#glad i could spend the past 5 hours waiting for neighbors to turn their loud af music off productively. now i can finally sleep

[forged-in-kaoss]

put the sun and moon in reverse steady your feet in the sand and surf we can live on and on and spreading the songs of the colorful state of your heart of your heart, with my heart they can never tear us apart

[fics-in-a-bottlepost]

Here's another one that got lost in some black hole on this platform. Courferre(Combeferre/Courfeyrac, Les Mis) this time.

It's a few minutes after 6 when Combeferre drinks the first sip of his coffee and takes a look at his calender. Tomorrow is the one year anniversary of his bookshop. He quickly finishes his coffee, feeds Blaise, his cat, and changes his pjamas for some sportswear before he heads out the door with Blaise on his tail who then disappears around the next corner. Combeferre starts his daily morning run, the route isn't long and therefore barely takes him 30 minutes but he loves seeing the city wake up while he was already on his feet. He doesn't meet many people except for his neighbor Jehan Prouvaire who greets him with a big smile and a "why don't you drop by occasionally? I baked a lot these past few days and could really use someone to taste them!"

Ferre smiles at them and promises to drop by in the afternoon before he goes on.

Apart from a few people with their dogs and a few other people on their morning runs he meets nearly noone. He waves at the young man in the wheelchair who always sits in front of the house at the crack of dawn and gets a cute smile back. Wait-did he just refer to another man's smile as...cute? He tries not to think about it for now and watch out for any obstacles on his way instead.

Combeferre stops abrupt at the corner as he hears a feminine voice behind him. "Hello Courfeyrac. Don't you want to come inside? Breakfast is ready and It's still pretty cold, sweety." She isn't talking to him, obviously, but he's heard that voice before. It's the woman that drops by his bookshop at least once a week, buying a book from different topics each week. He turns around to see her talking to the young man in the wheelchair who's mostly reading in the morning but now just looking around with a book in his lap. Combeferre has seen his movements the past few weeks and months, he can barely lift his hands to turn the side of the books he's reading. He watches the curly haired lift his book a few inches. "I know Courf. One day I'll take you too the bookstore with me. When papa comes back. I can't carry you inside the store, there's no way you can get inside with that wheelchair with those steps outside. One day Courf, one day." she says and patts his head as she turns the wheelchair to roll her son inside.

Ferre spends almost all day in his garage after a quick stop at his shop for some notes and measurements. Apart from Lunch, which Jehan comes by for and takes him back to their house. Ferre loves their house and especially their food, which is vegan and always incredibly tasty. He's glad that Jehan thought of him because he'd probably forget to eat at all. They doesn't let him leave without taking a bag of different cookies and some apple-pumpkin bread. When he gets back to his house he finishes his project with a quick few screws. Then he makes a call and within 10 minutes his friend Grantaire stops with his van outside. The artist helps him carry the ramp he build into the car and unload it at the store until he's off to his boyfriend Enjolras. It fits perfectly over the stairs as he planned. He opens the shop door for a minute to stick a small card into a book he ordered for Courfeyracs mother-or probably Courfeyrac- and decides to drop it off at their house. The man himself sits outside, enjoying the warm air and the rays of sun with closed air. His eyes snap open as Combeferre stops in front of him. The taller man awkwardly pulls the book from his sling bag and holds it within Courfs reach. The brunett smiles at the sight of the book, his smile expands even more as he opens it and reveals the message.

"Dear Courf." he reads whispering "If someone would have told me they would like to visit my shop but couldn't due to their condition of health I would have done something earlier. Anyway, I adapted the entry to the bookshop to your needs and would like to invite you to drop by. Sincerely, Combeferre(the owner)" the card falls from his hands onto the book in his lap as he stares up at Combeferre with shining eyes.

"Really?", he whispers and Combeferre can only nod as the other grabs his hand and squeezes it as a thanks. He returns the gesture as the front door opens and Courf mother walks outside. She recognizes him immediately, judging by the look on her face. She tilts her head at Ferre as her son let's go off Combeferres hand and reaches out to give her the card. She reads in silent as both man stare at her, then turns to Combeferre as she lays the card down in Courf lap. "Thank you so much." she says and shakes his hand. He smiles at her and nodds politely. Courf tucks at her sleeve and makes a gesture with one hand as she let's go of the other man's hand and faces him. "I've got to work to tomorrow, Courf. I can't stay at the bookstore all day long, even if I want. Maybe overmorrow." she answers to his question. The smile on Courfs face disappears and it almost breaks Combeferres heart as he looks at him. "Uh..." he disrupts. Both mother and son turn to look at him. "I could take him with me. I gotta work between 9 and 13 and later between 14.30 and 18 o clock but he could stay as long as he wants." he suggests. Courfeyracs face lights up as his mother agrees. Heloise, as she introduces herself properly, and Combeferre arrange for him to pick up Courfeyrac at 8:30. Courf can decide for himself if he wants to go home and she will come and pick him up.

Ferre almost can't sleep that night. He's too busy thinking about whether Courfeyrac will like his shop. Hes running on 5 hours of sleep and 4 coffee when he stops by Courfs house after his morning run, a quick shower and a few slices of Jehans bread . His new friend sits in front of the door already, wearing blue jeans and a yellow sweatshirt and brightly smiling at Ferre. Heloise stands at the kitchen window next to the door and waves back at Combeferre as he waves at her and moves over to Courfeyrac wheelchair. He finds himself quiet liking the feeling of the handles as he pushes his new friend the way to his bookshop. He needs some more energy to push the wheelchair up the ramp but it's worth it, he decides as Courfeyrac beams with happiness when he looks around and can't even get his mouth closed. They spend the first hour just getting to knew each other in lack of any customers. Combeferre provides him with one of his favourite books "a brief History of Time".

Its 9.45 sharp when the doorbell rings, causing Courfeyrac to flinch in surprise. A red and a green hoodie came into Combeferres field of view through the open door of the backroom and the long hallway as Enjolras and Grantaire enter the shop. Combeferre excuses himself from Courfeyracs side to walk to the front and get the hoard of books R ordered from the cubboard behind the counter. They're mostly art books but some others too. Enjolras gasps as he sees the amount of books his boyfriend wants to purchase but runs off shortly after to look for the second book of a sequel he just started. A shriek rings out from the back where Enj just vanished, followed by a loud bang and both R and Ferre rush to the source of the sound. They find Enj sitting on the ground with a book in his hands and the old wooden latter laying next to him. He's staring at Courf sitting in the corner of the room who dropped his book when Enji first saw him. "Oh shit, I'm so sorry. " Enjolras gasps when he finds his voice again. "Uh, this is my friend..." Combeferre starts but gets cut off by Grantaire. "Courfeyrac, right?"

Mentioned man slightly smiles and nodds. Enjolras carefully reaches for his hand and squeezes it for a second, Grantaire just waves from the back and sets the ladder back to its feet. Combeferre introduces them to each other and picks up the book laying in front of the wheelchair before he pushes him towards the front of the room as Courf asks.

After Grantaire pays for all of his books and Enjolras' as well, Combeferre helps them carry the hoard to Grantaires van in front of the shop. The next few hours are calm, there's only one old lady buying a book and a college student picking a few about mathmatics up. So Courf and Ferre spend their time laying on the big couch in the backroom together and Ferre reading aloud while Courfeyrac lays half on him. They only stop once when Courfeyrac whispers "there's something at the door. I can hear it" and Ferre gets up only to come back with his tabby cat, Blaise who drops by on a regular basis as he's free to go around the city all day. They stop reading when Ferre lays back down and Blaise joins them within Courfeyracs arm reach who happily cuddles her the whole time as he and Ferre talk about different topics. Courf states he never had any friends because it was never nice being a kid that couldnt walk and even barely move and it certainly isn't better being a 22 year old who still can't walk and move just a little bit more than he could 15 years ago.

At the end of the day, Combeferre drops Courf, who he declared as his best friend by now, at his house at 18.30. From now on Combeferre joins him at work almost every day as long as he doesn't have to go to therapy and even helps him a bit, as his physical abilities seem to improve, by calculating the prizes of several books faster than Combeferre can even type them into his old register or putting new books into the shelf within his reach. The curly haired is extremely good at memorizing the names, covers, topics and prizes of almost all books of Combeferres store in a few weeks which is very useful when people come by his store to buy a book they only know the cover or the content off. It takes Combeferre exactly 12 days to accept he's fallen in love with Courf which makes him a bit stressed. When he tries to get help from his friends in their groupchat, R simply answeres "you gotta tell him." and Joly sends a "bring him to our next meeting at Jehan's when you told him". The next day he spends busy with many customers which distracts him a bit from his "problem". But of course his friend notices that he is tense and sits him down in the break. Combeferre doesn't say a word at first but as Courf keeps asking him he leaps up to his feet and throws his arms in the air. "Fine! You want to know what's wrong?" he asks exasperated. Courf nodds and tilts his head a little bit. Combeferre moves around the room and messes up his hair. Then: "I'm in love with you!"

Courf eyes widen and he takes quiet a moment before he reaches out to grab Combeferres shirt and make him stop. His friend stares at him, as he drags at his shirt to get him closer. "Stop running around." he says. "I'd like to kiss you." he continues and takes all his strength together to reach for Ferres collar and drag him down to his height. Combeferre obeys and sits back on the couch as Courf cups his jaw with one hand and pulls him closer to press his lips on Combeferres. He feels Combeferre melt into the kiss as his his hands find their way into his curls and he pulls Courf even closer.

None of them notices the ringing of the doorbell OR Enjolras standing in the doorway with R by his side who's taking a photo of them before E coughs. They withdraw and stare at the other two before Courf throws himself at Ferre again. E and R leave chuckling and with a "finally" as his boyfriend lifts Courf out of the wheelchair and onto his lap to pull him closer. "yes, finally." both Courf and Combeferre think to themselves.

[loveistherootofhappiness]

this wasn’t on the list of prompts you posted but like,,, chimney and maddie start making out whike maddie is cooking christmas dinner and just before things start to get even more intense, buck knocks on the door 😜🙈

Long time no hear from! I’m back and I’m sorry it took me so long to get to this. But, Christmas is year round right? Thank you so much for prompting me and I hope you like what I did with it. Just a fair warning, I upped the ante just a bit 😉. This was a thrill to write, thanks again.

Also written for Countdown to Christmas

Pairing: MadneyRating: M (slightly)Word count: 1322

Can also be read here...

-----

Maddie looked around at her absolute disaster of a kitchen. Pots, pan, mixing bowls, along with several types of food and ingredients lined her stove top and counters. She sighed heavily as she ran through the checklist in her mind, making she that she hadn’t forgot to make anything. It wasn’t that she was trying to make sure everything was perfect, it was just that it was her family’s first time hosting Christmas in their new home they’d moved into a few months ago. She wanted it to be special, even though it was just going to be her and Buck’s families, the Lee’s, and Albert. Athena, Bobby, Hen and Karen were out of town with their families.

A set a solid, muscular arms wrapped around her, startling her a bit. It didn’t take long for her brain to catch up to what was happening and she settled into the hold. “I didn’t hear you come in?”

“I could have used a bullhorn and you probably wouldn’t have heard me,” he nuzzled her neck and she brought a hand up to run through his hair. Placing a kiss there, he said, “stop worrying so much, everything is going to be fine. Besides it’s just, Buck, Eddie and the kids. You know Joy, Celina, and Christopher will be fine with whatever and Buck and Eddie will eat it as long as it’s edible. Not to say that the food won’t be delicious, but...”

Maddie chucked, knowing it was true, especially about her brother. “I know, but it’s our fist time hosting Christmas here, I just want it to be special, you know.”

“Yeah, I do and it will be, so stop worrying. Everything smells great,” he placed another kiss on her neck, “especially you.”

“Chimney,” Maddie half-heartedly warned, as he continued to pepper kisses, “I have to finish this.”

He turned her in his arms, pushing her flush between the kitchen island and his body. “You’ve already finished cooking and they shouldn’t be here for another few hours.” The pure arousal in his voice didn’t go unnoticed.

“But I have to clean,” Maddie tried. The look in his eyes was weakening her and she knew her voice was betraying her.

