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flourgirl · 3 years

Text

Sleepyhead

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: Peter will try just about anything to help out the very pretty insomniac from his math class.

Work Count: 11.2k

Warnings: Just some sweet, pure fluff with a few curse words every now and then.

A/N: Either the tags aren’t working for me or you guys just didn’t like it, but the final part of “Even If It’s a Lie” has been out for a few days now if anyone’s interested in reading it 🥺 Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this super long piece I’ve been working on to help me get through finals <3

“Touch you softly I call you up late at night No doubt it isn't right But you could be my one and only” -Softly, Clairo

Peter had seen you around campus a few times, but it wasn’t until you started sitting two rows ahead of him in his linear algebra class that he really started to notice you.

He thought you were really pretty, and he liked how cozy you always looked in the puffy winter coat you kept on in the perpetually freezing lecture hall. You took a lot of notes, which told him that you cared about the class, and never showed up without a giant cup of iced coffee.

You’re being a creep, Peter told himself. He had thought about switching seats to somewhere in front of you, so he could actually listen to his professor discuss permutations instead of staring at how you chewed on the end of your pen when you were thinking.

It was even worse when you started sleeping in class, your soft hair falling around your shoulders as you leaned your head against your desk. It seemed like all the coffee in the world couldn’t keep you awake, and Peter wondered if he should ask if you wanted to borrow his notes or something. But that would mean him admitting to looking at you way more than he needed to, and that was weird, so he quickly dropped the idea.

Still, he was worried about you. So when he came back from patrol in the middle of the night and bumped into you outside of the dorm kitchen, he figured it would be the perfect opportunity to introduce himself and maybe even find out why you were so tired all the time.

The only problem was that he had accidentally knocked your pan of banana bread out of your hands, and you were currently staring at it laying on the floor with your sleepy eyes, not saying anything.

“Shit, uh, I’m so sorry,” he told you, crouching down to scoop up the remnants of your late-night snack into the pan. “Were you really up baking at 3 a.m?”

You blushed a little, starstruck that the cute guy from your math class was talking to you. “Um, yeah. I couldn’t sleep, so I figured I’d come down to the kitchen while nobody else was here and make something. Baking always helps me calm down, and so here I am. And here we are. And there’s my bread, all covered in whatever kind of dust the custodians refuse to sweep down here.”

He offered a soft smile, and it made you feel better about the fact that you were rambling way more than you wanted to.

“I’m Y/N,” you continued, gently taking the pan from his hands. “You’re in linear algebra with Professor Meyers, right?”

“Yeah, you, um, you sit right in front of me. Well, not right in front of me. Two rows in front of me. Shit. I’m not creepy, I promise. It’s just… uh… My name is Peter and I’m going to stop talking now.”

That couldn’t have possibly gone any worse, he thought. You were probably thinking he was a serial killer or something.

“It’s okay. I know you sit behind me,” you reassured him. “You answer a lot of questions.” He was cute and smart, and you hoped he couldn’t notice how flustered you were to be this close to him.

“What are you doing up so late?” he asked, which made you laugh at how ironic his concerns were, considering he was also wandering around the dorm basement at this hour.

“I could ask you the same thing,” you replied, sitting on one of the benches that jutted out of the walls of the corridor. “I mean, you’re here too. At least I was baking. What’s up with you?”

You had a point. “I had an emergency… with my internship. I work for Stark Industries, and Mr. Stark rang me in the middle of the night to come to the lab immediately for something, so, yeah. That’s why I’m awake right now.”

“Okay,” you said, not buying his story. “So that’s why you have a black eye and you’re lurking in the basement hallway? Did Tony Stark punch you?”

Fuck. Did he really have a black eye and not notice? He didn’t think that Doc Oc’s stupid mechanical arm had punched him that hard, but apparently, he was wrong. And now he had to come up with some reason as to where it came from, although he could already tell that you were about to call his bluff.

The only solution he could think of was to change the subject. “Why are you always asleep during class?” he blurted out, causing you to give him a funny look before frowning down at your slippers.

“Isn’t it obvious,” you yawned, stretching your arms out in front of you. “I’m an insomniac. It’s actually kind of funny. I never really had any problems with falling asleep until I moved here. Maybe it’s the cold weather or the constant pressure to get good grades, but I just can’t sleep anymore. It sucks.”

Normally, you’d never tell this much about yourself to somebody, let alone a complete stranger. But somehow, you felt really comfortable around Peter. There was just something about him that made you feel warm and fuzzy inside.

Peter caught himself staring at you again, your baby pink pajamas a far departure from how put together your usual outfits were. Even without your makeup or hair done, you were still the prettiest girl he had ever seen. For some reason, even the dark circles under your eyes were really cute to him.

“You never answered my question,” you reminded him, hoping that he’d say something to fill the awkward silence. “What’s with the black eye and wandering around in the middle of the night? Are you some kind of superhero?”

“What? No! That’s crazy. Me, a superhero,” he laughed awkwardly, wondering if you had somehow figured out his secret identity. Had you spotted him that one time he made sure that you and your friends got home safely from a late-night study session? Even so, you totally couldn’t have known it was him, right?

“Relax, I’m just joking,” you giggled, thinking about how cute he looked when he was flustered. “Although my friend did tell me she thought she saw Spider-Man a few weeks ago on her way back from a party.”

“Haha, yeah,” he breathed out, a wave of relief washing over him. It was times like these that he really started to appreciate how well-hidden his muscles were underneath all of his oversized sweaters.

“Does that hurt?” you asked, bringing your hand up to lightly brush his lip, which was bleeding. He flinched instinctively before settling under your touch, your eyes focused on the small cut. “I have a first aid kit in my room if you want some help cleaning it up.”

“Oh, no, it’s cool. I wouldn’t want to bother your roommate,” Peter told you, scooting further away on the bench, nearly falling off the edge of it. Ned hated it when he stumbled in at some ungodly hour after patrol and woke him up.

“Don’t worry about it,” you said, standing up and gesturing for him to follow you. “I have a single.”

Peter looked at you in awe. Freshmen never got rooms to themselves, and yet somehow you had one. “Okay, fine. But only because I’ve never actually seen a single in this building before.”

“That’s cool with me,” you smiled, reaching for his hand so he could keep up with your pace. He noticed that you were chewing some of the banana bread, which he really hoped was from the part that didn’t fall on the floor. To be fair though, it did smell really good.

Not only did you have a single, but you lived on the first floor. Peter couldn’t believe how lucky you were, considering the building that the two of you lived in didn’t have any elevators to traverse its seven floors.

He was even more shocked when you opened your door, revealing the coziest dorm room he had ever seen. How on earth did you transform the glorified prison cell into something that felt so... comforting? From the twinkling lights that were wrapped around everything and the soft rug under his feet, Peter found it really hard to believe that you had trouble sleeping here.

“Sorry, it’s a bit messy,” you apologized, piling your many throw pillows and blankets into a basket to clear up some space on your bed. “You can sit here.”

If this was messy, then Peter and Ned’s room needed some serious help. “No worries,” he said, watching as you rummaged around your drawers in search of your first aid kit.

Eventually, you found it hidden under a bunch of graph paper and colored pencils, untouched ever since your overprotective grandparents had helped you move in. “Here we go,” you mused, now looking inside it for alcohol wipes and band-aids.

He winced as you rubbed the little cloth against his lips, and you made sure to be more gentle as you cleaned up the other cuts on his face. Thankfully, nothing was bad enough to require stitches, something you were seriously under-qualified to do.

All Peter could focus on the entire time was how close you were and what it would be like to just kiss you right then and there, but he knew that was way too forward of him. Plus, he didn’t even know if you liked him like that. Surely you were just being nice.

Still, the way he caught you staring into his brown eyes after smoothing a band-aid on his forehead made him think otherwise.

“You’re going to have to tell me eventually who beat you up,” you sighed, gathering up wrappers to throw away and tucking the first aid kit back into its place in your drawers.

“It’s a long story,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck and avoiding your stare.

“I’ve got time,” you replied, climbing onto your lofted bed to sit next to him, innocently brushing your bare leg against his jeans, which made his breath hitch. “Tell me about it.”

“Uh, how about another time?” he stammered, hopping off the bed and running his hand through his hair. “After class tomorrow, or something. It’s getting pretty late. We should, um, go to sleep.”

“You can stay here if you want,” you offered, his eyes widening at your invitation. “On the bean bag, I mean. It’s actually really comfortable. You mentioned something about bothering your roommate and I figured that maybe you’d like to avoid the trouble tonight.”

“Oh…” Peter hesitated, looking for a reason to say no. He knew he’d never be able to sleep knowing that you were in the same room as him. “I don’t have any pajamas.”

“True,” you agreed, a little disappointed that he wasn’t interested in sticking around.

“I don’t actually even wear pajamas to sleep,” he continued, making you look back up at him instead of playing with the hem of your shirt. “It’s just… I sleep in my boxers.”

“I’m sorry for asking. I didn’t mean to put you in an uncomfortable situation,” you sighed, your face hot with embarrassment.

“It’s not that! I mean, I do want to stay here. But, uh, you… well, you make me really nervous, Y/N,” he muttered, his glance bouncing around the room.

“Why?” you asked, your brows furrowing. “Did I do something?”

“No, no! Nothing at all. I promise, okay?”

“Okay. You can, um, get ready for bed, I guess. I promise not to look,” you assured him, turning on your side to face the wall.

“Thanks. Yeah, alright.” You heard him fumbling with his clothes, his sneakers making a soft thud on your floor. You did your best to resist the urge to glance back at him.

“Can I just use any of these?” he asked, although you had no idea what he was talking about.

“Peter, I’m not looking, remember? You’re going to have to be a little more specific than that.”

“The blankets. Do I just pick one, or are you particular about them?”

“Oh. You can use whichever one you want to. But the coral one’s the softest and my personal favorite.” Peter stared at the basket in confusion. To him, they were all just pink. But based on touch alone, he pulled one out that he figured was a little more orange than the others.

He walked over to the light switch and flipped off the overhead fluorescents, letting the room be illuminated by the warm glow of your fairy lights, which weren’t too bright, but still twinkly and beautiful.

“Goodnight, Peter,” you whispered, snuggling into your comforter in the hopes that your heartbeat would slow down and let you fall asleep for once.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” In a matter of minutes, you could hear his soft snoring, and you figured that it would be okay just to take a quick peek since he’d probably be bundled up in one of your blankets.

His hair was perfectly messy, and he looked so cozy wrapped up in the blanket you had recommended. Still, as much as you could stare at his adorable face all night, you were exhausted. Burying your face under the covers, you did your best to calm your nerves and get some rest before class tomorrow.

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

“Peter,” you whispered, jostling him lightly by the shoulders in the hopes of waking him up. “Uh, we have an hour before class. I was thinking that it would be enough time for you to go shower and change, and then we could go get coffee or something.”

He blinked back up at you, amazed at how well he slept on your bean bag. You had already gotten ready for the day, doing your makeup and picking out one of your many fluffy sweaters to keep you warm in the New York snow.

“Thanks, that sounds awesome,” he yawned, accepting the hand you held out to help him up. The blanket fell, and you stared at each other in shock, having forgotten that Peter was in nothing but his underwear.

You dropped his hand as fast as you could, covering your eyes. “Oh my god! I’m sorry. Shit, I completely forgot, Peter. I’m so sorry. I’ll let you get dressed.”

Peter watched as you stumbled around the room, your eyes squeezed tightly as your hands attempted to guide you away from him.

“Y/N,” he started, catching your attention as you nearly ran into your bed frame. “You can open your eyes. Really, I don’t care if you see me like this if it means I can keep you from breaking your nose.”

You hesitantly opened your eyes, relieved that Peter had already managed to pull his pants back on. Still, he was completely shirtless, and you found yourself staring at the abs you would have never expected to be hiding underneath his clothes.

Moments later, you averted your gaze, although you knew that he probably noticed you looking at where was now covered by his plaid button-down and dark blue sweater.

“I’ll, um, be right back,” he muttered, before practically sprinting out of your room and up the stairs. You groaned in embarrassment, burying your face in a pillow before attempting to take a quick twenty-minute power nap.

Peter couldn’t believe it. Sure, he had thought one time about you seeing him without clothes on, but this wasn’t how he thought it would go at all. Still, the image of you staring at him shirtless, your face flushed, made him feel like he was going to have a heart attack.

“Dude! There you are,” Ned screamed, startled at his roommate’s unexpected entrance. Peter panted, having run up four flights of stairs as fast as he could. “Wait a second. Did you finally get laid? Is this a walk of shame?”

Before Ned could praise him any further, Peter was grabbing a change of clothes and sprinting towards the bathroom. Don’t think about her, he begged himself.

The memory of your leg touching his last night immediately came to mind, and Peter was so angry at himself for being this starved for physical intimacy. To be fair, though, you were the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, and so he cut himself some slack.

Shit, he told himself, making sure the water was set to cold. He needed to calm down, but instead, his thoughts were stuck on how good you looked in your pajamas, but also how good you would look without them and—fuck it.

Peter liked you a lot, and if thinking about you like this in private kept him from being a complete weirdo in person, then maybe he just needed to get his feelings of desperation over with.

When he came back down to your room about thirty minutes later, you were still super tired. You trudged your way towards the door, your hair now noticeably messier than earlier, but at least that meant your nap had been a success.

His hair was still damp and this time he was wearing yet another blue sweater, which made you wonder if he ever wore any other color. He had his backpack slung over one of his shoulders and a nervous smile on his face as he locked eyes with you.

“Hey,” he said, pushing some of his hair out of his face. “Are you ready to go?”

You leaned against the doorway a little bit, letting out a yawn that was literally the cutest noise Peter had ever heard in his life. “Yeah, let me get my backpack.”

“It’s so heavy,” you continued, rightfully complaining as the weight of all its contents practically pulled you downwards. “I think it’s so stupid how almost every professor bans computers from class. Like, it’s not fair that I have to lug around three textbooks every day. I don’t have time to run back to my dorm in between classes like some people!”

Peter frowned. Three textbooks were nothing to him, but he knew that you didn’t have spidey-strength and that you were also pretty tiny compared to him. It must’ve been hell on your back to be carrying all that stuff around every day.

“I can carry it for you,” he offered, holding out his hand to switch with you. “Here, you can take my backpack if it’ll make you feel better. I have a lot of programming classes today, so I’ve only got my laptop and a notebook in there.”

You gave him a look of gratitude as he traded bags with you, literally taking the weight off your shoulders. He was right. His backpack was much more manageable for you, even if the dark grey contrasted with the light colors you always wore.

In contrast, it looked kind of odd for him to be walking around with a backpack that was covered in a soft pink floral pattern, much like everything else you owned, but the sight of him carrying your books brought a smile to your face.

It was one of the sweetest things a guy had ever done for you, and Peter wasn’t even your boyfriend. He probably didn’t even think of you in that way.

“Uh, where do you usually get coffee?” he asked, slowing his pace so you could keep up. He felt bad seeing how tired you were, no doubt due to the lack of sleep you got last night.

“The Starbucks next to Hendrie Hall,” you replied, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. “You?”

“I don’t drink coffee,” he admitted. “I’m actually more of a tea person.”

“Oh,” you hesitated, wondering if it was worth it to walk all the way across campus just for a caramel ribbon crunch frappuccino. “We could go somewhere closer then.”

“It’s okay,” Peter reassured you, grabbing your hand and pulling you along to your destination. “I like walking.”

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

You hadn’t really talked to Peter since that morning before class, but sometimes you would peek behind you and catch him stealing glances at you. Eventually, he had started to feel brave enough to give you a little wave whenever you caught him looking at you. Well, at least the times when you were awake.

One day, not even the loud shuffling and growing chatter of your classmates exiting the lecture hall could wake you up, and Peter figured he better do something before you got chewed out by one of the TAs.

“Y/N?” he said, leaning closer so that you could hopefully hear him. “Y/N. You gotta wake up. Class ended three minutes ago.”

He shook you a little bit, nervously hoping that you wouldn’t mind him touching you. Your eyes fluttered open, and you smiled softly as soon as you realized it was Peter.

“Oh. Thanks,” you said, standing up to slide your empty notebook into your backpack. Your hand brushed the side of your mouth, making sure you hadn’t drooled onto yourself.

“You can borrow my notes,” he offered, glancing at you sheepishly as you gathered up your coat and fixed your hair. “If you want to.”

“That’d be great,” you sighed, wondering whether you should skip your next class and just go take a nap. At this point, you weren’t even bothering to put on makeup and you basically wore whatever clothes you had that weren’t already sprawled across your room.

“Are you alright?” Peter asked, walking close to you to make sure you didn’t fall over. He knew you were an insomniac, but you looked seriously sleep-deprived today. “Have you been sleeping at all lately?”

“Nope,” you huffed, lugging your perpetually heavy backpack along. “But I’m skipping the rest of my classes today. I’d rather lie that I’m sick through an e-mail than have to explain to my professors why I was sleeping during their classes.”

“Fair enough,” he agreed, stopping you in your tracks to take your backpack from you. “I’ve actually got some time before my next class. I can walk you back to your room and give you my notebook if that’s okay with you.”

“You don’t have to do that,” you told him, reaching to take your bag back from him, although he didn’t let you.

“Y/N. Come on, you’re exhausted. At least let me carry your stuff, alright?” He had such a kind look in his eyes, and you certainly didn’t have the energy to keep arguing for no reason.

“Okay.” You crossed your arms, the cold air slowly waking you up as the wind hit your face. Your ears were super cold, but you were glad you had pulled your hair into a quick braid to keep it from flying everywhere.

It wasn’t long before you were kicking your boots off in your dorm room, your teeth chattering as you wrapped yourself in a blanket.

“Do you want some tea?” you asked Peter, inviting him to sit down wherever.

“Sure, but I thought you drank coffee,” he reminded you, watching as you pulled an assortment of tea bags for him to choose from.

“I do,” you said, handing him the box and running to your bathroom to fill up the electric kettle. “But you drink tea.”

Peter’s ears suddenly felt hot. You had gotten tea just for him. Or maybe you were just a really good hostess and kept some around for all of your visitors. Probably the second option, he thought.

“Are you even allowed to have one of those?” he asked as the two of you waited for the water to boil.

“No,” you laughed, sitting next to him on your bed. For someone with so much space to themselves, you really needed to invest in more places to sit. “But you can’t have candles or fairy lights either, so I guess I’m just a rule breaker.”

“Guess I’ll just have to report you to the RA,” Peter teased, getting up to make himself a cup of earl grey. “Do you have any sugar?”

“Top drawer on the right,” you replied. “Do you have a sweet tooth?”

“Yes.” You watched as his lips blew on the tea to cool it down before remembering that it was weird to stare.

“You should let me bake something for you. What’s your favorite dessert?” You were kicking your dangling legs, suddenly feeling a lot more awake than this morning.

“Chocolate cake. With chocolate frosting,” he said in between sips, walking back over to you. With you on the tall bed and him standing, your faces were level with each other.

“I’ll have to make you one to thank you,” you smiled, peering into his eyes. Peter felt your heartbeat quicken, and the grin on your face as you stared at each other made him weak in the knees.

“Can I get those notes?” you asked, making him remember that people don’t just look at each other and say nothing like that.

“Oh! Yeah, definitely.” He quickly set the mug down on your nightstand to rummage through his backpack, flipping one of his notebooks open before handing it to you. “There are the ones from today, but all of the ones I’ve taken this semester are in there too.”

“Wow,” you laughed, making a worried expression form on his face.

“What’s wrong? Are they not good?”

“No, it’s not that. They’re just, uh, very thorough.” He had basically transcribed your professor’s lectures onto the pages. “You must write really fast. But thank you, Peter. I really appreciate it.”

Peter nodded before nervously gulping down the rest of his tea, not even noticing how hot the liquid still was as it nearly burned his throat.

“I should go now,” he started, looking around the room for his things. “I want you to get some rest, Y/N. Please.”

He had this look in his eyes that was so genuine—so full of care and concern—that it made you want to do whatever he asked you to.

“I’ll try,” you told him, awkwardly rubbing the top of your arm in the hopes that you could actually fall asleep after he left. “Have a nice day, Peter.”

“Bye, Y/N. I’ll stop by later,” he said, already halfway out the door. “For the notes, I mean! Uh, bye. Again. Okay. I’m going to go now.”

You giggled, giving him one last wave before he left. Like magic, the more you thought about how Peter was worried about you, the easier it was for you to drift off into a peaceful sleep, finally feeling at ease for the first time in weeks.

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You woke up later that day to Peter knocking on your door, this time standing next to some guy in a brightly colored Hawaiian shirt.

“Hi, Y/N,” Peter greeted you. You looked a lot less tired than when he saw you this morning, which relieved him. “This is my roommate, Ned. He just wanted to know who I’ve been hanging out with, so I hope it’s okay that I brought him here to prove you’re real and not a figment of my imagination.”

Ned leaned closer to you, your hair still a little messy from your nap. “Blink twice if he’s paying you,” he whispered, causing you to giggle. Peter looked on nervously, unsure of what his best friend had just said to you.

“What did you say!?” he asked, lightly pushing Ned on the arm, knowing that it was probably something meant to embarrass him.

“Ow! Okay, now I’m really not telling you,” Ned replied, rubbing the spot where Peter had just hit him.

“Y/N, what did Ned say to you?” He turned to you, a worried look on his face as you and Ned held back your laughter. Peter’s face turned as red as a tomato, making you instantly feel a little bit bad.

“It was nothing, Peter. Really,” you said, pulling him into the room with you. “It was nice to meet you, Ned. I’ll make sure he’s back before curfew.”

Ned laughed, offering a quick thumbs up and mouthing “I like her” to Peter before you shut the door on him.

“I knew that was a mistake,” Peter sighed, his back against the door. You were still a bit giddy from the exchange, giggling softly as he slowed his breathing.

“You don’t need to be embarrassed around me,” you reassured him. “We’re friends, right?”

“Yeah, of course. It’s just that…”

“What?” You could barely hear him as his voice trailed off.

“Well, uh, not all of my friends are, you know…”

“Spit it out, Peter,” you said, leaning closer so that you could hear him better.

“They’re not as pretty as you,” he muttered, making you blush at his words. Did he really think you were pretty?

“Oh. Thanks,” you smiled, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. Peter lifted his head up, relieved that you didn’t think he was a creep or something.

“Your notebook’s on my desk,” you continued, stepping back a little to give him some space. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding as the distance between you and him grew. “I just took a bunch of pictures, so I can look at them on my computer whenever.”

“Alright, awesome,” he said, walking over to collect it before turning back to you. “How’d you sleep?”

“Pretty well, actually. The best I’ve slept in a while. I think you’re some kind of good luck charm.”

“Really?” he asked, a little surprised that he had been helpful.

“Really. You know, I’ve been thinking…”

“Yeah?”

“Maybe it’d be nice if we hung out somewhere that wasn’t my room all the time,” you said, a hopeful look in your eyes. “If you want.”

Peter had never noticed it before, but the two of you really did spend most of your time together in your room. It really was a nice room, but it made sense that you’d want to get out of it every once and a while.

“I’d like that. What did you have in mind?” Play it cool, Parker, he told himself. You can freak out with Ned later.

“How about ice cream on Friday?” you suggested, which came as a bit of a surprise to him.

“In the middle of winter?” As far as Peter could remember, you were always cold.

“Yeah. I really love ice cream,” you added, smiling up at him.

“Okay, then. Ice cream it is,” he agreed. There was absolutely no way he could ever say no to you when you looked at him like that.

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

“May! No, it’s not a date. She’s just a friend. Yeah, I got it. Open the door, pay for her, don’t be an idiot!” Peter sighed into his phone, hoping his aunt’s unwarranted crash course on first dates would be over soon. “Yes, I’m wearing the green sweater. Thanks, love you. Bye!”

“I have no idea who told her I had a date tonight,” he groaned, slumping down onto the couch next to his best friend.

“I texted her,” Ned replied nonchalantly, not even looking away from whatever video game he was playing. “Knew you’d need some kind of pointers. Y/N is way out of your league.”

“Hey!” Was he right? Yes. Did Peter need to be reminded of it right before his not-a-date date with you? Definitely not.

“Come on, you know I’m right. It’s Liz Allan all over again. I have no idea how you keep pulling all of these pretty girls, but hey, credit where credit is due.”

“You’re so mean.”

“I keep it real and you love it. Good luck, man.”

“Bye,” Peter grumbled, slipping on his coat and walking out of their room. Four flights of stairs later, he was at your door.

“Hi!” you squeaked, wrapping your arms around him. This was the first time the two of you had ever hugged and Peter was not going to forget about it anytime soon. “Come in. I have a surprise for you!”

“Here,” you continued, holding out a blue and white beanie for him. “I made it for you. To match all those blue sweaters you wear all the time.” Except this time, he was wearing a forest green one, which brought out the slight hazel tinge in his eyes.

“You made this for me?” he asked, eyeing the different stitches you had used and fiddling with the pom-pom on top. It looked store-bought.

“Well, yeah, silly. I just said that,” you replied, hoping that he liked it. With all the time you didn’t sleep, you were knitting anyway, but this was a special present for him. “Try it on.”

“I didn’t get you anything,” he sighed, pulling the hat onto his head. He looked really cute, the ends of his wavy hair peeking out from underneath the brim.

“Don’t worry about it,” you said, pulling him out of your room and towards the front of the dorm building. “Getting to hang out with you is good enough for me.”

“Where’d you learn how to knit?” Peter questioned, walking alongside you on the snow-lined sidewalks. With how cold it was, and considering he didn’t have a hood on his coat, it seemed like perfect timing that you had given him a hat.

“My grandma taught me,” you shared, taking in the twinkling of the streetlamps and how they bounced against the snow. In New York, that was practically the closest you could get to stargazing. “My, uh, grandparents actually raised me.”

“Oh. I was raised by my aunt and uncle,” Peter confided. It made you feel not so alone to find out that he didn’t grow up with his parents either, even though you knew firsthand just how hard it was.

“Do they live around here?” you asked, stealing glances at him and how rosy his cheeks were in the cold air.

“Yeah, my aunt lives in Queens,” he told you, staring at his feet to both avoid eye contact and make sure neither of you accidentally slipped. Not that he wouldn’t catch you, but he wanted to be safe. “My uncle actually passed away a couple of years ago.”

You stopped walking, immediately feeling a sense of regret. “I’m sorry, Peter. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“It’s okay, Y/N. There was no way for you to have known that,” Peter reassured you, his warm breath coming out in clouds, and he reached for your hand to run his thumb across your knuckles. He gently pulled you along, keeping you from dying of embarrassment in the middle of campus.

“What about you? Are you from around here?” he asked, hoping to break the silence and make you feel a little bit better.

“No, I just moved up here for college. I grew up in Texas but moved to North Carolina when I was 13, so I finished school down there,” you explained, Peter suddenly noticing a slight Southern twang to your voice. “I just really wanted to go to school in a big city and not next to a farm for once in my life.”

“That makes sense,” he laughed, wondering what it would be like to live somewhere else. “I’ve only ever lived in New York City.”

“Do you like it here?”

“I love it. Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else, to be honest.”

“Me either,” you sighed, squeezing his hand tighter as the two of you enjoyed your walk in the snow.

It seemed like forever before you reached the ice cream shop, but you didn’t mind. That just gave you and Peter more time to get to know each other better. Turns out you both competed in academic decathlons, although you were more of a math person and he preferred science.

“Okay, you’re wrong. Night at the Museum 2 is so much better than the first one. I mean that kiss between Ben Stiller and Amy Adams? The Jonas Brothers as little cherub angels? Name one thing from the original that tops that,” you ranted in between spoonfuls of peppermint ice cream.

“I just really like when the little cowboy and gladiator are driving that toy car around,” he reasoned, subtly admitting defeat.

“Don’t even get me started on why the second Shrek movie—”

You were interrupted by the sound of Peter’s phone ringing, and you immediately recognized his ringtone as the Coconut Mall theme from Mario Kart. He peered down at his phone screen, sighing and mouthing an apology to you as he accepted the call.

“Uh, hey, Mr. Stark. Did you need something?” Well, at least you knew he wasn’t lying about his internship at Stark Industries. “Toronto? Tonight? I’m kind of busy.”

There was a long pause as Peter mentally kicked himself for talking back to Tony, resulting in an earful about how being an Avenger should always be at the top of his priorities.

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry. I’ll be right over… but I need a favor. Could you send Happy to pick my friend up? Yeah, it’s the ice cream shop on 1st. Thank you so much, Mr. Stark. Bye.” He frowned at you, and you could tell from what you had heard that he had to go.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. It’s just, something came up last minute and Mr. Stark really needs me to go on this business trip with him,” he apologized, pulling his coat on. “But, uh, he’s sending a car for you. So don’t worry about walking back alone, alright? I’m so sorry. I’ll make it up to you when I get back, okay? Bye!”

“Oh, okay. Bye!” you managed to call out before he was running out the doors and down the street. Lots of customers were staring as you awkwardly gathered your things and went to go wait on the sidewalk.

A few minutes later, a shiny black car had pulled up to the curb in front of you, a man rolling down the window.

“Miss Y/N? I’m Happy Hogan. Mr. Stark sent me to drive you home,” he called from the driver’s seat, before getting out to open your door for you. You stepped in, a little starstruck at how nice the car was. You had never been in anything this expensive before.

The two of you were sitting in silence until you finally got the courage to speak up.

“Mr. Hogan,” you started, causing him to turn down the smooth jazz that had been playing on the radio. “Do you know why Peter has to go to Toronto?”

“Yes,” he replied, glancing at you in the rearview mirror. “But I can’t tell you that.”

“Oh, okay,” you accepted, shifting to look out the window at all of the places in the city that you hadn’t yet gotten the chance to explore.

Eventually, he was dropping you off in front of your dorm, and you were trudging inside to your room to sulk about how your not-a-date date with Peter had gotten interrupted. You stared at your ceiling all night, wondering when the next time you’d see each other would be, and whether or not he’d come back with the same cuts and bruises as when you had first met.

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

Peter had been gone for six days and counting, and you were starting to worry that he might never come back. You had already started missing him the night he left, and now it was just some agonizing waiting game for him to return.

You must have spent hours in the basement kitchen before deciding to visit the fourth floor where Peter lived. You knocked on the door and was quickly met with Ned’s shocked expression.

“Uh, hi, Y/N. Peter’s not here right now. Did you need something?”

“I know,” you acknowledged, holding up the plate in your hand. “It’s just, well, I’ve been baking a lot and I didn’t really know who to give all of these cookies to, so I was wondering if you wanted any.”

“Oh, in that case, sign me up!” You watched as his face lit up as he noticed the assortment of chocolate chip, sugar, and snickerdoodle cookies all still warm from the oven. He offered his hands out to take the plate from you, which you happily relinquished.

