned around with narrowed eyes. "Um, hi?" he said.

"Did you need help rebuilding your..." She trailed off, forgetting about what Aang had accidentally destroyed.

"Watchtower," Sokka finished, continuing to walk to the tower. "And no, I can do it on my own, thank you."

"Are you sure? It looks pretty high up."

"I can handle it."

(Y/n)'s smile faltered. "Oh, okay. Hey, how did you make that anyway? It looks really cool!"

Sokka whirled around. "Why are you acting so nice? Are you trying to get information out of me? Because it won't work!"

(Y/n) flinched. "'Get information'? You don't mean for the Fire Nation, do you? Last time I checked, Fire Nation soldiers don't have these." She held up her hands to show him her blue arrows.

He furrowed his eyebrows again. "That could be paint!"

"Alright, try to take them off." (Y/n) held out her hands.

Sokka's eyes widened, and he stood there for a moment before putting on a stern expression. "Fine!"

He marched up to her and grabbed her hand with his cold, snowflake-covered glove. First, he tried furiously rubbing the arrow off, which left a red mark on her skin. When that obviously didn't work, he raised an eyebrow and spat on her hand. (Y/n)'s face crinkled with disgust but held her ground. He rubbed her hand harder than before, but it refused to come off.

Sokka growled, and she sneered. "You're just lucky it's strong paint!" he yelled, then stomped off.

"Right. Also, if we're working for the Fire Nation, how do you explain our airbending? Or Appa?" she questioned, following him.

#atla sokka #x reader #fanfiction #cartoons #wattpad #i kinda made this a long time ago

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blissfulnightrain · 4 years ago

Photo

SoKai Week Day 1: One Heart

My first submission for @sokaiweek! I’m so so excited to share all the stuff I’ve been working on for the OTP ahhh

I’ve done artwork for every day of this week, but for some prompts, I also got my ass kind of in-gear and did some writing! And today is one of those days. So, without further ado:

One Heart

Word Count: 1472 words

The thin, glassy magic barrier was the singular thing that separated Kairi from the columns of fire that erupted all around and below her. It doubled as her only protection from the onslaught of Xehanort’s attacks, slashes of his keyblades and dark magic raining down all around her in a chaotic storm that threatened to overwhelm her senses. She had to keep reminding herself to stay sharp and alert, that this wasn’t just training anymore.

This was real.

Still, all the focus in the worlds wasn’t going to win this battle alone. What openings she was able to exploit earlier were no longer feasible options, Xehanort quickly learning her fighting style well enough to adapt and defend her attacks, leaving her with very few opportunities to take advantage of. Of course, she shouldn’t have been surprised, nor did she have the time to be - any energy she put towards lamenting for not having trained harder or longer was a waste. She couldn’t stay on the defensive forever. Somehow, someway, she was going to have to break through. But how?

Another barrage of Xehanort’s keyblades was incoming, and she wasn’t sure how much more her barrier could withstand. Bracing herself, she counted down the seconds to her most opportune chance.

Two of his keyblades planted themselves to her right.

Three behind her.

Several more to her left.

And then there was Xehanort, diving down like a hawk descending towards its prey. His golden eyes were locked onto her, glinting sinisterly through the cracks in his mask. The closer they got to her, the less time she had to act - she would need to do so quickly.

A loud crack erupted when the barrier finally shattered, its glittery shards flying in every direction. Xehanort reeled back ever so slightly, bracing himself for what moves he already foresaw. The little girl’s strikes were an easily deflected drizzle, each one of them easily guarded by the robustness of his armor, by the practiced ease he was still able to counterattack with. It wasn’t long before he was able to overpower her once more, and Kairi was back on the defensive.

Fire and lava erupted from the ground below her, and meteors rained down from the cataclysmic sky as Xehanort himself continued to target her. What shaky confidence she had at the beginning of this battle was quickly waning to complete dissolution. Despite all the countless, grueling hours of training she’d undergone, there was just no way she would be able to do this on her own.

“Kairi!” a voice called out through the smoke, ember, and ashes. She recognized it instantly, and how could she not? It was one that existed in almost every remaining memory of her childhood, her mundane classes at school, and the one she imagined every time she wrote a letter during her training days. It was the voice of the person who was there with her now, in the flesh, at this very moment.

She could do this. Together, with him.

Perhaps...

***

“Welp, time to turn in,” Lea - no, Axel, concluded with a yawn, stretching a lanky arm over his head. “Catch ya in the morning, Kairi, old man.” Kairi returned the bid good night with a giggle, very aware of the exasperated sigh the “old man” let out.