He attacked her neck again, nipping and sucking. Not enough to leave marks as he knew better. He trailed up her neck, along her jawline, until he reached her lips. Against them, he asked breathily, “do you want me to stop?”

“No.”

Permission granted, he picked her up and placed her on a cleanish section of the counter, and kissed her. The kiss deepened quickly with both of them moaning into it, hungry for more.

“You know,” Chimney said between breaths as he broke the kiss, “as long as we’ve lived here I don’t think we’ve Christened this room yet.”

“Oh gee, I wonder how we let that happen. I guess know is as good a time as any.” Maddie wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him back into her and captured his lips again. Her hands began to roam up his chest and back down til she reached the hem of his shirt. Lifting the material, she easily slipped a hand past the elastic waistband of his pajama pants, softly caressing his underwear covered bulge and was met with a deep groan. Removing her hand, she brought hands to band of his pants and started to push them down when he moved her hands.

Breaking away from her lips, “Not yet. There’s something I want to do first, lie back.”

Maddie smirked, already knowing what that “something” was and did as she was told. As she put her back against the counter she knew it was covered in flour and sprinkles from the cookies she’d made for their daughter, she could feel it coating her back and tank top, but she didn’t care. Chimney’s eyes never left he slowly ran his fingers up her legs and thighs. She bit her lip, fighting against closing her eyes at the sensations, waiting to stay in this moment with him. She always loved the amount of love she saw in his eyes whenever they made eye contact like this.

As his fingers reached the waist band of her pajama shorts, “still good?” Maddie nodded. “Good.” As he pulled her shorts and underwear down she lifted her hips to make the slide easier. He slid them down her legs and off, tossing them out of the way. Chimney wasted no time dropping down and kissing her inner thighs. His little bites were sure to leave marks, but they could be covered. Maddie gripped the edge of the counter from behind as her moans began to increase in volume.

He stopped when he reached her center, spreading her legs a little further and pulling her body forward a little. She met his eyes again and he smirked at her before put his tongue exactly where she needed. Maddie couldn’t have been more glad that her daughter was with her uncle because the volume of the yelp she let out was probably loud enough for the neighbors to hear. Her back arched of the counter at the glorious feel of what he was doing to her. His hands were gripping her waist. The hand wasn’t gripping the island for dear life found its way into his hair, careful not to grip and tug.

She could feel that oh so familiar feeling in pit of her stomach. She was nearing her peak. She concentrated on the sensation, building and building until...

Knock. Knock. Knock.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me?!” Chimney and Maddie said simultaneously, knowing they couldn’t have possibly heard what they thought they did. Not now.

Knock. Knock. Knock. They heard again.

Rolling her eyes, Maddie sat up, knowing the moment was over. She could see Chimney doing the same as he rose to his feet. The two of them were silent as Maddie hopped down off the island to redress, thankful their front door was nowhere near the kitchen. Looking between each other, they decided it would be best for Maddie to answer the door. Chimney had a little situation going on that he need to take care of.

Going their separate ways, with Chimney heading up to their bedroom, Maddie walked to the front door. As she opened it, she knew they’d made the right call, with their daughter and her brother greeting her. “Mommy!” Joy wrapped her arms around her.

“Hey, baby! Why are you back so soon?”

“She couldn’t wait to get the rest of her presents, and know how the little munchkin is. So we figured we go ahead and come over here,” Buck told her, juggling the presents in his arms.

“Why didn’t you call?”

“I did and so did Eddie. What were you doing?”

Maddie looked sheepish. “Oh, I was-”

“Mommy, where’s daddy?” Her daughter interrupted.

Thankful for the interruption Maddie turned her attention to Joy. “Upstairs,” Joy let her go and took off, “don’t run!” Maddie yelled without turning around. She heard to little patter of her feet grow slower.

She stepped aside to let him Buck into the house, going to grab some of the gift boxes from him, “All of Joy’s stuff is in the trunk. She opened all of what we had for her this morning,” Buck held out the boxes he was holding, “these are for you and Chimney.”

Christopher and Eddie entered the home with Celina in her car seat. “Thank you both so much for keeping her yesterday, guys. She really wanted to spend the night with her favorite Uncles.”

“It was no problem Maddie, we love having her.” Eddie answered and Maddie smiled.

After she settled the gifts under the tree, she went to go upstairs to shower and change. “Um, Maddie,” she heard her brother say.

“Yeah?”

“Is there any reason your back is covered in flour and sprinkles?”

-----

Previous works in the series: 1 2 3 4 5 6

[ginsburg-sam]

DRUNK IN THE MORNING | SPUCK

WHO: Noah Puckerman & Sam Evans

WHAT: After Sam’s tattoo adventure at a party, he finds himself at Puck’s apartment, needing his best friend to be there for him

WHEN: Backdated to November 19th, morning

WHERE: Puck’s apartment

WARNING: Mentions of alcohol 

SAM: It had been a long night. Sam hadn't slept yet. Surprise surprise - that had been a given for the past couple of days that Sam hadn't been able to get any rest, his mind constantly thinking about ways that he could improve himself, ways that he could make up for the fact that he'd hurt all of those different people. It hadn't only been a long night, it had been a long week, and Sam just wanted to spend his time with someone. Ideally, it would've been Tina. But even in his drunken state, he knew that it wouldn't be a good idea to show up at her room, at 5 in the morning, on a Tuesday. He knew he'd get in trouble for that, and he knew he'd just make things worse if that was what he decided to do. He knew that much.

It was cold as he walked across campus. He'd left his jacket...somewhere. He couldn't really remember where he'd put it. Maybe it was at Tina's? Sam stopped walking as he thought about it. Maybe it was at Tina's. He turned around and started walking towards the dorms that she lived in. Maybe he'd left his jacket at Tina's, just like his heart and his values in life, and everything good in the world - it was at Tina's place. Right? No...it couldn't be. He'd worn it after seeing her the other day. Stopping up again, Sam's eyebrows furrowed and instead, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. That must be Tina, responding to my text! His drunken self thought and he pulled it out to see who it was.

While it wasn't Tina, Sam's face still lit up. "PUCK!" He screamed, his voice echoing all over the empty campus. He didn't even read the messages that Puck had sent him, his thumbs immediately started typing. His eyes were squinting, trying to see what he was doing, but being dyslexic and drunk was a bad mix, and after several times of typing something up, deleting it, and typing it again, the outcome was a "Cna I chrahs at yours?" He didn't wait for a reply and instead started marching towards Puck's apartment. 

He tried to be quiet as he made his way into the building, not wanting to wake the residents up. Knocking on the door softly, Sam shushed it. "You're being loud," He whispered to the door, waiting for it to open up. Sam leaned forward, his head hitting the door and using it to knock a few more times.

PUCK: Texting late at night was Puck's usual. He had a lifestyle that meant he would be and could be up at all hours of the day. He had gone to bed at one point, only to wake up at another point in the night, and then at another point simply decided he would stay up. It usually wasn't too hard to find somewhere for him to nap around campus if he needed to, or a bed to stay in. Plus he had his truck. Deciding he would be fine figuring it out as he went along about his day meant he was up at 3:30 am, showered by 4:45 am, and making some Eggo waffles and checking his phone by 5:00 am.

Had he expected to get a reply from people? Yeah, that was pretty normal. There were the health nuts who would be up already and horny for a workout of some sort, the people still rolling from the night before, people wanting to buy weed, some actually just up for normal reasons... but still, of all the names to flash on his screen, having Sam Evans be one wasn't expected. Especially with the request to crash at his place. That didn't sound like he was waking up and getting an early start to his day. The dude was fucked up, and Puck wasn't going to let him deal with that alone.

However, he wasn't getting replies, and as it got to be 5:30 with no answer back, Puck was getting ready to go to campus and see if he could find the blonde. All he'd have to do is yell about free comic books or say that hottie Sigourney Weaver was on signing autographs. He knew his friend well enough-- that was why Puck also knew he was hurting. Things were a little jumbled for Sam at the moment when it came to the affairs of his heart, yet Puck was certainly aware that he had a good one underneath it all. If guys like Sam couldn't rise above their actions, then that meant there was certainly no hope for Puck to ever do the same. 

Perhaps that played a part in Puck's ability to retain a fierce loyalty regardless of circumstance. Why he would do anything for his friends-- such as risk opening his front door to a mostly unexpected thudding. His reasoning? He was almost positive he heard Sam's voice faintly on the other side of his silent apartment.

"Evans?" Puck asked as he swung the door open, eyes quickly assessing if he was going to need to pick Sam up or if he could still walk on his own two feet. He wanted to hope so considering he made it to Puck's apartment, but he had seen drunk people both manage and mess up plently of things. It was just usually himself doing it. Glad to see his friend standing and there, Puck greeted in the only warm way he knew how, "There you fucking are dude, I was getting ready to go call out the hounds to find your ass." Despite the words, he had a smile break out on his face, only for it to quickly falter as he noticed Sam's face. He had a black eye it looked like, and it wasn't even a fresh one, along with the rest of him looking no better. His instinctive need to care made Puck reach out, brushing Sam's bangs aside and tilting his head to try and get a better look at his friend's wounds, "Jesus, the hell you've been up to tonight? And why wasn't I invited?" Mostly he had said it because he wished he had been there to maybe of prevented some of the mess in front of his doorway.

SAM: It felt like an eternity before the door opened. Sam's eyes were closing, as he felt himself get more tired, leaning his head against the door. If Puck didn't open up, Sam would just sleep right then and there, he decided. Fuck it, he didn't care who saw him. He didn't care at all anymore. Puck was one of the most reliable people that Sam had in his life, he knew he'd defend him in whatever way he could, to the neighbors in the building, if they started talking. Besides, Sam also knew that Puck didn't give a shit about what they thought, and that was why the Evans boy felt that he'd be fine with just sleeping out there. It wouldn't embarrass Puck, he knew it.

But then the door swung open, and Sam almost came falling through, before his hand landed on the doorframe, and he stopped himself. "Lucy," He called out, turning up his best Desi Arnaz impression. "You've got some 'splaining to do," Looking up, Sam's eyes landed on Puck's and he grinned. He stood up straight, swaying slightly on his feet as he felt the other man's hand almost ghost his forehead. It felt nice, and the grin transformed into almost a pout. "I went to a party, this dude..." Sam started, rolling his eyes. "I think his name was Mag- Micha- Messiah something threw this party for all of the seniors," He shrugged his shoulders and moved to put his hands on either side of Puck's face. "Thanks for taking me in, it feels just like my high school days when my family was homeless."

Sam hadn't meant to say that, but Puck knew all about what had happened during the last two years of Sam being in high school. During a drunken night in Freshman year, Sam had spilled everything to him, feeling like he could trust him enough with the information. He'd known at that point that Puck was going to stay in his life, and that they were friends; Sam considered Puck to be one of his best friends. And so during that one night, after too many shots of tequila, Sam had told Puck all about his dyslexia, and how much he was bullied for it, and how his parents had lost their jobs and Sam had needed to provide for the family, taking up three jobs whilst still trying to maintain some good grades in high school. It was a lot, and tears had been shed during that night, and even though a lot of alcohol had been involved, Sam still remembered every single thing about it. Because Puck had been there for him. He'd shown how much he cared, he showed respect and sympathy, and it was everything that Sam needed in a best friend. 

"Can I come in?" Sam asked, not wanting to be rude. It hadn't been the first time that he'd stayed over at Puck's, but it had been for completely different reasons. They usually involved weed and video games. "Why are you up? Have you been to a party too?" Puck was always a mystery to Sam; what he spent his time doing. "Oh, I've got to show you somethin'," Sam lifted up his t-shirt, covering his face with it, so he couldn't see. "Can you see it?" He asked, pointing to the fresh ink that was on his chest, right above his left nipple. 'Temporary'. It was still bleeding, but less so now than before. "I'm a bad boy now, right?"

PUCK: From the I Love Lucy impression to the innocent way Sam asked to come in, Puck could say with certainty that even with all the wear and tear that this creature was Sam Evans. He might have been beaten, battered, and bruised, but there was hope for him to come out of all this. Puck was certain of that much, even if Sam might have not. 