“These are really good,” he complimented, his mouth full of a sugar cookie. “Can I keep the rest of them?”

“Yeah, of course,” you answered, doing your best to smile despite how much you wished it had been Peter opening the door. “I’ll see you around, Ned.”

“Hey, Y/N,” he called out to you, making you turn around on the stairwell. “Don’t worry. I’m sure Peter’s going to be back any day now.” You nodded, offering him a wave and walking back down to your room.

Turns out Ned had been right. The strange noises outside of your window were masked by how loud you were jamming out to We Didn’t Start the Fire by Billy Joel, jumping around and listing off the lyrics that had never made much sense to you. Peter knocked louder on the glass, startling you as you quickly switched off the music to investigate.

“Holy shit,” you whispered, squinting your eyes to make sure you weren’t hallucinating. “Spider-Man? Is that really you?”

You fumbled to push up your window, extremely confused as to why one of the Avengers was outside your bedroom this late at night.

“It’s me, Y/N,” he explained, his voice suddenly becoming extremely familiar. Your eyes widened as you realized who was behind the mask.

“Oh my god! PETER?” you screamed as he slipped through the window, pulling off his mask and clapping a hand over your mouth.

“Don’t freak out. It’s okay. It’s just me, okay?” he stammered in an attempt to get you to calm down before an RA heard. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I really wanted to tell you, but we were in public when I left, and I couldn’t risk it. And I didn’t want to text it or do it over the phone because it’s kind of a big deal, so I figured I’d just come to see you as soon as I got back and Mr. Stark said that you have to promise—”

“It’s okay, Peter,” you interrupted, wrapping your arms around him and burying your face into the very weird material of his spider-suit. “I won’t tell anybody.”

He softened under your touch, resting his head on top of yours. “I like your dance moves,” he whispered, making you glare up at him, your face suddenly very red.

“How long were you watching?” you groaned, dramatically throwing yourself onto your bean bag, your face covered by your hands.

“Only for about a minute,” he answered, pulling your hands down so you could see him grinning at you. “I especially liked how you used your hairbrush as a microphone. Plus, I thought we agreed to stop being embarrassed around each other?”

“Well, that was before I knew you were freaking Spider-Man!”

“Okay, fair enough,” he agreed, nudging you to scoot over and make room for him.

“So, that’s what that whole Toronto thing was?” you asked as he sat next to you, your knee touching his.

“Yep. There was this thing about aliens and these guys that could shapeshift. It’s a lot to explain.”

“Are you going to keep that thing on all night?” you asked, gesturing at his outfit, which was very tight and very distracting from whatever alien story he had to tell.

“Oh. Yeah, I guess so,” he shrugged. “I don’t have anything on underneath it.”

“How scandalous,” you teased. “Not so family-friendly after all, huh, Spidey?”

“Oh, shut up,” he quipped, rolling his eyes as you let out a long yawn.

“Have you been sleeping much?” he continued, suddenly remembering the issue that had brought the two of you together in the first place.

“Of course not. I’ve been too busy worrying about my classes and, oh, just some idiot I know that abandoned me in the middle of an ice cream shop. Pretty sure he said he’d make that up to me, by the way.”

“Okay, okay. Message received. What would you like?” Please say a kiss. Please say a kiss. Please say a—

“Can I meet them? The Avengers, I mean. It’s not like anyone else really has a secret identity except for you.”

“Oh. I mean, I’d have to ask Mr. Stark and the rest of the team and see if they’re cool with it, but I’ll see what I can do.”

“Awesome! You’re the best,” you chimed, wrapping your arms around him and planting a kiss on his cheek.

It was then that Peter decided he would just never be able to wash that side of his face again, his heart nearly skipping a beat.

“Peter,” you said, breaking the silence he had left the two of you in. “I’m tired.”

“Me too,” he sighed. “I should head up to my room. Gotta make sure Ned knows I’m still alive.”

“Yeah, of course,” you agreed, standing up to see him out. “Aren’t you worried somebody will see you, though?”

“Y/N, it’s 4 a.m. I’m pretty sure that you and I are the only people on campus that are awake right now.”

“Oh, right. Still, be careful, okay?” you told him, slightly worried at his secret identity being found out by some college kid that just couldn’t stay off Twitter.

“Will do,” he said, smiling and giving you a little salute before leaving.

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

A few days later, before you could even greet him, Peter was already walking into your room. It was 10 p.m., a little earlier than when he usually came over, but by now you were used to him showing up at your door unannounced.

He was already wearing his pajamas, a t-shirt with a science pun and some flannel pants that he had invested in to avoid any more awkward moments between the two of you. You were dressed in leggings and a sweatshirt, the clothes you usually threw on after class just in case you fell asleep on accident. There had been more times where you had woken up sweaty with your jeans stuck to your legs than you were willing to admit.

“Okay, so I asked Mr. Stark about your request and he told me he doesn’t think now is a good time, but…” he grinned, holding out a giant cardboard box with some kind of minimalist home appliance on the front for you to look at.

“Am I supposed to know what that is?” you blinked back, trying to figure out what the hell you were staring at, considering that all of the text written on it was in a language you didn’t know how to read.

“It’s some fancy white noise machine from Japan. If I remember correctly, Mr. Stark said he made Pepper order it because I wouldn’t shut up about you, and it would be in everybody’s best interest if you got some sleep, so I could stop annoying him and the rest of the team.”

“Oh. That’s pretty thoughtful, I guess,” you said, gathering things off your floor to make space for it.

He set the box down on your rug and got to work opening it. Meanwhile, you were busy translating what exactly Tony Stark had so generously gifted to you.

“Peter, wait. This thing is like $300. Doesn’t he know that you can just look up whale noises on YouTube for free?”

“Yeah, but this one adjusts its volume based on the noises around it, has a light that simulates the sun rising, and has an alarm noise that’s supposed to support healthy cortisol levels.”

Peter peered up to see your arms crossed and brows furrowed, it suddenly becoming clear to him that the things he had just listed meant very little to you.

“Plus, he’s a literal billionaire, so I don’t think it was that big of a loss for him,” he added.

“Fine. Let’s just hope this thing works,” you sighed, watching as Peter leafed through the instruction manual before tossing it behind him. “It’s a little early to go to sleep, though.”

“Y/N, plenty of people go to sleep at 10. Not everybody is nocturnal like you.”

“I guess you have a point,” you agreed, kneeling down beside him as he fiddled with all the settings.

“I know,” he said with a smirk as you rested your chin on his shoulder to get a better look at what he was doing. “What time do you want to wake up? 7 a.m. would give us time to go get breakfast before class, but we could do 8 if you wanted to sleep in.”

“We?” you mused, liking the sound of that. “I guess that means you’re staying here tonight?”

“Well, yeah. I’m not letting you have all these overpriced rainforest noises to yourself.”

“Do 7. We can go get those blueberry muffins that you like,” you decided, standing up to get Peter’s makeshift bed on your bean bag ready. “Do you actually like sleeping on this thing, or were you just trying to be polite the first time I asked?”

“Dude, that thing is awesome. It’s like I’m on this little cuddly cloud, and then you add all those warm blankets and the twinkly lights and it’s the perfect recipe for me to fall asleep.”

“Wow,” you nodded, looking around your room to see all of the things that Peter was talking about. “I wish it worked that way for me.”

“Maybe it will, tonight.”

It didn’t. You were tossing and turning for nearly an hour to the agonizing sounds of birds cawing and the occasional monkey chatter, all set against the backdrop of a heavy thunderstorm. To be honest, it was something that would’ve given you nightmares when you were little.

“Y/N?” Peter whispered from the floor. “Are you sleeping?”

“No.”

“Me neither.”

“Could you turn that thing off? It’s really distracting me.”

“Yeah, of course,” he said, leaning over to switch the noise machine off. “Can I ask you something?”

“You can ask me anything.”

He hesitated, not really sure if he should ask the question that he had been thinking about for a while now. “How old were you when your parents died?”

You had to think for a moment, not really sure about the answer. For as long as you could remember, you just lived with your grandparents. “Um, well my mom left when I was a baby. And I think my dad passed away when I was four.”

“Oh,” Peter mumbled. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to have a parent leave you, but he didn’t want to pry just in case it was a sensitive topic. “Are your grandparents from your mom or dad’s side?”

You rolled over to rest your head on the edge of your bed so that you could see him better. He looked so cute bundled up in all of your blankets, his hair already a bit messy. “They’re my mom’s parents. It’s weird. I see a lot of pictures of her from when she was growing up, and I look so much like her, but she’s basically a stranger to me.”

Peter opened his mouth to say something else, but there was a long pause and he decided not to.

“What about you? How old were you when your parents passed away?”

“Five or six. They met while working at the C.I.A. together, but most of my memories are from the stories my aunt and uncle told me when I was growing up.”

For a moment, neither of you could find the right words to say to each other.

“Peter,” you spoke up, interrupting his thoughts. “I’m really glad I met you.”

“I’m really glad I met you too.”

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

Peter’s next plan of action involved even more advice from his fellow Avengers, and you were not looking forward to trying out any of their suggestions.

“Okay, so, Steve—I mean Captain America—said that when he was little, you know, in the 1940s, all he had to do was drink a glass of warm milk before bed.”

“I’m lactose intolerant,” you groaned, crossing your arms.

“I just saw you eat an entire pint of Ben and Jerry’s in one sitting the other day.”

“Regular milk has almost 15 times more lactose than ice cream. You’d think a science nerd like you would know that.”

“I’m a geek,” he scoffed, clearly a little bit offended. “Not a nerd.”

“Yeah, I can see that now. It’s okay, though. At least you’re pretty,” you said, pinching his cheek.

“Just try it,” he grumbled, handing you the warm glass and waiting impatiently for you to take a sip. If anything, the milk did a better job at keeping you up that night than putting you to sleep. Not even thirty minutes after you had gone to bed, you were feeling sick to your stomach.

“I hate milk,” you gagged, Peter holding your hair back as you kneeled over the toilet bowl. “My grandpa could never get me to drink it as a kid.”

“Is that why you’re so short?” he laughed, helping you up. You glared at him as you moved to the sink to wash the acidic taste out of your mouth.

“Shut up, Parker,” you quipped, tired and grumpy from how terrible you felt. “Let’s just go back to sleep.”

“Alright, munchkin,” he smiled, pulling you out of the bathroom and back towards your bed.

Somehow, the warm milk wasn’t even the worst of Peter’s ideas, because a few days later, he was standing at your door with a bottle of some Asgardian sleep aid from the lightning god himself.

“Are you sure this is safe for me to drink?” you asked, your eyes widening as you stared at the silvery liquid that was almost shimmering.

“Uh, I’m about 87% confident you’ll live,” he said, “But I’m 100% sure that it’ll work.”

“Gee, thanks. Now I really want to drink this weird alien potion,” you sighed, looking at him nervously.

“Just drink a little bit and see if you feel anything,” Peter encouraged, leaning over your shoulder. You nodded, hesitantly bringing the drink up to your lips to take a sip.

“This stuff tastes amazing,” you mused, taking a bigger gulp this time. “Like a blue raspberry slushie.”

“Whoa, that’s enough,” he warned, taking the bottle from your hands before you could drink any more of it. “We don’t want you to go into a coma.”

“I don’t feel anything,” you shrugged, frowning back at him. “Maybe I should—”

You stopped mid-sentence to let out a loud yawn, the potion starting to take effect. Peter caught you as you slumped down in your chair, helping you into bed.

“Okay. I definitely feel it now,” you admitted, already half asleep. Peter tucked you under your blankets, placing a kiss on your forehead as your eyes fluttered shut.

“Sweet dreams, Y/N,” he whispered, turning off your lights and softly closing the door behind him.

For a moment, Peter had thought he had finally found a solution to your insomnia. At least before you slept through class the next morning. And then the day after that. But it wasn’t until the third day that he really started to freak out.

“Where’s Thor!?” he panted, having run all the way from his class over to the Avengers Tower. Wanda and Vision stared back at him from the kitchen, very confused at what he was so panicked about.

“He’s in his room,” Bucky called from the couch, his mouth full of popcorn as 13 Going on 30 played on the big screen. “What’s going on, kid?”

“No time to explain. Gotta go!” Peter called, sprinting up the stairs towards Thor’s room. He knocked frantically until the door finally swung open.

“Greetings, young Spiderling. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Thor smiled, his long, golden hair shiny as ever.

“I think I killed my almost-girlfriend!” Peter blurted out, practically sweating from how stressed out he was. “She drank that stuff you gave me and she hasn’t woken up in three days now!”

Thor chuckled, patting Peter on the head. “Do not worry, my brother. I’m sure she will wake up given time. It was a very potent drink, after all. Calm yourself.”

“Okay,” he sighed, relieved to know that he hadn’t poisoned you to death. “Cool. Cool, cool, cool. She’s fine. Everything’s fine. Thanks, man. I’ll, uh, I’ll see you around.”

“Farewell, Peter. May we meet again soon,” he grinned before closing the door in Peter’s face.

On the way back down the stairs, Peter figured he’d give you a call and see if you were still sleeping.

“Hello?” you groaned, your throat dry from just waking up. “Peter, what the hell happened to me?”

“THANK GOD YOU’RE ALIVE!” Peter yelled into the phone, making you recoil from the volume of his excitement. “You’ve been asleep for three days, Y/N. I thought you were dead.”

“I am very much alive,” you laughed, slowly feeling the potion wearing off. “Where are you?”

“Uh. I may have run all the way to Midtown to ask Thor if I had killed you,” he admitted, feeling you roll your eyes through the screen. “I was worried, okay?”

“Now you know how I feel whenever you leave for a mission,” you countered, glad that Peter couldn’t see how much you were blushing. “Hurry up and get your butt back over here. I have the weirdest dream to tell you about.”

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

Even if you still weren’t getting a full eight hours of rest at night, it was obvious that all of Peter’s efforts had vastly improved your sleep schedule. Over the past few months, you had gone from staring at your ceiling all night to actually being able to stay asleep for small periods of time.

“Your eyelashes are so long,” you mused, playing with Peter’s hair. He was sitting in between your legs and How the Grinch Stole Christmas was playing on your TV.

“Really?” He tilted his head back to look at you, batting his eyelashes and making you giggle.

“Yes. It’s not fair that boys get all of the pretty eyelashes,” you pouted, watching as the Grinch explained his plan to steal all of Whoville’s presents to his dog.

“I think yours are pretty,” he replied, a soft smile on his face. “But there’s a rogue one just hanging out on your face right now.”

“Can you get it?” you asked, your eyes still glued on the TV screen. Peter nodded, twisting around to gently brush the eyelash from your cheek.

“Do you want to make a wish?” he laughed, holding the little eyelash on the tip of his finger in front of you.

“Okay,” you agreed, squeezing your eyes shut and blowing it away. When you opened them, Peter’s face was only inches away from yours.

“What did you wish for?” His gaze shifted downwards to look at your lips for a split second, before returning to look into your eyes.

“I can’t tell you, dummy. Then it won’t come true.” You weren’t about to tell your best friend that you wished for him to kiss you. At least not now, while the two of you were stuck in this really weird “not dating, but more than just friends” limbo.

“Fine,” he frowned, crossing his arms and pouting in a way that you recognized had been mimicked after you.

“Don’t make fun of me,” you said, mirroring his stance. Your puppy dog eyes were definitely a lot more convincing than his.

“I’m not.”

“Uh-huh, sure. You smell really good, by the way. Well, your hoodie does. I could just wrap myself up in it and fall asleep.”

“How come you’ve never mentioned that before? You could’ve been out cold every night months ago!”

“Guess I was just too distracted by your dreamy face,” you teased, causing Peter to blush.

“Whatever. Seriously, though. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t know. I think it took me a while to realize how sleepy I got whenever you were really close to me,” you shrugged. “You’re not mad at me, right?”

“Of course not. But if I had known sooner I would’ve just given you one,” he said, slipping the hoodie over his head and handing it to you. “Here, put it on. You better fall asleep instantly or I’m calling bullshit.”

“You caught me, Peter. This was all some elaborate plan for me to steal one of your hoodies.”

“Just put it on. The suspense is killing me.”

You rolled your eyes and pulled his hoodie on. Just from looking at Peter and how slim he was, you never would have guessed that it would be this oversized on you.

“How do I look?” you asked, striking silly poses in front of him. Peter involuntarily licked his lips and he knew he’d be replaying this image of you in his head for the next few weeks.

“You’re going to have to keep that,” he stammered, doing his best to hide how much he really liked seeing you in his clothes. “It looks a lot better on you. I, um, have to go do my homework. And call my aunt. And walk my roommate.”

Peter stumbled to his feet, staring at his wristwatch to maintain his act that he was late for something before grabbing his things and heading out the door, making sure to hold his backpack in front of him. “Let me know if the hoodie thing works. Bye!”

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

Brushing off Peter’s strangely abrupt departure from last night, you nuzzled into your pillow, the warm morning light spilling through your curtains. Last night had probably been your best sleep in months, and you even got to wake up late since it was Saturday. Things probably couldn’t have gone any better.

Before you knew it, you were running up to Peter’s room and banging on his door. He opened the door on your fourth knock, right after Ned had chucked a pillow at him, and you were met with his sleepy eyes and messy hair.

“It worked!” you yelped in excitement, twirling around and still wearing his hoodie. “Well, kind of. I fell asleep after about an hour, and then I slept for maybe three after that. But I had to pee in the middle of the night, and when I got back into bed I couldn’t fall back asleep until 6 a.m.”

“That’s some good progress,” he yawned, stepping out into the hallway to keep your little celebration from bothering Ned too much. “If only we could get you to sleep the entire night.”

“I know right. But I’m so happy!” you cheered, wrapping your arms around him. “We finally did something right!”

“We need to celebrate!” you continued, grabbing Peter’s hand and dragging him down the stairs. “Come on. We’re making you a chocolate cake!”

You stopped by your room on the way to the kitchen, piling a bunch of ingredients into Peter’s arms from your mini-fridge and various shelves.

“Okay, eggs, flour, butter, sugar, chocolate. Damn it. We’re all out of milk.” You side-eyed him, remembering the whole Captain America induced fiasco from a couple weeks ago.

“I think we might have some in our room,” Peter laughed. “Ned drinks a lot of milk mixed with Milo powder. It’s some obsession he picked up when his family took a vacation to Australia. I’ll go get it.”

He set all of the ingredients you had given him on your desk and sprinted back up the stairs to raid Ned’s stash, already thinking of ways to apologize for it later.

A few minutes later he was knocking on your door, out of breath, and dressed to brave the many inches of snow that had fallen overnight.

“We didn’t have any milk,” he panted. “But I can run to the dining hall and get a few cartons.”

“I’ll go with you.” You quickly pulled on your snow boots and layered your puffer coat on top of Peter’s hoodie, wrapping a hand-knit scarf around your neck just to be safe. “All ready.”

Getting the milk was the easy part. Making sure you didn’t die of frostbite was another story. By the time you and Peter got back to your room, your nose was super red and you couldn’t feel your toes.

“Okay,” you said, your teeth chattering. “I thought I was used to the snow by now, but that was something else.” You dropped your coat on the ground and climbed into your bed, burying yourself under your comforter.

“I thought we were making a cake,” he laughed, walking over to see you peeking out of the pile.

“Cake will have to wait,” you whined, your voice slightly muffled by the blanket. “Come here. I need some of your body heat.”

“Okay,” he stuttered, kicking off his sneakers and climbing in beside you. He had sat on your bed a lot since the two of you met, but this was the first time that he was actually laying in it. You snuggled up to him, and he hesitantly wrapped his arms around you.

“This is nice,” you sighed, nuzzling your head into his chest. “Is this one of your superpowers? Spidey-warmth?” Peter let out a soft laugh. It was silly but true. Ever since the bite, he never really noticed how cold it was outside anymore.

“Y/N,” he whispered, tightening his grip around your waist. Your head was nestled underneath his chin, and he could smell the faint citrus scent of your shampoo. “I need to tell you something.”

“What is it, Pete?” you yawned, your eyelids heavy from how comfy Peter’s cuddles were.

“I love you.” He held his breath, nervously waiting for you to respond.

“I know,” you giggled, intertwining your legs. “Sometimes, you talk in your sleep. You’ve probably professed your love for me at least eight times by now.”

“Oh.” Peter had no idea how he was supposed to respond to that.

“Don’t worry. I love you, too,” you assured him, grinning and placing little kisses on his jawline. “I thought that was obvious.”

“Maybe you could make it a little more obvious,” he mumbled, his heartbeat getting quicker as you shifted up to kiss him on the lips, your hand running through his hair.

“I will,” you smiled, your forehead resting against his. “But after we take a nap, okay?”

“Okay,” Peter agreed, snuggling as close as he possibly could to you, never wanting to let go. In no time at all, he watched happily as you fell asleep in his arms, wondering how the two of you hadn’t thought of this sooner.

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

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forasecondtherewedwon · 3 years

Text

3 Simple Rules for Dating a Centenarian

Fandom: The Falcon and the Winter Soldier Pairing: Sam Wilson/Bucky Barnes Rating: T Word Count: 2374

Summary: After seeing Steve's shield handed over to some stranger, Sam calls up Bucky, certain he's the one person who can properly commiserate. He doesn't really expect Bucky to answer though (the guy's become a bit of a recluse), or to hear the hints that he might be missing Sam as much as Sam's been missing him. Not that he'd ever say it straight out.

Sam is almost completely still as the feelings rattle through him like a roller coaster’s last run on a derelict track. He only lets it out—the blend of frustration, betrayal, and regret—in the way his fingers squeeze his knee through his jeans, skin damp against the denim. Keeping his hands clasped, and watching those clasped hands, was more grounding, but he needs one of his hands to hold the phone to his ear, and that activity is getting pretty damn tired.

Bucky’s voicemail clicks on for the third time in a row.

“Bucky,” Sam says, “I know you prefer calls to texting, so what are you doing ignoring me, man? Haven’t used your cell in so long that you’ve forgotten how to hit the answer button? At least it rang. That’s something, I guess.”

He sighs away from the speaker where it won’t be recorded for Bucky to hear later. Maybe he did divert his message from the snarky sarcasm he was planning to leave the guy, but Bucky doesn’t need to hear him sigh on top of that.

For a few moments, Sam taps his foot along with the muffled music of his nephews’ video game coming through the closed door. He knows the boys’ routine (and if he ever forgets, he sees the copy Sarah has on the fridge door) and that this isn’t their usual scheduled time for whatever they’re playing out there. Best guess: Sarah wants them hogging the TV so she won’t be tempted to peek at that government-sanctioned shitshow. Sam can’t blame her. Actually, he wonders if she blames him. The disappointment was so clear in her eyes before he stopped making himself meet them. He thought he was doing the right thing when he handed the shield over. Are there people out there who think he’s let them down, or just his sister? Just himself?

He can’t talk to Sarah right now and he’s thankful that she’s giving him some time to himself, but as soon as he got it, he realized he didn’t know what to do with it. Just like that shield. Dialing Bucky over and over—tapping in every number every time because that appears to be part of this pity ritual he’s performing—seemed like the thing he should do. Probably won’t answer. That asshole is terrible at staying in touch. Still, Sam’s heart feels a little heavier with every word closer he gets to the end of this message. Feels like he’s trying to keep the thing afloat in his chest, like his parents’ boat down at the dock. This is what he knows he should do when everything in him wants to sink—reach out, talk to people. Kinda self-sabotage when he picks the one person almost guaranteed not to answer.

Oh, he’ll hear back from Bucky eventually, probably a handful of choppy texts sent in the middle of the night two weeks from now. Sam knows his pattern; Bucky’s chattiest between 3am and 4am, so chatty that what are likely intended as longer blocks of text arrive in broken fragments because he wants to make everything into neat paragraphs, like he’s writing a damn letter, instead of just getting to the point, but he hits send too soon. Sam would teach him—with plenty of mocking and name-calling, but he would teach him—only while he’s been running ops all over the planet, Bucky’s shrunk his own world way down. He’s gone local to the extreme and it aggravates Sam, even though Bucky isn’t his responsibility, isn’t his other inheritance from Steve. It’s sorta just easier to feel like Bucky is a misplaced bequest than to acknowledge that maybe he misses the guy and his sharp-shooter’s eye and his caveman hair. He can’t keep calling him.

“Thought I’d give you a heads-up,” Sam says, voice weary with this half-true excuse. “Maybe you already saw.” He clears his throat and says quickly, “Anyway, guess I’ll hear from you when I hear from you.”

He’s pulling the phone away from his head and has barely ended the call when it’s ringing in his hand. He answers and catches Bucky’s voice saying his name before it’s even back up to his ear.

“Bucky?” Sam says. “You have a senior’s moment and forget where you left your phone?”

“Nah,” Bucky says. “I saw it was you and decided to ignore it.”

“But you called back.”

“You wouldn’t quit calling. Seemed like you needed me to tell you directly to knock it off.”

“Jackass.” Sam’s gaze darts to the door, but it’s still shut. No chance Sarah saw him grinning over this easy banter. Always the banter with this idiot. Always easy. He sniffs and turns his chair away from the black TV screen. “Did you see that joker on the news?”

Bucky’s either less self-conscious or more inept because he sighs right into the mouthpiece, an exhausted breath in Sam’s ear that has his fingers fleetingly digging into his knee.

“Couldn’t believe that shit,” Bucky tells him in a rough voice. He’s clearly holding back his own feelings about today’s events and, from the sounds of it, they’re more along the lines of anger, hurt, and a simmering desire to wrench the shield from the arm of the new Captain America. “You know that thing’s supposed to be yours.”

“You saying I should’ve done something to stop it?” Sam demands.

“Coulda.”

Sam forces his shoulders to drop, draws a slow breath in and pushes it back out.

“It wasn’t mine anymore, if it ever was. I gave it to the Smithsonian. They sealed it in this glass case and added it to the exhibit.”

“Not a very tight seal.”

“Guess not,” Sam agrees.

“You shouldn’t have turned it over,” Bucky says. Sam’s silent, frowning, and Bucky goes on. “Forget about the shield being given to somebody else—it shouldn’t have even been in a glass case. Doesn’t belong there.”

“I do just fine without it,” Sam assures him. The practicalities of carrying that shield around are more straightforward to discuss than his yawning uncertainty in the face of Steve’s legacy and his place relative to it. “The shield would only get in the way of the wings.”

“You and those wings.”

“Hey, they carried me over Tunisia recently. Show some respect.”

“Didn’t hear about that,” Bucky says in a tone that’s difficult to interpret, though Sam squints thoughtfully as he listens.

“Yeah, well, I shouldn’t even be telling the likes of you, but it was discrete. As far as the major players are concerned, I was never there.”

“So it was illegal?”

Sam’s head tips back as he laughs hard.

“Why, you wanna turn me in?” he jokes. “Working on the government’s trust? What’s the next level up from a pardon? Knighthood?”

“You are such a pain in the ass,” Bucky groans, which really does make Sam smile.

“I’m sure it would’ve been illegal if you were there,” he says automatically. Too fast, his imagination fills it in, a fictional alternative materializing in his mind. Him and Bucky, cocky in reckless freefall. Him and Bucky, fighting back-to-back in a plummeting aircraft. Sam screening Bucky from enemy fire with his wings. Bucky deflecting a stray bullet with his arm before it could hit Sam.

“Nah, I can’t do that no more.”

“Uh huh. I’m sure you’re an angel.”

“Anybody get hurt?” Bucky asks.

Sam glances through the window at the blue sky, the truck rolling unhurriedly past with the driver’s arm hanging out to catch the sun. Beautiful day. He remembers a kick that sent a guy through the door of the plane, sucked out into the sky, another guy tossed aside who tried to fight him in midair, and a helicopter aflame as it went down. He shrugs and figures Bucky’ll hear the gesture in his voice.

“Nobody who didn’t know the risks.”

“Of going up against Captain America?” Bucky probes. Sam rolls his eyes.

“You know, that would almost be a compliment if you got my name right.”

“Don’t tell me you’re not using the name just to avoid compliments from me.”

“I honestly can’t say which one would feel more wrong,” Sam says, passing a hand over his head as he leans back in his chair, “calling myself Captain America or hearing a little overdue praise from you.”

“I’m not really a words guy. Ask my therapist.”

Sam sits with that for a second. He’s happy that Bucky’s talking to someone. He needs it, badly, after decades of violence and being belted into the passenger seat of his own brain. It’s more than Bucky’s ever admitted to him before, but Sam would bet—and bet big—that seeing some stranger named as Steve’s successor today has gotten to Bucky as much as it’s gotten to him. Something like that is bound to open Bucky up a little. He’s the only other person Sam can imagine the news having such a monumental impact on.

“You could try words,” he goads, not wanting to leave Bucky hanging more than a few seconds after his admission. “What else do you have if you don’t feel like being a human action figure?”

“I have my system. My rules.”

“Oh yeah? What rules?”

“Three of ’em,” Bucky informs him. “Nothing illegal. Nobody gets hurt. Making amends for the actions of the Winter Solider.”

“You don’t have to make amends for something you—”

“Don’t. It… helps.”

And who is Sam to question what’s helping Bucky? After the multiple-lifetimes’ worth of hell the guy’s been through?

“Good for you, man,” Sam offers softly.

“Save it, Sam.” The words are clipped but light. Sam grins.

“No words for me either? You more comfortable with me sticking to actions? How are we supposed to talk to each other when you don’t come to Tunisia with me?”

“Wasn’t invited,” Bucky quips back.

“You mighta been if you answered your phone more often. I’m not gonna send you the details to a covert operation in a text.”

“You wanted me in Tunisia?”

“You get shit done,” Sam acknowledges simply. You wanted me in Tunisia? echoes in his head. His heart’s bobbing like a buoy now. You wanted me in Tunisia? You wanted me?

“Not like that.”

“‘Not illegal,’” Sam repeats. “‘Nobody gets hurt. Making amends.’”

“Right. Can’t do any of that.”

“Well, I’m glad this regime’s working for you, but you have to admit it’s weird that I saw more of you when we were fighting alien hordes.”

“What can I say?” Bucky asks in a tone that seems to consciously flatten the charm out of it. “I’m old-fashioned now.”

Sam snorts.

“You were old-fashioned then.”

“I assume you had a team on the ground.”

“I had to,” Sam says over the sound of a squabble in the other room. Immediately, he can hear Sarah’s voice rising slightly above, breaking it up. Just like that, there’s the looping music of the video game again. She’s raised those boys well. “Couldn’t wait around for you.”

“I might show up if you asked me on better dates.”

“It wasn’t a date, it was a goddamn op.”