“You would think the boy would have learned some manners by now,” Merlin muttered under his breath.

“Axel is Axel,” Kairi chuckled, though there was an air of matter-of-factness in her statement. Though things had started off awkward between the two of them, Axel had quickly grown on her. He’d become almost like another big brother, the way Riku was. A small smile lifted her lips as her mind shifted to memories of him from earlier in the day when he’d come to drop off the garbs from Merlin and the Fairies. As always, not far behind her reminiscence of Riku were thoughts of a certain other someone.

“Unfortunately it would appear so.” Merlin shook his head before turning his bespectacled gaze back to focus on her. “Though I can’t say I’d advise you to follow most of his examples, I do think retiring for the night would do you some good as well, dear.”

“Right,” she responded, nodding in agreement. It had been another long, arduous day of brutal sparring and training in the forest, after all. Though time flowed differently here, rest and recovery between sessions were still a necessity. She spun on her heels, feeling blades of damp grass beneath the soles of her sneakers. The sound of chirping crickets and rustling leaves would be accompanying her on her way back, along with thoughts of Sora, out there somewhere among the stars that were scattered across the dark sky above her.

She’d only taken a few steps before she stopped in her tracks.

“Is something the matter?” Merlin asked as she turned back around to face him.

“Actually, Master Merlin, I did have a question about something,” she admitted.

“And what might that be?”

“I was just thinking about Riku, and Sora,” she admitted, sheepishly tucking a tuft of her auburn hair behind her ear. “Back when we were in The World that Never Was...well, it was the first time all of us had been together in a year. I’d only just gotten my keyblade, so Sora and Riku did most of the fighting. But even though they hadn’t fought together in so long, it was still like they were completely in sync.” Her gaze fell to her thumbs, twiddling together by her chest. “When the time comes, and I have to fight side by side with them...well, is there some sort of skill that I need to learn, to be able to…” Not get in their way? To keep up with them? To somehow help elevate their combat - no, she was getting ahead of herself.

Though her thoughts were unverbalized, there was a knowing look in the dark eyes behind Merlin’s half-moon shaped spectacles.

“The keyblade is a very special weapon, Kairi,” he began, his hand firm on her shoulder, the dangling fabric of his sleeve tickling the tiny hairs on her arm. “The fact that you are able to wield one is a testament to the strength of your heart, and your heart alone. There are many ways that that strength might manifest itself further during times of ire, like the special attacks and synchronization you saw between your friends.”

“And how exactly do I learn to “manifest” that kind of power?”

“There is no way to learn it,” Merlin said gently, chuckling when he noted the bewilderment in her indigo eyes. “If your connection to people, or that one special person, is strong enough, then it will manifest itself on its own.”

“If the connection is strong enough,” Kairi parrotted, her gaze back up towards the night sky.

***

“Sora!” Kairi yelled back, leaping up off the ground and into the air. Stardust trailed behind her, her hair flying wildly in all directions as she glided through the mayhem, the sound of his voice calling her name her Polaris. Though she had to change directions in her path more than once, the welcomed sight of clouds, stars, and Sora’s outstretched hands soon greeted her. The shackles of her self-doubt came undone the moment her fingers intertwined with his, and that was when it happened.

A flash of blinding light encompassed them, and a sudden warmth pulsed through every fiber of her being. It bubbled in her chest and came to a boil when she felt something erupt through her back.

“Light!” Kairi and Sora both cried out, realizing what was happening. Their fingers were still intertwined with one hand as they both turned to face their enemy.

Decades of battles, of magic, of knowledge, and behind his armor Xehanort was still taken aback by the sight he beheld. The two children hovered above him, each having sprouted a brilliant, crystalline wing. Wispy feathers scattered about the arena as they both stared down on him, ready to make their next move.

Words weren’t needed as Sora and Kairi dove together, hand in hand, the momentum of wind and light carrying them. If Xehanort reacted at all, whatever effort he put in was futile. A cry of agony escaped him as he was flung backward, the attack not only connecting but overwhelming him.

Still in sync, Sora and Kairi somersaulted in the air, light, feathers, and memories cascading down all around them. As it dissipated, Xehanort revealed himself, standing his ground and back on his feet once more. But the fear, the second-guessing, the self-deprecation that was in Kairi’s heart was gone as she looked back briefly at Sora, the gentleness in his sky blue eyes telling her what she already knew.

They could do it. Together.

#sokai week #sokai week 2020 #sokai #sora #kairi #kingdom hearts #blissfulnightrainart #blissfulnightrainwrites

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