"Yeah Evans, course you can come in." Puck assured, stepping aside and leaving the door open for Sam to follow through. Letting Sam Evans in hadn't ever been hard for Puck do, which was actually saying something. He was unashamedly himself, sure, but that didn't mean he was up for talking about the things that troubled him. He wasn't like Sam, who wasn't open about his past but also wasn't as shy about admitting his feelings. However, Sam had been there when Puck had a few bad trips while they lived together and he learned what it was like to have someone actually sit with him through a storm. Waking up the next day and having what happened the night before actually bring them closer was one the reasons that Sam had quickly landed the role of best friend. Not just a party friend, but a true, genuine best friend. So of course Puck wasn't against having him come over despite the time and despite Sam's state.

Puck made his way over to the fridge to grab themselves each a beer, as it was as natural to drink for Puck as water was meant to be for the human body. That was why he didn't bother to ask Sam if he wanted one before doing so. Grabbing the handle, Puck was about to give Sam his answer on what had him up only to be presented with something he didn't expect. Not even remotely.

Sam showing off his physique wasn't exactly out of the ordinary-- the guy took care of himself so he had a right to show it off. It had just been awhile since Puck had seen him outside of the locker room, so the sight had him linger for a moment. The dude looked like shit but his body... well, it sure didn't. And then Puck realized there was something he was supposed to be looking for specifically, and it stuck out as soon as his brain made the connection, "Holy shit, dude... is that what I think it is?" Puck couldn't help but exclaim, eyes squinting. He was trying to sort how he felt about the sight while also reading it the Temporary etched on pale skin, "I can't believe you actually got fucking ink..." Of course Puck could see the badassery of tattoos, but his religion also banned getting them, which had been a bigger hang up than he ever let on. And the one he did have was the prison tat he had to get in order to have protection. Yet despite his limited experience with the practice, even Puck could tell the tattoo needed a little TLC. 

"Hey bad boy, how about you do me a favor," Puck announced as he started to pull the fridge open to locate drinks. He didn't want to continue to stare at Sam's chest and tattoo. At least not from across the room like this, "Take your shirt off and sit on the couch. I'll be over there in a sec," He directed, grabbing the beers and setting them out. He needed to take a few moments to go through his cabniets for the medical supplies he kept. Given his major, Puck had become even more versed in actual, physical self care and various supplies. Having shitty health insurance contributed to it, too, of course, "How'd that even happen dude? Most tattoo places around here are closed by like 8 on weekdays. That looks fresh as shit."

SAM: Puck’s apartment reminded Sam of his own. The layout of it seemed to be a Ginsburg thing, because the two places shared a certain rustic feeling to it, but it was the decor that Sam thought of. While there was way more weed-smoking options in Puck’s apartment than Sam’s, the walls had the movie posters in common, and it felt lived in. The stacks of video games piled high and while it wasn’t the cleanest, it was nice. It was a home. And a place that felt this secure was exactly what Sam needed now; without being alone. He hadn’t hesitated to type his message out and ask if he could stay there that night because he knew exactly what he was getting with Puck. Despite their friendship only being a year old, it felt like the two had known each other since they were kids, and Sam knew that he could rely on the guy. More than he could rely on himself. 

It was stinging like all hell. It felt tight on his skin. And Sam wasn’t the biggest fan of it. He wasn’t the type of guy to do something like this. Sam Evans was born and raised in a nice and caring household that went to church every Sunday, said grace at the table, didn’t swear unless it was completely necessary, and treated most people with kindness and compassion. This was completely out of the ordinary for him, and he knew that Puck knew that. 

Puck’s reaction wasn’t a surprise to him then. The swear, the shock in his tone - the craziest thing that Sam had done during college was take molly that one time, and it was one time too many for him. Puck had been the one to introduce this lifestyle of partying to him, and Sam loved the freedom. But he was also very new to it, and he still had certain boundaries. Weed, he could get down with. It made him relax in a way that sex made him. And again, sex was also only a thing because Puck had introduced him to it. Something that Sam was forever grateful for.

Pulling his shirt over his head and off, the grin on Sam’s face had disappeared. It was replaced instead with a light furrow to his eyebrows as he sat down on the couch, as instructed by his friend. He was all of a sudden regretting it. This was not ‘temporary’ - this was staying on his body forever. “Puck,” Sam called out, before he saw the man come back into the room with bottles of something; they didn’t look drinkable that was for sure. “Someone at the party brought one of those cheap kits,” he hiccuped at the end of the sentence. “I don’t think he knew what he was doing.”

Sam watched Puck, his eyes going from his hands to his face, looking up at him, finding his deep brown eyes. His own had turned sadder than the happy expression he had on earlier when he’d seen his best friend. Realization kicked in. “Do you think Tina’s going to hate it?” He asked, his voice quiet now. “Do you think I’ve lost all chances with her now?” Looking down at his hands, Sam felt the tears sting his eyes. He sniffed and quickly wiped them away, clearing his throat. His voice came out in a whisper. “I’ve disappointed her.”

PUCK: So many parts to the story at hand just didn't add up to being anything remotely Sam Evans-like. The guy who Puck had known his freshman year was the definition of a bright eyed and bushy tailed kid coming to the big city-- and they weren't even in a big city. Sam had just simply not experienced many joys that life had to offer that didn't have to do with country living or loving thy family and neighbor. Did Puck have to make Sam be his passion project when found any of that information out their freshman year? No, but someone needed to show the guy a good Friday night could mean more than being able to have Chinese and order a pay per view movie that wasn't even a porn. But seeing Sam now, knowing the kind of escape he was going for when attending a party to run from troubles, well Puck couldn't help but wonder if maybe he wasn't as good of an influence as he thought. Sam could make his own decisions, sure, it was just hard to see someone Puck cared about deeply be struggling so much.

"Anyone who brings shit like that to a party usually doesn't know what they're doing. Same goes for the guys who bring guitars to em, and that's why we don't do it." Puck reminded, his tone suggesting that he was actually handing out sage advice to Sam despite it being nothing of true value. Unless you asked Puck, of course. He took a seat beside Sam, setting the water he had warmed up, a few clothes, gauze, tape, and the beers on the table. It wasn't exactly the first time Puck's coffee table had seen such a display of items riddled on its surface, though it was one of the first times he was being done for Sam Evans' sake. Hopefully it would be the last, "Are you really gonna sit there and defile the good name of Chez Puckerman by getting emo over a girl at 6am? C'mon Evans, major party foul."

Leaning forward, Puck soaked a cloth in the water, wringing it out a few times, "Look... listen dude," Puck blurted out in a gentle way, not wanting his friend to get too inside of his own head. It seemed he had done that enough tonight. Putting one hand on Sam's shoulder, Puck used his other to start cleaning off Sam's swollen, bloodied tattoo, "When people care, like really care, you don't just 'lose chances' with 'em. They'll see through the bullshit." Speaking from experience, it was really the only way he could justify his mother still loving him the way that she did, "But that doesn't mean you can keep pullin it, either 'cause at some point that's just walking all over 'em and they'll realize it. No one's gonna be happy then." Puck kept his eyes focused on tending to the self-chosen wound on Sam's chest, doing his best to ignore the fact he did have a hot guy shirtless in front of him. As it turned out, Puck's libido did have an off button-- or maybe his genuine care for Sam outweighed it. 

"You're gonna disappoint people, Sammy boy. That's just facts. So you can either man up and accept that or you can be a sad sack for the rest of your life." Satisfied with his work, both in words and cleaning, Puck's eyes flicked up to meet with Sam's, "And just so we're clear, that second option ain't actually an option. Especially not for your pretty lookin face," Puck deemed,, offering Sam the signature smirk that seemed always at the ready on his lips, all while he had a hand lightly pat his cheek as if to emphasize his point.

SAM: Chuckling, Sam nodded. “I only brought mine that one time, because Rachel had asked me to accompany her on it. And we all know how that went,” That was a dreadful night that he didn’t remember much of, except for being in Lauren Zizes’ lap - that felt like the beginning to this whole thing that had just had a domino effect. He wasn’t even sure if he had been with the girl that Tina had overheard talking about a make-out session. Mainly because he wasn’t actually the type of guy to do something like this. Throughout Freshman year, Sam had only had one-night stands and they were with girls who hadn’t seemed interested in dating him anyway, so to see the same people again and again, and actually have something going on with one, let alone five was so unlike Sam Evans. That was Puck’s style. It was his way of doing things; making it very clear that he was only in it for sex from the beginning, and not getting emotionally attached. And while some people might have seen it as sleazy, Sam admired the fact that he was able to make it so clear to people from the beginning. It took huge balls to be so up-front with everyone about it. 

This was a situation that the young man had never been in. He’d never gotten so attached to a girl before, and he’d never felt so guilty about something, ever. He knew he’d hurt her; not only because he was compassionate, but because someone liked to remind him, every single day. And he was getting sick of hearing it. It already tore him apart, knowing what he’d done, and how it wasn’t just Tina who’d gotten hurt, but four other people. He didn’t need to be reminded of his actions. But he was also getting tired of not being allowed to be sad either. He was getting annoyed that he couldn’t feel things. Sam was all about making other people, but he couldn’t help but feel like his happiness was being forgotten at the same time.

Looking up, Sam had quickly wiped away the tears that had been close to spilling over, sucking in a deep breath, as he listened to Puck. He agreed, 100% with him. And he knew that he was going to end up just repeating what he said, because how else could Sam prove to him, and several other people that he agreed and he understood, and he was aware of the fact that he’d hurt them? He was doing his best to be better, but it was getting difficult with everyone shoving the same information down his throat. “What bullshit am I pulling now, Puck?” Sam asked, his jaw clenching slightly as he felt himself getting more annoyed. It was probably down to the alcohol and no sleep, but he was getting pissed off. What people didn’t seem to understand was that Sam had never intended to do any of this, and that his feelings had caught up with him too late. 

The stinging of Puck cleansing Sam’s newly acquired tattoo was nowhere near the pain that he felt in his heart. He was appreciative of the help that he was getting, he knew that he owed the guy big time. But he really didn’t want to sit there and be told that he should “man up” when he felt lonely. Standing up after Puck had patted his cheek, Sam put his t-shirt back on. There seemed to only be one option left for him, if he didn’t have to be lectured about what he’d done wrong. “It’s fine. It’s all good.” He lied, and took a long swig of his beer.

PUCK: It wouldn't of taken someone who lived with Sam for a year to be able to tell a nerve had been struck by the end of Puck's words. As happy go luck as Sam was, and as good at hiding deep, personal things as he was, something he seemed not so good at was hiding emotions. Maybe it was the puppy dog face, maybe it was the pouty lips, or maybe it was the normally trusting eyes, but whatever it was, Puck could notice it as soon as it happened. Leaning back, Puck watched as Sam stood up and put his shirt back on. For a moment Puck just sat there, watching and waiing for Sam to keep talking or bring up another subject. When he didn't, Puck could tell his friend was much more emotionally compromised than he thought. One of the few rare pieces of advice that Puck had ever gotten in life was to man up, and it was unfortunate how it had stuck. Especially now. Especially for Sam.

"Evans, c'mon dude. Don't be like that. I didn't mean you're pulling bullshit in some bad way," Puck coaxed, turning his attention towards his own beer so he could snatch it off the table. He was trying to act as casual about Sam's attitude change as he could. He didn't want Sam to leave, but Puck wasn't the type to beg someone to stay. Sure his friend had been reckless, but he hadn't been doing anything outright batshit. On a scale of one to ten a tattoo at a party was like a five in terms of things to be concerned about. Still, Sam being alone didn't sound like a good idea, and truthfully, Puck preferred not being alone either. He didn't want his inability to know what to say be the thing to make Sam believe no one was on his side, "Where're you even gonna go? It's late. Just sit back down and chillax. Seriously. I'll roll us something if you're this on edge."

SAM: The long sip turned into Sam finishing the beer right then and there. He didn't realize how thirsty he'd become. Maybe it was the walk over. Maybe it was the tattoo and how he'd fainted right after he'd gotten it; or maybe it was subconscious and needing it to be able to deal with all of this. Being sober meant that the thoughts were constantly in his head. He was constantly worrying about Tina, worrying about everyone else, wondering if they still hated him, when it would be a good time to text them, and how long they needed their space for. It wasn't easy, going from speaking to everyone, almost every day, to just nothing. And not having them in his life anymore. His heart was aching for their company.