It’s startling to hear the sound of laughter. Not hearty, deep, rich, or loud, but definitely laughter. Bucky laughs? Sam backtracks a minute. Bucky makes jokes? About dating? About the two of them dating? Evidently, that is something he’s capable of, along with returning calls during daylight hours.

Sam shifts in his seat.

“You could come around sometime,” he suggests, nervously rubbing a hand up and down his thigh. “If you like fish and you’re ever in Louisiana.”

“I do like fish,” Bucky says. “I’ve been going to this sushi place a lot lately.”

It’s not his taste that surprises Sam—it’s the readiness with which he responds to the invitation. He would’ve sooner guessed that Bucky would tell him to shove it up his ass. In a joking way, but still.

“On dates?” Sam asks, telling himself he’s providing some good-natured hassling and that it has nothing to do with the odd feeling he got when Bucky’s joke about them dating caught up with him.

“One. Mostly, I go with Mr. Nakajima.”

“And that’s not a date?”

Sam laughs and wishes he could shut his own mouth as firmly as he’s (many times) told Bucky to shut his.

“I’m pretty sure he’s in his eighties, so he’s more age-appropriate for me than most people, but I murdered his son,” Bucky says grimly.

“Amends?” Sam guesses, adjusting his tone to cope with Bucky’s emotional switchback.

“I haven’t told him yet, but, yeah, I’m working on that.”

They’re both working on something, Sam thinks. Both confronting something that feels too big to tackle—the decision not to announce himself as the new Captain America, guilt for assassinations Bucky had no control over but which span the better part of a century. Sometimes it seems to Sam that they go up against the easiest situations as a team and face the hardest stuff alone. But he called Bucky, and Bucky called back.

“You could bring some of those amends down here and trade them for a snapper dinner,” Sam proposes, aiming for irritatingly cheerful to pull Bucky back out of the dark.

“What do I have to make amends to you for?”

“Being a dick. I’ll text you my sister’s address.”

Sam swiftly ends the call. There are two possible sources to which he can attribute the small surge of adrenaline he feels: hanging up on Bucky and the fact that he might’ve just asked him on a date. When Sam dialed, he knew it was because he didn’t want to do this alone, but he thought that meant watching the appointment of an upstart Captain America. Although he believed he could count on Bucky’s understanding today and for the near future, asking him down to have dinner with Sarah and the boys (or tricking him into it, since he didn’t exactly say it’d be a thing with the whole family) lengthens the timeline. Near future? Inviting Bucky to meet his family and see where he grew up means recognizing that he’ll be in his life a little longer. Alone? Sam might forget the meaning of the word.

#my writing #tfatws #tfatws spoilers #The Falcon and the Winter Soldier #Sam Wilson #Bucky Barnes #sambucky #Sam Wilson x Bucky Barnes

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simsadventures · 4 years

Text

Teach Me

Summary: Bucky might have been a confident ladies-man before the war, but now, he is just a shy boy in a body made of steel. All he needs is a nudge, and a few directions as to how to make a woman scream his name again. And Bucky is a fast student.

Warnings: fluff, shy!Bucky, smut, like… so much smut (MUST BE 18+ TO READ THIS STORY)

Pairing: Bucky x Female Reader

Word Count: 2829

A/N: This is a story for @this-kitten-is-smitten ’s writing challenge, my song prompt being Strangers like Me from Tarzan. I used the whole idea of the song and a few sentences of it, those will be in italics. Also, it ws supposed to be a drabble challenge and here we are, so… ups? Obviously I’m unable to write short things. #this-kitten-is-smitten-challenge

I know I incorporate a lot of books in my fics, and if it annoys some of you, please, let me know. It’s just… I’m and English Major and I have to read a shit-ton of books, and I’m trying to use it somewhere :D Here I used Native Son by Richard Wright xx

Anyway, hope you’ll enjoy it, and as always, tell me what you thought, feedback is gold :) xx

Bucky Barnes Masterlist __ Masterlist

Sitting in your room, trying to read Native Son to get your mind off of the last mission, which was all too close to comfort for you. Nobody got really hurt in Tokyo, just a few bruises here and there, but it was one of the more difficult missions, and so it stuck with you for a bit longer.

It also didn’t help that despite your relationship with Bucky was blooming, and everything seemed to have been going in the right direction, even after 5 months of a relationship, you two still hadn’t done it. Not that you were one of those people building a relationship on sex, not at all. But you were extremely attracted to Bucky, and you just wanted to explore things with him. Sooo many things.

But whenever you tried and talk about it with him, Bucky would always steer the conversation in another direction, suddenly being interested in what mission would come, or if you two would have dinner at this new Indian restaurant in the city. And after a few conversations like these, you just gave up on meek questions and letting him get away without actually answering you.

No, you would cut straight to the point, and you wouldn’t let him leave the room without actually talking things out. You would be ok if he told you he wasn’t ready for sex with you, you’d totally accept that. But you just needed to know where the two of you stood. If it had some kind of a future together, or if you two should just move on.

Bucky didn’t even know what awaited him. He came to your room, oblivious to the plan you had constructed in your mind, and he was just happy to spend some time with you. And when he came into the room, he still thought you two would have just a nice evening together. But oh boy, was he wrong.

You were in the middle of Superman vs Batman when you touched his biceps in a way he knew you weren’t just getting comfortable.

“Can I ask you something, Bucky? And this time, you will actually answer me?”

Even in the darkened room, you could see his Adam’s apple bob heavily, as if he was facing the worst kind of interrogation. You could feel him fidgeting under your fingers, his muscles tightening and loosening, as stress hit his body.

You didn’t want to make him feel that way. It wasn’t your intention, but you knew this was the only way to go about it.

“I know you don’t wanna talk about it, but just, please. One small conversation and we’ll both know what’s going on,” you looked at him, expectation written all over your face, and even though Bucky really didn’t want to delve into this, he couldn’t avoid the topic forever.

“Alright,” he barely whispered, and a relief spread through your body.

You sat up straighter and paused the movie, making Bucky repeat your movements so that the two of you could sit opposite of each other.

“I know you don’t wanna talk about it, and I’m gonna make it quick, Buck. I gotta know if you’re uncomfortable with the idea of sex as such, or if it’s me, or if-“

“It’s definitely not you, Y/N! I hate myself for making you feel that this had anything to do with you at all. No, baby! You’re perfect, just the way you are, and I’m a douche for not showing you. It’s just… This is something I’m not proud of, and that’s why I didn’t tell you anything.”

You nodded and took his right hand in both yours, squeezing it tightly and letting him know that it was a safe space, and he could tell you anything in the world. You two could get past it, you were sure of it.

He sighed and squeezed back, getting to the point.

“I’ve been with quite a few ladies back in a day, and just like any other man, I enjoyed it thoroughly. But ever since I was the Winter Soldier, I wasn’t with anyone, except few rare kisses or make-out sessions, and I’m just not sure if I got it anymore. I’m afraid I’d disappoint you, and I really don’t wanna do that. So I just chose to not do anything at all.”

He ended his little speech, staring at the blankets underneath you, not ready to see your expression.

But you wanted him to see it. You put two of your fingers underneath his chin, lifting it up gently so that your eyes could meet. And what he saw took his breath away.

There was no hate nor disappointment in your eyes, not at all. You were looking at him like he was someone important like you were in awe he was really sitting there in front of you, and the love you radiated made him feel dizzy.

“I could never be disappointed in you, love! Never! If anything, this makes me love you even more. I wanna explore with you, Bucky, I wanna show you so many things. Can you feel what I feel, right now?” You asked him, guiding his hand to your chest, where your heart was beating strongly.

“I wanna know, Y/N. Can you show me? Everything I’ve been missing, I wanna feel it all,” He whispered to your ear, biting your earlobe in the process. It made goosebumps erupt on your skin. You’ve been touch-deprived, and that was an understatement of the year.

“I will gladly be your guide, my love! But I think sex is like riding a bicycle, you can never really forget it. You just have to trust me.”

He didn’t give you an answer in words. Instead, he leaned in and captured your lips with his, revealing at the feeling of being so close to you. He kissed, just like that for a while, before he slipped his arm around your waist, squeezing your hip on the way.

It made you gasp into his mouth and gave him the perfect access to your mouth. You two made-out many times before, so he was fairly familiar with your mouth, and he knew his way around. There was still a certain amount of nerves from what was to come, but a determination was the more growing feeling in him. He wanted to make you feel good because you deserved it, for all those months he gave up on the intimacy between the two of you.

The hand resting on your hip travelled north underneath your shirt, lifting it up as it went, and Bucky could feel your warm skin underneath his fingertips, making him shudder in anticipation.

He ended up right under your bra, caressing the silky material in his hand, letting the feeling of the soft material travel right to his groin. It didn’t take much for Bucky after such a long wait, and he could feel himself growing hard.

Whenever he’d got to this point with you, feeling his cock growing stiff, he would push you away and go to his own room, either breathing it out in a cold shower or just jack off to the idea of you writhing underneath him.

But to finally have you there, even if no clothes had been shed yet, it was already better than his imagination. And he suddenly wanted to do so much more with you.

He swiftly pulled the shirt over your head, his eyes roaming the newly freed skin, and anticipation grew inside him. But as soon as his confidence rose, it also subsided, remembering that he didn’t have any practice in 70 years.

But fortunately, you saw right through him, and the second his grip on you loosened, you took over. Not that you were a sex-goddess, but you weren’t scared of little touching, and the horniness and determination combined to create a deadly mix.

You also freed him of the confines of his shirt, letting your hands explore his skin. You started on his neck, caressing it from both sides before you slid further down to his collarbones, which you swiped with your thumbs. Meanwhile, your mouth sucked on his pulse-point, making it really difficult for Bucky to think about anything, let alone his nerves.

While you pinched his nipples between your fingers, you licked his collarbone, earning a shudder from Bucky. Your hands were then splayed on his stomach, scratching it lightly with your fingers only so hard that you left the pinkish lines behind your fingernails. You mouth worked each of his nipples, biting it ever so slightly and making circles with your tongue around them.

By the time you reached his waistband, Bucky was a panting mess with his fists clenching around the sheets.

But before you could pull his pants and boxer-briefs down, Bucky grabbed your hips and threw you back on the bed, laying you down and rushing to lay himself on top of you.

“My turn,” Bucky mumbled to your ear, and while his left hand was grabbing your hip and squeezing it, his right hand was fighting the clasp of your bra, trying to get the damn thing off of you. And though he might have been rusty, he managed to do it reasonably quickly. What you didn’t know at the moment was that he didn’t unclasp the pins, but he tore them with his fingers. He would buy you a new bra, hell, he’d buy you a full Victoria Secret store if he could do this with you for the rest of his life.

He threw the bra somewhere behind him, not really caring where it landed, before he latched onto your breasts, sucking and licking like a madman. While his mouth was working on your left nipple, his hand was kneading your right breasts.

You never had anyone playing with your tits so passionately nor for so long, and so when he finally ceased his actions, you were ready to come. Your thighs were rubbing against each other, trying to relieve you in some way.

Bucky’s attack continued as he travelled further south licking stripes along your abdomen, circling your navel, and licking a line along the ridge of your pants. Before you even knew what was happening, you were completely bare in front of Bucky. His strength never ceased to amaze you.

Bucky stopped moving, just watching your naked form, splayed on top of the white sheets like a goddess. He could swear he has never seen anything sexier than you, there.

His head got in the way again, telling him that he forgot how to pleasure a woman with both his fingers and his tongue, and so he was just sitting there, staring at your welcoming pussy, not trusting himself to move.

You sensed his hesitation and took the first step.

You lifted your own hand, and hill one played with your nipple, the other went straight for the target, spreading your lips and gathering the slick on your fingers before you touched your clit and moaned out loud.

Bucky felt like he was in a wet dream. The very likely love of his life was touching herself in from of him, putting a show specifically for him. You had your eyes closed, your fingers moving on muscle memory. It was when you slipped a finger inside you, and your back arched that Bucky was finally able to move.

“Every gesture, every move that she makes, makes me feel like never before”, Bucky thought for himself as he finally gathered enough courage to pleasure you himself. He slipped from his seating position to lay on his stomach between your legs, and without as much as a word, he dived in.

You released a loud moan, unable to contain yourself anymore. It was all too much. Just being close to Bucky would always make your blood run faster, but this? This was from another world. He was playing with you, you could tell.

He tried to discover which moves made you sigh, which made your tremble and which made you scream his name. He combined sucking, tongue and finger fucking with clit sucking, and in no time, you were squeezing your thighs around his head, chanting his name like a prayer when you reached your climax.

Bucky almost licked you dry, revealing at the sudden power he had, never wanting to give it up. He loved the idea of making you feel this good, because when he looked up, you look thoroughly fucked, with your hair all over the pillow, your cheeks flushed red, and your lips slightly parted, breathing heavily from the intensity of your orgasm.

And Bucky was no longer afraid. His cock was aching in his pants, and when he finally pulled down his pants, it sprang right up against his abdomen. Bucky couldn’t even remember when was the last time he was this hard.

You watched him with hooded eyes, and when you tried to sit up to reciprocate the pleasure, he pushed one of your shoulders back, letting you know he wanted to lay still.

“I’ve waited too long, doll. There will be enough time for you to suck me off like the good girl you are, maybe in the second round, but right now, I need to be inside you. This pussy is calling for me,” he growled the last part and guided his cock between your folds.

He bumped into your clit with the head of his cock several times, which already had you gasping again.

“Are you gonna be my god girl and take my cock in this tight pussy?”

You stared at Bucky, and you weren’t sure when did your sweet, shy boyfriend turned into a dirty talking sex master, but you weren’t the one to complain.

You just nodded your head, and stretched your arms, bringing Bucky down to kiss him with all you had. His tongue was licking inside your mouth like it was the most natural thing for him to do, and you never wanted to leave that bed. You saw before you a new horizon.

Still kissing you, Bucky guided his cock inside you, and thanks to your slicked pussy, he could slide right in.

You gasped, holding onto him for dear life, and from the pants and gasps, you could tell Bucky was doing the same. He stilled inside you, trying to let you get used to his girth, but you didn’t want to wait any longer.

You moved your hips upwards, rutting your pelvis against his, creating friction needed for your clit, and it made your pussy squeeze Bucky inside you.

He moaned like a wounded animal and bit your shoulder before he started thrusting into you with all he had. He delivered short but powerfully strokes, bottoming out every time, and you were 100% sure you’d feel him inside you for days to come.

You were both covered in sweat in a few minutes, but neither of you cared. The only thing that mattered at the moment was to make each other come. And when Bucky put his thumb against your bundle of nerves, putting pressure against it while still hitting your deepest spots, you opened your mouth in a silent cry, raking your fingers down Bucky’s back, squeezing his cock inside you as your climax took over your body.

Bucky hissed at both the sensation of slight pain caused by your nails and by the way your pussy was trying to milk him off everything he had to offer. It took only a few more stuttered thrusts before he pushed deep inside you and came with the sexiest groan you’ve ever heard.

You could feel the warmth spreading through your pussy as his seed painted your walls and leaked out of you, with Bucky’s cock still pushed deep inside of you.

You were both panting messes, trying to gather your thoughts and will your muscles to move one last time that night.

Bucky pulled away from you, which cause you to white from the lack of contact between the two of you, but he only rolled on his back, bringing you with him.

You could feel his cum still oozing out of you, but you couldn’t care less at that moment.

“We’re never getting out of this bed,” Bucky mumbled against your hair, and you had to giggle at his exclamation.

“What if we’re hungry, huh?” You asked with a smirk, feeling Bucky’s chest rumble with a deep laugh.

“Give me a minute, and I’ll feed you, alright.”

You swatted his chest playfully and kissed his now puffy lips.

“You’re an idiot!”

He pulled you impossibly close to his body and whispered, “Yeah, I am. But I’m your idiot, and that means something.”

That sure did mean something. You smiled and let the exhaustion of your body take over your mind as well, the idea of having this breathtaking sex all the time now lulling you to sleep.

Bucky Taglist

@this-kitten-is-smitten @paradisiacalsparks @crazybutconfidentaf @owlyannah @lassini @s-trawberryv-eins @reniescarlett

Marvel Taglist

@voltage-my2dlove @kneel-begyourpardon @lumar014 @ptrs-prkrs

Forever Tag:

@eileenalone @sasbb23 @p8tn0lish @coffeebooksandfandom @waiting4inspiration @caswinchester2000 @mogaruke @justthatfangirloverthere @mushyjellybeans @livsheph @sebbbystaaan @notyourtypicalrose @itsunclebucky

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violetren · 3 years

Text

My first theory for volume 9 while the second half of volume 8 is fresh in my mind!

Volume 9 is gonna be the therapy season, but in the most traumatic you'll need different therapy afterwards kind of way. Instead of paying a therapist they're all just be bargaining with the universe like "yo I've had this trauma for a while, and I'm feeling pretty done with it. Here you take it back and uhhh I'll take a new guilt complex. Maybe a fear of falling? IDK, fuck me up bro."

The foreshadow-y Alice in Wonderland-esque fairy tale Oscar told to himself/Oz while in captivity is my guide post here.

Aaaand this is gonna get long so! 10 ideas of shit that's gonna go down next volume beneath the readmore, each one about 1-2 paragraphs each.

In the fairy tale the girl runs away from her problems into a new land, but because she never learned from her problems they just followed after her. Yeah? So first--second? First discounting the volume therapy theme theory.

FIRST BIG THEORY: The girl from the fairy tale was real, and she used the Spear of Creation. And like Weiss and the crew, she was fucking smart about her wording. She offered up materials that'd last even after someone else inevitably used the staff. IDK what materials she woulda used. Maybe there's a story about a missing continent we just haven't heard of yet? Maybe the Brother of Light's pool, since Salem seens to have claimed the Brother of Darkness's one but no sign of BoL's these days. Maybe there is a reason the land beyond Menagerie is so uninhabitable beyond desert + grimm? idk. Point is, it's a thing that happened, and since Ambrosius can't destroy/directly kill she's still in her wonderland. For themes sake I'm gonna call her Alice from here on out.

So Alice made a pocket dimension to flee from her problems from.

SECOND BIG THEORY: Her problems were relic related. She needed to hide em, and hide herself from Salem. Tbh I'm not sure how into this one I am. Maybe she had other shit going and some version of Oz was like "hey you don't want to be here, I have some property that I don't want to be here, lets make this happen!" THE POINT IS, the little pocket realities the relics are in, are aalllllll places in her pocket reality. When the team said "hey Ambrosius just make the middle ground into one of these type places" that's what he did, cause that's how he do. What better way to make sure it works like those places than to be kinda connected to em?

THIRD BIG THEORY: Ambrosius was buds with Alice once upon a time, but knew staying in her pocket world ultimately drove her crazy. He knew his middle ground worked like the pocket dimensions because it touched em or something, so he gave a vague ass warning not to fall, because he knew where they'd fall to.

Back to the fairy tale. It's implied Alice was never able to leave/give up her wonderland because she never learned from her mistakes.

FOURTH BIG THEORY VERSION 1: RWBY + Jaune can't figure their way back to reality until they adress a major personal issue and break out of whatever cycle it's got them in. This one I feel is shaky because they all have such different issues and are in very different places with each of them, trying to do one big arc on em would be too much of a mess. Plus it doesn't account for saving any of the many civilians that may have survived the fall.

FOURTH BIG THEORY VERSION 2: nobody can leave until Alice either leaves, dies, OR is convinced to let them go. As we're following good kind people this means we watch the kids try to give someone else therapy that THEY need. RWBY+J work through their shit through variations & combinations of witnessing mirrors of their struggles in Alice/other wonderland inhabitants, and just having time and space to slow down and breathe whether they want it or not.

FIFTH BIG THEORY: Alice is the "antagonist" of the underworld because she is the obstacle to overcome.

What about Neo you may be asking. Well I want her to let go of the revenge schtick, or at least redirect it back onto Cinder thus calling a truce with Ruby. However it's more than likely she's gonna be on team keep Alice as an obstacle at least as long as it takes to kill Ruby, and so Neo will be the "real" Antagonist™ within wonderland.

SIXTH BIG THEORY: Neo because of her unwavering determination to enact revenge is gonna die this volume. She'll be the comparison against which RWBY+J will be measured. As they grow and get closer to leaving she'll become more wrapped up with whatever strange classic wonderland logic this pocket universe has. Potentially depending on how things go with helping Alice, Neo may just end up trading spots with her, and end up trapped while everyone else goes back. But dead or trapped, I have a sad feeling this could be our last volume with Neo. My only hope of her surviving at this point is that she like Emerald switches sides, and in doing so joins Winter as a Cinder foil. While Neo grows and lets go of revenge and thus survives, Cinder stays dedicated to her own desires for revenge and other self serving instincts ringing her own death toll for either the end of the volume, or maybe somewhere in vol.10.

SEVENTH BIG THEORY: Ruby is gonna be grieving and maybe even getting full on angry about being expected to fix everything just because she's the optimistic one. She shouldn't have to deal with this brand and advanced level of childhood stealing just because she wanted to do what was right and won(lost) a genetic lottery for magic powers type anger. Jaune is going to have SO MUCH GUILT to work through, mostly the survivors kind. The bees will be experiencing couples therapy, they've both been pretty solid about individual growth leading up to this, Underworld will be them learning what it means to them to be partners now that they are so different to who they were. Weiss is different. Weiss is at first gonna feel like she's there just because it was a way to really shove all the other Schnee's into their therapy arcs and gave RBY+J neutral presence to rely on. Weiss is gonna go in the most stable of the bunch. But then, slow boil style, she'll start to realise how fucked up basically her whole life has been, especially upon realising that her "good years" with her new family have been spent getting sucked into being the last line of defense against the apocalypse, but will be too busy helping the others, so at the end of the volume when everyone else is actually doing pretty good and refreshed for the fight against Salem she'll only just be beginning her breakdown.

EIGHTH BIG THEORY: All this therapy shit is gonna be mirrored back on Remnant by the others grieving the percieved loss of the hearts of the team. Both sides of these story are gonna deal with some heavy shit, but the Remnant side is gonna be the depressed side, at least as long as it takes for Oz to tell them maybe the other's aren't dead leading to desperate attempts to get the staff OR the make desperate attempts to get the relics back anyways and inadvertently find out from Ambrosius what is up. But anyways. Winter is gonna be dealing with survivors guilt and the loss of both her little sisters (friends are great but Penny was little sister zoned and it's a hill I am prepared to die on. good sisterly relationships are friendships too). Nora is gonna be doing her self discovery thing. Ren is gonna be building on his end of vol.8 developments. Oscar will continue his grappling with the merge stuff. Qrow and Willow might get forced into AA. Whitely is gonna learn his own definition of being a Schnee instead of what his dad taught him.

NINTH BIG THEORY (OR FOURTH VERSION 3): The other way they get out is QORN obtain and use the staff to bring them home, potentially by trading enemy lives for them.

BONUS CONSPIRACY THEORY: QORN if presented with needing to trade for their loved ones & lost civilians have a lightbulb moment and decide hey why not trap Salem in a pocket universe since that is a thing Ambrosius can make? Like, if this bitch hasn't budged on her not learning to appreaciate life and humanity or whatever (which I'n pretty sure is the other way to break her curse instead of stopping remnant from turning) then she's a prime candidate for shoving into a personal reality that you can only escape if you can face your problems long enough to break the cycle they have you in. It'd be really fucked up but I think it might actually be possible to run the place using her as her own material component. Like kill her over and over and redistribute the energy to make the pocket world, but because god given power + Ambrosius can't actually destroy she just reforms anyways. MIght take a few hundred thousand deaths but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. Or use the BoD oasis/grimm pools to make a world that mirrored the one she chose to live in on Remnant really make it hard for her to break that cycle....

Anyways.

TENTH BIG THEORY: Working on the idea that the relics are actually hidden in secret protected pockets of the underworld RWBY+J are gonna have a secondary quest of trying to get the relics from this side, and either finding a new place to hide them ages away from their vault doors. If you wanna make it a FOURTH VERSION 4, they're specifically gonna seek out the sword of destruction (HOLY VORPAL BLADE ALLUSIONS BATMAN) either with the intent of cutting their way out underworld--ahem wonderland--or with the assumption that someone is inevitably gonna have to open the vault door, because that's just how things be these days and they'll be able to cross to Vacuo from there.

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destiniesfic · 3 years

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132 Hours, Chapter 6:

“So what does it say that they have no fear of extorting one of your brothers, but they’re reconsidering everything now that they know who my dad is?” I ask.

“I’d rather fistfight Dain than your dad,” Cardan says, with a snort.

Note: There is a content warning this chapter for discussion of past attempted sexual assault. The incident in question is not depicted.

Read chapter 6 on AO3, or read below:

The thing about the Valerian incident is that it was supposed to be the third-worst thing that had ever happened to me.

The first worst thing is, obviously, my parents dying, because that is always the first thing. It would have been bad enough if I wasn’t there for it but I was—buckled in the backseat with my sisters, walking away with only scratches, all of my broken parts invisible.

The second worst thing is finding out that Locke was playing Taryn and me off each other. You might think, well, that’s not as bad as the Valerian incident, except that Taryn knew what he was doing the whole time and continued to date him after. Suffice it to say, that sucked, and it continues to suck every day to look at my sister and remember she chose a boy over me. And I kissed Locke, too. He isn’t worth it.

Against those two things, Valerian seems like an obvious third-worst, which I’m sure would piss him off to no end if he knew. Except he haunted me in a way that the Locke thing didn’t, and in a way the accident that had killed my parents had stopped doing years ago. When we were still young, Taryn and I would clutch each other’s hands, white-knuckled, whenever we went driving in the rain, which thankfully wasn’t often. We would flinch at police sirens, watch ambulances drive by with dread. At least that faded when our other scars did not.

It doesn’t seem right that, even after Valerian was expelled, he lingered. But so what? So what if I grew clammy when I had to press through a clot of bodies in the middle of a crowded hallway? So what if I found myself looking out for a flash of blond hair disappearing around corners ahead of me? So what if I checked classrooms to make sure he wasn’t there, although of course he wasn’t, because that’s what being expelled means? That’s nobody’s business but mine. I was already vigilant all of the time, and even though extra vigilance just made for an exhausting final semester, I was fine. I was used to it.

It was so stupid. Because something had happened, but nothing had really happened. Valerian had gone and I was here. I won.

Didn’t I?

“Jude,” Cardan says from somewhere very far away, whispering for some reason. Then a little louder, “Jude.” And then, finally, “Duarte?”

I pick my head up. “What?” I snap.

Cardan jerks his head at the door, but doesn’t say anything. I sit forward. There are raised voices coming through from the other side, but I can’t make out what they’re saying. My own thoughts were loud enough that I had missed them.

So stupid.

“What are they talking about?” I ask Cardan, who has at least been listening longer.

He shakes his head. “Dunno. My best guess is your dad has them scared shitless.”

That’s my best guess, too. I look down and realize that my hands have been curled into fists this whole time. I force them open, looking at the little red crescents my nails imprinted on the meat of my palms. So Cardan doesn’t see them, I lean over my crossed legs, resting my elbows on my knees and my chin on my hands.

“So what does it say that they have no fear of extorting one of your brothers, but they’re reconsidering everything now that they know who my dad is?” I ask.

“I’d rather fistfight Dain than your dad,” Cardan says, with a snort.

“Not Balekin?”

Cardan shrugs one shoulder. “Anyway, I’m pretty sure this is Dain’s work now.”

“Why?”

“Because Balekin would have me killed outright.” I am surprised by how matter-of-factly he says it. “No theatrics, either. Probably make it look like an OD or something, then try to assert his claim over my share of the corporation. He was my guardian for years, probably thinks that gives him the right. And Dain would know that.”

I raise my eyebrows. Unlike Dain, I didn’t know that.

Cardan drums his fingers on his knee. “But Balekin doesn’t think he has to kill me, yet. I assume he thinks that because he raised me, when I do have the power to vote on company matters, I’ll do so in his interest. Or maybe he believes I can be persuaded to give my share up for the right price. That’s what happened with Rhyia.”

Rhyia’s the only one of Cardan’s siblings I know well. As Vivi’s best friend, they were always in and out of each other’s houses growing up. She’s laid back, poly, and has always been nice to me. I’ve met Cardan’s brothers a few times, too, since Madoc works with them, but they’re so much older than us that they’re basically in another world. The world of adults, which I will probably not get to join until college. “What did Rhyia do?”

“Rhyia has zero interest in the company. I mean, none. Dain bought her out.”

“And you do have interest in the family business?”

“Not so much.” Cardan gives me a tight smile. “But I would never, ever sell to Dain, and he knows that. My brothers have been vying for control of the company for years. I think this is Dain’s Hail Mary. He gets my share, he’s basically got half the family votes locked in.”

“Well, no wonder negotiations are taking so long. Balekin can’t like that.” I glance uneasily at the door. “Would you? Sell him your stake?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I’ll keep it just to be difficult.”

“Can’t really picture you in a board meeting,” I say, turning back to him. “In a suit and tie. Sitting through PowerPoint presentations on the stock market or… media buys in Australia or whatever.”

Cardan shudders. “No, thanks. I do look very dashing in a suit and tie, but I can leave the rest of it.”

I don’t exactly want to think about Cardan in a suit and tie. I don’t want to think about his brothers squabbling over the family fortune. I don’t want to think about our abductors arguing because of my dad. And the thing I don’t want to think about most keeps winding its way around my insides, curdling my stomach.

My parents. Then, Locke and Taryn. Then, Valerian.

I have to ask, or it’ll eat at me like acid.

“Why did you say that?” I whisper.

Cardan, who had apparently been lost in his own thoughts, looks back at me. “Say what?”

I sit up straight. I don’t want to slouch for this. I don’t want to be without armor. “What you said about me. About what happened with Valerian.”

“Oh. Yeah.” He grimaces. “I just didn’t really think it through.”

Any normal person—or maybe just any non-alpha person—might have apologized at the end of that statement, but because it’s Cardan I’m not holding my breath. Instead I look right at him and ask, “Why would you even bring it up?”

“Because…” Cardan sounds confused. “Because I was listing the things about you that I think are kind of badass and that’s one of them?”

Disbelief strikes me like a lightning bolt. “What?”

“Yeah, I mean, it’s not like the circumstances were great—”

“I had to physically fight off one of your erstwhile best friends so he wouldn’t rape me,” I say, very slowly, very clearly, “and you brought it up because you thought that was, what, cool? You thought that was cool of me?”

Going by the way the color drains from Cardan’s face, the way he swallows, it seems like he is beginning to realize how monumentally he has fucked up. “Well,” he says, “first of all, erstwhile, great SAT word—”

“Cardan,” I bark.

He shuts up. He did say he tended to joke when he was nervous, but I am not in the mood for jokes. I am struggling to keep control of my breath, my little flame, to keep from breathing fire and burning him to a crisp. Sure, maybe he was trying to make me sound scary so our kidnappers would be impressed, or something. But he could have left that out. Everyone moved past it. I moved past it. I am going to college and I will never have to think of it again, except that now I am, because he brought it up.

But before I can figure out how to chew him out for it, Cardan decides to keep talking again. “Jude, you’re, what, five-four?”

“Five,” I correct, out of habit.

“Okay. Valerian’s six-two. He has to weigh nearly twice what you do and he’s an alpha. That’s a fight you were built to lose and you didn’t.” I open my mouth, but he continues, “Yeah, I was impressed, okay? I would have been impressed with you just for trying in the face of, frankly, fucking terrible odds. And I guess I was also impressed with you for fighting because… I don’t.”

I stare at him. “You fight,” I say. “You fight people all the time. What about the time you punched that sophomore because he looked at you funny? What about when you put Eliza’s little brother in a locker and left him for half a day? We all knew that was you and your friends, even though he wouldn’t tell on you.”

“Okay—”

“What about the time we were on that field trip in eleventh grade and you guys pushed me and Taryn into the fountain in Madison Square Park because you thought I needed to wash off my stench?”

“That was like a year and a half ago,” he says, disdainfully, like I’m the one being gauche by rehashing it.

“It was winter,” I say, crossing my arms. “It was cold.”

Cardan closes his eyes and holds up one hand. “Fine, fine. I have… lashed out. I’m not proud of it. But that’s different from what you did. All those times you mentioned, I knew I would win.”

“It must be nice,” I snap. “Some of us don’t have that luxury. Some of us have our fights picked out for us the day we’re born, and we learn really early that there are no easy victories.”

“I do know what it’s like to lose, Duarte,” he insists. “Don’t talk about me like you know me. I know what it’s like to—feel small.”

I really doubt that, but I say, “Sure. Maybe you do. Maybe there’s a bigger, badder alpha somewhere up the food chain angling to turn you into dinner. But you know what? You’re still at the top and I am way the hell down, as far as society’s concerned. So I’m sorry I’m not so impressed with you for admiring me because I stood up for myself. Do you know why I had to do that?”

Cardan is silent for what feels like a full minute, and then says, “Because Valerian—”

“No, not because Valerian.” It feels so freeing to talk to him like this, knowing that he cannot do anything about it. It feels like yelling at him on the beach. I don’t know where I am going or if I will ever stop. “Why do you think he felt like he could do that? Why do you think he felt like he could do it at school—of all places—and get away with it? Because you made it okay to make me a target the day you first pushed me down in gym. Because every time you and your friends and the other shitty alphas sneered at us in the hall or tripped us or did worse, nobody did anything about it. Of course Valerian felt empowered to fuck with me, because I’m not worth anything, and you, personally, have made that exceptionally clear.”

There’s a prolonged stretch of quiet where all I hear is ringing in my ears. When Cardan speaks, his voice is low. “I don’t think you’re being fair.”

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, well, life isn’t fair. Obviously. Or did you not listen to any of what I just said? If life was fair, my parents would be alive. If life was fair, we would have never fucking met.”

Silence falls like an anvil pushed over the side of a cliff in an old cartoon, and I’m not sure whether I’m the roadrunner or the coyote. I feel the weight of it crushing my chest. I can’t look at Cardan’s face.

Luckily, we are not left alone long. The door is opened without a knock by the Roach, the Ghost standing close behind him. No guns this time, just the undeniable certainty that I am wounded and we are outnumbered.

“You guys want to wash up?” the Roach asks. “Stretch your legs. We’ve got food out here.”

I look at Cardan without thinking, then quickly look away. “Sure,” I say. “Can I use the shower?”

“If you’re quick about it.”

I nod and ease myself toward the edge of the mattress, bracing myself against the wall to stand. A searing pain shoots through my injured leg, both from the sprain and the now-aching gunshot wound, and I grimace. I see Cardan sit forward as if to help me, but something in my face makes him keep his distance.

“I can help,” the Ghost says softly, moving into the room.

“I don’t think so,” Cardan says. “You shot her.”

“Let him help,” I interject, just to piss Cardan off. “He can make it up to me.”

The Ghost crosses the room and wraps an arm under my shoulders so I can lean on him. I begin to make my way out of the room, favoring my left leg. The Roach looks past me, at Cardan, and says, “Come on, kid.”

“Why am I ‘kid?’” Cardan asks as he stands, clearly irritated. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him jerk his thumb at the Ghost. “How old is this guy?”

“Older than you.”

“Not much,” Cardan snorts.

“I have a young face,” says the Ghost. That may be true. He looks somewhere in his twenties, although where is anyone’s guess. It’s a handsome face, at least. Good bone structure. And I am pretty sure his stick-straight spine marks him as ex-military, even though his sandy hair is long enough to curl a little. I am disturbed that, even up close like this, I can’t scent him at all. Those must be some strong maskers.

Cardan grumbles something under his breath and follows us out of the room, sliding into one of the folding chairs. The Ghost helps me into the bathroom, but closes the door behind me so I can wash off in private. There’s no shampoo, so I reconfigure my abused elastic and make my hair sit in a bun on top of my head while I use the soap to wash off. On the whole I am not much better, but I do feel more grounded, a little less grimy. I towel off, put my two-day-old clothes back on, and wash my mouth out with water before limping out of the bathroom.

The Ghost helps me into another folding chair and props my injured leg up on the empty sliver of Cardan’s chair. Cardan nurses a can of Coke, but as soon as I am settled he sprints to the bathroom to have his turn. The Bomb, seated to my right, wordlessly offers me a choice between a Slim Jim and a protein bar. I pick the protein bar and tear open the wrapper, nibbling at it as the Ghost checks my bandages. I had tried to keep them out of the water, but wasn’t completely successful, and he ends up re-wrapping the one around the graze. I do not look down and try to make myself eat.

It’s one of the good protein bars, at least. Peanut butter-flavored and doesn’t totally taste like chemicals. I make a mental note to check out the brand when I get back home.

If.

Cardan comes out of the bathroom with a hand towel draped around his neck, catching the drips from his wet hair. “Rolling out the red carpet, are we?” he asks. “Snacks, bespoke medical care…”

The Ghost, finishing with my bandages, stands and skulks to the wall. He seems to prefer standing to sitting. The Roach slides into the empty chair across from mine. “Finish your Coke,” he says to Cardan. “We’ll talk.”

Cardan scowls, but he crosses to the chair and sits down. He bumps my foot a little by accident, but doesn’t look at me. “It’s funny how when it was just me you guys were concerned with we were stuck in the room for twenty-three hours with no snacks, that’s all.”

I don’t want to admit it, but he has a point. “It is funny,” I say, looking at the Roach, who I’m gathering is the nominal leader of the group. “What is it about my dad that has you guys so spooked?”

“Do you know what Madoc does?” the Bomb asks. Her voice is curious and holds no malice, no expectation that I should know already. It’s concerning.

“He’s a lawyer. A good one.”

“That’s not the half of it,” the Roach says. “He’s a fixer.”

Cardan snickers. “What, like on Scandal?”

“Oh, kid.” The Roach shakes his head. “You wouldn’t joke if you knew the shit he’s cleaned up for your brothers. Or your father, for that matter.”

“I know a little,” Cardan replies, surprising me. “My dad had a few lawsuits mysteriously go away. ‘Settled.’ And everyone knew what he was.”

“What was he?” I asked, my stomach sinking.

“He was an alpha,” Cardan says, but he talks to the Roach, not to me. “The old school kind. It’s how he ended up with six kids. My mom—my real mom, who was, by the way, an omega, although none of us are supposed to talk about it—sure got a payout in order to go away. I wonder if Madoc had anything to do with that.”

I put my protein bar on the table, feeling ill. “No,” I say. “No, Madoc wouldn’t do that. He lives by a code. I mean, he was married to an omega. One of the partners at his practice—”

“Sure, there are jobs he won’t take,” says the Ghost, from the far wall. His arms are folded across his chest. “I know of at least one. And this sort of thing obviously isn’t his style. But he knows how the world works.”

I shake my head.

“You said you got krav maga training,” he continues, in a striking non-sequitur. “What else?”

“I—there was—” But I falter. Boxing, practicing on the well-used punching bag in our basement. Weekends spent at the shooting range, not just learning how to aim and pull a trigger, but how to clean a gun, how to take it apart and put it back together. The weeks in the summer that would always be reserved for a sort of improvised boot camp upstate. The Swiss army knives, engraved with our names, so we’d never be caught unarmed.

“He knows how the world works,” the Ghost repeats. “Enough to protect you from it.”

“And if it’s any consolation, my mom got a good enough payout to fuck off somewhere warm,” Cardan says, finally looking at me. “If that was Madoc’s work, he did her a favor. It’s not like she wanted to stick around, anyway.”

I don’t know whether I want to tear off the heads of everyone in this room or disappear. I can do neither of those things. I steady my voice and say, “So you guys don’t want to get cleaned up, is that it?”

“I know of your dad. Know some of his associates.” The Roach gives me a tight smile that seems to strain some of his scars. “Personally, I’d rather remain off their radar. Our employer wasn’t forthcoming about who you were, Jude Duarte, even though they knew, and none of us is thrilled about that. The Ghost is sorry for shooting you, by the way.”

The Ghost frowns. “I expected her to stop when she heard the warning shot.”

Unfortunately for him, I kept running. I am always running, and I never know when to stop. But I just shrug.

“We can’t let you go just yet,” says the Bomb. “But we’ll try to keep you more comfortable. Honestly, we thought this would be a twenty-four hour babysitting job, just watching him. It was supposed to be.”

“You could have left me on the beach,” I say angrily.

The Bomb and the Roach look at each other. “We thought you might help ensure Cardan’s good behavior,” the Roach says. “A… miscalculation.”

“One of the more astounding fuck-ups of our career,” the Bomb adds. She grins at me. “Turns out you’re an instigator.”

“Frankly, we now need the money from this job to disappear,” says the Roach. “But again, we’re not going to hurt you unless you misbehave. You have our word on that.”

“For what it’s worth,” Cardan mutters.

“And with that ankle, you’re not going to be mobile for a while anyway.” The Roach nods at my leg. “We’ll keep it wrapped. Make sure you’re both comfortable. The storm should blow over soon and then it’s back to your charmed life. College, yachts, whatever. Sound good?”

Even though I don’t want to, I glance at Cardan. He catches my eye, the corners of his lips turned down. We can’t say what we’re thinking: the storm’s barely begun. Because if I wake up the next morning in that cell with him, we’re going to have bigger problems than a sprained ankle. And we still don’t know which of our captors might also be alphas, so it isn’t safe to tell them a goddamn thing.

“Sounds great,” I lie. Cardan gives a tight nod.

We’re screwed.

#jurdan #judecardan #jude x cardan #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #the cruel prince #the wicked king #the queen of nothing #the folk of the air #tfota #jurdan fanfic #mine: fic #fic: 132 hours

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annakie · 3 years

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Patchy

A little under two years ago I made this post, a chronicle of Patchy, the outside feral, turned inside kitty who took ten years to learn to love being petted.

Today we got some bad news.

TW for pet illness under the cut.

Patchy’s always been a bit of a puker, usually oh, say, once a month or so she’d have a good puke for no reason. I’ve had other cats that are pukers so it’s not that surprising.

In the late winter/early spring I started to notice more frequent pukes.

I’d decided around that time that I needed to find healthier food for my cats, with Leela, the oldest turning 16, Fry turning 11, Pemily turning 7 and Patchy turning, I don’t know, 12 or 13. No way to really know. They already got decent food, but I did my research and had started looking at Blue Buffalo, American Journey and Dave’s canned food.

Patchy had been on a mostly canned food diet since she went to the vet back in early 2020 and had a bunch of teeth pulled. Also, as a note, Patchy’s brief flirtation with hanging out in the rest of the house ended after like a month. She and Fry fought too much, and eventually he claimed the rest of the house is his. He also still thinks the master bedroom should be his, but, Patchy defends that territory well if anyone else encroaches. (The door just stays closed most of the time.) I really wish they could have all gotten along, I loved having Patchy out, but both Fry and Patchy agreed it wasn’t going to work.

The food she’d been on was pretty junk-food-ish though, which she did love and eat. But I wanted everyone on more or less the same diet and the highest quality food I could readily get them. So I bought a lot of cans of different kinds of food, and kept a list of which ones seemed to be hits and misses. (I still have a dozen cans of the kind nobody liked -- Blue Buffalo Wilderness Salmon -- I’ve been meaning to take to the city shelter).

Around halfway into this experiment I noticed Patchy puking more, so I decided to try to stick with her favorite kinds, which, I thought was helping.

But once I was fully vaccinated this year, it was time to get all the pets to the vet. I noticed Patchy had still lost some weight, I thought it was due to switching around her food too much earlier, and tried to stick with the things I felt she really liked.

Then, of course, Leela got sick, spent two and a half days in the pet ER and almost died back in April, and then it was like... yeah we’re done being afraid of COVID, we’re done waiting. It’s time to get them all their checkups.

My regular vet was doing COVID restrictions so no pet owners inside the clinic back then, so they took Patchy (and the others) in without me. I thought Patchy had lost some weight, but Dr. B. sounded alarmed when he called me with how much lost she’d lost in the last year, about five pounds. He wanted to do some bloodwork for Patchy, and I said of course go for it.

He called back, sounding much calmer and was like “her bloodwork couldn’t be more perfect. Let’s try switching up her food, get her on some sensitive stomach food and let’s see how she’s doing in a couple weeks.”

So two weeks later it did seem like she was doing better, I called Dr. B back and he said to bring her back in a month.

It was my plan to take her back next week when I had some PTO coming. I admit, later than planned... my last couple of months have been mucn more focused on Leela... who, thankfully, continues to thrive. But feeling like my time with her is running out, she’s been my main area of concern.

The last few days though, Patchy has really not been eating well. Sometimes she does OK, sometimes nothing at all. And then puking every day. I swapped her back even to a few cans of the Junk Food (Whiskas) I still had laying around. She’d eat it... and then puke it up. And also she... stopped sleeping with me. I thought... well, it’s summer. It’s probably too hot to cuddle. But she stopped laying on the bed. She stopped coming up for pets when I come to bed and hang out for awhile specifically to spend time with her and pet her. She runs under the bed again when I come into the room. It’s like we regressed to three or four years ago... just two weeks after our two year anniversary of getting to pet her.

So this afternoon we went to the vet. Getting her into the carrier sucked. I tried nice methods, then I had to scare her into the closet by running the vacuum, and then pretty roughly grab her. I have scratches and a pretty deep bite on my thumb which either maybe hit a nerve or is infected, may have to go to the doctor for it tomorrow. (Yes, washed it thoroughly with soap as soon as I could.) I also hated betraying her trust that badly, but it’s for her own good. But it was rough.

Dr B. wasn’t working so I saw one of the other vets. I liked him. Also COVID restrictions are gone so I got to go inside. But after talking to him for a few minutes, going over her history and what changes I’ve made, he spent a long time rubbing her intestines (Patchy was perfectly behaved, at least.) Then he looked concerned. Then he said let’s do an ultrasound.

A few minutes he came back in and showed me her scans.

Lymphoma.

I was a bit stunned for a second so I missed a bit of the technical speak he said next, but it came down to the best thing we could do is give her some medicine that may buy her more time. It doesn’t sound like Chemo or Operating is even really an option. I’m going to call back tomorrow and see if Dr. B or the vet I talked to can talk me through it a little better now that I’ve had a chance to digest.

If I can get Patchy to take the medicine, and if she responds well to it... she may have 3 - 6 months left.

If she won’t take it, or if she doesn’t respond, it’s at this point, a matter of her comfort and quality of life. So... weeks. And I’m worried about getting her to take the medicine, especially since she won’t even come let me pet her and we just had a huge trust betrayal today. I don’t know if I could take her spending her last few weeks hating me, especially if the medicine doesn’t work.

The vet also told me that... I didn’t do anything wrong. And we did the right thing six or so weeks ago by changing her food and seeing if a few other things worked. Especially with how good her blookwork looked. He barely felt the cancer today, he said six weeks ago Dr. B wouldn’t have been able to feel it at all. And for this particular type of lymphoma... there’s not a lot to be done, anyway. That made me feel better, at least.

(As a really dumb side note, after I got her home, I sat down to eat dinner and watch an episode of Star Trek to take my mind off of all of this since I’d been crying since I found out, paid my bill, and drove home, stopping at a drive through so I didn’t have the mental load of cooking. And I’m in the middle of my rewatch of Enterprise. I bet any trekkies reading this can guess what episode was next in my rewatch because yep I’m in season two and A NIGHT IN SICKBAY started playing, of course, so obviously I NOPED THE FUCK OUT OF THAT EPISODE. For the non-Trekkies.... the Captain has a dog on board, an adorable beagle, Porthos. The dog gets sick and almost dies and spends his night in Sickbay. He does pull through. But the ONE episode centered around a beloved pet getting sick and almost dying... and that’s the episode that fate decreed I was supposed to watch tonight. I did not. I don’t know if I can watch it anytime soon.)

So now for the next few weeks I will spend my time being grateful that Leela is alive and thriving and pray she keeps doing so -- I will continue to give her extra love and care and attention, and also I will need to do the same for Patchy. I can’t even do it at the same time because Patchy will not come out here, and will not allow Leela in her room.

I am low-key freaking out that there’s the possibility of the nightmare scenario happening to me again. In winter 2016, after months of being sick, I woke up on Christmas morning and my 16-year-old cat Jim had died overnight. It was terrible, and traumatic, and I had to deal with everything all alone because anyone who could support me was... well, it was Christmas morning and my family was all out of town, too. Posting about it on Tumblr... actually really helped me, since it’s the only place I felt like I could talk about it.

That Christmas was on a Sunday.

Wednesday morning I woke up to hearing my dog, Cebu, moaning in pain. I rushed him to the vet, but whatever happened overnight, it was too late, maybe there wasn’t anything we ever could have done even if I’d been awake when the puking started. The vet said the kindest thing we could do was put him to sleep. And we did.

Also I just, JUST now realized that the vet who helped put Cebu to sleep was the same vet who I saw today about Patchy.

But I lost two of my pets within 3 days of each other. I was very lucky that my job let us have the week between Christmas and New Years off that year. I had a few days to pull myself together, and I needed it. It took months to recover totally, though. Every once in awhile I think about that week and I still cry, though. I miss them both so much and they both had deaths that were less than ideal.

I remember thinking then “I have like, five years of reprive. Leela will be sixteen in five years, and that’s when I have to start to worry again, when I have to be ready to say goodbye again.”

I thought then that even after that I’d have two or three years until Patchy would leave me, and two or three years past that until Fry. And then five more years with Pemily.

Right now I’m realizing that I will likely lose Patchy, very best case in six months, but possibly before July is over.

I need Leela to keep thriving. I don’t know how I would handle losing another two so close together again.

Patchy is... she’s the one who chose me. I chose my other cats. Fry and Pemily I plucked from the backyard when they were tiny kittens and brought them inside. They didn’t have a choice. Leela I adopted from a rescue, she didn’t have a choice. Patchy chose to stay. She chose to stick around when she realized I’d feed her. It took years but she learned to trust, she chose to come inside when it was cold, when it was hot, when it was storming, and when she was pregnant. She chose me to help raise the last litter of kittens she’d ever had. (My entire Rescue Kitties tag is full of adventures in finding, raising and usually adopting out strays. Lots and lots of posts about Patchy and her final litter. Been awhile since I’ve done it, though.)

I used to joke that Patchy was my roommate, not a pet. She ate, drank, did her business, and kept to herself for a long time. Don’t get me wrong, she was a very good, quiet, considerate roommate and I loved her. But it wasn’t until that wonderful day she let me pet her that I felt like she was my pet.

I loved having her just hanging out living in the house since 2014, but the last two years especially have brought me such joy. I’ve tried to never take Patchy’s trust in me for granted. It was EARNED. Every small step forward was a milestone to be celebrated. I worked for every bit of trust and love Patchy has given me, and have been rewarded. And it was worth it. Every minute. Every long, patient year.

Even now I’m telling myself... without me, she would have died years ago. Probably violently, or starved, maybe frozen to death. Getting to die of cancer brought on by older age is not something that most feral cats ever get to do. Getting to become an inside kitty where she’s loved, and comfortable for the second half of her life was something remarkable, brought on by her wiles and will to survive for so many years, bolstered by the food I left out for her. She’s had this much time, this much life, this much comfort and love that she would have never had otherwise, and that’s something to be happy about.

I’ve watched dozens of ferals come and go through my neighborhood throughout the years. I feed them, I work on seeing if I can get them to trust me enough to let me TNR them, but even those that I have, I don’t keep seeing for much longer. There’s one right now, I jokingly call him Patchy’s Boyfriend. He still won’t trust me and never has fallen for the trap when I’ve tried. But he’s there most nights when I feed him around 11. He’s getting terribly thin despite the quality food I leave out. I’ll miss him.

But none of them were Patchy. None of them became what she is to me. None of them survived long enough to adapt and decide to live another life.

Also? I wouldn’t have Pemily without her. Pemily is literally Patchy’s Granddaughter and that is one more thing I love Patchy for.

I feel guilty sometimes, both because I don’t spend nearly enough waking hours with her I feel, but I have three others who need me, as well. One who’s time is growing short, as well. And they don’t get to sleep with me, she does. What a joy it was all winter when I would wake up and she’d be sleeping on my chest. I’d get a bit annoyed when she’d sleep with her backside to my face and her tail would tickle my face and wake me up. I’m a side-sleeper half the night and she hated that it was harder to get comfortable on me that way. She still doesn’t want to have my hand just stay on her, she wants pets and skirtches, no long-form touching. That’s ok. I sleep better with her weight on me.

I don’t know what the next few weeks or months will hold, but at least pet-wise, it’s going to be rough. I’m going to wrap this up and give these three out here a good pet, then go hope Patchy comes and asks for love, too. Tomorrow is one more day with all four of them, and for that, I’ll be grateful, for every remaining day.

#personal post tag thingy #my pets #pet illness tw #pet death tw

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nam-nam-joon · 4 years

Text

please hold me

Pairing: taehyung x reader; brief taehyung x jimin + jungkook x reader

Genre: angst, hurt + comfort

Wordcount: 13.4k

Warnings: there is a lot of hurt in this, but i promise there’s a happy ending

Summary: the soulmate system sucks, and when it strikes again - and you feel the bond snapping into place after making eyecontact with Kim Taehyung at the start of the winter semester - you do everything in your power to fight it. that includes lying about the seperation symptoms worsening for the both of you the longer you spend parted from him - no, you don't feel them. at all. but to help Taehyung with his, you agree to meet twice a month; at least until the bond goes away for him as well, since you definitely cannot feel anything on your side.it works out, in a way... until you can no longer ignore it

this was largely inspired by and based off @firebettercallnct ‘s “color of your shirt” which you can find here - you don’t need to have read it before reading this one, though.

The lock on the door whirred and you continued to look into the book open in your hands.

You knew who it was.

The bed was cold, safe for the spot on the comforter that you were lying on - had been for the past half an hour or so.

He never came on time.

That was a constant between you, at least. Something you could rely on.

From the corner of your eyes you could see him pause by the door, just briefly, before he got rid of his shoes, left them where he'd stepped out of them and then hung his jacket on one of the hooks next to yours.

It fell off two times before he gave up and dropped it on the armchair in the corner, next to the chunky, outdated TV on the little shelf.

He came around the double bed, standing with the window in his back.

"Is that a bible?" There was a humoured undertone swinging in his voice.

"Yup." You answered, turning a page before giving up the pretense of being engrossed in it. Taehyung didn't say anything. He remained in his spot until you closed the volume and put it back in the tiny drawer of the bedside table you'd taken it out of earlier.

The lamp on its top shook a bit as you forced the drawer shut.

The mattress dipped and groaned under Taehyung's weight. He hesitated until you had eased back again and your stomach was free of any obstacles.

He brought the scent of impending frost with him; that sweet, cold scent that you'd been able to smell on the breeze the entire week already even though you were still in the middle of autumn.

The fading daylight outside, thin and stale as it had been, was replaced with the orange glow of the lamp inside.

Taehyung's arm wrapped around your middle and his right leg came to rest over yours, while his chin bumped your collarbone.

He adjusted a little, his forehead touching the side of your throat. With every intake of air you could feel his breath, felt the bright blue strands tickling the skin from your ear to jaw.

He tightened his hold and buried his face deeper into your neck.

You counted four heartbeats until you let the breath you'd been holding out, slow and shakily.

You hoped he wouldn't notice. He probably wouldn't.

Every minute you spend in these rooms was three times in length compared to living it outside, without Taehyung wrapped around you.

Without anyone needing you.

You could see the clock over the door, could see the pointers tick forward.

After half an hour Taehyung's hands tensed, bunched the fabric of your thin longsleeve up.

He was as close as he could be - as you allowed him. You knew when his first tears fell, rolled down your skin and dampened the collar of your shirt.

Only when he dragged his breath in through his lips for the first time, after his nose had blocked, did you turn on your side.

He drew his arm back, folded them in front of his chest until even his hands seemed to vanish in the thick black hoodie he was wearing.

He choked on a sob as you closed your arms around him, softly nudged your leg between his.

His head was already nestled under your chin, it wasn't that much a stretch for you to turn your head until your cheek rested on the crown of his hair.

The back of his palms faced you, his elbows tugged in, all to prevent accidentally touching parts of you, but he still leaned into the touch. Grew weak under it until his fingers grabbed the front of your shirt, by the collar, twisted the wet fabric.

"I hate you," He brought out between the sobs shaking him, with his voice wobbling and his words strained. You stared at the windowsill, peeking out from underneath frilly blinds that did the absolute least to keep the world out.

It was good you were on the fifth floor, and nobody could peek inside.

"I hate you so. So fucking much."

His voice cracked.

"I know." You said quietly, allowing your eyes to close and to focus on the warm, shivering body between your arms. "I know."

Later he came out of the tiny ensuite bathroom, tips of his fringe wet but his face dried off.

His eyes met yours in a heartbeat and broke away just as quick.

He turned to retrieve his jacket, and moments before his back was to you, the light from the bathroom shone soft highlights on his features.

You could never tell him but he was beautiful like this.

With his eyes puffy and his lips swollen, his eyes that bit glassy from tears left unshed and his face a little flushed.

Raw and so beautiful, in an unperfect but so very human way.

But it was you who'd caused it, it was you who forced him to be like that, and you denied the thoughts about him, closed your eyes at his distress.

"Ready?"

Hand on the handle you turned your head, waited for him to come to the door. He flicked the light off in passing and then darkness enveloped you and you couldn't see anything anymore.

"Just- Just one more hug."

In the darkness you didn't know where he was, but his hands found your sides. They slipped underneath your jacket, one at least, under your jacket and around your back.

The other he tangled in your hair and tugged your head forward until he could put his cheek against the side of your head, and hold you close.

You stayed frozen to your spot.

"Please pretend to hug me back." Came his whisper, floating through the darkness.

You closed your eyes and lifted your arms, slung them around his ribs and snuggled a little deeper into his touch.

He smelled like dry cotton and warmth.

You wanted to take a deep breath, to bury your face into his chest fully and forget about the cruel world out there that you had such big part in, but you refrained.

Pulled back, even before he let go.

"Ready." You asked again.

"Yeah." He whispered, and it sounded exhausted.

"He's doing it again." Jimin mumbled, tip of his pen hovering over the paper as his attention was drifting from the lecture happening up front.

You paused taking notes.

A circle appeared on the skin of your inner arm, lines filling it out before five curved outlines depicted a flower's petals.

Under your gaze, another began to take shape.

The lines were blue, the same bright and rich colour Taehyung's hair had now. They had been yellow before, yellow like sunshine and Taehyung's soul and like the pain burning in your chest.

"Do you have a thick marker?" You asked Jimin, who hummed and began to rummage in his pencil case.

You let your eyes roam over the rows reaching up to the roof, the many heads and busied faces. Finally found Taehyung sitting almost all the way up in the lecture hall, off on the other side of the auditorium.

"Here." Your seat neighbour handed you one. "Sorry, tip-ex is the broadest I can offer today."

"S'fine." You mumbled, and uncapped it. It didn't really matter; in the end the word you scrawled in slightly blotchy white over the six flowers would appear in the colour of your soul on Taehyung's skin.

Your gaze flew up after the last line, pen still in your fingers.

Up in the rows, the blue head lifted, twitched before he found you and then it dropped back down.

The blue lines stayed, but didn't grow in numbers.

Jimin took his pen back, his deep brown eyes catching on the broad "STOP" you'd scrawled on your own skin.

He didn't comment.

You were partly relieved.

He didn't really have any right to, anyways; not with how he treated his own soulmate. But Jimin's mouth could sometimes run quicker than a river, you'd been victim of that often enough - but not today, it seemed.

You tugged the sleeve of the flannel down and hid the drawings.

A glance on your phone's display confirmed it was closing in on the end of the month, and with that knowledge another stolen glance at Jimin had you noticing the discoloured rings under his eyes, the nervous jiggling of his leg under the table.

He would meet up with his soulmate again this weekend, as at the beginning of every month, and thus the withdrawal symptoms were at their worst.

You swallowed anything you could've said in an attempt at trying to offer comfort and turned your head up front.

The dull pain in your temples persisted, reminding you the last time you'd had close contact with Taehyung had been a week ago already as well.

You sighed.

The room was empty when you unlocked the door with the keycard.

It was a different one from last time; there was no bed this time, just a big couch.

You left your outside clothes by the door and barely made it to the large piece of furniture before another throbbing pain had your left knee giving out.

Vision dotted black, you pulled yourself on the cushions, lowered your head carefully until it rested against the soft surface and you felt safe to let out the breath you'd been holding.

You still had at least fifteen minutes until Taehyung would get here, time enough to rest your eyes and recharge a bit.

You didn't want him to see you like this.

Squinting through barely open eyelids you tried deciphering the clock, sighed when you noted only five minutes had passed.

You had time.

The next time you opened your eyes it was to the beige, in the darkness slate grey, ceiling.

For a moment you wondered if Taehyung had just not showed today.

Then the lack of pain flooded your senses and you looked to your left.

Dark blue strands in the space above your shoulder, and his arm, skin ashen against the stark white of his t-shirt's sleeve.

You listened to his breathing.

It came even and calm, the soft exhale of air brushing the spot under your ear, and it seemed like he was asleep.

You closed your eyes again.

How long had it been?

The complete darkness of the sky and the yellowish city lights against the low hanging clouds promised the hour to be after five, but anything more specific slipped your mind.