What Sam didn't understand was how it felt like he wasn't allowed to go through these emotions of guilt and sadness and hurt. He knew he was the one who'd screwed it all up, but as he'd said a million times beforehand to almost everyone, he'd never intended to do anything like it. So it was slowly getting to him that everyone was dismissing his feelings.

Leaning back against the kitchen counter, Sam looked up to see Puck's expression from across the room. He knew that Puck meant well. He knew that he was the type of guy to be up-front about the truth, and that he wouldn't sugar-coat anything; and that wasn't what Sam was talking about here. He just wanted people to get off of his back for a bit, so he would stop feeling so miserable and guilty over being told something that he already knew. "I know you didn't mean it like that, I'm sorry for snapping," Sam said gently, sighing as he calmed down a bit. "I haven't slept in four days, I don't know how," He voice cracked at the end of the sentence and he sucked in a deep breath. "I'm sorry for putting all of this on you, man. I just don't know who to turn to anymore, because I'm getting shit from everyone. I can't deal with it all. I'm not that horrible." He made his way back to the couch and just leaned back, his head falling onto the backrest. Whispering, he repeated it. "I'm not that horrible."

PUCK: Hearing the drunken, sleep deprived confessions of Sam Evans wasn't something Puck was built for. It wasn't something people did with him. It wasn't as if Puck wasn't trustworthy, he was, but he wasn't the kind where people let walls down that involved sincere struggles. The ones that couldn't be aided by simple sex, drugs, alcohol, or even video games. Not on their own anyway. Even in the past Puck was usually just listening to Sam talk about what he went through and what had been hard. This was stuff that was happening now which meant Sam needed than another beer, and Puck knew what it was.

A soft "Hey," Left his lips before he knew it was happening, and it was due to the fact he needed to try the thing his friend always did-- speak from the heart, "What you're saying right now? That's bullshit..." Puck paused, waiting a beat to hope and ensure his words caught Sam's attention. He knew it sounded like he was about to hit him with more of his harsh truths, but he wanted to give Sam more than that, "You're not horrible at all. Plain and simple, Evans. You hear me?" 

With a lick of his lips, Puck switched the beer in his hand so he could make it possible for his palm to lay gently on Sam's chest. Not on his tattoo, but anatomically to his heart. He didn't want to hurt Sam, however, he wanted to make a point as he pressed his hand there with a more soft, sincere touch, "You're a good guy with a good heart, okay? That shit's about as permanent as your tattoo." He assured with a smile almost as empathic as his touch seemed to be, "So whatever you do man, no matter what happens... don't let tonight or any other night make you think otherwise. I don't."

It was most obvious then than it was in most cases why Puck was good at his major. It wasn't due being an expert in touch-- it was him putting a piece of himself in every genuine caress he did. Including now with his best friend in he hopes he could show he had always meant well. And that he cared.

SAM: Sam couldn't help but be in his feelings about all of this. It was so hard to shake the guilt of hurting not only Tina, but everyone else. He felt like he was suddenly all alone in his world. He knew that he still had Puck and Jake in his life, and he cherished them more than ever. It was times like this that Sam knew that he could count on those guys, because they didn't run away or abandon him when he had these problems. They were there to tackle them head on. But what surprised Sam was when Puck got really personal and sweet. He'd gone from 'man up' to all of a sudden saying all these nice things that almost made Sam choke up.

Raising his head from the backrest, Sam pouted slightly. He didn't deserve to hear such nice words from his best friend. He knew he deserved the smoke that he'd been given, about the bullshit that he'd pulled people through, but whatever Puck was saying? It was getting to him. He felt his throat close up slightly as he took in the words, believing them. 

His eyes were filling up, he could feel it, and he cursed under his breath because he knew that he shouldn't be getting this emotional, but the lack of sleep and affection, and the amount of alcohol consumed over the last couple of days, meant that the words that Puck were saying to him meant more than he could even fathom. Sam moved, his arms reaching out to grab the other guy and he clung himself to him. His arms locked him into a tight embrace. He was so thankful to have someone like Puck in his life still. He didn't want that to ever get messed up.

"Thank you," Sam whispered as he closed his eyes tightly to keep the tears from spilling out. "You're my best friend, man. I can always count on you," He needed Puck to know just happy he was to have him as a friend.

PUCK: As Sam's arms wrapped around him, Puck's own arms lifted and remained unsure of what to do, "Whoa there, Evans, you're acting like we're about to face the First Order," Puck lightly teased with a distant chuckle. No it wasn't his first hug ever, but it was unexpected. Though given it was Sam Evans, it wasn't hard to figure an embrace was ever really far away from happening. Puck didn't even mind the intimacy behind it, his body and soul opening up to feel the warmth as he started to hug Sam back. A part of his own heart seemed to swell, finding a solace he didn't even know he needed in the early morning hours. Without thought, the words "You're my best friend, too, dude," slipped out. While it was already a known fact, there was an extra weight behind it given the moment. Puck could tell that much.

Pulling back, Puck locked eyes with Sam and gave him an encouraging smile as his hands remained on Sam's shoulders. There was a deeper sense of trust, appreciation, and even understanding that seemed to exist between them. He was glad to have Sam as a friend, and it was nice to feel that the feeling was truly mutual. Patting his shoulder, Puck reassured once more, "You're gonna be alright, buddy, and even if you're not, you're always gonna have me." Only to nod confidently. Then his eyes glanced down at Sam's shirt and remembered what they were doing moments prior. Puck's chin directed towards Sam's chest to bring attention back to it.

"And before we play Super Mario Bros, you're gonna let me finish wrapping your tat back up. I don't want it to blur or anything, you wanna be able to show that sucker off." Puck instructed, one of his hands dropping down over Sam's collarbones and onto his chest. It was a light touch as to not harm his friend but to give a gentle reminder of what his drunken state had already likely put on the backburner, "We wear our battle scars with pride around here. Remember that, bad ass." And by how earnest Puck's words were, it was clear he meant it more than just about some ink permanently etched on to Sam's skin. Including calling him bad ass.

[midtownsparker]

fortune’s fool; p.p- 1

peter parker x reader

A/N: moving to my main from @midtownsparker

requested: nope

Words: 2200+

Warnings: none

summary: Two Empire State University students fated to meet

let me know if you’d like to be added to my tag list!

requests are open!

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 |  masterlist

1. Meet-

20 year old Peter, 18 year old reader

The mountain of boxes did not move no matter how hard she glared at it. It stood looming over her stationary. Inert. Stagnant, she thought.

She kicked the pile. It didn’t budge. It seemed to mock her with its gargantuan size that dwarfed her small figure. She crossed her arms and huffed, tapping a foot as she tried to come up with a plan of attack.

She glanced up at the monstrous pile again. Yup. Still there. She groaned, burying her face in her hands as she silently cursed herself for sending her parents home, dismissing their offers to help her unpack. Stupid, she thought.

She’d been in her (very own!!) dorm room for only an hour before she’d said goodbye to her mom and dad, assuring them that she wouldn’t need any help setting up. Why did she say that? To prove to them that she was independent now? That she was an adult that didn’t need any parental guidance anymore? Screw that, the little voice in the back of her mind spoke bitterly. She had no idea how she was going to approach the insurmountable task on her own.

No matter how elated she had been to have scored a single room- no roommate to keep her up all night sounded like a no-brainer to her!- she was starting to rethink her decision. Why did she not realize just how alone she’d be three hours away from home with no family and no friends?

Students bustled past her open door bearing boxes and suitcases just like hers, yelling and laughing, completely oblivious to the panicky turmoil occurring within her small room.

She heaved a big sigh and dropped her tense shoulders, resigning herself to the fact that if she didn’t start now, she never would. She once again approached the cluster of brown cardboard, each box labelled carefully in black sharpie.

Standing on her toes, she reached to grab the box at the very top, stumbling slightly once she had it in her arms. Jesus, why did she pack so much? Surely she wouldn’t even use half of the things she brought. She exhaled deeply, setting the box on the ground so she could slice the tape open with her keys.

The box contained her bedding and she sighed in relief, glad her parents didn’t leave before her dad could help her set up her bed. She pulled the sheets out one by one and started to make her bed. A loud burst of laughter outside her door distracted her for a second, forcing her to turn and search for the source of the noise.

Two boys and a girl stood laughing in the room across hers, the door thrown wide open. One of the boys was doubled over and shaking as the others continued to giggle at his collapsed state. She found herself smiling wistfully, suddenly missing her best friend in Long Island.

One of the boys, the one standing, looked up and caught her eye from across the hallway. He raised his hand in a small wave, smiling brightly. She grinned in return then turned back to the matter at hand. After finishing with her bed, she started on another box, this one holding the contents of her desk.

She set the box on her rolling desk chair, unpacking its contents one by one as she slowly but surely found places for everything on her desk. A knock on the doorframe startled her from her deep concentration. She turned to find the boy from across the hall standing in the doorway, the same bright smile on his face.

“Hey there, neighbor,” he said, burying his hands in his pockets as he rocked back and forth on his heels. “I’m Peter. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Y/N,” she responded with a smile. “It’s nice to meet you, too.” She stopped removing her school supplies from the box and wiped her hands on the fabric of her jeans, crossing the room to shake his hand.

“Sorry for the mess. I’m trying to get my room organized on my own and it’s going very slowly, as you can see,” she chuckled nervously.

“You’re unpacking everything by yourself?” he asked, a confused and slightly concerned look on his face.

“Uh, yeah? I kind of… sent my parents home because I thought I could do it alone? Turns out I really overestimated myself because now I’m stuck unloading all of these boxes by myself, and I have no idea how I’m ever gonna finish,” she explained, a deep red flush climbing up her neck in embarrassment.

“Oh, well that just won’t do, will it? Here, I’ve got my friends waiting back in my room, but I’m gonna go grab them so we can give you a hand,” Peter announced.

“Oh, I wasn’t complaining or anything! I don’t want you to think that you have to help me just because I was stupid enough to take on this task on my own. It’s my own fault anyway-”

“Hey, don’t even worry about it, Y/N! We’d be happy to help.” He smiles that same bright smile and turns to shout through the open doorway. “Ned! MJ! Get over here!”

The sound of his door flinging open punctuates his sentence. The two other people she’d seen earlier appeared in the doorway, traces of smiles still on their faces.

“What’s up, Peter?” the guy, Ned, you guessed, asked, wrapping his arm around his friend’s shoulder.

“Guys, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is Ned and that grumpy mug over there is Michelle. We’re all juniors here,” Peter introduced his friends, chest inflating with pride.

“Call me MJ,” Michelle said, holding a hand out for her to shake. She took it with a smile, then shook Ned’s for good measure.

“Nice to meet all of you. I’m a freshman and, as you can probably tell by the state of my room, things are not going well for me so far,” she joked, motioning towards the still stationary mound of boxes.

“Y/N here needs some help unpacking. Luckily, I let her know that I had two very willing best friends across the hall that could help her out,” Peter smiled wryly, eyes silently begging his friends to agree.

“Riiiight… Sure thing, Y/N! Just tell us what to do and we’re on it!” Ned exclaimed.

“Oh! Uh… thanks, you guys. Seriously, you have no idea how much this means to me. Um, I guess just grab a box and I’ll let you know where everything goes?” she asked, gauging their reactions. She let out an inaudible sigh of relief when everybody nodded in agreement, moving to grab a box each.

With the help of three extra pairs of hands, she had everything unpacked and set up within the hour, stopping only to order some pizza for later.

It was six o’clock and they were all scattered around her room, Y/N on the bed, MJ on the slightly-deflated purple bean bag, and Ned and Peter sharing the small sofa as they finished up the last box of pizza.

“You guys are so nice. Thank you so much for helping me out,” she smiled, licking tomato sauce off of her thumb as she leaned back to rest her head against the wall.

“It’s no problem, Y/N. We were all freshmen once, so we all definitely remember what it’s like to start over somewhere new,” Peter replied through a mouthful of pizza.