You left hand twitched and you had to look down to check, but it really was resting on Taehyung's ribcage, right over the vulnerable spot usually hidden under his arm, revealed now that his appendix was lying across your middle.

Teeth found your bottom lip by themselves as you pressed your eyes shut, slowly took a deep breath, willed the sting from your eyes.

You didn't want to cry. Not here. Not now.

Your phone was out of reach, and so you had no way to tell how much time had passed since you'd woken, but in the silence of the room and Taehyung's unconsciousness you allowed yourself to remain as you were.

Safe in the darkness you focused on how it felt to be this close to him, to feel his every intake of air, even the slow pulse of his heartbeat from where your hand was.

How he radiated heat even with the temperature outside cold enough to have caused a thin layer of ice to encase the sidewalks this morning.

A lump grew in your throat again and you forcefully swallowed.

"Tae."

"Tae…!"

You shook him, hand held away from his back. He huffed.

"Taehyung."

"Am awake." He rumbled, voice like gravel. He propped himself up on his elbow, pinched the bridge of his nose with a free hand. "What."

You swallowed again, and the harsh reality of his displeased tone weakened the soft haze of the past moments.

"Do you know how late it is?"

He heaved out a sigh and fished his phone from the depths of his pants, brown eyes squinting against the unexpected brightness.

"Quarter past six. Still have almost an hour."

He flopped back down, but not to the side like you'd expected but fully on your chest.

The impact left you breathless as his weight pushed all air out momentarily.

He didn't say anything else.

You laid there, listening to him breathing, feeling his weight against you.

Neither of you said a word.

Not until the doors of the shabby elevator opened on ground level and both of you waited by the reception counter while two other guests were checking in.

The clerk behind the counter held up two keycards.

Taehyung linked his hands behind his back, looking off to the side.

"You're still not feeling anything?"

He didn't have to clarify what towards. You'd had this conversation before.

"No." You lied, voice monotone and face like stone, turned up front.

Taehyung glanced at his shoes and then up again, and the hissed "'course not." would have almost been lost on you.

It was a pinprick into the soft tissue between your heart and spine, nestled somewhere behind the lungs, where your soul lingered, but it was a predictable pain, one you'd come to embrace, almost.

A pinprick was quick and stung but you could rub at it for a while, whisper some words above it and then it stopped bleeding, closed over and ten minutes later you'd already forgotten it had been there in the first place.

It wasn't like the gaping wound that threatened to immobilize you whenever Taehyung laid down with you and made that soft whimper on a sigh that he couldn't control, when he reached out for just one more hug, or the sting you felt down into your legs whenever you were in the cafeteria and Jimin leaned on you when laughing uncontrollably, knowing it could be your soulmate.

Pinpricks were manageable. Bearable.

The guests left the lobby and you stepped up to the counter.

"Had a pleasant time?"

The person behind the computer looked up, smile as fake and plastic as the inscription on the counter.

"Sure." You answered. Taehyung put his card down and shoved his hands in his pockets, staring off to the side. "That'll be all, thank you."

A curt nod as the clerk scanned the cards.

Their eyes flickered up as the names popped up on the screen.

"Reservation for two in fourteen days time, remains?"

You glanced at Taehyung, but he was still

staring off to the side as he had been a minute before.

"Sure." You repeated, forcing your lips into a grotesque attempt at mirroring the smile on the clerk's face.

"Okay, I have you marked down. Have a pleasant evening, you two!"

"Thanks."

You turned and found Taehyung halfway to the door already.

It wasn't like you'd planned on doing it, you thought to yourself as Taehyung pushed the door open and glanced left and right before turning one way and hurrying out of sight. It wasn't like you were hungry, almost starving, and it wasn't like there was a burger grill with great vegetarian and even vegan options just a street away.

The brief thought, a tiny flame in the icy rain the day had held, of asking if he wanted to come with you today, maybe eat together, flickered out and not even a thin wisp of smoke remained.

You covered your face with the hood of your jacket and steered your feet towards where you knew the windows would be brightly lit and the air welcoming, and where it smelled good and you could get a burger with delicious fries and a strawberry mint lemonade. Or blackberry acai. Or maybe they had something new today.

It was irrational, trying to keep him on distance and thinking about inviting him for dinner.

You scrapped the thought and made a mental note to not think of anything like that anymore.

"You look tired."

It felt like society expected you to jump at the sudden voice speaking next to you, but if you had shown your surprise like that, you couldn't recall. Your insides briefly clenched at recognizing Taehyung's voice, and with your head filled with cotton you were at a loss at what to answer immediately.

You stared up at him, the books you'd meant to scan and bring back to the library right on time forgotten on the table in front of you.

He met your eyes briefly.

A red bandana was wrapped around his head, but it couldn't hide the obvious greasy strands of his hair or the spots pushing at the skin of his cheeks.

"Happens when you stay up too late."

You finally replied, blinking down on your own stack.

He was busy tagging his own load, but you could tell his action was a lot more lopsided than usual.

He swayed on the spot.

"Are you high?" You asked, pausing with one of the last books in hand.

"What." He tsked, frowning down as the scanner refused to read one of the barcodes, clicking the scan button several times. "No, of course not."

He tripped on thin air while standing, barely caught himself, just a step away from your now.

Apparently he'd been telling the truth - even this close you couldn't smell anything on him, neither weed nor alcohol.

"What's wrong with you then?" Your attention focused from him on the books in your hand, and the wish, the need in you to close the distance between you and him, to lean into his side and slide an arm around his middle flared in your soul.

You squinted against the mental image and the yearning pull it installed in your middle.

Taehyung's scanner beeped and he tapped on the screen, finalizing handing all his books back.

"I have an asshole soulmate."

He all but threw his books on the cart meant for everything coming back and then stalked away, veins springing up under his skin as he grabbed his jacket tight with one hand, the other holding his bag over his shoulder.

You were left staring at the spot he'd been in moments before, and his words shouldn't have stung like they did, but they burrowed needles of salt directly into the soft spot your exhausted mind had opened, the tiny fantasy of having what was considered normalcy between soulmates.

None of the heads that had turned at Taehyung's loud words and that had regarded his rash actions with disapproving glances were acknowledged by you as you kept your face down, getting the books done with.

The small interaction left you drained of energy.

December came around, and with it sporadic decorations that had been bought with the excess of the University's budget that had been left over two decades ago.

Not that anyone really cared, you supposed.

"Ah, can't you just feel the festive spirit in the air?"

Jin slung an arm around you and waved the other through the air.

At your passiveness he looked down on you, incredulous expression on his face.

"Hello?" He jostled your body in his grip. "Festive spirit, where you at?"

"Whoo, reindeer!" You mock-cheered, deadpan.

Jin's expression remained frozen for a few steps until the sheer ridiculousness had you cracking up. A softer, more genuine smile spread on his round cheeks.

"Yay, capitalism." You added, and with Jin laughing it was easier to let the invisible weight slip off your shoulders, allowing yourself to enjoy the moment.

"Honestly though, there's going to be a christmas village this year, and it'll only stay until the 24th-"

"What, here on campus?" You interrupted him, lacing your fingers through his.

"-No." He broke off, looking down on you. "In the city. As I was saying- It'll only be there until Christmas, and winter break starts two days before that, so we only have- We only have-"

"Twenty days left." Came Yoongi's drawl from Jin's other side.

The tallest among you three snapped his free hand's fingers.

"Exactly! We have to go! And I insist on you coming, too! Gods know you hole up in your space far too often, you need to get out and stretch your legs!"

"Fine." You squeezed his hand before letting go.

"I- What?" The tall male with his soft pink coat and matching hoodie stared at you. "You said yes? Just like that?"

"Yes." You smiled, feeling a slight spring in your step. "What, am I not allowed to?"

Jin turned his face to Yoongi, as if to make sure he wasn't being the victim of an elaborate prank, but the black haired guy only lifted his shoulders.

"-Well… Good! Great! How does the friday this week sound for you?"

You opened your calender app, watchful of the glum feeling in the back of your head.

"Can't, meeting up with Taehyung there… That day's off, sorry. What about..."

"Taehyung?" Jin echoed, and again his bright gaze turned to Yoongi.

"Their soulmate." The other clarified. Jin deflated.

"Ah."

"-But the saturday afterwards is free, or the friday the week after."

You smiled up at the taller guy, kicking the welling feelings away.

Encouraged by how in stride you seemed to take it, Jin's smile returned as well.

"Yeah! Next week sounds perfect." He clapped his hands under his chin, already listing off where he wanted to go and what kind of food he wanted to try.

You let his enthusiasm latch onto you and smiled alongside him, enjoying the weightless feeling it gave you.

The interaction with Jin had put you in such a good mood you'd been able to carry it along with you until friday, and even in the elevator up to the fifth floor the airy, light feeling wouldn't leave you.

The greater was your surprise to be greeted with the sight of Taehyung on the couch as you opened the door and stepped inside.

"Hi." You said, shrugging out of your jacket.

He looked back down on his phone and stayed quiet.

Feeling a bit ruffled, you sat down, stretching to put your phone on the small table to the side.

"Okay, how do you-"

"We can just sit with our back to each other." He interrupted, sliding forward until he could put his legs over the attached, extended footrest of the couch.

"Like-"

"Like, back to back." He said, and you turned to comply, although a bit confused.

It wasn't as uncomfortable as you'd have thought, settled against Taehyung's broad back, but it also didn't have any of the safety, the calmth that lying down usually brought with it.

You sat with your hands flattened between your legs, staring at the wall, trying to think of something to fill the silence that had never bothered you that much before.

Eventually you'd figured out a safe and general enough topic to be sure to not offend him but also not bore him, and took a breath.

"I'd just like to not talk, today." He mentioned, and you swallowed everything down.

The three hours felt longer, much longer than ever before.

The impersonal contact, with just your backs touching, left you feeling a little cold. At the same time you knew you were in no position to make requests, or even ask for a full hug.

And so you stayed as you were, following the patterns in the carpet with your eyes and mentally counting as high as you could until the time was up.

Down in the entrance hall he surprised you again by putting his card down and staying close to the counter.

"We won't be needing a room until the week between Christmas and New Year's, thank you."

You turned your head to stare up at him, question on the tip of your tongue.

"Of course." The person behind the computer nodded. It was a different one from last time.

"How does… friday the 28th sound? Just after Christmas ends and well before New Years?"

"Sounds good, yeah. Thank you."

"Are you sure? It's more than fourteen days until then, are you going to be-"

A glance from him had more words stuck in your throat.

The clerk looked from you to Taehyung.

"Of course…" Their voice came slow and a little unsure. "Anything else I can…?"

"No that's all, thanks."

Taehyung patted the counter and you had to hurry to catch up to him before he escaped the door and was gone from your grasp.

"Hey- Hey Tae, can you- Mind explaining that?" You caught the door where he'd let it swing back without holding it open for you. "I thought your symptoms-"

"They're not."

He whirled around, almost uncomfortably close. This Taehyung was so different from the one you usually knew.

This Taehyung was tall, with a broad chest, and looked down on you with an expression set in stone.

He was almost scaring you.

The pause stretched on. Other people hurried past you, their collars popped against the unforgiving weather and their steps fast to get out of the cold.

Without knowing why, tears welled up in your eyes.

It was probably the icy breeze smacking into your face.

The wish came up again, the strong want to take a step, just one step, forward; slip your arms under Taehyung's coat that he foolishly left open. Snuggle as close to him as you could.

For a moment the need became so strong you couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. Couldn't focus on anything except Taehyung's face, soft in the yellowish artificial light, with his eyes glinting and his lips tugging down.

God you lo-

You wanted-

The breath rattled in your lungs as you finally could draw one again.

Taehyung's eyebrows dipped down into a frown.

"I don't feel it as much anymore. Guess my bond is finally weakening…" He looked off to the side, hands in his pockets. "Was about time. After four months."

"You… It is?"

Fear dug its claws deep into your soft heart.

Taehyung nodded. It wasn't a trick of the light, he really did seem relieved.

"Yeah! So, that's why we don't have to meet up that much anymore. Just once a month should be fine, now."

He glanced up at the front of the third space hotel.

It was meant for Partners who wanted to take a pause from their Soulmates and the often loud and buzzing homes.

Only a few chose to date their soulmate instead of seeking an independent partner. There was no guarantee your partner's soulmate would date yours, so occasionally a family consisted of up to nine, twelve people living in a house, sharing everything.

Whoever wanted to get away for a few hours could rent a third space room here.

It had served well as a neutral meeting ground whenever Taehyung and you had needed to be close, to alleviate the stress separation caused him.

And you, even though you'd denied it from the beginning.

It felt like a part of you was shrivelling up as you looked at him now, faced with the proof your distancing had come to fruition.

He really was losing the bond. He would become detached. He would no longer be your soulmate. Not next week, and not next month, but maybe… Maybe next year.

Maybe, when the new term came around, he'd be there with a person at his arm, a bright and smiling one. One to mirror his soul. One he could smile at, and dote on, and celebrate milestones with.

It choked you.

"So… Guess I'll see you then." There was an uptilt in his voice that had nothing to do with the promise he'd made in his words.

One of his hands ruffled his hair, and then he turned and left you on the steps of the hotel.

You looked after him, sick to the stomach.

Instead of going to grab a bite, you headed home.

The pain reached from the crown of your head down your spine. From your hips down to your knees, from where it ebbed out in the direction of your shins.

You couldn't move without seeing black spots dotting your vision, but it couldn't be because of Taehyung, you'd seen him just yesterday, this couldn't be withdrawal symptoms.

Something else had to be really, really wrong.

You tried to sleep it off.

Sunday dawned and you were still in agony. It was less all consuming now, though.

You skipped class on monday.

On tuesday you managed to get to campus, sat through your lectures until lunch and then went home.

The pain settled as an ache along your back and had you moving carefully, not sit down too sudden or make movements too quickly.

Jimin noticed it on thursday, when you lowered yourself into your seat and put your head in your hand, the right one, to block the line of sight should Taehyung be somewhere up in the rows as usual.

You hadn't checked.

The headache didn't really allow for you to look that far.

"You saw him last week, right?" Jimin put a hand to your forehead and you sighed.

His fingers and palm were pleasantly cool.

"Yeah. It's something different, don't really know what. It's getting better though. Don't worry."

He took his hand back.

"If it is about him, you'll tell me, right?"

You nodded once, careful to not make the move too fast.

Apparently Jimin had told Yoongi about your state, and then Yoongi must have let Jin know, because when the two sat down at a table with Jimin and you at lunch, the loud oldest was significantly less loud and exuberant than usual.

He covered your hand and gave you a careful look. Yoongi slumped down in his chair and dug around in his bag before he procured a bright blue coolpack.

Jin took it from the black haired male and wrapped it in a bandana he pulled from his pocket, and then gently held it to your head.

"Better?" He asked, and you hummed.

"We can always postpone christmas village." He added.

You took the pack from him so he was free to eat his food.

"No, I'll be fine. You were looking forward to this so much, I wouldn't-"

"Ah-ah-ah! Your health comes first." He pointed his eating utensils at you.

You huffed.

"I am aware, Mr. Nurse, thank you. No but really, I'm feeling much better already. It's probably just a bad migraine or something. Fresh air will be good for me."

"Oh, okay. Well. Then…"

You didn't register the form of the person sat at the table just behind you, black hoodie pulled over the head, or that it had sat behind you in class all day already.

The village was fun.

You felt a lot better than last weekend, and seeing you enjoy yourself had the happiness bounce back from everyone else.

Yoongi and Jin had invited a bunch more people, some even younger than you.

There was a particularly rowdy and loud bunch among them, but over time your big group split up in three smaller clusters, until it was only familiar faces surrounding you while heading back to the the trainstation.

The chimney cake in your bare hands tasted delicious, with the nutella coating its inside.

Your tiny flat was calm and dark when you came back, and exhaustion washed over you after getting rid of your outside clothes.

It was the good kind of exhaustion though, the one that came after you'd enjoyed yourself or had done physical, rewarding work.

You slept easier that night, all but forgotten about the excruciating pain from before.

Winter break started and half of the campus went home for the holidays.

You video chatted with your family, to open gifts together on the evening of the 24th, and had a delicious festive take-out lunch on the 25th that you'd picked up the day before.

You hadn't seen Taehyung before class had ended, and even though he had your number he didn't text you either.

Not that he'd done that much - not after the first two weeks of finding out, not after you'd made clear you weren't feeling the same for him. Had feigned indifference.

Occasionally it came back to you, that he'd be gone soon. Soonish. You paused in whatever you were doing whenever that thought crossed your mind.

He really would be gone in a while.

And then after a minute or two you'd blink and forcefully shake your head and clear your thoughts and continue on.

It didn't matter. You'd wanted this all along, hadn't you. It was better this way.

You went to the hotel on the 28th and checked into the room.

Half an hour passed, and you made yourself comfortable on the bed.

Mindful of not accidentally overstaying the time you'd paid for, you set an alarm that would let you know ten minutes before the time was up.

You'd grown tired over the time not seeing Taehyung.

Every little thing cost twice, sometimes thrice as much energy as usual, and the headache was a constant, annoying buzz that wouldn't ease.

It cut your sight short at around ten meters in front of you, your eyes just not able to focus on anything beyond.

Your joints hurt and a searing pain shot up through your hip as you readjusted your position.

Taehyung would get here soon, and then it'd ease again.

With your head on one of the pillows you stared out into the muddy sky.

Your alarm rang ten minutes to seven.

Groggy, you rolled over to shut it off.

With a sigh you dropped your head back down.

It felt like your body was weighted down by a hundred bricks.

Only after shuffling a bit did you realize: Taehyung wasn't there.

You felt around the bed, movements erratic and fast, but the bedspread was smooth and undisturbed on the side you hadn't laid on.

You stumbled out of the room before you could burst into tears.

This was what you'd wanted. Him and you, independent.

No longer needing each other.

The clerk at front desk glanced around as you handed your keycard back.

"Didn't show today, huh."

"Yeah, no." You forced a hand through your to push it away from your face. "Think we're good to cancel the reservation at this point."

They nodded.

"Alright, then that's it. Hope you had a nice time with us! Make sure to stop by again if you ever need a third space."

You nodded in thanks and headed out of the door.

The change of years happened with bright sparklers going off and plastic flutes of champagne passed around Yoongi's flat while everyone was either busy watching the countdown on TV or kept their eyes peeled at the sky outside.

The clock hit twelve and the room erupted into cheers and not five minutes later you were in the bathroom cooling your face and covering your ears from the noise so intense it had you cowering on your knees.

An hour into the new year and you hadn't made it out of the bathroom yet, but Jimin was there now, sat across from you with his back against the cabinet under the sink.

"-I'm calling Taehyung. This is obviously-"

"No," You interjected, pressing the damp washcloth to your face and for now basking in the darkness it provided. "No, don't. He said, his bond- It's loosening. He's not as affected anymore, if I wait long enough I'll be fine, too."

"You can't even stand the level of noise in the room, how are you gonna handle the hallways on campus? The cafeteria at lunch? What comes next, after the sensitivity overloads. Muscle cramps? Joint problems?" He paused. "You have them already, don't you? The aches in the joints?"

"Jimin."

"No! This is torture! You're- He-"

"Jimin, please. Just let it go. Please."

He kept quiet, but his presence didn't feel reassuring anymore.

School was in session again and you began looking for Taehyung.

He hadn't said anything concerning a new date to meet after missing the last, and the messages you'd sent the weekend before class had began anew had been left unanswered.

His blue hair wasn't anywhere in the lecture halls with you, you couldn't spot him in the cafeteria either and none of the people who you knew who also knew him could tell you anything.

"It's Taehyung, he probably got lost doing one of his projects… Probably stayed up for like four days straight and is sleeping for a week now." One of the guys from his study group, Jungkook, told you.

"What kind of project?" You asked.

"Oh you know. His big canvases. Paintings, art…?" The boy shrugged, repeatedly looking over his shoulder. "Listen man, I gotta bounce. See ya alright!"

And he was off before you could get out another word.

Taehyung was interested in art?

Painting, even?

You lowered your eyes and slowly trekked towards the entrance hall.

Taehyung painted.

On big canvases.

You'd never known.

Before exiting, you grabbed your shades from within your bag.

It wasn't that bright outside but still enough to make your head hurt even more, so you plopped them on your nose and went ahead.

The entire trip home your thoughts circled around the tidbit of information Jungkook had revealed in passing.

So effortlessly, too.

You really did know nothing about your soulmate.

At the beginning of the second week of january you had to wear your shades indoors as well.

Your ears got so sensitive you had to resolve to plug headphones into them without playing music just so you could focus on the lectures, and no matter what you did, the fever didn't cease.

At the same time your hands were shivering, sometimes so bad you couldn't take notes at all.

Jimin suffered silently by your side.

In quiet moments you could see his thumbs hover over the keyboard in a chat that was bare of many words.

The contact name read "guk", but you didn't know who that was.

It always ended with Jimin pocketing his phone again and staring into empty space.

It was lunch time, but Jin didn't join you today.

"He's hatching his first perfect presentation of this month." Yoongi let you know with an eye roll before he miserably dug a plastic fork into his brownie.

You had to bend low over the bowl with soup just so you could get some of the liquid inside you before the tremor had it spilled.

The speakers crackled.

You dropped your spoon as you heard your name called out.

The voice repeated your full name, then added:

"Please come to the entrance hall reception as soon as possible; again-"

And they repeated what they'd said.

Yoongi stared at you. Jimin was equally shocked.

"I'll see you guys later, I guess." You mumbled, pushing the soup in Jimin's direction and hobbling away.

The entrance hall was almost empty at this time of day.

Only one of the secretaries who also worked in the library was behind the glass wall of reception, but they perked up as you approached.

"Hi," You gripped the strap of your bag tighter, stated your name. "There was an announcement for me to come here?"

The elderly person smiled. It was tight lipped.

"Yes, indeed. Have you heard anything from Kim Taehyung?"

A painful knot appeared in your middle and pressed against your organs.

"No, he's not answering my messages. Did he-"

No, he couldn't be dead. Surely you would have noticed that.

But where was he?

"He updated his personal information shortly after the winter semester started last year, listing you as his soulmate. Our records show you didn't claim him as yours, is that correct?"

"I'm- Sorry, what is this about? If this is about tax evasion or something shouldn't there have been a letter from, like, you know… The board?"

The secretary blinked at you for a moment.

Then they sighed and reached for a sticky note attached to their screen.

"Student Kim Taehyung has been admitted to Fleurop Hospital last week. His condition isn't improving and nobody from his family could say what he might be suffering from or who his soulmate is, so the Hospital reached out to us. I'm assuming you are his soulmate?"

There was a glint in those bright eyes, one only older people could manage.

It dug down deep through your insides, knowing where Taehyung was now.

He said he'd gotten better, you angrily remembered, he said he wasn't feeling the bond anymore - Had he lied?

"Excuse me, did you hear what I just said?"

You lifted your eyes from the surface of the counter and forced your eyebrows to relax.

"Sorry. What?"

The secretary, whose name tag read "Bon", paused. Something akin to pity flickered over the old face.

"I said, they're hoping contact between Kim Taehyung and his soulmate might improve his condition. This is the address," The sticky note got placed on the hand-off tray. "-And the staff asked for you to come as soon as possible."

"Right." Your hands shook even worse after you'd picked the blue piece of paper up and cradled it in your palm. "Yeah, thanks."

"Good luck."

Said the secretary, and you turned without looking at them again.

Taehyung was in the hospital.

You let Jimin know something had come up and you likely wouldn't make it back to class today.

Then you pocketed your phone.

Taehyung was in the hospital.

It was halfway across town, but one of the buslines ran right past it, and you knew where you had to catch that line.

Taehyung was…

The world was cushioned against your senses.

You were almost at the right bus stop already when you noticed why the sounds seemed extra quiet, why the light outside was so dim.

The shades first slid down your nose before you took them off and tilted your head back.

It was snowing.

The bus was toasty warm inside and everything that happened in front of the windows was a world away.

You counted the stations until you'd have to get off, lost track, started new and then you were still one too many ahead when the hospital got announced as the next stop and you got off.

It felt surreal.

The snow had been trampled to slush already but more flakes kept tumbling towards the ground. The slush stuck to your shoes and it felt like it held you back, made the approach towards the entrance doors, automatically sliding glass partitions, that much longer.

"Hi," You addressed the receptionist. Their shirt was cleanly pressed and very neat. "I got a call from- I'm Kim Taehyung's soulmate, I was asked-"

The words slipped past your lips much quicker and surer than you felt was appropriate.

I’m Kim Taehyung's soulmate.

It was the truth, though, wasn't it.

You bit on your lower lip as tears threatened to well up and spill out.

"Yes," The receptionist nodded, clicking on their screen. "He's in intensive care right now, wing three in the back and then fourth level. Please give them your ID again there and they'll help you further."

You nodded in thanks and held on to the small plastic card that affirmed your identity, clenched your fist until the edges painfully dug into your palm.

This felt unreal.

The stairs were separated by a fire proof door that gave the impression it would be too heavy to be moved in a million years. You stopped in front of it, dread rising as the task to push it open manifested in your head and you knew you wouldn't be able to do it, it was too heavy and you were too weak, your hands were shaking so badly and you couldn't move and this was all your fault your fault your fault if you had simply just-

"Excuse me? You dropped this."

The voice was honey and sunshine and the breeze of spring. It cut through the haze like a knife through warm butter and had such a gravity to it you were unable not to turn and see who had spoken.

A face you couldn't recognise but that looked liked /friend/, and a dry palm extended towards you, and in it was the plastic card you'd been holding.

Your hand closed around nothing.

"I think you dropped it."

They added. You nodded.

"Yeah." Your voice caught on the word and you cleared your throat. "Yeah, must've… Thank you."

The stranger put their hand in their pants.

Blue.

There was a clipboard under the other arm.

"Are you waiting for the lift?"

They asked, and your face turned and only then did you see the two sets of silver doors in the white wall.

"Yeah." You repeated.

"Here to see someone?"

The nurse with the friendly face asked, and you nodded.

"M-" You took a deep breath. "My soulmate."

He was, he was, he was your soulmate.

The doors opened to an empty cabin, and the nurse held out their hand to let you in before themselves.

"Which floor?" They asked, and with trouble you recalled the correct number.

"Fourth, please. And thank you."

"It's no problem, really. This has gotten you shaken a lot, huh."

You swallowed the lump in your throat.

"Yeah." It came out thin and strangled.

The lift stopped at level three and the nurse got off.

"All the best to you." They lifted their hand, but you weren't prepared to say goodbye and by the time you'd wrapped your head around it the cabin was already ascending.

His room's door had no tiny window in it.

There was a slip of paper with his name on it right underneath the number of his room.

The Doctor who'd come to meet you after you'd let the person there know who you were and who you were here for opened the door.

They'd talked a lot, about Taehyung's condition, and when he'd come in, and his symptoms and an awful lot of words you didn't understand and none of it had stuck long enough that you could remember anything.

It was a double room, but the second bed was empty.

Taehyung was in the one closer to the window, with a machine beeping by his side and and IV connected to his hand and-

The Doctor said something about skin contact, hand holding, hugging, and then they were gone again for some reason and you were alone with him.

The blue hair with the black roots was unkempt and greasy near his scalp.

His head was turned away from the door, away from the little plastic chair next to his bed. You took a seat.

You were scared of what it would be like to reach out and touch him, if his skin would be papery and brittle and if he'd feel fragile at all.

Before the thoughts could grow too much again you reached out and put your own over his.

He felt cold and clammy. Against your feverish skin even more than he actually was, probably.

He didn't stir.

Had the Doctor said something about loss of consciousness?

Maybe.

"Tae." You whispered, unable to stop the burning in your nose. "Tae."

He didn't move.

You touched your forehead to his arm, lying on the mattress, over the sheet covering him.

A sigh escaped you as his skin cooled down yours.

There were no words you could have strung together into a sentence, and even if; you weren't sure if you'd been able to say anything to his sleeping form.

Sorrow stuck to every corner of your inside. Guilt as well.

The knowledge it had been you who caused this.

He didn't wake in the evening either.

His family had visited yesterday, the nurse doing a check-up on him let you know, and you nodded.

"If you're comfortable with it, you can go join him in bed."

They let you know after checking everything.

"Closer contact with you might help him get better sooner. If you stay above the covers it should be all good."

"Is it okay if I go home over the night?" You finally managed to bring out, just as they were about to leave.

"Of course. It'd be great if you could come back tomorrow, any time you can manage. Close contact between soulmates can alleviate a lot of stress."

Oh, you knew.

Five AM dawned cold and dark, only visible by the glow-in-the-dark spots on your alarm's pointers.

The hospital was a little quieter at seven am than it was around noon yesterday.

He hadn't moved from his spot, and you were too tired to stay awake for long.

With your fingers threaded through his limp ones and your cheek next to his arm, you fell asleep again, this time not shivering as badly anymore.

The bottle of sparkling water from the vending machine left an aftertaste of plastic that you battled with mint gum.

Taehyung still looked like a panda when you sat down again.

Skin sickly ashen, and dark circles around his eyes.

Against knowing better you reached out and gently put a palm to his cheek.

His reaction came instantly; his head turned into your touch, his chest lifted with the deep breath and his hands clenched by his side.

But he didn't wake up, and you relaxed again.

A frown set deeply on his face after you took your hand back, but the deep lines eased when you ran your fingers through his hair.

The nurse told you his parents usually dropped by around four or five, and you made sure to be gone by then.

This was a lot to handle, even without coming under the scrutinizing and tear apart glare of his parents.

You brought a book the next day, even though your head was still heavy with exhaustion.

The bed was so wide that three people could have fit in there, and with Taehyung securely stashed below the blanket you found it acceptable to lie down next to him to read, on the side not wired into machinery surveilling him.

Again you startled as your close proximity prompted his body to react on instinct. This time he curled towards you, his arm twitched but couldn't move much.

His face came to rest in the hollow between your shoulder and head.

You stared at the printed words and didn't see them.

In the end you closed the book, put it to the side.

You turned your head enough so you could look down on his sleeping face. Doing so had your nose part the strands of his hair, brought you close to his head.

With eyes closed, you gently pressed a kiss to his hairline.

His room was quiet, safe for the rhythmic beating of the machinery, prove he was still there.

You drifted in and out of slumber, sometimes only keeping your eyes closed, sometimes almost drifting under.

The sky outside shifted from darker to lighter grey, but the sun was nowhere to be seen.

A sigh escaped you as you turned on your side, put your own arm over Taehyung.

Sleep began to pull you back under.

There was stirring, more stirring and movement and then you blinked your eyes open.

Taehyung's face was gone from the pillow, but his blue hair was still there.

You felt your arm lifted carefully. He was awake.

You sat up after coming to this realization.

"Hey."

Was the first thing that left your mouth.