“Yeah, like on Parker’s first day, he cried all night because he missed his aunt so much. Her apartment is, like, twenty minutes away,” MJ chimed in, all too happy to poke fun at her friend.

“I did not cry all night! I shed a few tears when May left, but that’s it!” he defended. “Back me up, Ned!”

“I was your roommate, dude. I could hear your whimpering through my headphones,” Ned laughed. She giggled with them, thankful that they were trying to make her feel better rather than making fun of her, especially after they’d been nice enough to help her set up her room without complaint.

Peter pouted and crossed his arms over his chest, sliding down into the seat. “Not cool, guys.”

“Relax, brainiac. You know we love you,” MJ proclaimed, getting up from her seat. “Anyway, Ned and I have to go take a group of freshmen to the Rec Center in fifteen minutes, so we’ve gotta go.”

“Shoot!” Ned exclaimed. “I forgot all about that! Sorry, guys. Peter, I’ll see you tonight. And Y/N, I hope to see you soon!” he smiled as MJ pulled him out the door with one last wave over her shoulder.

“Your friends are nice,” she said lightly, grinning shyly at Peter from her spot across the room.

“Yeah, they’re awesome,” Peter agreed with a nod. “I’ve known Ned since I was a kid, and we met MJ in high school, so we’ve been pretty tight since then.”

She hummed in response. “I never really had a close friend group in high school. My friends mostly ended up staying in Long Island for college. It kind of sucks being so far away with everyone, but I’m definitely already loving not sharing a room with anybody.”

“Yeah, I did the whole roommate thing for my first two years, so I’m glad to be on my own for a change. Not that I won’t miss living with Ned, but trust me when I say that he is probably the messiest person I’ve ever met,” Peter chuckled, standing up from the sofa.

“Oh, are you leaving?” she asked, face falling. She’d enjoyed spending the last couple of hours with Peter. He was sweet and understanding, and he made her laugh.

“Nope, just stretching,” he smiled as he lifted his arms up above his head allowing a pale little sliver of skin to expose itself from beneath his blue sweater.

“Well come on up here and sit with me, then,” she offered, patting the open space next to her as she pointedly ignored the stirring in her chest brought on by the milky white patch of skin still peeking out until Peter tugged his sweater back down. Peter obliged and climbed onto the bed, settling himself by her side, his sock-clad feet dangling off the edge.

“So… what’re you majoring in? You’ve gotta be super smart to have gotten into Empire State,” Peter wondered.

“Biomedical engineering. My sister lost her left leg when she was seven and uses a prosthetic so I’d like to be able to design something that’s both effective and accessible to those who need it,” she explained with a smile. She loved her younger sister more than anybody, so leaving her behind was not a simple task.

“Man, that’s amazing. Are you close with your sister?” Peter asked, tilting his head to look at her through thick eyelashes.

“She’s my best friend. I hated leaving her, but I promised that she could stay with me whenever she wanted and I’d show her the city,” she smiled longingly, feeling the familiar pang of homesickness that had started about an hour ago.

“That sounds awesome. You’re not from here, though, are you?”

“No, we’re from Long Island. We used to make the drive to the city at least once a year when we were younger, but then my sister had her accident and we kind of stopped,” she explained, picking on the corner of her duvet.

“Do you mind me asking what happened?” Peter asked carefully.

“She was in a car accident that ended with her leg pinned beneath a chunk of concrete. By the time they got her out, all of the nerves were already dead so they just decided to amputate. It doesn’t really bother her or stop her from doing anything anymore. It’s just something she has to live with, whether she likes it or not.”

Peter sighed heavily, a sympathetic look gracing his delicate features. “I’m sorry,” he stated softly. “I know that probably means nothing to you, but I also know it’s not easy seeing somebody you love suffer. My parents passed away when I was six, and my Uncle Ben who I’d been staying with died five years ago. Since then, my Aunt May’s been all I’ve got.  I’ve had time to come to terms with it, but that doesn’t make anything any easier.”

She frowned, feeling grateful that Peter was able to trust her with such heavy parts of his life, but also feeling inexplicably sad for the young man who probably had to grow up too soon.

“Life just sucks, doesn’t it?” she asked, trying to lighten the mood.

“It sure does,” he sighed in response. “Anyway, just because you’ve been to the city as a child, doesn’t mean I’m letting you off the hook without an official Peter Parker tour. Growing up here does have its advantages, you know.”

You smiled, eyes wide. “Oh, I am so in!”

“Great!” Peter beamed, sliding back off of the bed. “I’ve gotta go meet Ned back at the Rec Center, but I’ll be here bright and early tomorrow morning to show you everything!”

“Sounds good,” you agreed, following him to the door. “It was nice meeting you. And thank you, again, for helping me out. I’m sorry if I ruined any of your plans for the night.”

“I wouldn’t consider a night spent with a pretty girl ruined, would you?” he commented, watching as she tried to hide her blush behind a curtain of hair. “Anyway, I’ll see you tomorrow, smarty pants.” And with that, he shut the door, leaving her giddy with something that felt a little bit like hope.

[galaxystony]

fortune’s fool: peter parker I

peter parker x reader

A/N: multi-part fic based off of a twitter post which I won’t link until the end so as not to spoil anything :-) 

requested: nope

Words: 2200+

Warnings: none

summary: Two Empire State University students fated to meet

let me know if you’d like to be added to my tag list!

requests are open!

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | masterlist

1. Meet- 

20 year old Peter, 18 year old reader

The mountain of boxes did not move no matter how hard she glared at it. It stood looming over her stationary. Inert. Stagnant, she thought. 

She kicked the pile. It didn’t budge. It seemed to mock her with its gargantuan size that dwarfed her small figure. She crossed her arms and huffed, tapping a foot as she tried to come up with a plan of attack.

She glanced up at the monstrous pile again. Yup. Still there. She groaned, burying her face in her hands as she silently cursed herself for sending her parents home, dismissing their offers to help her unpack. Stupid, she thought.

She’d been in her (very own!!) dorm room for only an hour before she’d said goodbye to her mom and dad, assuring them that she wouldn’t need any help setting up. Why did she say that? To prove to them that she was independent now? That she was an adult that didn’t need any parental guidance anymore? Screw that, the little voice in the back of her mind spoke bitterly. She had no idea how she was going to approach the insurmountable task on her own.

No matter how elated she had been to have scored a single room- no roommate to keep her up all night sounded like a no-brainer to her!- she was starting to rethink her decision. Why did she not realize just how alone she’d be three hours away from home with no family and no friends?

Students bustled past her open door bearing boxes and suitcases just like hers, yelling and laughing, completely oblivious to the panicky turmoil occurring within her small room.

She heaved a big sigh and dropped her tense shoulders, resigning herself to the fact that if she didn’t start now, she never would. She once again approached the cluster of brown cardboard, each box labelled carefully in black sharpie.

Standing on her toes, she reached to grab the box at the very top, stumbling slightly once she had it in her arms. Jesus, why did she pack so much? Surely she wouldn’t even use half of the things she brought. She exhaled deeply, setting the box on the ground so she could slice the tape open with her keys.

The box contained her bedding and she sighed in relief, glad her parents didn’t leave before her dad could help her set up her bed. She pulled the sheets out one by one and started to make her bed. A loud burst of laughter outside her door distracted her for a second, forcing her to turn and search for the source of the noise.

Two boys and a girl stood laughing in the room across hers, the door thrown wide open. One of the boys was doubled over and shaking as the others continued to giggle at his collapsed state. She found herself smiling wistfully, suddenly missing her best friend in Long Island.

One of the boys, the one standing, looked up and caught her eye from across the hallway. He raised his hand in a small wave, smiling brightly. She grinned in return then turned back to the matter at hand. After finishing with her bed, she started on another box, this one holding the contents of her desk.

She set the box on her rolling desk chair, unpacking its contents one by one as she slowly but surely found places for everything on her desk. A knock on the doorframe startled her from her deep concentration. She turned to find the boy from across the hall standing in the doorway, the same bright smile on his face.

“Hey there, neighbor,” he said, burying his hands in his pockets as he rocked back and forth on his heels. “I’m Peter. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Y/N,” she responded with a smile. “It’s nice to meet you, too.” She stopped removing her school supplies from the box and wiped her hands on the fabric of her jeans, crossing the room to shake his hand.

“Sorry for the mess. I’m trying to get my room organized on my own and it’s going very slowly, as you can see,” she chuckled nervously.

“You’re unpacking everything by yourself?” he asked, a confused and slightly concerned look on his face.

“Uh, yeah? I kind of… sent my parents home because I thought I could do it alone? Turns out I really overestimated myself because now I’m stuck unloading all of these boxes by myself, and I have no idea how I’m ever gonna finish,” she explained, a deep red flush climbing up her neck in embarrassment.

“Oh, well that just won’t do, will it? Here, I’ve got my friends waiting back in my room, but I’m gonna go grab them so we can give you a hand,” Peter announced.

“Oh, I wasn’t complaining or anything! I don’t want you to think that you have to help me just because I was stupid enough to take on this task on my own. It’s my own fault anyway-”

“Hey, don’t even worry about it, Y/N! We’d be happy to help.” He smiles that same bright smile and turns to shout through the open doorway. “Ned! MJ! Get over here!”

The sound of his door flinging open punctuates his sentence. The two other people she’d seen earlier appeared in the doorway, traces of smiles still on their faces.

“What’s up, Peter?” the guy, Ned, you guessed, asked, wrapping his arm around his friend’s shoulder.

“Guys, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is Ned and that grumpy mug over there is Michelle. We’re all juniors here,” Peter introduced his friends, chest inflating with pride.

“Call me MJ,” Michelle said, holding a hand out for her to shake. She took it with a smile, then shook Ned’s for good measure.

“Nice to meet all of you. I’m a freshman and, as you can probably tell by the state of my room, things are not going well for me so far,” she joked, motioning towards the still stationary mound of boxes.

“Y/N here needs some help unpacking. Luckily, I let her know that I had two very willing best friends across the hall that could help her out,” Peter smiled wryly, eyes silently begging his friends to agree.

“Riiiight… Sure thing, Y/N! Just tell us what to do and we’re on it!” Ned exclaimed.

“Oh! Uh… thanks, you guys. Seriously, you have no idea how much this means to me. Um, I guess just grab a box and I’ll let you know where everything goes?” she asked, gauging their reactions. She let out an inaudible sigh of relief when everybody nodded in agreement, moving to grab a box each.

With the help of three extra pairs of hands, she had everything unpacked and set up within the hour, stopping only to order some pizza for later.

It was six o’clock and they were all scattered around her room, Y/N on the bed, MJ on the slightly-deflated purple bean bag, and Ned and Peter sharing the small sofa as they finished up the last box of pizza.

“You guys are so nice. Thank you so much for helping me out,” she smiled, licking tomato sauce off of her thumb as she leaned back to rest her head against the wall.

“It’s no problem, Y/N. We were all freshmen once, so we all definitely remember what it’s like to start over somewhere new,” Peter replied through a mouthful of pizza.

“Yeah, like on Parker’s first day, he cried all night because he missed his aunt so much. Her apartment is, like, twenty minutes away,” MJ chimed in, all too happy to poke fun at her friend.

“I did not cry all night! I shed a few tears when May left, but that’s it!” he defended. “Back me up, Ned!”

“I was your roommate, dude. I could hear your whimpering through my headphones,” Ned laughed. She giggled with them, thankful that they were trying to make her feel better rather than making fun of her, especially after they’d been nice enough to help her set up her room without complaint.

Peter pouted and crossed his arms over his chest, sliding down into the seat. “Not cool, guys.”

“Relax, brainiac. You know we love you,” MJ proclaimed, getting up from her seat. “Anyway, Ned and I have to go take a group of freshmen to the Rec Center in fifteen minutes, so we’ve gotta go.”

“Shoot!” Ned exclaimed. “I forgot all about that! Sorry, guys. Peter, I’ll see you tonight. And Y/N, I hope to see you soon!” he smiled as MJ pulled him out the door with one last wave over her shoulder.