He stared out of narrowed eyes, obviously having trouble focusing. The scowl on his face deepened.

"G...o aw….ay."

"What?"

He angled his body away from you as best as he could.

A hand shot up to his throat and he coughed after clearing it.

"I don't, want you here."

He glared.

You shrunk a bit.

Of course.

Of course, he wouldn't-

You dropped your gaze into your lap and rubbed the sleep out of your eyes.

"Yeah. Sorry. I'll- I'll go now. Sorry."

You stepped into your boots and bend down to tie them, sat on the big bed.

Your jacket was still on the plastic chair, around on the other side.

Avoiding his face, you grabbed it, already on your way to the door.

"Why."

The word held you back, hand on the doorhandle.

Instead of answering you stared at the wood, faded without artificial light.

He pushed himself into a sitting position, one hand clenching around the raised bed rail.

His head hung low, but he still fixed you with his gaze.

"Why what."

There was a number of things he could mean, but none appeared to you as something really worth speaking up about.

"Why do you hate me so much."

His shoulders were round under the strain that sitting up brought him. You suppressed the urge to tell him he should just lie back down.

"I never said I hated you."

You were at the foot of his bed again, nervously holding on to your jacket and the book.

He scoffed.

"Yeah right, because nothing says that quite as well as holding your fucking soulmate at an arm's length, never giving in, being oh so gracious with meeting up every second weekend in a hotel just to fucking lie there and-"

He broke off, looked to the side but you had already seen the tears rolling over his cheeks.

He drew a few deep breaths, glared at his linked hands in his lap.

"I loved you. So much. From the moment I saw you, from the moment I knew. And you. You hated me. I'd never-" He pressed a hand over his mouth, closed his eyes while more hot water poured from them. "I never knew what it meant to feel utterly- Unwanted, but you managed to make me doubt my entire being. And still you have the nerve, the nerve to not explain, anything."

He drew another ragged breath. When he looked up next, his expression was dark and his mouth pulled into an ugly grimace.

"There isn't one, is there. No explanation. Nothing. Just your seething self hatred you take out on other people, because you're too cowardly to face it. God, how I could ever even meet someone like-"

He broke off, looked out of the window.

His head twitched, lifted, but his eyes stayed on his covered legs.

"And still you only stand there. Letting it all happen. Not speaking up once." He shook his head, bit on his lower lip, grinning despite the tears but there was not an ounce of happiness behind his smile.

"Wow, must be nice. Nothing getting through to you. Nothing warranting a reaction, the twitch of an eyebrow, nothing-"

"I was scared."

He shut up and met your gaze.

Your hands clenched around your jacket.

"I was- You don't- I've had three. Three! Soulmates. Leave me."

He blinked, closed his mouth.

"Three soulmates, who didn't feel my bond. Who had me running after them, suffering, for so long, until my bond finally gave way. Three heartbreaks, three times thinking I had finally found them, only to find out they were my soulmate! They really were! But I wasn't theirs. Do you know how fucked up that is? Do, do, do you-"

You broke off, looked to the side.

"I had no idea-" His voice was thin, but it sparked within you, ignited a fire that had been held under for too long. Your head whipped back around and at the look of your face he shut up.

"No, you didn't. You didn't know it was the fourth time that I felt that ugly twinge and snap of a bond falling into place, or that it was me instantly reliving all the hurt and backstabbing I lived through, felt that horrible, sort of- grinding... tear... of my bond fraying and finally subsiding. You didn't. But I knew it wouldn't last. It didn't three times before, so why the fuck should it be different this time, huh."

He pursed his lips, still looking up at you.

"Never mind you're the sweetest guy I've ever, ever met, so, so pretty and kind and thoughtful and I- I- I- I felt like fucking laughing stock, do you know! Every, every single day I was waiting for you to finally confess I wasn't your soulmate, only for you to reiterate it again and again and not fucking understanding anything with those big soft eyes and all the doodles and refusing to admit you were lying to me. And each day you continued to pester me, each time we met in that god awful hotel, I was waiting for you to come clean, to finally pull the rug under me and laugh in my face, and each time, you refused."

"Because I wasn't! Everything I said to you was true, everything I felt, everything- How can you not see that? How can you not acknowledge the symptoms, how can you- After- after four months!"

"Don't! Talk to me like you know what it's like! Don't try to tell me four months is a long time, not when I waited for years, years before-"

"But I'm telling you now!"

You didn't even know his voice could get so loud, sound so annoyed and at the same time desperate. Bordering on hopeless.

"I'm telling you now, I am your soulmate and you are mine, you! Are! My soulmate! You are! You know you are, you can feel it, I know, I know because I can feel it! Because nobody else feels like you do, because we have the matching skin link, because- Everything! I don't need to wait longer than four months to see that it's us; we belong together, I can see that, now!"

"You! Said the link was weakening." There were tears in your eyes now. Tears beginning to slip out. "You said-"

"I lied because I couldn't take it anymore!" He was full out crying again, wringing his hands and furiously wiping his cheeks. "Because I felt like a monster needing your touch, because I really did feel broken when- But you know! You know what it feels like, and you still-"

He broke off, and by chance you met his eyes again.

The urge to fall forward into his arms ripped through you again, stronger than ever before.

"I won't leave. I promise on everything. I won't. You are my soulmate. I know it. I know I'm yours. Please."

You didn't know what he was pleading for.

Was this what it felt like?

It felt strange to explore the possibility. Of him, really, being your-

"How can you be so sure." You shook your head through tears. "How can you-"

At your prolonged resistance he began to sober again.

That horrible smile dripped off his face along the tears that ceases to flow, and through your blurry vision you could see his face harden with every heartbeat.

He looked out the window.

"I can't." He said, then. Shook his head. "I can't, I don't have anything to prove it. Not if you don't want to believe it. Nothing I could say can do that."

He hugged his arms around himself, rocked forward, still looking out of the window.

Your insides were raw and tender and your head void of any thoughts.

Your left knee wavered under the strain of resisting the sheer need to feel Taehyung's arms around you, to be comforted in the only way that mattered right now.

But it didn't give out.

"Tae-"

He shook his head, not meeting your gaze.

"No," He underlined his action, drawing his legs up. "No, go. Just… Go."

And so you did.

You couldn't remember how it had gotten midnight already; if you thought back, you'd just left the hospital, and yet the darkness pressed against the windows from outside.

Inside it wasn't much brighter. None of the lights were turned on. You were still wearing your coat, lying curled up on the couch.

The screaming headache had subsided, as had most of your pain, thanks to being so close to Taehyung for so long.

The lack of excruciating pain left room for a different sort of exhaustion, one that came with a padded sense of the world and a warmth in your chest that beckoned for you to fall in bed and have painless, dreamless sleep.

And yet you didn't move from your spot on the couch, didn't dare to breathe too deeply, even.

There was a stale light in the room the next time you blinked.

Your dying phone let you know it was nearing half past seven in the morning. Had you slept?

There was a bundle of messages from several people, but the one labelled "S.Mate T" hadn't send anything.

You watched as the percentage count in the corner flickered down to one.

The device dropped from your grasp.

For a moment it seemed like everything held its breath.

Then you were able to move again, after hours upon hours frozen to the same position; rolled off the sofa and down on all fours to pick up the phone.

Your finger brushed something light as it grabbed the device from halfway under the furniture.

It was a marker, one with a medium broad tip, good for jotting down important points on handmade posters.

You held it between your fingers.

Taehyung was still there, in the hospital most likely.

You sat with your back to the couch and uncapped the marker. If was difficult to push the sleeve and sweater back far enough to have enough blank skin showing, but you managed. The crescent moon you attempted was a bit crumpled.

With bated breath, and not knowing what for, really, you waited.

Waited.

A blue star appeared to the bottom left of the moon. It was small and just as crinkled, but you could've cried again seeing it appear line by line.

You added another star, to the right.

Another appeared, also on the right, faster this time.

A smile began on your face as you drew another.

You took off your coat at some point. Pushed your hoodie up, too.

Your entire lower arm was covered in tiny stars, from the moon at your wrist to the inside of your elbow.

It was Taehyung's turn to draw something.

A circle appeared in the crook of your arm, then a short line. Four more lines appeared and then there was a small sun to match the moon, and an entire sky stretched on your arm.

Tiny dots appeared between each star and its neighbour. A line formed, sprang between the stars, back and forth but never crossing, until there was a single line connecting the moon to the sun.

You waited, if more would appear, but it seemed like Taehyung had finished. The marker in your own hand lowered.

You wanted to keep going, draw more, connect, more, but were at a loss at what to add.

By chance you turned your arm and saw more lines had appeared on the upside of it. Little squares, a comic, almost.

The stick figure with the horizontal mouth was clearly meant to be you.

After a few more moments an entire storyline had taken shape on your skin.

The circumstances changed, but the pattern repeated over and over - You, unhappy, and Taehyung, close by. You, deflecting his advances, and him, being sad about it, and in a little cloud thinking of hugging you.

You held your arm close to your face. A rectangle appeared, a bed. A head on the pillow, arms next to it.

Taehyung was drawing himself, in the hospital bed.

A little thinking cloud appeared.

You pressed your eyes shut and burst into tears.

He was thinking of hugging you.

"How," You pressed your hands to your face. "How have you not given up yet! Why!"

Crooked letters appeared under the tiny Taehyung in his bed, thinking of hugging you.

p l e a s e

Showered, with new clothes on and armed with a hastily buttered toast, pockets of your jacket stuffed with cereal bars, you left your flat again.

Four bars later you dropped their wrappings in a bin outside the hospital before heading in.

The nurse on reception nodded at you before you could hand them your ID; smiled, even.

"Go right ahead." They said, and you nodded in thanks.

Around the corner and down the hall you went, until you stopped in front of his door.

It was one thing to have the visual representation of what Taehyung thought of, wished for, scrawled over your skin, but another to be facing him, especially after leaving like you had yesterday.

You pushed the door open.

A nurse was there, fussing around him as you entered.

He looked up from the arm she was holding and pressing a stethoscope to, measuring his pulse manually.

The bed was angled in a way that allowed him to sit up while leaned against the headpiece.

Not long after you had arrived the nurse finished and left.

"You came." He said, and his voice was quiet.

A snide remark wound its way up your throat but it was forgotten the moment you swallowed.

Nothing was left.

"Yeah." You managed to bring out.

"Can I… We…" He trailed off.

"What you were thinking about?"

He nodded, carefully. Unsure.

"If- If you're okay with-"

You sat on the bed and opened your arms.

He kept looking at you until the last possible moment, until his arms were both around your middle and he put his head down on your collarbone at last.

Only this time it wasn't him hugging you and you letting him.

This time you closed your arms around him, too, as tight as you could and you put your head down, no secret angling or careful barely there touches; pressed first a kiss to his hair, then your cheek, and then you were sniffing again.

The relief was all encompassing.

It wasn't a tidal wave but a strong current flowing through you, resonating where Taehyung was holding you and you were holding him.

It rounded off the little crooks and pains that had nestled deeply into your body, smoothed kinks and edges, swept the jarring tumble of horrible thoughts that you had had stuck in your head for weeks now, out.

You wanted to say something but yawned instead, so tired all of a sudden that you felt incredibly cold and shivered.

"Get under the covers." Taehyung told you.

It seemed like a wonderful idea.

With your boots and coat off, Taehyung lifted the bedsheet and you climbed in, waiting patiently as he lowered the backrest.

A tight knot in your lower belly began to dissolve as you laid down next to him, your legs pushing into each other as both of you tried to get closer.

His hand came up to your cheek, gently squished it a bit. He stroked over it, with his forehead leaned against yours.

Under the covers he allowed you to slip a knee between his thighs. It pushed him towards his back a little and had you coming forward a bit so you were almost lying on top of him.

Your noses touched and with his hand still on your cheek, he closed his eyes.

Smiled.

You felt the tiny huff of his exhale.

At last you closed your eyes, too, when his lips came up and pressed a soft, soft kiss underneath your eye.

His hand left your cheek and pulled you closer, until your head was lying against his throat and more than half of you was nestled against his front and the warmth seeped into every part of your body.

There was nothing in the world except Taehyung's body against yours, his arms holding you close.

You pressed the softest of kisses to his neck and slept in.

You were so comfortable, so safe, that you didn't open your eyes after drifting to consciousness right away.

A low voice was humming a song. You could feel a hand on your side, holding you against a softly moving chest, and you were so comfortable you smiled without seeing the world yet.

Taehyung must have noticed you stirring. Without faltering in his humming he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

"What's that song." You mumbled, and at last yawned and opened your eyes.

Taehyung looked down on you, with a smile so wide.

His blue hair was fluffed up and his eyes were still a bit red, but he looked so happy that you couldn't breathe for a moment.

"Euphoria. Jungkookie sang it a while ago, and I really liked it."

He didn't let go of his hold on you even when you stretched your arms over your head and tried to straighten your spine.

His grin widened at your struggle. You settled back down and wrinkled your nose.

"The guy from your study group?"

Finally he took his arm away and you rolled on your back, stretching and yawning as wide as you could.

He watched you with his head on the pillow and his hands folded over his stomach.

"Yeah, that one. How do you know him? He's not in-"

"I asked around, after you didn't- After you didn't come to Uni anymore. Wanted to know if someone else had seen you."

The big, loving smile on Taehyung's face simmered down.

"And? What did he say?"

You squinted your eyes at him.

"He said you were probably up for four days straight painting something before passing out from exhaustion and sleeping for a week or something."

Taehyung laughed.

You'd never heard or seen him laugh.

In awe, you looked at him.

You could felt it in your chest, how deep the love you felt for him ran. Now that you'd let it.

The blue haired boy shook his head.

"Of course he'd say that. Idiot."

He sobered up alarmingly fast. You could almost sense what he was going to say next, even before his expression turned careful and his eyes hesitantly found yours.

"Why did. Um." He paused, lips parted as he tried to find the words. You turned on your side. "What changed?"

Your eyes lost focus somewhere around his collarbones, and now it was your turn to reach within and fish out words.

"I was. So afraid. That you might not be it, too. Again. I didn't- I didn't want to allow myself to. But." You broke off. Both him and you were breathing slowly.

You reached out with your hand, and he met you halfways, covering it with his palm.

"I don't know. I think. Everyone… They made an announcement, for me to come to the entry hall reception. Because they couldn't figure out how to help you and wanted to try and see if contact to your Soulmate would help, but they only found me because you listed me as your Soulmate in your student register. Maybe it's because they all… No. I don't know."

You tugged the arm with the drawings up where you could see it clearly.

"I guess… I guess I needed you to yell at me that you were my Soulmate before I could. Start. To think you really could be. Are. This, helped. I think."

You pointed your nose towards the drawings.

Taehyung turned his arm so you could see the matching drawing there, ballpoint pen alternating with lines colourful against his skin.

For a very long moment neither of you spoke.

"I think I understand."

You looked up and saw his forehead creased as he studied your linked hands.

His dark eyes met yours before he opened his mouth again.

"Feeling… What I felt, only worse because you know that there's no remedy, and three times… I understand why. Why you did what you did."

You pursed your lips.

"It doesn't excuse how I treated you. That I let it get this far-"

He shook his head.

Gently bonked his forehead against yours.

"I told you I understand, remember. You don't have to…" He trailed off and you lifted an eyebrow. "No, actually, an apology would be only fair."

He leaned back and looked at you. You stared.

"What, now?"

"Yeah. Yeah why not, let's hear what you got."

You scrunched up your face and hid it in the pillow.

Taehyung poked your side.

You groaned.

His poking resumed.

"Okay fine!" Abruptly you sat up and threw the blanket back, glowering at an innocently smiling Taehyung.

"Tae-"

"No, no, do it formally!"

You briefly stared at the ceiling.

"Kim Taehyung. Apple of my eye. The- Cutest boy I've ever met. Blue-haired, honey-voiced angel. My Soulmate. I am sincerely sorry for treating you worse than shit for the past-" You had to pause to count. "-Five months now. I know I fucked up. Royally. Absolutely. And the the fault for that is all mine. And I am sorry."

Your voice got quieter towards the end, until the big grin was gone from Taehyung's face, replaced with a somber look.

He pushed himself up until you both sat side by side on the bed, and he reached out with his hand to hold yours.

"I accept your apology."

He said in a low voice.

Your eyes met, and though the weight of what had happened still hung heavy on your soul, you could muster a small smile.

Taehyung looked down on your hands.

"I also know… To an extent, what you went through, before- Before we met. And I know a lifetime of my love cannot possibly make up for the pain you must've gone through. But I hope you'll give me a chance at trying."

"Yes." The last syllable wasn't even past his lips yet when you answered already, holding his hand tighter. "Yes, I will. I am. Whatever you'll give me, I'll take what I can get."

"I do hope you plan on giving back something, at least…"

He was grinning again, and so were you.

"Master Gibbs and Jack would disapprove." You pouted.

"Captain." Taehyung reminded you, and you grinned even wider.

"True."

His thumb rubbed the back of your hand.

"So… You'll take anything, did I hear that right?"

His face was suspiciously even and his voice oddly calm.

You squinted your eyes at him, slowly disentangling your hands.

"You know, I begin to regret-"

"Accept my love, then!" Taehyung interrupted you, and with a soft sound of surprise, he tugged you down onto the bed with him again, holding you there with an arm and a leg thrown over you to keep from moving.

"I can handle this." You admitted, hands coming up to his sides already while you buried your face in the crook of his neck. "I can- Yeah, this is nice."

"Come on Tae!"

You had to shout over the loud music and the sound of blades curving through the ice.

Your Soulmate wobbled towards you, insecure on the slippery surface, with arms outstretched and desperately trying to keep his balance.

He managed to gain momentum and couldn't stop in time before he collided with you.

His arms reflexively closed around your middle.

His chin met your shoulder and you felt him exhaling.

He tightened his hug.

"Feels like hugging a cloud." He huffed into your ear, before you made an effort about fluffing his hair and fussing over him a bit. Satisfied with the attention he got, Taehyung parted from you and moved on to hold the side of the bar in the middle of the ice rink.

"There you are!"

You turned your head.

Jimin and Jungkook slowed to a stop in front of you, hands linked and both the epitome of grace on ice.

Both wore skinny jeans, although Jungkook's top wear was the same puffy fluffy jacket you were sporting, only in black, while Jimin had stuck to a pink hoodie.

"We've been circling the rink for hours!" Jungkook moved forward to hug you hello. He wedged himself between you and the next girl to your left.

"Dude! Matching jackets!" His eyes were round with joy.

You laughed.

"Fluffy is best."

"Couldn't agree more. Jeez I'm starving. Hey! Hi, can I get a hot brownie, please?"

He waved a few notes of money and you chuckled.

To your other side Jimin and Taehyung were painstakingly keeping at least a foot distance between them.

Both were attempting and very much failing to hide their dumb smiles, and kept sneaking glances at the other.

"Wonder if these two are gonna get anywhere like, at all." You said to Jungkook over your shoulder without looking away from the two idiots you'd come with.

"My words, exactly." Jungkook stated through half a mouth full of steaming brownie. He waved a chocolatey finger.

"Like, I'm happy for them, obviously, but watching them skirt around each other is so painful!"

"Right?!"

You stole a piece of his brownie and licked your fingers afterwards. It was really good.

You shook your head but couldn't get another word in before Jin, working this year's Christmas Village's very own Ice Rink Bistro, came sliding over and glared at you.

"Look at you two, judging two perfectly love struck boys. Matching outfits, too, huh?"

Jungkook lifted his finger while you stole another piece of his brownie. Both of you said:

"It's like we're Soulmates."

Jin stared.

Jungkook and your gaze met, both of you bursting into giggles.

"Jinx." You stated, at the same time as Jungkook.

His eyes disappeared behind his bunny smile.

You paused. He bit on his lower lip, eye sparkling.

"Jinx again!" Both of you burst out, full on laughing by now.

He lifted a hand and offered you a high five. The resounding smack had several people turn their heads, and left both your palms burning.

"It's like we finish each other's-"

"Sandwiches!"

Jin groaned at your reply and skated away.

"We finally scared him off." You sipped on the slightly overpriced lemonade while Jungkook continued to grin.

"I can't believe you actually got that reference I was getting at."

He picked up the last crumbs of the brownie.

You playfully glared at him.

"Frozen is a classic."

He nodded, and together you turned your back to the bar and watched Taehyung heavily leaning on Jimin while the latter tried to teach the former how to do footwork and get more comfortable on the ice.

Jungkook plucked the plastic cup from your hands and took a sip.

"Hans deserved better." He mumbled in passing, just before he dipped his lips into the drink again.

"Oh god yes!"

At your enthusiasm his eyes rounded again.

"Do you know of the theory- well I say 'theory' but honestly it seems like canon, at least to me, but do you know of the theory that the trolls hexed Hans' so he'd stop loving Anna and so she could be with Kristoff instead?"

Throughout your talking Jungkook kept on nodding, agreeing to what you said.

"Yes! And the one about Hans secretly being a fire bender?"

You grabbed his arm with excitement.

"Oh my god, yes! Oh, it's so great to finally have someone who gets it!"

Jungkook grinned down on you.

You caught Taehyung's eyes as he came sliding up to the two of you.

He hugged you again, visibly tired from the three or four circles he'd done with Jimin.

"You get along well." He stated, pouting a little.

Jimin nodded to Jungkook, and he softly patted your shoulder before leaving your side for his soulmate. Together they slid off, at a considerably higher speed.

Taehyung huffed.

"Show-off." He emptied your drink. Then he nudged your elbow. "Hm?"

You laughed and put your head on his shoulder.

"I finally found someone who understands™ my Frozen headcanons."

Taehyung rolled his eyes.

"Honestly? You're still- come on, I said you convinced me after you send me all those posts."

You shrugged, grinned.

"Incredible. I invite you all to this year's christmas village, and this is the thanks I get- Being humiliated on the ice and dragged by my soulmate."

"Aw c'mon." You pressed a kiss to his cheek, able to see the grin he tried to hide and that proved his feigned hurt to be a blatant lie. "We're all enjoying ourselves! Just… Each a little different."

Finally he turned to meet your hug completely, grinning and dropping all pretense.

"I know." He said, putting his head next to yours. "And I'm really glad about that, winter bear."

i have it bad for blue haired taehyung, and 50% of the reason why i wrote this can be blamed on that one slightly blurry snapchat selfie in @firebettercallnct ‘s texting AU that HURT me,,

107 notes · View notes

nyanzaya · 3 years

Note

Ok so I had a REALLY weird dream recently so I’ll send this first ask as like the set up because it’s rlly long. 1/2?

(This involves Neko!Izaya so I thought you’d like to hear about it first) So background information first; for some reason I’m like “piloting” Izayas body. I’m making his decisions sort of??? I only found out when I walked past a mirror and everyone kept referring to me as Izaya (Prolly because I lined him back in middle school lol) and the fact that the other characters CLEARLY did not like the fact that I was still breathing. There’s a lot to unpack so I’m gonna be formatting this in a bulletin point way that’s in chronological order.

- So Izaya and a BUNCH of other DRRR!!characters are staying in this weird group of cabins in the shape of an upside down U, with a road heading into town. Starts off as a dirt/gravel road that goes into pavement. You know the ones.

- So Izaya/I am staying in this cabin building at the very end of the U on the left side. (Since this U kinda warps around the road into town) Across the road is one of the main “Bathrooms”. It’s got the showers while each cabin has like one of its own bathrooms. (This has meaning I promise)

- Within the cabin Izaya/I am staying in there’s at least three rooms. Shinra was in the next door over, while Shingen was in the room at the end of the hall. I saw him go back there once and never saw him a again for the duration of the dream. (So we’ll just call this the Kishitani cabin)

- The bathrooms across the road from The Kishitani cabin is shared with the neighboring cabin. The neighboring cabin was MUCH bigger but also had more people in it. So there was two to a room there, while in The Kishitani cabin we each got our own room. (Which when I first found this out the first thing that came to mind was “what a bunch of losers” lol)

- Shizuo Heiwajima was a resident in the neighboring cabin. Which means we have to share a bathroom w/ him :) (this is actually very unfortunate later on) His cabin contains the Van Gang (didn’t see a lot of them only glimpses), as well as Namie, her brother, and his gf Mika. I had a feeling that Namie was supposed to be staying in the Kishitani cabin, but left because,,,,, brother,,, ig)

- Nobody knows about Neko!Izaya yet, only Shinra and Shingen. And Izaya is hiding as a human VERY well (for now). We get kinda Fucked Up™️ later on too.

A finishing side note for now is that the weather outside is fucking FREEZING. There’s snow and ice slush everywhere, and the air is that really dry cold that burns your nose and lungs when you breathe. There would also be these gusts of really cold wind that would freeze the sides of the pine trees, so there wasn’t snow on TOP of them bist there was snow plastered to the SIDE of them. So right now we’re stuck in cold winter hellscape. Also I don’t know where Celty is, but Shinra had left to “go handle something” or whatever so he was gone for a good portion of time too.

Part 2/4? (This is way longer than expected.)

Mornings sucked because if you left the cabin you would almost definitely start freezing to death. Considering that, We just poked around our room for a bit and found nothing of interest. So it’s around midday now which means that the sun is out in full force and the outside is somewhat bearable, so why not go exploring right?? It can’t possibly lead to something catastrophic that would eventually put us at the brink of death.

- First place we go is to the “Bathrooms” across the little dirt road. As soon as we step through the door you just KNOW that Shizuo had been there previously and he was Mad™️. There was glass all over the floor from one of the broken shower doors, and it looked like someone did a very half asses job at cleaning up said glass.

- Enter: Namie. She apparently had the same idea and was wandering through the showers section of the Bathrooms as well, she had at least one other girl with her but I don’t remember who it was. Namie was also “talking” to me but it was more of just her trying to bicker. Clearly not liking that we had the same idea. So I eventually leave and go back to my cabin. I just remember wanting to avoid the other characters, because avoiding them meant avoiding unwanted conflict.

- I want to say this is the first night in this cabin, but at the same time it was like this had been playing out long before my weird dream had even started. So this is probably like the third or fourth night, and we were clearly avoiding a conflict that I was not present for.

- Middle of the night We hear thumping from down the hallway that works it’s way to my bedroom door. I initially think it’s Shinra walking around but that thought is quickly snuffed out.

- The man who opened the bedroom door was tall as hell and was clearly here for us. The man is having a hard time holding himself together, literally. Eventually his human persona wears off and we’re left having a showdown between us and this man made of GLASS. And this glass is SHARP. While trying to fight off the faceless glass demon/general asshole we “die”, he got the better of us and stabs us through the hand and a few other places. I just remember the hand being the most memorable. Close quarters combat with him is not the way to play this.

- We come to about a kilometer out from the U of cabins, at night, in the freezing cold, buried in the snow like a shallow grave, and still bleeding. Between the gusts of wind you could hear something moving around, and so we knew we had to get back inside STAT.

- Now at this point in time there was no need to keep up the human disguise, so we just didn’t. Enter: Neko!Izaya

Part ¾

We get back to the cabin and the room is a disaster. The bed is skewed and the suitcase of stuff I had is nowhere to be seen. The floorboards are cracked too, and we can see something shining under them.

- We pull back the floorboards, or at least what’s left of them, and pull up a giant steel box. In said box was a pair of thick leather gloves, with sharp nails on the end, a note, and a small map of the region we were in. On the small map was several other little squares which I assumed would be more boxes like the one we just found. (The gloves also helped keep our hands from freezing up which was nice)

- The front door and our bedroom door were broken and would no longer lock so there was no point in staying. No one else seemed to be around either so we just assumed that we were in this alone and needed to kill this thing before it killed us, and maybe someone else. (I also think Izayas sisters were there at the cabins, because I remember that being a pretty motivating factor.)

- After a lot of running we come across some buildings and fences, which looked like a Zoo. Zoos need caretakers, and caretakers were people, and people meant help. So we get onto one of the main roads of the “Zoo” and immediately something is wrong.

- Dawn is breaking and there is still no one in sight. On top of that none of the animals look right. Everything was very much uncanny valley. None of the animals looked like animals, and they were all hyper aggressive. Even the ones that seemed like they were supposed to be harmless.

- So far there seems to be no signs of people, but the farther back we get to the more restricted looking areas, the more signs of human life. There’s crates and Jeep’s, and we even found someone working on a computer in a big open tent. Although when we approached her, she didn’t really respond.

- So we leave again and follow a road into town. Once the town was in sight (think old European style town), the glass man was back chasing us in full force. And it seemed that as long as he was being touched by direct sunlight, he would appear as human.

- Getting to the town and there are people EVERYWHERE. Townspeople walking in and out of shops, driving down the road, and just going about their business in general. It was comforting but also concerning considering that we were still being chased but this glass man who for some reason is targeting us.

Part 4/4 (another long part)

I figured that if I could lose him within the town then I should be home free. Unfortunately wherever I managed to parkour to, he would already be waiting nearby. And If we stopped moving then we’d get attacked again.

- He would make snide comments every time he would cut us off within the town, although after the first few times I stopped listening to what he was saying, and I think this might have pissed him off.

- Eventually we had gotten into this other building which was definitely upper class or something, if you were to judge it by the decor and the sheer size of it. One of the hallway walls had a HUGE painting of this Neko mother surrounded by her little kids. The painting was clearly very old, and I wasn’t expecting to see anything like that.

- In this house we found three more of those Steel boxes. One with a black trench coat lined with wool, and there was a picture of another Neko in the box that was wearing the same coat. On the picture it said something along the lines of “to whoever receives this coat, let it warm and shield you from the night”, something weird like that. Each box that had something in it also had a picture too. Which was interesting, since each time it was always of a different Neko. Anyway I got like some sort of undercoat and I think a thicker pair of pants.

- Obviously we had been found again and were forced to flee to the edge of town. There was a old rickety building that we ran into, and were then cornered in.

- At this point we had to fight him, and as it turns out as long as he is taking human form (in direct sunlight via the giant skylight in the main room) you could do a lot of damage to him. I didn’t want to get too close to him do at one point I had taken an old coffee table and hit him w that, since it wasn’t that heavy.

- The gloves were helpful when we had to use the nails and dig under the guys false skin to tear some of the glass out. The less glass chunks he had in him, the less mass he had and the less damage he could do.

- Once we had whittled him down to almost a skeleton of what he was before, we reached into where his face used to be and pulled out the one piece of glass that wasn’t the same as the others. It was 100% clear and had this weird glittery purple and orange in the middle of it.

- While trying to leave the building we ran into this old man who I guess was working in a facility below the building, who was coming up to see what the commotion was about. He also took the weird glass/rock from us

- That’s how we found out that those weird looking rocks had come down in a meteor shower a few months ago, and that you’re not supposed to put them inside of your house. This is apparently because he cold of the outside keeps them sedated almost. So when you bring them inside they’ll latch on to any sort of free floating objects to create a body for themselves. Which is why when someone put it in the main bathroom where all of the broken glass was, it was able it create a much stronger body.