“Your friends are nice,” she said lightly, grinning shyly at Peter from her spot across the room.

“Yeah, they’re awesome,” Peter agreed with a nod. “I’ve known Ned since I was a kid, and we met MJ in high school, so we’ve been pretty tight since then.”

She hummed in response. “I never really had a close friend group in high school. My friends mostly ended up staying in Long Island for college. It kind of sucks being so far away with everyone, but I’m definitely already loving not sharing a room with anybody.”

“Yeah, I did the whole roommate thing for my first two years, so I’m glad to be on my own for a change. Not that I won’t miss living with Ned, but trust me when I say that he is probably the messiest person I’ve ever met,” Peter chuckled, standing up from the sofa.

“Oh, are you leaving?” she asked, face falling. She’d enjoyed spending the last couple of hours with Peter. He was sweet and understanding, and he made her laugh.

“Nope, just stretching,” he smiled as he lifted his arms up above his head allowing a pale little sliver of skin to expose itself from beneath his blue sweater.

“Well come on up here and sit with me, then,” she offered, patting the open space next to her as she pointedly ignored the stirring in her chest brought on by the milky white patch of skin still peeking out until Peter tugged his sweater back down. Peter obliged and climbed onto the bed, settling himself by her side, his sock-clad feet dangling off the edge.

“So… what’re you majoring in? You’ve gotta be super smart to have gotten into Empire State,” Peter wondered.

“Biomedical engineering. My sister lost her left leg when she was seven and uses a prosthetic so I’d like to be able to design something that’s both effective and accessible to those who need it,” she explained with a smile. She loved her younger sister more than anybody, so leaving her behind was not a simple task.

“Man, that’s amazing. Are you close with your sister?” Peter asked, tilting his head to look at her through thick eyelashes.

“She’s my best friend. I hated leaving her, but I promised that she could stay with me whenever she wanted and I’d show her the city,” she smiled longingly, feeling the familiar pang of homesickness that had started about an hour ago.

“That sounds awesome. You’re not from here, though, are you?”

“No, we’re from Long Island. We used to make the drive to the city at least once a year when we were younger, but then my sister had her accident and we kind of stopped,” she explained, picking on the corner of her duvet.

“Do you mind me asking what happened?” Peter asked carefully.

“She was in a car accident that ended with her leg pinned beneath a chunk of concrete. By the time they got her out, all of the nerves were already dead so they just decided to amputate. It doesn’t really bother her or stop her from doing anything anymore. It’s just something she has to live with, whether she likes it or not.”

Peter sighed heavily, a sympathetic look gracing his delicate features. “I’m sorry,” he stated softly. “I know that probably means nothing to you, but I also know it’s not easy seeing somebody you love suffer. My parents passed away when I was six, and my Uncle Ben who I’d been staying with died five years ago. Since then, my Aunt May’s been all I’ve got.  I’ve had time to come to terms with it, but that doesn’t make anything any easier.”

She frowned, feeling grateful that Peter was able to trust her with such heavy parts of his life, but also feeling inexplicably sad for the young man who probably had to grow up too soon.

“Life just sucks, doesn’t it?” she asked, trying to lighten the mood.

“It sure does,” he sighed in response. “Anyway, just because you’ve been to the city as a child, doesn’t mean I’m letting you off the hook without an official Peter Parker tour. Growing up here does have its advantages, you know.”

You smiled, eyes wide. “Oh, I am so in!”

“Great!” Peter beamed, sliding back off of the bed. “I’ve gotta go meet Ned back at the Rec Center, but I’ll be here bright and early tomorrow morning to show you everything!”

“Sounds good,” you agreed, following him to the door. “It was nice meeting you. And thank you, again, for helping me out. I’m sorry if I ruined any of your plans for the night.”

“I wouldn’t consider a night spent with a pretty girl ruined, would you?” he commented, watching as she tried to hide her blush behind a curtain of hair. “Anyway, I’ll see you tomorrow, smarty pants.” And with that, he shut the door, leaving her giddy with something that felt a little bit like hope.

tagged:  @multi-parker @cutie1365 @cersei-lannister @oswald-1998 @kawaiianime03 @lionfart @mrsdoradominguez-barnes @nonewmessage @co0kies08 @dec-snowy @sunshine-little-miss @cubedtriangle

[sugasgrowl]

Saturdays (pt 1)

Genre: Fluff/Smut (in pt 2)

Member: Jungkook

Warnings: None 

Word Count: 4484

Summary: After three months of loneliness and insecurities while on tour, Jungkook comes home to you.

Part 2

This is just pure fluff tbh. But Part 2 will much more explicit (and will be posted within the next two or three days at most). Enjoy!

You weren’t sure exactly how long you’d been sitting on the window seat with your knees pulled into your chest, the cool wall leaching all the warmth from your spine through the thick material of your hoodie. All day you’d been lounging in the comfort of your apartment, basking in the calming serenity of the pouring rain pattering against the wide window. The view of the Seoul skyline piercing the gray swirling clouds above was beautiful in the most hazy and sleepy way, almost as if the entirety of South Korea had just woken up from a Saturday-afternoon nap and hadn’t yet wiped the sleep from its eyes.

Saturdays were one of your favorite days, mainly because you didn’t have to worry about your usual responsibilities of college and work. You preferred to spend most of your Saturdays at home to recharge before having to finish up any assignments you’d been procrastinating over on Sunday, and you often found yourself devoting Saturdays to pampering yourself. Eating whatever you wanted, messily slathering on a face mask, taking a long steaming bath to relax your tense muscles, the works. At that point in the day, you’d already cooked yourself chocolate chip pancakes (You woke up around 11:30am, but who’s to say pancakes have to be reserved solely for breakfast time?) while your favorite moisturizing mask was caked on your skin. You stuffed the fluffy, sweet deliciousness in your face ravenously as you binge-watched YouTube videos, the only worry you had being that you may not have enough syrup.

Now you sat, four hours later, curled up by the window, still sucked into the void that is YouTube and enjoying the melancholy rainfall that was baptizing the streets of Seoul.

As much as you loved Saturdays, you couldn’t help but feel sad that you’d spent so many without your boyfriend around to participate in the self-care. The two of you had made it a tradition to spend Saturdays together and bond over cartoons and unhealthy snacks. Even though he basically lived with you when he wasn’t forced to stay at the dorms or travel for a tour, Jungkook was insistent on coming over and talking about each of your weeks through mouthfuls of pizza.

You heaved a sigh at the slight sinking feeling in your chest at remembering the last Saturday Jungkook had been home. The two of you had both gotten a little too tipsy (aka: you were both piss drunk) on cheap wine and ended up singing at the top of your lungs and clumsily dancing around the apartment to the Friends opening credits, the obnoxiously loud volume of the TV and your booming laughter causing your neighbor to complain the next morning. You were both ridiculously hungover the next day, and poor Kookie had a six hour dance practice starting at one in the afternoon. The stubborn motherfucker insisted that he was fine, dammit, and he would just go to practice and suffer through “like a man”. The memory of Namjoon calling you to tell you that Jungkook had puked all over the practice room floor in the middle of rehearsal brought a small smile to your face. God, he’s such an idiot.

You groaned as you raised your arms above your head in a stretch, all the joints in your body seeming to snap at once. At least he’s coming home today.

You unlocked your phone and reread the last messages you’d gotten from him.

[Jungkook] 6:03am: I’m getting on the plane. I’ll be home with you soon. I love you

[You] 11:32am: Be safe! I love you too

[Jungkook] 11:41am: Well good morning

[Jungkook] 11:42am: I guess I’m glad nothing bad happened to me. You would’ve just slept right on through it.

[You] 11:42am: To be honest, I’m a bit disappointed. I was expecting you and Taehyung to find a way to crash the plane by now.

[Jungkook] 11:45am: Lmao sorry to disappoint but Tae is sitting with Jimin instead this time

[You] 11:45am: Did you make a scene

[You] 11:46am: Did you #expose them for the cheating boyfriends that they are

[You] 11:46am: Did #Nochu come thru

[Jungkook] 11:48am: Of course. My emotional speech about their betrayals made the stewardess and several passengers cry.

[You] 11:51am: Where is this man’s Oscar

You didn’t hear from him again until an hour ago, and you could practically feel his excitement buzzing through the phone grasped in your hands.

[Jungkook] 3:30pm: We’re about to land!

[Jungkook] 4:17pm: We’re waiting for our luggage!!

[Jungkook] 4:39pm: Jimin’s bag is lost

[Jungkook] 4:56pm: God this is taking forever

[Jungkook] 4:59pm: I just asked if we could leave Jimin behind but they said no

[Jungkook] 5:11pm: We’re leaving the airport!!!!!!!!!!!! I’ll be home soon!!!!!!!

The last message made you smile so big it made your cheeks hurt. He was so excited to be coming home--and you were so excited for him to rest, if even for a short while. You knew that he was so much more exhausted than he would ever admit. Jungkook loved his job more than anything, but he was still human. Well, you debated that fact on occasion. The boy had a tendency to go and go and go until he was half dead, but even then, the average person would have already been put in a padded room from the amount of stress he faced on the daily.

The past three months had been rough without him--it only being the second time Jungkook had ever had to leave you on tour with Bangtan--but aside from feeling lonely at night after having a particularly rough day, you were handling yourself amazingly well and even gave your boyfriend the space that you felt that he wanted during the stress of touring. Jungkook, on the other hand…

It wasn’t that he wasn’t handling it well. It was more like he just missed you so damn much that he didn’t know what to do with himself. While the touring process was new to you, you had easily adapted because that was just what had to be done and it was all you'd ever known. The first time that Jungkook had to leave for a tour, you had merely been on a few extremely casual dates, so there were really no huge emotional investments on either side yet. You’d formed a closer bond over time by sending texts and links to ridiculous YouTube videos back and forth--Jungkook’s sense of humor more often than not making you snort out loud in the middle of your lectures, the sudden outbursts forcing you to cover it up by pretending to go into a coughing fit. After the first tour, loving Jungkook through a pixelated screen had just become half of your relationship, and you'd both accepted that. But that didn't mean it was easy.

You knew Jungkook wasn’t used to having someone to miss while he was away aside from his family, and the unfamiliar emptiness in his arms where you would normally be made him feel exposed and vulnerable--like he was going into battle without his most important and protective armor. The insecurities plagued him, a swirling mass of what ifs echoing against the interior of his skull. There were many nights where you would be roughly yanked out of sleep, your ringtone blaring so loud that you would scramble to find your phone amidst the tangle of sheets and the throw of darkness--your heart beating so hard in your chest that it felt like it was going to burst through your ribs and flop into bed beside you, only to find that it was merely Jungkook needing to hear your voice.

The last night that he had called in such a state was a week ago, the conversation still fresh on your mind as you waited for him to come home from the airport, your eyes trailing after a couple of silvery raindrops that rolled down the windowpanes in front of you.

“Hello?” That night you answered on the sixth ring with a tongue thick with sleep and eyes still unable to fully open.

“Baby?” Jungkook’s voice was almost always strained when he called you like this, as if he was trying his hardest to keep from showing just how vulnerable and needy he was--although you always knew. That time in particular, the pet name tumbled past his lips in a hurried rush.

“Hey, Jungkookie,” you smiled as you rubbed your eyes. He hesitated, the four seconds worth of grainy silence confirming your suspicions of him calling out of feeling alone in a crowd of six. “Bad day?”

He sighed lowly, and you could practically see him raising his thumb to his lips to nervously gnaw on the ragged cuticle. You could just faintly make out the sound of a rustling somewhere on the other end of the line, and you knew he was bouncing his leg, the nervous energy desperately trying to escape.

“Sort of...” he trailed off, not wanting to voice his actual feelings, god forbid, but you always patiently waited in silence until he felt ready to talk. “I really miss you.”

“I miss you too, more than you know,” even with thousands of miles between the two of you, the sounds of the wheels turning in his head were nearly audible as he tried to think of how to word his burdens.

“Talk to me, boy…” You sang the phrase to the tune of Rock Your Body by Justin Timberlake as out of tune and off pitch as you could, your voice that was still gravelly with sleep only adding to the effect. Anything to make Jungkook smile.

You often used this trick to get him to spill whatever was bothering him, and more often than not, it would illicit an airy chuckle to escape from him and begin to thaw the anxiety that had begun icing over his stomach. But that time all you got was a weak puff of air, a sorry excuse for a laugh.

He must really be upset, you thought.

After a moment, he spoke.

“You don’t….regret being with me, do you?” his voice was quiet, and even through the phone you could see his eyes timidly glued to his lap as he picked at the frayed holes in his jeans. “I mean...do you resent that I have to leave you for so long? Do you wish that you were with someone...normal?”

You blinked in confusion.

“What?” your voice hitched up in surprise.

“Never mind. Forget I called,” he babbled, “I shouldn’t have woken you up. I mean, it’s what? Almost four in--”

“Jeon Jungkook, hush,” you firmly interrupted, causing nervous rambling to die in his throat. “Why would you ask me that?”

He paused.

“Um…” the humiliated blush that was burning his cheeks was nearly audible.

“I….” he began, but the words dissolved on his tongue like a bitter cotton candy. He let out a huff of frustration.

“I’m scared,” a tone of hopelessness tinged with shame dripped from his lilting voice. “I love you so much, and I’m scared that you’re going to realize that this? What we have? Isn’t what you deserve.”

Your brow furrowed as you processed his words. How could he be so dumb sometimes? Couldn’t he tell that you were madly in love with him? That he was your best friend, and you could never give him up for anything? You been together for almost a year, shouldn’t he know that by now?

“Jungkook--”

“I’m the man, I‘m supposed to be reassuring you! And instead I’m the one calling you all the time because I miss you so much that I can’t focus on anything. You don’t ever call me like this. I’m the one calling you in the middle of the night because I’m feeling real anxiety for the first time in my life over the thought of losing you. And I’m a fucking singer!” his voice was growing louder as he let his stress out into the light, and his bouncy Busan accent peaked through the more worked up he got.

“I get followed by crazy fans and have hate thrown at me every day, and yet the only thing that really cuts me deep is the thought of not getting to hear you do Justin Timberlake an injustice over the phone anymore.”

The sentiment was meant to be joking, because he didn’t like talking about his feelings nine times out of ten--it made him feel guilty for not being content with his job and his life all the time. He didn’t want to seem ungrateful.

He paused for a moment to catch his breath, and that was when you jumped in.

“Jungkook,” you softly said, “you do call me when you’re upset. I can always tell the difference between a call like one of these and a normal phone call to check in. But have you failed to notice that I always answer these urgent phone calls?”

He didn’t answer, so you continued.

“I’m scared, too. I’m terrified you’re going to find a much hotter, more talented, idol girlfriend to love. But the reason I don’t call you like this very often is because for one thing, I hardly ever know where the hell you are. For all I know, you’re back in Seoul chilling in the dorms right now,” Jungkook let out a single grunt of a chuckle.

“And I also don’t call you freaking out because right around the time when I start to feel lonely or sad, you end up calling me. I may not know where you are in the world, but you’ll always know where I am. I’m not going anywhere.”

There were a few beats of warm silence as your reassuring words released the tension in Jungkook’s shoulders and loosened the uneasy knot pulled lethally tight in his chest.

“So you don’t want someone normal?” the smile in his voice was evident, but you could still make out a hint of uncertainty in his tone.

“Kookie, if I wanted someone normal, I wouldn’t have chosen you to begin with, you dumbass,” a grin broke out across your face as the sound of Jungkook’s musical laughter floated back to your ears. The mental image of him throwing his head back with his eyes scrunched tight with a genuine smile made you swoon.

“Promise?” he giggled.

“I promise, okay? You being famous isn’t what makes you abnormal to me. It’s your inherent dorkiness and embarrassing outbursts,” you teased.

“Don’t act like you don’t contribute,” he sassed.

“You love it.”

“I really, really do.”

At the end of the phone call, you could tell he felt better. It was like his burden dissipating also lifted one from your own shoulders, as if you had cleared up an insecurity you didn’t even know you had.

Before you, Jungkook had never loved someone at all, period, and now that he was madly in love with you, he felt as if he wasn’t doing enough. He hated not being able to take you on dates, real dates, where you could both go out without worrying if he would be followed by fans or paparazzi. He hated that he couldn't hold you every night and feel your icy toes shove themselves under his thighs, the biting cold nearly making him jump out of his skin every time. He hated never getting to post the cute pictures that he would take of you while you slept, or the horrendous selfies you would send him as you sat in class while he was at rehearsal. He wanted to shout how much he loved you from the rooftops, loud enough for all of both North and South Korea to hear. But the job that he loved so much prevented that.

He hated those things, but god, did he love you.

The thought that after all that time, you would finally be able to see him, and hold him, and do all the things you were able to do with him three months prior made you feel as if your body weighed twenty pounds lighter. Loneliness was a much heavier burden than you realized.

The sound of keys jingling and sliding into the lock made your head automatically whip towards the long awaited noise. For whatever reason, be it the suddenness of the noise while you were so deep in thought or the fact that your Jungkook was finally home, your heart fluttered inside your chest. On instinct, you rose to your feet and stood with your eyes glued to the entrance to your apartment. He’s home.

When the door finally swung open after what felt like an eternity of him fumbling with the knob that always seemed to stick, Jeon Jungkook stood before you for the first time in three months.

His hair was a dishevelled mess, the caramel blond and faded pink stripes sticking up in every which way in wispy tendrils around his brow that had collected the brunt of the rain on the way to your apartment. If you hadn’t been so stunned, you would have laughed at the very obvious line where his hat had protected the crown of his head from getting wet, leaving the top of his hair to be dry and fluffy--a stark contrast to the ends of his locks that were dripping wet and darkened with the freezing rain. Jungkook’s soaked beanie was clutched so tightly in his fist that his knuckles were white and little streams of water were dripping down his fingers and onto the floor from the fabric being wrung so extremely. His black hoodie was bunched up over one of his hips, as if he hadn’t bothered to pull it down or fix it in it any way when he stepped off the subway. The fabric was significantly darker over the broad expanse of his shoulders and chest where the rain had initially struck him, making it hopelessly cling to his leanly muscled frame.

Your heart skipped a beat as your eyes raked over his body and landed on his face. Without a stitch of makeup on his skin to hinder your view, you were able to see every little detail on him--even from across the room. The wind must have been much chillier than you thought, because his nose and cheeks were bright pink from the abuse of the nipping temperatures. All of his freckles and dark circles and scars were right in front of you, and they were so goddamn gorgeous that it made a lump form in your throat. He was so real. So real and so solid and so very, very beautiful. It was as if his image was enhanced and hyper-focused after being without him for so long.

The expression of disbelief written on your face must have been amusing, because Jungkook’s red, chill-swollen lips quirked themselves into a bright grin.

“I’m home,” he softly said, his smile growing even wider--the rise of his cheeks making his sparkling eyes disappear into slits that sat on the top of his cheekbones and nearly all thirty-two of his teeth flash in your direction.

The broken silence snapped you out of your trance, and you quickly found yourself shuffling across the room towards your boyfriend while muttering an ecstatic mantra of “You’re home, you’re home, you’re home, you’re home!” with a beaming smile on your face. He met you halfway, his long strides carrying him to you in a matter of three steps. You threw your arms around his neck and nestled your frame into his torso. Muscled arms wound themselves around your waist--one firmly snaking around the circumference of your lower back and the other trailing up your spine to gently grip at the curve of your shoulder--as he mumbled an incoherent string of words declaring just how much he missed you, his voice sounding an awful lot like he was trying not to cry.

“I missed you too,” your fingers wound themselves into his hair as you felt a sting behind your eyes. “I missed you so incredibly much, Jungkook.”

A startled gasp flew past your lips when the tip of Jungkook’s frigidly cold nose nuzzled itself into the warmth of your neck.

“Jesus,” you attempted to squirm away from the way from the way he was using you to thaw himself, but he simply pulled you tighter into his body.

“You’re freezing! Why didn’t you wear a coat, Jungkook? You’re going to get sick, you idiot!” you half laughed and half scolded, the smile on your face causing a single happy tear to squeeze from your eye.

His cheeks rose devilishly in the crook of your neck. He’d missed your playful insults so much.

“I was so excited to see you that I forgot to grab one from the dorm when I dropped off my suitcase,” his words were muffled by the fabric of your sweatshirt.

His dripping wet clothes were beginning to soak into your own and make you shiver. You placed your palms on both of his cheeks and pulled him back to get a better look at him up close--and partially to get his icicle of a nose the hell away from your flesh. Your eyes locked with his, the nearly-black irises seeming to place gentle kisses on every inch of your face as he surveyed your features. His mouth dropped open in a look of false and exaggerated surprise, his doe eyes twinkling like a thousand galaxies.

“Are you crying, (Y/N)?” he chided.

You let out a laugh poked his cheek.

“Are you? You’re looking a bit waterlogged.”

“What?” his brows raised, feigning innocence.

“This?” he gestured to his soaked lashes. “No, no. It’s not crying if the tears never fall, baby.”

You giggled and pulled his face closer to yours, the scent of his favorite cologne washing over you in the close proximity. Your lips brushed against his in a teasing kiss, the feeling of his chilled lips lightly grazing yours sending chills down your spine.

“God, you’re so warm,” he whispered, awestruck, his breath fanning over your face.

Jungkook’s hand ran itself painstakingly slow up your arm and the side of your neck, his icy fingertips trailing against your skin so lightly that goosebumps erupted across the expanse of your exposed flesh. Long fingers knotted themselves in the hair at the back of your neck to pull you into a deeper kiss, and the way his fingernails lightly grazed your scalp had your breath catching in your throat. The kiss was slow and languid, everything seeming to be moving at half its normal speed. With each move he made, icy droplets would drip from the ends of Jungkook’s hair and splatter faintly on your skin. Every brush of his lips and unhurried swipe of his tongue against yours was purposeful. Each shaky breath and quiet sigh was a message, a secret code that you’d cracked months and months before--every tender nibble on your lower lip and stroke of his swollen lips against your jaw a declaration of how much he loved you, punctuated with gentle swipes of his thumb against your cheekbone.

The way Jungkook was not only suddenly present in your life again, but also painting your lips with his most intimate and passionate kisses was making you weak in the knees. After all the months of being apart, you finally had him back in your arms. The crushing feeling of love for him was so overwhelming that your head started to spin. You brought your hand up to rest against his cheek and pulled away from the kiss ever so slightly--just enough to speak.

“I missed you,” you rested your forehead against his and looked into his eyes, your mouth beginning to water at the sight of his flushed cheeks and blown out pupils.

“I missed you so much. God, every single day it was like I was walking around in a daze,” you gave him a lingering peck before continuing. “I love you so much, Jungkook. I don’t think you realize how much.”

You began peppering kisses along his jaw, gentle at first--pulling a satisfied hum from him that quickly turned into a low moan when you switched to leaving burning open mouthed kisses that seared the still freezing skin on his neck. The contrast of your warm mouth and his cold skin was so drastic that it felt almost painful, his nerve endings having long forgotten what warmth was in the mile long walk from the subway to your apartment.

You pulled back to make eye contact with him and make sure that he was listening to what you were saying. He stared back at you with hooded eyes, doing his best to actually process your words.

“I’m sorry if I seemed distant while you were away. I just figured you would want some space to focus on work,” you brought your lips back to his, kissing the top and then the bottom before slowly tracing his lower lip with your tongue. His hands gripped your hips in an attempt to keep from losing focus on your loving words.

“I let the space change from an inch to a mile, and you felt insecure in our relationship because of that. Am I correct?”

Jungkook’s golden cheeks flushed a deep russet, his eyes leaving yours to wander aimlessly before dropping to the floor. He nodded, embarrassment  evident on his face. He hated admitting when he was struggling. He wasn’t supposed to struggle, he was the golden maknae.

You smiled fondly at him before intertwining your fingers with his and raising the tangle of warm and cold digits to brush your lips across his knuckles.

“Let me make it up to you,” you slyly said.

Jungkook’s eyes snapped up to meet yours, a knowing smirk tugging on the corner of his lips.