- Afterwards he, or someone else, had given me a ride to just outside of the cabins we were staying in. It was starting to get dark but it wasn’t getting colder yet, so everyone seemed to be out and about. I saw Kyohei walking back to his cabin so I ran up to him and grabbed him to tell him not to let anyone touch anything outside, and to especially not bring anything else inside. Which I probably sounded crazy but he just went with it.

- During that time I got to talk to the other characters, only for a little bit though. I tried talking to Shizuo but every time I did he would clam up and ignore me. Which fair enough I guess, since very few people got along with me and I had disappeared for the past 24 hours.

- Afterwards it had started to hail, and that was around the time I decided to leave the camp and try and go home. Just to get anywhere else but there. When it stopped I took one of the trucks and drove until I reached a highway, which was very far out. When I went to merge though, the on ramp wasn’t connected to the actual highway. It was like it was never completed and there was a drop off straight down into a canyon. I just sat there in the truck for a bit and watched the other cars driving back and forth across the bridge over the canyon.

- The ramp was only one lane so I and to reverse all the way back to the road, and then back to the 7/11 I had previously passed, so hopefully I could make a phone call to get out of there. Though the dream ended before we got the chance to do that.

I’m sure that there is a lot missing considering that it’s rare for me to remember dreams in the first place. I’m also sure that Shingen had something to do with us being in that location during that time of year. But I hope you found some entertainment in this weird dream that will probably haunt me for a while. Love your blog btw and I hope you keep posting!

——-

I’m in the middle of traveling right now! But omf thank you for sharing this I cry,,, also sorry everyone I don’t know how to make a read more on mobile 😭

This is actually a super interesting dream I wonder what it means tbh LOL what has me is the Neko part I weep softly. This kind of explains why my muse for Iza(Neko!izaya) has been a little low, like it felt like he wasn’t “with me” if that makes sense!

The coat and the pictures I’m hhrhrh…. It’s super funny to me because it kind of falls in line for Iza’s mom and her kits with that picture of a mother Neko and her kids because that was all I could think of but still! This is such a sweet story in a exploratorive way and a interesting lore perspective because those pictures and items were left there by someone for a reason but we have no idea who 👀

Then how you/izaya is trapped there?? I need the part of the dream where we know why and who LOL but tbh maybe Shigen did have something to do with it 👀 damn nebula and their mysteriousness

Ty again for sharing this with me 😭 it really helped and I enjoyed! I have like,,,mild travel anxiety and this made me feel better💕 for the posting part,,,I will try jdhdjs i have to get back to the Iza/Zuo content but I been ensnared in Genshin Impact and FE: Heros and I’m stuck on Link Click LOL but, I hope to post more about drrr/hybrid verse/Iza+Zuo content!

#;Ooc #anonymous #uhhh #long post #durarara

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lyssismagical · 4 years

Text

moments of gold and flashes of light

Parkner Week Day 3: “I am very small and I have no money.” / college au / no-powers au

(This is like a Rhodey/Tony!MIT Parkner AU)

(TW: Implied Child Abuse)

Working at a café on the outskirts of a college campus meant good business, decent tips, and weird hours. A good job for Harley who needs to work weird hours to keep up with his classes, and he makes enough to afford essentials and to keep his head above water in the debt.

It also means he sees a lot of very tired students at those strange hours.

He gets an elbow in the ribs from his coworker, Cassie, who points across the café at an occupied table.

“An order?” Harley asks, forehead creasing. They don’t normally take orders from tables.

“No, we have a policy about sitting in here without ordering. I need you to ask him to either buy something or leave before our boss notices,” Cassie says. She glances down at her watch, frowning at the time. “There’s only a few hours until we’re done, anyways.”

Harley hates the policy. It makes sense why they have it, they’re going to lose a lot of business if the café is always full but nobody’s buying anything, but it doesn’t make it any easier to kick tired teenagers out in the middle of the night.

He sighs and lets Cassie take over the registers as he makes his way to the boy at the table, straightening his deep purple apron as he goes.

“Excuse me?” he says, wincing when his voice cracks.

The boy at the table’s head jerks up, eyes wide behind a thick pair of glasses. He looks young, younger than most people Harley sees coming into the café, but he’s hunched over a stack of textbooks and papers, what looks like a year three astrophysics textbook on top. There’s no way he’s old enough to be in his third year of university.

“Yeah?” the boy asks. He tips his head to the side in question, the light hitting his face and showing off the deep, dark bags under his eyes.

“We have a policy here, you have to buy something to stay.”

The boy winces, hands patting the pockets of his jeans. He pulls out an old wallet, faded Stark Industries logo on the back barely visible, and pops it open.

He rifles through the things in his wallet, dropping a few on the table including a library card, a Booster Juice loyalty card, and a Stark Industries ID. He finds a dollar bill, but otherwise comes up emptyhanded.

“Shit, sorry, I don’t have any money,” the boy says, eyes wide and glassy. He grabs his backpack from between his feet and starts going through the pockets, but they seem just as empty. “I’m so sorry, I guess I used the rest of my cash on rent, and I don’t- I’ll just pack up and head home, no worries-”

“You like coffee?” Harley blurts before he can stop himself. It’s not like he really has much leeway with his budget, but a couple dollars for an obviously stressed, very cute boy seems like a good investment. “I’ll cover it for you. Give me just a moment.”

As soon as he gets a confirming nod, he heads back to where Cassie’s working, and makes a quick coffee with extra caramel, and digs out his wallet to drop a few dollars in the register.

“You’re buying coffee for him?” she says, amused and shaking her head.

He shrugs, looking over his shoulder at where the boy is still watching him with his wide, doe eyes. “He had a third year astrophysics textbook. I felt bad.”

Cassie laughs, rolling her eyes at him. “The store’s pretty quiet anyways. You should make yourself one too, and take a fifteen.”

Harley’s not about to pass up that opportunity, so he moves quickly to make himself a matching coffee, and then he heads back over to the boy.

“Mind if I sit?” he asks, sliding one of the coffees over to the boy. “I’m in my second year at MIT, so maybe I could lend you a hand? Or at least be a nice distraction?”

The boy smiles, nodding and gesturing to the chair opposite him. “I’m Peter Parker. Third year at MIT.”

“You seem… young.”

Peter laughs, fingers curling around his coffee with a pleased hum. “Yeah, I’m eighteen. Graduated high school at fourteen, started here at fifteen.”

Harley’s jaw drops open in surprise. He’s nineteen, and in the year below Peter. It’s a bit of a shock. “You’re graduating university at nineteen? Isn’t that a bit scary?”

“I’ve got a job lined up at Stark Industries in New York. I’ve been an unpaid intern every summer for four years, so it’s not as scary as you’d think.” He looks down at his homework, textbooks and binders and loose papers, and frowns. “Stressful, for sure. But scary, not so much.”

As much as he wants to comment on a lot of that, especially about how he’s apparently been interning for SI since he was thirteen, he doesn’t want to overstep any boundaries and he doesn’t have a lot of break left.

He sips at his drink, listening intently as Peter starts rambling about how annoying one of his profs had been the other day, the reason he’s up all night studying at the café. Peter’s pretty, especially when he gets passionate about something, eyes lighting up behind his thick frames, blush high on his cheeks, hands gesturing vaguely. Harley hasn’t made many friends since he left Tennessee, only Cassie and Kate from an off-campus extra-curricular. Peter seems like the kind of person Harley would really enjoy being friends with.

“Harley!” Cassie calls out, much too soon for his liking. “Your fifteen’s up.”

Peter frowns noticeably, finishing off his coffee. “I’ll probably stick around for a bit, if that’s alright?”

“Yeah, of course. And come back whenever, yeah?”

“I’m sure I’ll be back in no time, in need of quiet and caffeine.”

* Turns out, Peter’s not lying. He starts showing up every Thursday night and every few Wednesdays like clockwork, always with his old backpack filled with books and binders, and always with enough for a coffee to make sure he can stay.

Whenever Harley takes his fifteen, he spends it at Peter’s table, sitting across from him and chatting about anything and everything. They trade numbers after three weeks, texting every so often whenever they’ve got the chance. It’s nice to have finally made a friend outside of Gwen and Kate. (Especially a friend as kind and pretty and genius as Peter Parker.)

“Everything okay?” Harley can’t help but ask when Peter shows up, nearly two months after meeting.

Peter’s the same as he always is, backpack slung over one shoulder making his posture lopsided, eyes wide behind his pair of thick glasses, hands shoved into the pocket of his oversized MIT sweater, buying a coffee with extra caramel. Except his eyes are red-rimmed and his voice is thick and scratchy like he’d been crying.

Peter shrugs, shoulders hunched up around his ears. “Not really. When do you take your fifteen?”

“He’s taking it right now,” Cassie buts in, elbowing Harley in the ribs. She’s already got Peter’s coffee ready, sitting on the counter, and she’s pouring a second for him. “Take your thirty, I’ll cover for you.”

Harley won’t argue with that, wanting to comfort his new friend. He links their arms together and heads for one of the booths in the far corner instead of their usual table, worry squeezing his chest. It’s only been two months but he cares about Peter a lot. More than he thought possible.

“It’s stupid,” Peter says, but he clutches his drink close to his chest, eyes watery and hands trembling. “My parents want me home for Winter Break.”

“So?”

Harley would kill to be able to afford a flight home to Tennessee for Winter Break. He has to save up all year just to afford making it home for the summer, winter and spring breaks have to be spent on campus or with Gwen who has an apartment in the city. He misses his mom and sister like crazy when he’s away for so long.

Peter scoffs, glassy eyes rolling. “They suck. I’m sure you’ve heard of Richard and Mary Parker before. Yeah, they’re not about to get Parent of the Year awards.”

“Why not?” Harley asks. He certainly knows the two of them, they’re famous scientists, alumni from MIT as well. It’s hard not to know them. “If you don’t mind me asking, of course.”

“They don’t care, they never did. Most of my childhood was spent with nannies or babysitters while they were out for business or other things they wouldn’t tell me about. The only time they ever cared was when they were telling me off for blemishing their reputation, or to tell me I needed to work harder if I was ever going to be allowed to get their company.”

Harley frowns, trying to empathize with his pain. He’s never been in a situation like that. In Rose Hill, you could get away with doing pretty much anything, nobody had reputations at stake, consequences were few and far between. Harley once landed himself in jail for a stupid night with people who weren’t really friends. Nobody cared, Harley even became pretty good friends with one of the officers who arrested him. His mom didn’t even have to pay to get him out.

“That really sucks, I’m sorry,” Harley says.

Peter shrugs again, chewing on his bottom lip. “I got a B on a test in astrophysics a month ago.”

“I remember.”

“They’re going to kill me for that. A B is essentially an F in my house. To them, I failed.”

Harley’s frown deepens and he reaches across the table to grab Peter’s hand. “You studied so hard for that test, you were sleep-deprived and upset because of that argument with your roommate. That wasn’t your fault. And either way, a B’s still a good grade.”

“Not to my parents, it’s not.”

“Why does their opinion matter? You’re an adult, they don’t have to control you anymore.”

Peter lets out a humorless laugh, eyebrows furrowing as he tries not to cry. “I don’t have a choice. I have to go home for the holidays and I have to take over their company and I have to do what they tell me to do. They control my money, they pay for my tuition, they’re all I’ve got. I don’t have anything else.”

“I’m sorry,” Harley says again, he doesn’t know what else he’s supposed to say, doesn’t know how to make this any easier for him. “Well, if you need anything, feel free to call. I’ll be here all Winter, so I’ll be available to talk if you need to.”

“Thank you.” Peter’s voice breaks and he doesn’t catch the tear in time for Harley not to see it. “I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you. It probably looks like it, but I’m not just using you for coffee.”

Harley smiles, squeezing Peter’s hand. “And I promise I’m not using you for answers to future tests. You may be a genius, but I’m not a cheater.”

“Good because I have a proposition. I only leave on Saturday, and I need an extra set of hands to pack up my dorm room? My roommates already gone, so it’ll just be us and we could watch some movies afterwards? If not, don’t worry about it-”

Harley grins, finishing off his coffee. “I’d love to. Tomorrow afternoon? I have the day off work, but I’ve got a class until two, so I’ll come over after that?”

“Sounds perfect.”

* “I’m going to miss you,” Harley says, watching Peter make a little pile of the bags they’d packed the night before from his bed. Peter’s got a mid-afternoon flight, so he needs to be out by noon. “That’s three Thursday nights without you at the café.”

Peter smiles softly, turning from where he’d set down his backpack at the door. “I’m going to miss you too. Three weeks and I’ll be back to bothering you all the time.”

Despite knowing it’s a joke, Harley rolls his eyes. “You’re never a bother.”

“I’ll call you? I live out in California, so I’ll try to remember the time zone differences, but don’t hate me if I accidentally call you in the middle of the night.”

Harley turns his head into the pillow, smiling dopily at Peter. “I told you, call me whenever. I want to hear all the gossip about your stupid parents.”

“Well there will be plenty of gossip, so be careful what you wish for.”

There’s a pause as the reality of everything sets in. Three weeks without each other after only two months together seems unfair. Harley’s going to miss Peter a lot. He’s been ignoring the crush that’s been festering over the past couple weeks especially. He doesn’t want to hurt their very new, budding friendship, especially not when Peter’s under so much stress as is, but last night, watching movies on Peter’s bed together on his laptop, it really solidified the crush.

“I should get going,” Peter says miserably. He slings his backpack over his shoulder again, glasses askew on his nose, dark circles under his red-rimmed eyes, hands shaking.

“You want me to drop you off instead of taking a cab? I wouldn’t mind driving. We probably even have time to stop for a quick coffee.”

Peter smiles brightly, big enough to show off his dimples and light up his eyes. Harley gets off the bed, taking off his red MIT sweater, leaving him in an old t-shirt from the diner his mom works at, and hands the sweater over to Peter.

He wants to say so you’ll remember me or a reminder you’re not alone but he can’t say it. Instead he says, “You look a bit cold.”

“Thanks,” Peter murmurs, flushing softly. Harley reaches out and straightens his glasses before slinging the duffel bag on the floor over his shoulder.

“Let’s get going then.”

Peter picks the music, old Disney movie soundtracks, and Harley drives, paying for coffees on the way to the Boston airport. They don’t say much, humming along to the music to keep from saying too much, but linking their hands together which says just as much.

When they get to the airport, Peter insists on Harley staying in the car.

“Three weeks,” Peter promises, blinking back tears.

Harley offers a smile, squeezing Peter’s hand. “Call me, it’ll feel like no time at all.”

The younger boy opens his car door and looks like he’s about to slip out of the car, but he turns back to Harley, eyes wide and glassy. He leans across the center of the car and kisses Harley hard.

“I’m sorry-”

Harley reaches over, cups Peter’s face and pulls him back in to kiss him again. “I really like you, like a crazy amount, I didn’t want to say anything because I love having you as a friend, but I do really like you.”

“I really like you too. I didn’t tell you but before you talked to me that one day, I was always going into your café just to see you but I didn’t think you noticed me.”

“You’re going to miss your flight,” Harley says, brushing his thumb over Peter’s cheekbone and frowning disappointedly.

Peter huffs out a breath, pushing open his door. “I’ll call you? We’ll talk about this?”

“Of course. Call me whenever,” Harley says, stealing one last kiss. “Go before you miss your flight.”

The younger boy grins so bright, finally slipping out of the car, backpack over one shoulder, leans back to blow a kiss, and then he’s gone.

Harley has to pause for a second, smiling up at the ceiling of his car, before he feels ready to leave the airport, and Peter, behind.

Three weeks.

* It takes a week and a half for Peter to call, and when he does, he’s crying.

“This sucks,” Peter starts, voice trembling and thick with emotion. “Being home sucks and missing you sucks and everything sucks.”

“Hi to you too, and merry belated Christmas.”

“Sorry, yeah, merry Christmas, happy holidays, hi, how are you, and all that. I wish I were in Boston so much.”

Harley lets out a short laugh, sprawling out on his bed, phone pressed against his ear. “I wish you were here too, if that helps. What happened?”

“My parents were totally pissed about my B like I knew they’d be. And when I tried to tell them about you because I was excited, they told me I’d find a nice girl to settle down with soon enough.” Peter chokes out a sob, voice tipping towards angry. “I know I’m bi, so maybe, but it’s not fair.”

“No, it’s not fair. Some people are like that. I remember coming out as gay in a small town in Tennessee, it wasn’t received very well.”

Peter sighs sympathetically. “I just- I don’t even want their company, you know? I want to work at Stark Industries like how I’d been interning, but I don’t have a choice. I’m the heir, the papers were signed, it’s mine as soon as I graduate so they can retire.”

“You’re a genius, and legally an adult, find a way to un-sign them. Or when you get jurisdiction, terminate the company. There’s still options, there’s still ways you can get where you want to be.”

“I know, I just- I don’t know. I wanna go home. I want to see you.”

Harley smiles softly to himself, shaking his head. “I know, I miss you too. But you’re halfway done, you can do it, and I’ll be there at the airport for you when you get back.”

“I know we said we’d talk about it but I really don’t think I can handle-”

“No, no, of course.” Harley doesn’t mind. He’s kind of liking this in-between stage they’re living in. Not dating, no labels, but definitely something more than friends. “In case you needed a confidence boost, you’re a genius. You’re the smartest person I know and I know a lot of people. According to Gwen, you’re the nicest person too, and I agree. You’re very sweet and kind. Plus, have you seen yourself? You’ve got a lot going for you.”

Peter laughs quietly, tears finally fading. “You’re too nice to me. Maybe being around you is going to make my ego too big.”

“I don’t think that’s possible,” Harley says, lightening up. “You’re too humble for that. Oh, I’m not supposed to tell you this, but apparently, Gwen did notice you first, and she purposefully sent me over to your table that first day.”

“Really?”

“Yep. She thought I was getting too lonely, after spending over a year in Boston and only making two friends, and not seeing anybody, so she was hoping something would happen between us, which I guess it did, so I owe her one.”

Peter laughs again, then goes quiet for a moment. “I need to get going soon. Dad’s taking me to meetings all afternoon. I hate going, people only see me as a stupid kid or as competition.”

“Prove them wrong, stand up for yourself, or at least get me on the phone so I can stand up for you.”

Far away from the door there’s a shouted, “Get your ass out of bed! We leave in thirty and if you’re tie’s on wrong and I have to reteach you, I swear to god, it’ll be the last thing you do!”

“Was that your dad? Threatening you?” There’s already a protective edge to his voice like Harley will fly all the way to California just to stand between Peter and his dad.

“They’re normally empty threats,” Peter offers like it’s no big deal. “He prefers yelling more than anything. Mom says he’d probably do worse if it weren’t for the cameras on us all the time.”

Harley’s mouth falls open, anger flooding through his chest like a wildfire. “You should stay with me this Spring Break and Summer. There’s plenty of extra space in Gwen’s apartment and in my childhood home. I don’t want you back there.”

“You’d want me around for that long?”

He nearly chokes in surprise. “Of course I would. I want you always, whenever. I don’t want you home again if I can help it. It’s obvious it’s not good for you.”

Harley doesn’t know how their relationship will fare, how they’ll be in two months, in six, he doesn’t know if he could convince Peter to stay away knowing the anger it would cause, he doesn’t know if it’ll be enough to keep Peter safe. But he knows he’d do anything to try.

“I’ve gotta go before my dad’s head explodes. I’ll call you as soon as I can and we’ll talk more about these plans, ‘kay? I miss you.”

“I miss you too. Only another week and a half left.”

* Harley has to wait at the airport for three hours because of a flight delay and the longer he waits, the more he itches to see Peter. They still haven’t talked, so Harley isn’t even sure if greeting him with a kiss is allowed, but he doesn’t know how much he cares. He’s been thinking about it for three weeks, lord knows Gwen’s losing her mind with his constant rambles about Peter, and he’s pretty positive Peter will be just as desperate.

He sends another text to Peter, letting him know the area he’s waiting in, and waiting to see if it switches to delivered which would mean he’s landed. It does and Harley can barely contain an excited squeal.

If I run, I can be there in 3

Harley sends back a quick, please, which goes unanswered.

He keeps half his attention on his watch, slowly ticking down, and half on the people walking around him, waiting for the mop of brown curls to make their appearance.

At two minutes, thirty seconds, he sees Peter.

“Peter!” he calls out, ignoring some of the dirty looks people shoot him, and lifting a hand into the air.

Almost immediately, the boy starts running faster down the last stretch of hallway, dropping his duffel a few feet away, before launching into Harley’s awaiting arms.

Harley has to take a few steps to rebalance them, arms winding around Peter’s waist and kissing him hard. Peter’s legs are around his waist, hanging onto him like a lifeline, hands in his hair. Eventually, Peter’s smiling too wide to continue kissing, pulling back to let out a giddy laugh.

“I missed you so bad. I know it was only three weeks and I know we’ve only known each other for a few months, but I really like you, and I didn’t think I would miss you as much as I did, but every day without you felt like a marathon. I don’t want to skip the conversation, but I just want to know that this is real,” Peter rambles.

Stealing another kiss, Harley tightens his grip on the younger boy. “Yes, god yes, I couldn’t stop thinking about you, every day for the past three months, and I want this to be real too. I want to be your boyfriend, I don’t care how soon or crazy it is.”

“My boyfriend,” Peter echoes, lighting up in a smile. He kisses Harley again and then hides his face in the crook of Harley’s shoulder, nodding. “Yes please. I would love that.”

They hold each other for a while longer. Long enough for the majority of the baggage pick-up to clear out, long enough for Harley’s knees to start cramping and his cheeks to hurt with how wide he’s smiling.

“I’m not letting you go back there,” Harley says because it feels necessary. “I’ll find a way for you to stay until you graduate.”

Peter smiles pulling back enough to kiss his forehead. “Good, thank you, I didn’t want to go back.”

“Time to go home, boyfriend?” Saying it makes Harley giddy with pure joy.

His mama’s going to freak when she hears about Peter, she’s only ever wanted what’s best for Harley, and Peter’s that. He’s the best for Harley. It doesn’t get better than him. And he’s going to do everything in his power to be the best for Peter too.

Taglist: @littlemissagrafina @spideygirl2003 @romeoandjulietyouwish @c-artara @shadedrose01 @likeaphoenix13 @pj-hermes-tonystark-obsessed @you-get-killed-walk-it-off @kitkatwinchester @emo-girl10 @justme--emily @hold-our-destiny @imalivebecauseirondad @spiderman-peterman @dykeragee @maryserrao @heeeyitskay {Let me know if you wanna be added or removed}

#lyss writes #parkner week 2020 #parkner #parkner fic #peter parker #harley keener #gwen stacy #coffee shop au #no powers au #harley keener/peter parker #oops this is unedited #also I know it's supposed to be day seven and i'm only on three #I'm sorry oops #I'm going to try to write another one for tonight and then two for the next two days and finish on monday #hopefully but don't hold me to that

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wlntrsldler · 4 years

Text

I Will Be Found (Bucky Barnes Imagine)

Prompt: Bucky finally found the place where he belongs when he met Y/N but at times, he wished that he could somehow take the life he used to have and magically fit it into the life he had now.

Warning: ANGST AND FLUFFFFFF

Bucky had been alone for most of his life. He was frozen, alone for over 70 years. He was alone, battling his own demons once he was used again to kill. He was alone completing the missions he was assigned. For so long, he was alone and at one point, he convinced himself that this was for the best.

It was better that he had nobody around him to watch him kill. It was better that there was nobody beside him when he would slip into a conscious state, once in a blue moon, in the middle of the night, breaking into a cold sweat and yelling at the top of his lungs. It was better off this way, he always tried to convince himself.

The only times he wasn’t alone, as far as he could recall was before he joined the war. He would remember the times when Steve would come over and teach Becca how to draw. He would remember the smell of dinner being cooked from the kitchen and the sound of his father’s lips giving his mother a kiss on the cheek, as a sign of his love and appreciation. He remembered his family, his friendship, and his life. His life before the Winter Soldier.

Everything after the fall from the train had been a blur to him, and he preferred it that way. Sure, sometimes he laid awake at night, hoping to make sense of the bursts of images that prevented him from falling asleep. But he knew better. He knew that if he remembered everything, in excruciating detail, he would never forgive himself. He made up his mind, a long time ago, that he never truly deserved anyone’s forgiveness.

So when Steve showed up in his little apartment, where Bucky had spent his quiet days alone, it hit him just how much he hated being alone. Bucky was speechless, really. It was like he had forgotten how to speak beyond the casual, “How are you?” or “How much for a pound?” He only talked to the vendors in the markets, his co-workers at the construction site he worked at, and to Mrs. Gollightly who lived across the hall, who never said much anyway besides giving him a small smile and leaving a container of food outside his apartment door before scurrying off with her cane.

“Hi, pal,” Steve smiled, his hands buried in his pockets. “Long time, no see.”

“You’re Steve.”

That’s all he could mutter out but it seemed to be enough for Steve. Baby steps, Steve would assure him, I’m here and I’m patient, Buck.

Steve took him back to the Avengers Tower where he was greeted with mixed emotions. He recognized a few people, Natasha, being one. He winced the first time he laid eyes on her, remembering their last encounter. He wanted to apologize to her because she was just doing her job and yet he shot her. Yeah, he was doing his job too, but he was working for the wrong side at the time. She just smiled at him, truly smiled, and her eyes were filled with forgiveness, as if saying, “It’s okay, I understand.”

Next, he saw Tony. His heart broke, seeing the image of Tony’s father behind his eyelids. Bucky swallowed back some bile, threatening to make its way up his throat. He couldn’t help it. Remembering the things he did, the people he hurt, and the damage he left, always made him feel sick. Tony looked at him with a stern face, his eyes never leaving Bucky’s face as he cleaned the silver pipe in his hands. He walked towards Bucky and Steve, not breaking eye contact. Tony stopped in front of Bucky and placed his hand on top of Bucky’s metal arm, where metal met flesh. “Let’s get you fixed up.”

Bucky didn’t remember the last time he was treated with kindness. For years, he lived on his own, sheltering himself from anyone and everything, and in a blink of an eye, here he was, surrounded by the most super of people, being treated like he was deserving of more in life. We’re just treating you like you’re a human, Bucky, Steve would laugh, not realizing the affect their kindness really had on Bucky.

It’s true-- the team did nothing out of the ordinary. They just treated Bucky like he was one of them. But to Bucky, after being treated like property, like a piece of killing machine, being treated like a human was something out of his sweetest dreams.

A few months passed and Bucky was finally starting to relax around the tower. It was merely a dent in the hard exterior he worked so hard to build, but it was progress. After a month, Bucky started to join the team in the living room after dinner, instead of locking himself up in his bedroom. To make him feel as comfortable as possible, Steve sacrificed himself as the topic of the conversation-- more specifically him and his embarrassing moments. Bucky didn’t contribute to the conversation with any Steve anecdotes, although he had more than a few to share. He simply enjoyed leaning back in the single sofa chair, nursing the third beer bottle that Clint offered him. He couldn’t help but let a chuckle slip past his lips when Tony told the “language” story, causing a deep blush to run down the blonde soldier’s cheeks.

After two months, he started to initiate conversations with the team; Nothing big, maybe just asking Sam what the score was in the football game or asking Wanda what she was cooking, but prior to that, he only spoke when spoken to. He started walking around the compound, becoming bored with the empty walls of his room. He would pop in the living room, seeing Sam yell frustratedly at the TV in front of him. Hesitantly, Bucky would walk towards the empty spot on the sofa, beside Sam and make himself as small as he could to take up less space. Sam would smile to himself, reaching over to move the bowl of popcorn so Bucky could scoot closer if he pleased.

After three months, he started making jokes. The first time was when they were all sitting around the table, Tony making his usual puns and jokes, with Pepper sitting next to him, smiling fondly at her husband. Nobody really knew what exact phrase prompted Bucky to say it but when Bucky slipped out a confident, “That’s what she said,” the whole team froze for a quick second before bursting out into absolute hysterics. Bucky couldn’t help but let a small smile tug at his lips when his eyes met Tony’s, the billionaire raising his glass up and sending him a wink, mouthing, “Good one.”

During the nights he wasn’t able to sleep, he’d walk outside the Avengers’ balcony and listen to the noise of the streets. Bucky would close his eyes shut, remembering the noises that he remembered back when he was younger. It was similar, the faint noise of the radio, the sounds of the cars, and laughter from the younger kids who were out too late for their own good. Some things weren’t so different, he realized. He looked down, seeing a woman locking up a shop behind her. Y/N’s Cafe, it read. That’s the first time he saw you. You fumbled with your keys, cursing like a sailor when it dropped from your grasp. His eyes trailed after you, until you disappeared into the darkness of the alley. He didn’t mean to be creepy, he just wanted you to be safe.

That next morning was his first time stepping out of the tower. It’s not that he wasn’t allowed to leave, per se, but Steve knew he was too afraid to be out there in society again. Steve also knew his best friend, regardless of how long it has been, would be too prideful to admit such a thing, so Steve made it seem like it was his idea to keep Bucky inside. Bucky mumbled a quick, “I’ll be back.” to the team before exiting the doors. He was gone too quick for any of them to ask questions. Steve just smiled, finally happy to see that his best pal was getting closer to the normal life he deserved.

Bucky was too scared to talk to you. You were behind the counter, your eyebrows furrowed, focused on something behind the screen of the register. The cafe was half-empty. The patrons sat quietly, sipping their drinks and flipping through the pages of whatever it was they read. Bucky thought you looked adorable, so lost in your own thoughts to even realize he was standing there. He cleared his throat to get your attention and you blushed profusely when you saw him there, waiting patiently. And everything else is history.

Bucky felt his loneliness subside the minute he stepped into the tower. He knew that from that point on, being alone was no longer going to be an option for him. As the months passed, he knew that the team was slowly starting to become his family. They weren’t just co-workers or teammates, they were family. At first, he felt like he was intruding their tight-knit bond, but as Rhodey put it, “The more, the merrier.” Bucky did feel like his life was coming together, like the pieces of a puzzle were being put in place. You were just that final piece.

Ever since you walked into Bucky’s life, everything started to make sense. It was like the universe knew he had to survive up until now just so he could meet you. You, his sweet, loving, Y/N, the one he never realized he was wishing for all his life. He never thought of needing someone like you in his life but once he met you, it was clear that he did. You were a breath of fresh air to Bucky. He had been suffocated by his past, his lifestyle, and you were the one to pull him out of that. And he made it his mission to not make you his lifeline because one, it wouldn’t be fair to you, and two, he knew that he couldn’t truly heal if he allowed himself to find sanctuary within you and only you. You were just there to help remind him of what life could be.