“Whatever do you have in mind, m’lady?” he suggestively raised his eyebrows and wrapped his arms around your waist.

You shivered at the chill that your now soaked clothes brought.

“Well, you feel like you’ve been inside a deep freeze for four days. Let’s warm you up.”

Jungkook’s eyes gleamed.

“You don’t mean…?” he began, a wide smile spreading across his face.

You nodded.

“Yes. I ordered more bath bombs and saved them all so we could use them together.”

Jungkook wiggled in excitement, doing a quick dance of waggling fingers and spastically tapping his toes.

“You’re the beeeeest,” he cheered as he heaved you over his shoulder--causing a surprised shriek to rip from your throat--and pranced off towards the master bedroom.

You couldn't contain your giddiness as your laughter rang out across your apartment. Jungkook was finally home, and your Saturday was finally as warm and relaxing as they used to be before he left.

[theprocastinator20]

Skies: I

Skies: I

Read the prologue here.

It was customary for his tribe to have their eldest sons train basic combat skills and learn how to hunt. It never really bothered him that much, he knew his role for a very long time. As the son of the chieftain, he was always been prepared to lead, fight, and if needed, kill. The tribe needed to eat, and he needed to provide not only for his people but for his family as well.

“We do not kill our prey because we enjoy it, we hunt because we need to,” his father explained to him when he was first taught how to use a bow and arrow. Yet he cannot lie, he did find some sort of enjoyment in the hunt; the rush of blood through his veins whenever he focused his aim was something he always enjoyed.

Yet as the tribe celebrates their once again bountiful hunt, he found himself staring once more at the night sky, watching the stars twinkle faintly, the moon shining over their village like a white torch, gleaming but not burning, shining but not glaring.

“You are the one who will take my place one day, Katigbak, and when that day comes, you must understand the weight of responsibility.”

His father handed him a sheathed bolo. As Katigbak held it in his hands, his father pats him on his shoulder. “but of course, I know that you already know that, don’t you?”

Katigbak nods, “Yes, father.”

Responsibility, he knew that all too well. He doesn’t really hate the aspect of leading, but as he stared at the night sky, watching a few fruit bats gliding overhead, munching on any unfortunate insect they could find, he cannot help but envy them.

Every now and then, he would dream of flying away from the ground, escaping his responsibilities even for a moment.

Katigbak hated tribal meetings.

He knew it was important for the tribe’s safety to secure relations with their neighboring tribes, and at a young age, he was all too familiar with how things worked in these meetings.

Nevertheless, Katigbak was always bored by the matters of the tribe. Most men of 16 years of age spent their hour's training, hunting, courting women from other tribes. Yes, he understood responsibility, but there will always be a little part of him that would wish things were a bit different.

It didn’t help that most of the other tribe leaders dismissed his opinions. Yes, he was the son of  Matubis, a respected leader, and a great warrior, but he wasn’t exactly charismatic. His stoic demeanor and introverted nature isolated him from most of his peers and earned many raised eyebrows amongst the council.

“Katigbak, you are next in line as the leader of your tribe, you must be more active in our council,” his father told him, as they hiked back to their village. “The elders are questioning if you really are prepared to be a leader.”

“I cannot help it, father. Such matters do not really interest me. I’d rather lead the hunters in a swine chase rather than spend more hours with the leaders.”

“It’s part of your responsibilities,” his father answered firmly.

“Why can’t Tabil be the one to attend those meeting? He’s more charismatic than I will ever be.”

“Your brother may have a sharp tongue, but he is also rash and impulsive. You know that.’’

“Why can’t you give him a chance? Maybe he’d be good at such meetings.”

His father paused as if taking it into consideration. Katigbak thought that he might have struck a nerve, but after a few more moments, Matubis asked, “Do you really not like being part of the council, son?”

Katigbak shook his head. “I don’t enjoy their talks father. I’d rather be out there, fighting, hunting. I can lead the tribe in a war, but I’m afraid these parleys don’t interest me.”

He waited for his father’s response. Matubis shook his head. “When I was young, my father let me choose what I wanted to do with my life. Perhaps it is best if I also do the same for my sons.”

“does that mean that Tabil will take my place in the council meets?”

“If your brother agrees to, although I am quite sure he’d accept it willingly.”

Katigbak didn’t even bother hiding his smile. “Thank you, Father, thank you for understand-“

“Know this, however,” Matubis cut in, his face serious once more,”You are still the leader of the tribe, and your brother will merely act as an ambassador of sorts. With this new freedom, I expect that you’d work harder in our tribe.”

Nodding, Katigbak answered, “yes father, I will not let you down.”

For a few years, the pattern stayed.

Tabil proved himself to be a great speaker, and even with his brash demeanor, he was able to do his duties quite swimmingly. Of course, Matubis was always there on the council, but the fact that Tabil was actually enjoying his newfound role gained the tribe’s trust.

Katigbak continued to be a good leader within his tribe, leading most of their hunts and their occasional disputes with the southern tribes that attempted to take over their land. His skills in combat and hunting were unquestioned, and this became a pattern for the next 5 years. Tabil traveled all over Ibalon and went to where he was needed, and Katigbak stayed there in their tribe and provided for their needs.

He was 21 when that pattern broke, and he was needed in the council due to an appearance of a new tribe.

Most of the time Tabil was the only one needed in assemblies. The past 5 years proved that he was best suited for the role. But it turns out that an appearance of a new tribe was all too important that even the chiefs of the tribes were needed.

He stared at the old man, who claimed to Tacder, as he sat across the room, sitting in the place reserved for guests. He wasn’t that old, although his long hair was already gray. He sported two wolf tails, and a bandana was wrapped around his forehead. His attire wasn’t that of an Ibalon native, Katigbak identified the clothing to be made of silk, the same clothing the white foreigners used to trade them with. His complexion was quite light, and his eyes seemed to be half-closed, irritated, probably from the light. If anything, he was from the mountain tribes, the ones that resided deep in the forest.

After a few more moments, his father cleared his throat and started the assembly.

Matubis stood up, and bowed, “we are glad that most of the tribal leaders were able to come here on such a short notice. There is no more need for any formalities, and there is no point in beating around the bush, I am sure you all know why you were called upon.”

“Tacder, “Matubis gestured towards the man in question, “is the leader of the tribe that resides by the slopes of Mayon. For so long we haven’t heard from their tribe, as they have always preferred their solidarity from the other tribes. That is why it is a shock to see their leader here in this council today. Tell us, Tacder, why are you here?”

Tacder heaved himself up and bowed politely to the council members. “I am glad that you have all accepted my request to hold this assembly. I am the new chief of my tribe. My brother, Tumacder, was the previous leader. However, due to an illness, he passed away a few days ago.”

The council murmured amongst themselves. “our deepest condolences,” Tabil said, bowing towards Tacder.

“Your condolences are appreciated, but that is not why we are here.

“My tribe prided itself for its solidarity and its independence from the other tribes. However, before my brother died, we both agreed that it was time for us to unite with the other tribes here in Ibalon.”

Matubis raised his hand, and asked, “Why now, Tacder? Why this suddenness?”

“I will be honest, my tribe isn't as small as it used to be. We have become bigger and bigger over the decades. My people have their needs, and as their chief, I must provide. That is why we want to be part of your alliance and be part of your exchange system.”

There was a commotion amongst the council members. It was rare to see a leader that was so straightforward with what they need, but at the same time, this was Tacder’s appeal: his honesty and frankness on what he needs.

After a few more moments of whispering and talking, Matubis stood up once more, and addressed Tacder, “Tacder, for so long you and your tribe isolated yourselves from the rest of Ibalon, and we respected that. But now you come out from your isolation and offer us your alliance. As the chief councilman, we accept you now as a brother. Welcome to the council, Tacder.” Matubis raised his cup filled with rice wine, “We shall now seal our tribes with the ceremonial blood pact, as our forefathers have done.”

Katigbak watched as the council leaders and Tacder cut a wound from their palms and let a bit of blood drop to their wine. Afterwards, every councilmember drank from the cup.

A ceremonial blood pact. The tying of brothers by wine, by blood.

After the blood pact, Matubis filled his cup once more, this time with more wine. “As the leader of the council, I propose a feast to be done immediately, in honor of old friends and in welcoming of new allies. Let us feast tonight with our new brothers in blood!”

The council room erupted in cheers.

Katigbak left the feast early.

He wasn’t that keen on celebrations. Yes he did enjoy the dances, and he did find the wrestling matches to be quite amusing, but the loudness never appealed to him. Not to mention that a lot of the people in that celebration were strangers to him.

“Leaving so soon, Kat?” Tabil draped his arms over his brothers’ shoulders. “Come on brother, the night is still young, the party has just begun,” Tabil gestured towards the women dancing by the music of the drums, ”and the girls having fun.” Tabil drawled on the last part and waggled his eyebrows and gave Katigbak his signature smirk.

Katigbak can’t help but laugh. “Again with your lady chasing brother? What happened with Guita? I thought you were courting her?”

As soon as Katigbak mentioned the name, the smirk from Tabil's face was replaced with annoyance, “We shan’t speak of her name again. That girl has the voice of a screaming pig, and she never shuts up.”

“But isn’t that exactly what you are, Tabil?”

Tabil hit his back lightly before punching him on the shoulder. “Haha, very funny coming from a guy who’s never chased after a girl in his life.

Katigbak punched him back, perhaps a bit too hard as Tabil lurched forward just a bit. “I have no time for that brother, you know that.”

“No, you have time for it, you just don’t want to. I already took the role of the diplomat, but no, all you do is spend your time I the woods hunting, or sharpening your bolo, or both.”

Katigbak shrugged, “Maybe I’m just not interested?”

Tabil shook his head, his hand now placed on his brother’s shoulder. Tabil was never really that active, his frame was somewhat the same as a stick: thin and bony, in comparison with his brother. “Kat, lighten up. I know between the two of us you’ve had things a bit harder than me, and I get it. But come one, you’re 21. You should be courting a beautiful girl right now.”

Katigbak looked at his brother. Despite their differences they’ve always been close, raised side by side, complementing each other's strengths and weaknesses. Sometimes he envied Tabil’s charisma and friendly atmosphere, his jolly nature was annoying as it was endearing.

“I’ll think about it. But don’t skip the party because of me.” He grabbed his brother’s shoulders and gestured towards a girl by the fire, dancing. “don’t look now, but I think that girl over there’s been looking at you for a while now.”

Successfully diverting tabil’s attention, Katigbak watched as his brother made his way towards one of the mountain region girls, before turning around and making his leave.

Katigbak went to his favorite spot under the balete tree. The balete itself was a sight to behold, thick vine-like stems twisting around one another, forming on giant tree sitting on the edge of the cliff. Aside from that, not many of his tribespeople come here, not only was it far from their borders, but it was also a dangerous place. Here he enjoyed privacy and moments for himself.

But perhaps the best thing about the place was the view.

The cliff looked over the vast forest that served as their hunting grounds, stretching for miles before it meets the foot of the Volcano, Mayon, the home of Gugurang himself. In the day, he enjoyed seeing the avast, unblocked skies from underneath the shade of the giant tree, and in the night, he reveled the sight of the fireflies that fly around its branches, blending in with the stars that shone above so brightly, the only thing outshining their beauty was the moon itself. this is where he daydreams of fling, just jumping of the cliff, sprout wings and fly gracefully like a hawk, or a bat. It was a wonder, honestly, how perfect this place was, and how he had it all to himself.

Well, except for tonight, it seemed.

As he made his way towards the tree, he saw a silhouette of a person, standing by the edge of the cliff, arms raised like the wings of a bird. As he moved closer, he saw the thin frame of the person and decided that this was definitely a woman.

The girl was facing towards the edge of the cliff, so he can’t really see her face. It also seemed that she didn’t hear him coming, evident by the way she was still enjoying the cool wind blowing towards her. Since it was obvious that she wasn’t turning around anytime soon, Katigbak did what first came into his mind.

“Uhm, hello, who’s there?”

As soon as the woman turned around, Katigbak’s mind could only process one thing, She’s beautiful.”

That train of thought was cut off, however, by the fact that as soon as the girl turned around, her foot slipped and proceeded to fall off the cliff.