For your first date, Bucky was so nervous he almost stood you up. He paced across his room, growing frustrated with himself for not being able to suck it up. It took Steve and a lot of pep talks to get Bucky out the door of the tower. He showed up to your apartment, a minute before 7, your arranged meeting time, with a bouquet of flowers he picked up from the flower shop beside your cafe. The owner, Mr. Stinson, gave him a discount upon finding out the roses were for you, saying something like, “She’s heaven sent. That girl is an angel.” Bucky would be lying if he said he didn’t agree.

After a few months of dating, the team noticed that Bucky was, well, the Bucky they knew he could be. Bucky walked around the tower, sporting a smile on his face and his laugh echoed in the room. He knew he had changed, for the better of course, and he knew exactly why he did. Bucky was, dare he say it, happy. He was happy. He thought he forgot what that felt like.

The day you met the team was one of the scariest days of his life, and he had been through a lot of pretty scary days. He was afraid that the team wouldn’t like you, which was a stupid reason because he knew deep down there was nobody in the world who would even dare to dislike you. He was just afraid that something would go wrong, because something in his life always does. So when the only disaster of the night was the failed pot-roast that Wanda and Vision tried to conjure up for the dinner, Bucky sighed of relief and let a goofy smile take hold of his face the rest of the night.

The two years of your relationship sped past you two. Bucky looked at you and for the first time since the Winter Soldier, he was able to see a future for himself. He saw himself rolling over and kissing you until forever and a day. He saw himself being woken up by your kids and the purring of your cat, Alpine, the cat you two adopted in your one year anniversary. He saw himself marrying you. And for once, the thought of being alone, scared him. He didn’t want to spent another day in his life without you in it.

The next day, Bucky proposed. He wanted to make it elegant, elaborate, as Tony would say. He was getting the contact information of a string quartet, florists, 5-star chefs, jewelry stores, everyone that could possibly make his proposal something that you would never forget. But something about the way you looked up at him, as you slow danced in your bedroom to the song “I Will Be Found” by John Mayer, made him ask the question with no hesitation. You said yes. And it was perfect.

That night, you made love, mumbling incoherent “I love you’s” while your limbs were tangled with one another’s. Bucky kissed your lips, softly, letting himself smile because God, you were his. You were his and he wasn’t planning on letting you go. You held his bare body against yours, treasuring the feeling of his beating heart against your chest. You peppered kisses down his shoulder blade, spending extra minutes on the line where he was flesh and metal. Bucky’s breath would still hitch in his throat, not being used to your gentleness with the parts he hated most about him, not even after two years. “I got you,” you’d whisper against his skin, and he’d instantly melt because he knew you did.

Neither of you got sleep that night, even if your bodies were screaming for the both of you to rest. You laid there in darkness, your head flat on his toned chest, one arm draped around your waist and the other bent behind his head. You two left one lamp on beside your bed and the light illuminated your face. Bucky wished he was able to take a mental picture so he could remember this image forever. He kissed the top of your head, letting his lips linger there a few more seconds before he pulled away. He looked down at your left hand, imagining a diamond ring on your finger and his heart swelled.

“What are you thinking about, soldier?”

“My folks would’ve loved you,” Bucky croaked out, his eyes suddenly glossing over with tears. “My ma wouldn’t believe that I got someone as perfect as you, doll. I know it.”

You felt his chest rumble under you. You sat up, looking at your favorite man. You smiled sadly at him, intertwining your fingers with his. “Tell me more.”

“Well,” He started, rubbing his thumb across the back of your hand. “My ma would just be in love with you, darlin’. She’d be the first one to remind me how lucky I am, not like I’d need much reminding. She’d probably be on your side after every argument.”

Bucky continued, “My pa would just give me advice on how to keep a marriage going. Probably would say something along the lines of, “Son, never forget to remind her how much you love her. Saying those words will take you a long way.”

“And Becca,” He laughed, remembering his younger sister. “Doll, she would tease me about you everyday. She’d ask me how I managed to get someone as beautiful as you, and I’d just tell her I don’t know because truthfully, I’m really not sure how I managed to get you.”

“I’d ask her to be one of my bridesmaids,” You replied, smiling at him. “And I’d request your parent’s favorite song so they can dance with us on the dance floor.”

“Yeah?” Bucky choked on his words, the tears in his eyes already spilling. “You’d do that for them?”

“Of course, Buck.” You assured, running your hand through his hair as he silently cried in your arms.

“I miss ‘em, doll.”

“I know.”

“I miss ‘em so so much.” He whispered. “I wouldn’t trade the life I have now for anything else in the world but sometimes I wish there was a way to bring them over here, even if its just for a day.”

“I know, sweetheart.”

You let him cry in your arms for a while longer, rubbing his back periodically. His breathing normalized again and soon his tears were starting to dry. Bucky cuddled into the crook of your neck, his hot breaths giving you a sense of comfort. You both fell asleep like that, despite the sun peeking through your curtains, tangled into each other’s bodies.

MASTERLIST

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booknerdproblems · 4 years

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Immortals Chapter 7

Hello lovely people! I am sorry for the later-than-usual update, my week has been seriously hectic. It’s involved medical collapses, panic attacks and sleepovers. Due to this, this chapter is 100% my least favourite, and it’s unedited. I do, however, have the chapter after this written, so I will not be late with the next update!

TW: minor swearing

Here is a link to my main masterlist, where the all chapters for this fic can be found.

“Good,” said Asterin, “we’re immortals. Things should change, and often, or they’ll get boring” The next time Rowan saw Aelin Galathynius was two days later, in the throne room of Maeve’s stone palace. He was giving his report alongside Lorcan when she swept into the room and walked right up to Maeve. Without even a hint of a bow, she announced she was to visit Mistward, one Doranelle’s demi-fae outposts the other side of the Cambrian Mountains. Rowan liked Mistward, the people were down-to-earth and friendly, if a little intimidated by him. At least they weren’t snivelling nobility.

Apparently, her mother had spent some time there in her youth, fighting for demi-fae rights, and Aelin wished to visit the fortress she had heard much about. It seemed Evalin Ashryver had never had the chance to go back before her untimely death last year.

The Lord of Allsbrook and Lady Lysandra were to remain in Doranelle, and Aelin had set up meetings with Maeve’s foreign trade advisor for her entourage, and they were going to meet whilst she attended to her personal business.

Maeve had then promptly ordered Rowan to go with her to Mistward, to which Aelin had waved off, not needing an escort.

“I must insist. I can’t let my favourite niece wander the forest alone now, can I?” Maeve had replied with a snake’s smile. Rowan had no idea what Maeve’s ulterior motives were, but wasn’t about to ask any time soon.

Fenrys was on his way to Varese, so would accompany them for the first part of the journey. Rowan was deeply looking forward to this journey, it would be the best fucking highlight of his life. Two equally arrogant, swaggering fae who were currently in the business of bedding each other at every turn. Truly, Rowan couldn’t wait.

Rowan hadn’t been able to look Fenrys in the eye for two days after The Incident, until he finally got over himself and confronted the male about it. Fenrys had chuckled, clapped him on the shoulder, winked, and walked off without a word. So, Rowan thought it went well enough. It had been a sharp slap in the face, a reminder that he was a broken, centuries-old warrior, blood sworn to another queen. It had reminded him of what the tattoo covering his left side stood for. The shame he’d carry until his last breath. And Aelin, she was a young queen, a dreamer who was good for her people and the world. She was a gift to the world, even if she was arrogant and swaggering and slightly disrespectful. Gods, he couldn’t stand her contradictions. One moment she was kind and compassionate, helping a Doranelle youngling, and making his head spin, the next she was arrogant and rude addressing his queen and still making his head spin.

-x-

Waiting on one of Doranelle’s many bridges, Rowan traced the route in his head. He went through the comforting, familiar motions of securing his weapons and checking his food and water rations whilst he waited for Fenrys and the queen. Unsurprisingly, they were late.

A quarter of an hour later, Rowan spotted them in the distance. The queen was carrying a pack with a bedroll, for the two day trek to Mistward. He wondered how she would react to sleeping exposed to the elements, she was royalty afterall.

Fenrys’ blonde hair was up in a bun, a dark green tunic clinging to his body, complementing his bronze skin.

Once they’d reached him, he simply nodded in approval and turned toward the mountains, leading the way.

-x-

Two and a half hours later, Fenrys at last broke the silence that enveloped the three.

“So, are you going to be okay with sleeping out in the wild like this?” He addressed Aelin.

“Aw, are you worried about me?” Aelin’s tone was teasing.

Fenrys scowled, “Well, have you ever slept outdoors before?”

“Of course I’ve slept outdoors, who do you think I am?”

“Uh, the- Queen of Terrasen?”

“Fair point.” Aelin conceded, “But yes, I’ve slept on a bedroll before. Every summer, as the winter’s in Terrasen are too cold, me and my cousin Aedion do a three day hiking trip in the Staghorns, hunting and drinking ourselves half to death.”

Fenrys laughed, the sound light and carefree. “Reminds me of Connall and myself.”

“Yes well, Aedion is practically my brother anyways.”

“He’s bloodsworn to you, is he not?” Rowan cut in, curiosity getting the better of him.

“He is, swore it at my coronation last year.” Aelin looked surprised at his question.

“And he was okay with you both out in the wild without a guard?” Rowan’s tone was slightly judgemental, and Aelin frowned.

“Aedion knows better than to try and keep me locked up, I’d just break out and kill him myself.” Her voice was filled with fondness as she spoke of her bloodsworn.

“Couldn’t you just order him too through the blood oath?” Fenrys asked.

“Why the fuck would I do that? It’d take the fun out of everything.”

“He is your bloodsworn, though, so surely he has to do as you say?”

Aelin stumbled, looking toward Fenrys.

“Aedion is not some slave I order to do my bidding,” her voice was razor-sharp, “swearing the blood oath is a promise of respect and loyalty, not blind devotion. The orders I give him are his to do as he pleases, and should he wish to be free of his oath, he may do so at his earliest convenience. I neither can, nor do I even want to have people forced to serve me, and anyone who chooses to indeed follow me is valued and respected as their own individual within my court.”

Fenrys was looking at Aelin with a new sort of respect, and perhaps a hint of longing behind his eyes. Not longing for her, but for what position she could offer him in life. Indeed, Rowan’s own image of the young queen was constantly evolving, and her declaration had him smiling a little. He could imagine her court in the future, a band of nobility and commoners, standing strong against any threat to their immortal queen. Happy to serve, free to do as they please. A court to change the world. Dreamers, the lot of them.

She truly was the opposite of Maeve.

Nobody had spoken, but Aelin gave them a little smirk, and said,

“Anyway, nobody in their right mind could get past them.” She gestured to the surrounding forest, and Rowan sucked in a sharp breath at what he now noticed.

“The Little Folk,” Fenrys breathed from behind him.

Small figures, dryads and imps and pixies, all dancing through the trees silently.

Come to greet the Heir of Brannon. Perhaps they wondered after their kin in Terrasen, maybe had come to honour her Ashryver lineage or greet her as a descendant of Mab. Rowan had only caught glimpses of them in the past, they rarely ever revealed themselves. But here they were, murmuring to the Queen of Terrasen. And she… Aelin was whispering back.

Rowan had never heard of people talking to the Little Folk, but here was Aelin Galathynius, murmuring to them as if they were old friends.

She was speaking so softly, even Rowan’s sharp Fae ears had trouble hearing them. A winding ribbon of flame was dancing among them and the Little Folk suddenly receded, chattering amongst themselves. Looking back, Rowan started as he saw the Queen of Terrasen. A purple and blue flower crown sat upon her golden hair, and a delicate bracelet of acorns, daisies and thistles was upon her wrist. She was smiling softly, and Rowan’s breath was momentarily knocked from him.

Her eyes held a warm, content glow and embers seemed to light up her irises. Her golden hair was floating in the wind, and a truly happy smile sat upon her lips. Her cheeks held a light blush and in that moment, she looked truly beautiful.

Shaking it off, he looked at Fenrys and immediately glowered. The male’s eyes were on his and his eyebrows were raised as if to say ‘really?’ and his eyes had an amused, knowing gleam.

Turning back to the route, Rowan’s scowl remained for the rest of the afternoon, glaring at all the trees as if they’d personally offended him.

-x-

As they’d stopped for the night, Rowan had appreciated the queen’s quick, efficient way of setting up camp.

He did, however, hear her grumbling to Fenrys as she laid down on her bedroll for the night, set up next to but an appropriate distance away from the other male’s.

“Just because I’m used to these conditions, doesn’t mean I have to like them.” She was whining as Rowan rolled his eyes.

A pause then, “Rowan Whitethorn I can hear your eyes rolling right now.”

“Sure you can, Princess.” Rowan replied.

“I can!” Aelin protested, “and I’m serious. I would kill for a hot bath and one of my silk nightgowns right now.”

Fenrys whispered something in her pointed ear that made the temperature spike and earned him a punch to the arm.

Rowan rolled his eyes again so hard it hurt his brain, before rolling over and closing his eyes.

-x-

Waking with a jolt the next morning, Rowan found Aelin already awake, in her human form, whilst Fenrys was still snoring on the other side of mossy clearing.

“Morning,” he grunted.

Aelin just grumbled, raking her hands through her hair, wincing as her fingers caught on the tangles.

“Not a morning person?” Rowan chuckled as she levelled a glare at him.

Rowan just walked over to wake Fenrys up, telling Aelin to start packing up.

-x-

An hour later, Fenrys had pulled Aelin into a quick hug, murmuring goodbye as he separated for the way to Varese.

He saluted Rowan, receiving a roll of pine-green eyes in his response, before vanishing into nothing, leaving Rowan and Aelin in the middle of Wendlyn’s forests, staring at each other.

Rowan broke first, raking his hand through ruffled silver hair and sighing.

“Mistward is twenty miles away. I’m not in the mood to spend the next eight hours walking. Shift, and let's go. We’re running.” He gave her a feral grin, canines exposed.

Aelin narrowed her eyes at the commanding tone, but started to braid her waist-length hair at the base of her head. Rowan secured his pack as a flash of light indicated her shifting. Gods, she really was gorgeous. And her beauty was heightened in her Fae form, her ears delicately pointed and canines lengthened. She moved with ethereal grace, and everything seemed to revolve around her. Too bad he could barely stand her, even if he’d felt a… shift, in their relationship since they sparred. Since he’d felt their magic dancing around each other. Since he’d begun to see her as more of an… equal.

He didn’t exactly know where he stood with the young Queen of Terrasen, sometimes she acted like his mortal enemy, sometimes she just seemed like an overly-excitable acquaintance with mild pestering tendencies.

Aelin finished tying her braid, bracing her hands on her hips and smirking at him, arrogance back in full swing. Rowan nodded once at her, and took off.

He raced through the trees, dodging boulders and leaping fallen logs as the world blurred around him. The forest was so alive, all the plants and animals coming together to create its own kind of magic, a circle of life and death and rebirth. The wind whipped through his hair, and his arms pumped harder as he sprinted, a thin sheen of sweat starting to break out upon his skin.

Rowan looked sideways, and spotted a blur of gold through the trees a little way away from him. Aelin met his gaze, and grinned at him in the pure, unbridled joy that came with pushing your Fae body to the limits. The scents and tastes of the world around him were so exhilarating, and he felt nothing could compare to the feeling. He smiled back at the young demi-fae, and felt, almost, less alone. Maybe, just maybe, a friendship could be possible between the two. For the first time in a long, long while, Rowan felt… hopeful. Like he could look forward to tomorrow.

Tags: @bookworm232020 @brandyovereager @kendallambrosio @alyx801

I hope those are the right tags! Let me know if you would like to be tagged.

#aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #rowaelin #fanfic #fanfiction #throne of glass #sarah j maas #sjm #aelin and rowan #rowan x aelin #aelin ashryver galathynius #aelin of the wildfire #aelin fireheart #immortals #chapter 7

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mackinmacki · 4 years

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The Travesty of Not Having Peppermint Treats in Every Season (White Rose Week #8)

Fandom: RWBY

Pairing: White Rose

Word Count: 3181

Rating: K+

Synopsis: Ruby loves the winter season due to the fact that she can get peppermint-flavored treats. When they go OUT of season, she tends to sulk for awhile. This time, however, Weiss has a little surprise for her.

Prompt: Free Prompt

Links: FFN | AO3

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"Sorry, we're not selling the peppermint shakes anymore. They're out of season." The words came from the employee behind the register at the restaurant Ruby and Weiss had stopped at. It wasn't Weiss's first choice, or second... but she'd chosen to date Ruby, so she knew that meant going to restaurants that had caloric intakes from one meal that would fill an entire day. She also knew that her girlfriend tended to react strongly at things that she personally wouldn't care at all about. This just happened to be one of them.

"But... it's still January..." Ruby whimpered out, as if stating what month it was would automatically refill the containers of peppermint they had in the back. All the clerk could do was shrug, as he wasn't the one who controlled the peppermint season. Of course, Ruby knew this too, but that didn't stop her shoulders from slumping. Dejectedly, she asked for a vanilla milkshake, then sullenly followed Weiss to their table.

"Are you going to sulk the entire time we're here?" Weiss put their order number on the table, watching her loving partner sulk like a child on the other side of the booth. To be honest, she wasn't surprised by what was happening. When she first met Ruby, she would be annoyed by how excited or dejected she would get from such inconsequential things. However, with how long they had known each other, and how long they had been dating, she found it more amusing than anything else. It was the kind of thing she could laugh about when she and Blake would exchange stories about their emotional girlfriends.

"No," Ruby replied, as she continued to sulk. "It's just not fair! Why would peppermint be only in one season, and for barely a month at that?!" She grabbed the thin silver pole with her milkshake number on it, rocking it back and forth as she tried to get her aggression out. "Peppermint deserves better than that!" She accidentally knocked over the number stand, grumbling as she picked it back up.

"You're taking this harder than when you found out our cycles didn't match up." Weiss couldn't help but laugh, daintily covering it behind her hand. Complaining about a lack of one milkshake flavor was silly, and it was so Ruby. In a way, it was charming, because it was Ruby being herself through and through. She had never put on an act around her, and that let her know that their love was genuine. So despite the eye-rolling that had to be done over this current sulkfest, she could find a bright side to it. "Besides, those milkshakes taste like toothpaste."

"How dare you!" Ruby was ready to throw down when the waiter came over with her milkshake. She had to bite her tongue in that moment, dully thanking him and taking the milkshake, waiting until he left. Once he was gone, she was revved back up. "They do not taste like toothpaste! The mint of toothpaste is much more... minty than the sweet taste of peppermint. You know they taste different!" She pulled the milkshake towards her and sucked down some of it. "Ahh, not bad..."

"Uh huh..." They still did taste basically the same, but she knew there was no swaying Ruby. Where her girlfriend got her taste for peppermint, she didn't know. What she did know was that when the snow started to fall, Ruby would start getting super excited and beg Weiss to take her to places where they would be selling peppermint beverages and confectioneries. By the end of January, she would be in a winter funk because no place would serve peppermint anymore. It was a long month or two until the spring brought those weird green drinks that she would then attach herself to.

"What's so difficult about having peppermint every month anyway? Everyone loves peppermint!" Weiss quirked an eyebrow at her. "Except for you, because you're lame." Weiss frowned deeply, which made Ruby giggle, though she quickly fell back into despair. "For real, though, I would get a peppermint shake every time I went to a restaurant that had one! They're just losing out on my money with this decision."

"At least you're not gaining calories with that decision. Having milkshakes every time we go out is bad for you." As she said that, Ruby took another sip of her milkshake. She never learned, did she? With a sigh, Weiss just shook her head, before straightening up upon seeing their food being brought over. The conversation about peppermint died off as the two of them began to eat, but it couldn't stay dead forever.

"It's just not fair..." They had both gotten about halfway through their meals in relative silence. While Weiss had ordered the healthiest thing she could find on the menu, Ruby never worried about such things as 'calories' or 'heart disease'. Her metabolism was ridiculous. "Who decided that peppermint was just for the holidays anyway? I wanna give them a piece of my mind."

"I'm sure they'd be thrilled to hear it." Suddenly, an idea hit her. Ruby really wanted peppermint-flavored treats, right? Well then, why didn't she make some for her? Sure, she still wasn't an iron chef in the kitchen, but there had to be some instructions she could find that would help her create them. Her romantic abilities were lacking, as everyone who had ever met her knew. This was a great opportunity to show that she could listen to her girlfriend and do something thoughtful for her. As long as she didn't burn down the kitchen attempting it.

She listened to Ruby continue to complain about the lack of peppermint, but her mind was mostly focused on what her next move would be. It actually excited her. Ruby was always doing sweet little romantic gestures out of the blue, and she continued to struggle to reciprocate. Not this time, though. She would be the one surprising Ruby, and then everybody would know what a good girlfriend she was. ————————————————————————————————— In secret, she began to look up recipes for peppermint treats. When coming home from work, she would stop at the store and buy necessary ingredients with cash. She didn't want Ruby to trace the truth through their credit card statements, even though she knew Ruby didn't even know what their password to the sites were. When she said she would take care of their bills and other monetary needs, Ruby seemed to take that as meaning she never needed to look at their statements ever again.

Once she had everything bought, all she had to do was wait. Luckily, that didn't take long. Yang took Ruby out to watch some sporting event she couldn't care less about, giving her several hours alone to get things done. Her disdain for athletics really came in handy there. As soon as Ruby left the house, she was already in the kitchen, grabbing everything out of their hiding places and placing them on their large counter.

She had bookmarked a recipe for peppermint cookies on her scroll, figuring that would be the best choice for her to make. Plus, there'd be more of them for Ruby to snack on as opposed to just one milkshake. Though she would have to make sure Ruby didn't eat all of them in one sitting. It was something she had once witnessed with a combination of fascination and abject horror.

Though her cooking skills were mostly untested, she figured that her brains would win her the day. If she followed the instructions to the letter, then she would be able to make them as well as anything she found online. Setting the oven to the proper temperature and lining the cookie sheet with parchment paper, she was feeling pretty good about herself. Despite what Yang had once inferred, she did not think the time on the oven was the temperature.

The next part would be the toughest: getting the ingredients combined properly. She measured them all as well as she could, pouring them all into the bowl before beating them at what she hoped was a good speed. The instructions said to 'beat at medium speed,' which was relatively vague. What exactly was 'medium' speed anyway? She just hoped that a bit too slow or a bit too fast wouldn't destroy the final product.

Things went pretty well until she reached the step where she had to roll the dough. As she was pulling on her thing latex gloves to avoid touching it, she had no idea what the instructions meant by making the dough into three-quarters inch balls. Did it mean three-quarters inch tall? That seemed to make the most sense, so she grabbed a ruler and held it up on the tray. It was difficult to get proper measurements with one hand holding onto the ruler, so she took it in between her teeth and prayed nobody would find her acting this silly.

With everything hopefully made correctly, she shoved it all into the oven and hit her next minor roadblock. The instructions said she should cook them for eight to ten minutes, and specifically not to overcook them. Were all three of those minutes good? Was one better than the other? There should just be one specific minute to use, dammit! Gritting her teeth, she went for the middle ground of nine minutes and hoped for the best.

Even though she had nine minutes to spare, she couldn't find time to rest. Every thirty seconds or so, she would look through the oven to make sure nothing had been burned or set on fire. Each time she looked, she could see the cookies rising and being properly baked, but she was still nervous. Occasionally, her hand would hover over the handle, prepared to yank it open at the first sign of trouble.

Thankfully, the smoke detector didn't go off, though she flung open the oven as soon as the timer dinged. She put on her oven mitts and carefully pulled the cookies out, setting them down to cool before she allowed herself a moment to relax. With no one watching her, she pulled off the mitts and dropped them next to her, then slid down onto the floor and wiped a couple beads of sweat from her brow. Who knew that cooking could be so stressful? She did. She had known that.

After waiting awhile for the cookies to cool down, she decided it was wise to try one of them. She needed to make sure they hadn't ended up terrible and inadvertently make Ruby think she wanted to break up. What if she had messed up the recipe and it was somehow poisonous? She didn't want to end up dying on the bathroom floor without Ruby at her side. Or, actually, ever. Never at all. Hmm, maybe she could get Whitley to come over and try them... Ahh, he'd never fall for that. She was just going to have to do it herself. This was her cookie bed, and she had to lie in it.

Standing back up, she gently touched one of the cookies with a finger. It was warm, but not burning hot. She picked it up and took a nibble, not wanting to take one of Ruby's cookies, even if she had been the one to put the labor in. Letting the flavor sink into her tastebuds, she concluded that... it tasted like a toothpaste cookie. That seemed like she had done it right, then.

Grabbing a large ziplock bag, she carefully placed all of the cookies inside as neatly as she could. She knew that the moment Ruby got them, they would be jostled around as she shoved her greedy hand inside, but it was more for her own peace of mind. Everything having a neat, proper placement made her feel more at ease, regardless of what might happen to it afterwards. Though she wished it could last more than a few seconds... The tribulations of knowing Ruby and Yang.

This time, she was able to busy herself around the house while waiting for Ruby to return. She kept checking on herself this time, though, waiting to see if she ended up vomiting from food poisoning. By the time Ruby did return, however, her body was perfectly fine, which meant she had done it. Her cooking attempt had been a success! If she had less self-control, she would do a little dance. "Weiss! I'm home!" It was showtime. She came into the hallway, seeing Ruby notice her appearance with a big smile. "Hey there, Weiss! I missed you!" She then tilted her head slightly, noticing that Weiss had her hands behind your back. "Are you hiding something from me?"

"I missed you too, Ruby." Smiling, she walked closer to Ruby, keeping her hands behind her back. "Yes, I am. Would you like to see it?" She didn't have to ask twice. Ruby was instantly nodding, trying to glance over her shoulder to see what it was. She was like an excited puppy: Weiss could just imagine her little tail wagging furiously at the thought of getting something. "I hope you like them." Without further ado, she pulled out the bag of cookies and offered them to Ruby.

"Are these what I think they are?" Excitedly, Ruby opened the bag and grabbed a cookie, biting into the middle and chewing the half she'd gotten into her mouth. "Oh. My. Goodness gracious, ass bodacious! Peppermint! Weiss!" She shoved the rest of the cookie in her mouth, her eyes closing as she savored the flavor. "It's so good! Thank you, Weiss! Where did you buy these?"

"I didn't buy them: I made them." She puffed her chest out proudly, feeling good saying that out loud. Ruby left her hand in the bag, stopping her attempt to grab a second cookie. Her eyes were wide as she stared at Weiss, seemingly in disbelief at what she had heard.

"Wait, you made these?" Weiss nodded, still looking mighty proud. However, she was suddenly confused when she saw Ruby take off towards the kitchen. She stood by the door, wondering what in the world Ruby was doing. Finally, Ruby came back, sighing with relief. "Oh thank goodness, the kitchen's still standing."

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

"Well, you're not exactly the best chef we know." Ruby smiled awkwardly, knowing that every word she said was digging a deeper hole for herself to lay in. "But, uh, wow. For real, Weiss, these are good!" To emphasize that point, she grabbed another cookie and popped it into her mouth. "Mmm, heavenly... How come you made these for me, though? I thought having too many cookies was bad for me."

"It is, which is why you shouldn't eat the entire batch." As she said that, Ruby was already shoving a third cookie into her mouth. "And yet... But anyway, I made them for you because you were so unhappy about peppermint being out of season. I wanted to make you happy, and I was kind of hoping it would show that I can do romantic things too." She blushed slightly, looking down at her feet.

"Really?" Weiss nodded shyly, not looking up. At least, not until she felt Ruby nearly bowl her over with the tightest hug imaginable. "Aww Weiss, that's so sweet! Thank you so much!" She looked up to see Ruby beaming at her, but her vision was quickly obscured when Ruby kissed her. The sudden lip-lock left her in a bit of a daze. "You didn't have to prove anything to me, though. I know you have your own way of showing that you love me."

"Yes, but I don't want you to ever feel like I'm not showing you the love you deserve." She slipped out of Ruby's arms and grabbed a cookie from the bag, offering it to Ruby. Grinning, Ruby leaned in and took a bite out of it. "I know I can be difficult to be with, and I just wanted to show you that I appreciate every day you've stayed with me, despite it all."

"You're not difficult, Weiss." That got her a look. "Okay, I mean... You're worth it, Weiss. You've always been worth it. No matter what, I've wanted to be with you. You don't have to make me cookies to prove that. Though they are nice..." She took the rest of the cookie from Weiss's hand, smiling giddily at the taste. "Goodness, these are good... Uh, anyway, what I'm trying to say is that I love you for who you are. There has never been a moment where I've doubted your love for me." She smiled that big, innocent smile that always let the truth shine through. "The fact that you'd do this for me just proves it."

"Thank you, Ruby." This time it was Weiss who initiated the hug, stepping forward to embrace her girlfriend. "I couldn't have asked for a better partner." She laid her head on Ruby's shoulder, unable to keep herself from smiling. They were having a moment, which was suddenly broken up by the sound of quiet munching. "Ruby, are you eating a cookie right now?"

"Uh... no?" She spoke with a mouthful of something, which gave her away instantly. It was so obvious that Weiss couldn't even be mad. "Sorry," Ruby muttered, knowing that she had been caught without having to look at Weiss's face. "They're just so good, though! I wanna eat them all!"

"Ruby Rose, I hope you aren't planning on actually eating all of the cookies I painstakingly baked for you at once." She relaxed her embrace to see Ruby trying not to look guilty. It was a failure. "I hope you remember that even though I made them, they're still not a healthy snack. Please exercise moderation with them."

"Aww, moderation is lame..." Still, reluctantly, she zipped the bag back up and let her arms fall to her side. "The things I do for love..." Her tone was so dramatic that Weiss had to laugh, bringing Ruby back into another embrace. She didn't give the same strong hugs Ruby did, but she hoped they were acceptable all the same.

"Hopefully it's worth it."

"Of course it is! I love you so very much!" Ruby returned the hug tenfold, nearly lifting Weiss off her feet with the strength in her arms. "You're everything to me, Weiss. If I have to not eat all these cookies until later, then I'll do that. You're worth more than an entire strawberry cookie factory, you know?" Weiss laughed at that, leaning in close to Ruby. Her girlfriend really was something else, and she wouldn't change her for the world.

"You think you can get away with sweet-talking me?" She laughed again, softly kissing Ruby's cheek. "Well, I'll let you do it this time. I love you too, Ruby." She moved over so she could kiss Ruby on the lips, even with the taste of toothpaste on them. At least she tasted fresh. "So very much."

#White Rose Week #RWBY #White Rose #Ruby Rose #Weiss Schnee #My Writing

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