#that video is exactly the same as my dog moving blankets around in his bed

[misswonderfrojustice]

Hey! My Anansi Boi, Dru', is actually merged with this type of species! I think it's due to his Egyptian background?

From here. If you think arachnids with long legs are just scary please watch this solifugid dig her nest (or try to) like SUCH a goofy little person creature. Look how she shoves dirt with her mouth and then gives it a little pat. Is she even making any progress?!

[sukiipjs]

✮ BLONDIE : PT 2

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↳ nick sturniolo x masc reader

↳ words - 1961

↳ summary - you’ve been having a hard time realizing and accepting the fact that you’re gay, and in love with your best friend. you try to ignore the feelings but that only makes everything worse until you can’t hide it anymore.

↳ contains - swearing, use of y/n, angst, crying, verbal fighting, idrk 😭 [READ PT 1 - PT 3]

↳ song - blondie by current joys

°:. *₊ ° . ☆ °:. *₊ ° . ° .•

°:. *₊ ° . ☆

days after and nick hasn’t texted me since. no more random tiktok’s, no more check ins, just complete nothingness now. i don’t blame him of course, i’d do the same if he was being as shitty as me right now. but honestly i miss those texts so so much, even if i rarely responded to him, or more so i miss the texts we had before all this stupid shit started.

but again, i truly don’t even know when it all started, it was so easy to just brush this off these feelings and whatever as a friend thing before and not think of it too much. why can’t it just be a friend thing now?

actually i think ive just accepted it all at this point though. i love him and no it’s not just a friend thing, it’s way more and it always has been way more. sure i might wish it wasn’t, but it is and i know it is and i cant just ignore it.

i’m not even trying to get rid of it anymore, i don’t have the strength for hiding it. honestly i think if i kept trying to get rid of it, it wouldn’t even work. obviously i still won’t tell him, or anyone, unless he pries it out of me. i know he doesn’t feel the same and i doubt he even looks at me as a friend anymore.

☆ °:. *₊ ° . °

i continue repeating my own sad cycle of doing nothing but staying in bed, hiding myself from the world… without nick. i still check up on his socials, being the weird stalker that i am and looking at all the story’s and snapchats he posted of himself, he looks just fine without me, of course.

i lay in bed, staring at my phone to avoid looking at the mess around my room. i scroll and scroll, starting to see a weird amount of videos of people taking care of themselves or videos of people ‘spring cleaning’.

i scroll away, i really don’t need to see people functioning completely fine right now, it’s like their taunting me, laughing at me. but the videos just keep coming back, haunting me, laughing at me. all i see through my scrolling cycle is random ass dog videos, cleaning and organizing videos, or nick edits… and that’s exactly what i need.

i let out a loud sigh, slightly rolling my eyes then rolling over to my other side, having my blanket wrap around me. i choose to just swipe off the app and throw my phone to the side of me before closing my eyes and just trying to get some sleep. that way those videos, my stupid feelings, and not even nick can haunt my mind anymore.

°:. *₊ ° . ☆

my eyes flicker open, the sun shining directly in my face and i finally decide to actually do something good for myself and go out for a walk when the sun and clear weather is still out, it’s been raining almost the whole time i’ve seen dying in my room alone.

i slowly move myself up to sit, leaning my back on the wooden headboard behind me and sitting on some pillows below that cushion me. i stretch out my arms in front of me, yawning and running my fingers through my hair to fix the shaggy mess.

i move myself off my bed, stand up then fixing my off center shirt and trying to flatten out a few wrinkles. i throw the blanket that covered me to the side and decide to just throw the shirt and pants that i wear off me -actually putting them somewhere other than on the floor too- i pick out a clean outfit, already feeling way less gross, it’s the small things that count right.

i walk out my room, not forgetting to grab my phone to come with me before going into my bathroom, splashing my face with water to get me more awake. i run my hands in my hair again, fixing it up with my mirror in front of me so i can actually see what i’m doing before grabbing some actual water giving myself something to drink other than dr pepper.

finally i walk out to go by my door, grabbing a light jacket and pulling it over my arms then putting on my shoes and heading out the door. i start off to go a longer way, turning the corner of the sidewalk. i feel all the small breezes on my skin as i get actual sun and nature.

i continue walking random ways, i just want to be out of the mess that i’ve been living in for so long right now. it actually feels nice to be outside, not sitting in a gross hole of dirty clothes and dishes.

☆ °:. *₊ ° . °

i walk, making my way around the neighborhood, my eye catching all the small colorful flowers blooming up and all the small brown squirrels scurrying to run up trees as i pass them. i remember all the times me and nick went out, running around the streets when we were younger. not thinking of anything, just being kids living a simple life. i wish it was still that simple.

as i walk, still obviously thinking of nick, i notice the sky above graying and clouds starting to cover up the sun, shit. i start to walk a little faster, hopefully being able to get home before it pours but as soon as i speed up, small water drops start to fall on me.

i grab the end of my jacket to pull it over my head, holding it over me to shield out the rain. the sides of my jacket block my view as i focus on the path i walk to my place.

i look down at my feet walking, trying not to get too wet as the rain pours more and more, bouncing off the sidewalk. suddenly i feel two hands place on me, pushing me back, “the fuck.” i mutter as i look up, gaining my balance on my feet again. “oh” my face softens as i see nick standing in front of me, his blonde hair damp and drops of water falling from his cheek. he stares at me, i can tell he’s mad and obviously i can tell it’s my doing.

“nick-“ he cuts me off quickly, slightly pushing against my shoulders again as i put my jacket down, wearing it normally, my head now getting pelted with rain. “no, i talk. what the fuck y/n. honestly what has been going gone, you’ve completely ignored me for weeks, you keep blowing me off and i don’t fucking know what i did and the only way i can talk to you about this is randomly bumping into you since you won’t even answer my texts?”

“nick-“ i sigh as i try speaking again but he pushes me back once more. his glassy eyes narrow and i see water pooling in them, i can’t tell if it’s rain or tears. “no! you’re my- you’re supposed to be my best friend and this shit isn’t cutting it y/n! just what is it! what is it. what did i do please just talk to me. if you hate me or something just tell me!” he shouts, his fists starting to clench as i wipe the wet hair in my face away.

“nick stop. you- you didn’t do anything i promise, i’m sorry okay” my voice croaks, i can feel the water pooling in my own eyes now. “then what is it! you can’t just block me out, out of no where.” i shake my head, trying to figure out how to say an actual explanation without saying too much. “nick i’m sorry!”

“stop apologizing! i’m not asking for that, i’m asking for an answer, please. i feel like shit and you haven’t even been there, i kept trying to talk and hang out with you but apparently you hate me now and never want to see me again, i get it!” he scoffs, staring me down as his eyes shut, tears dropping as he takes a breath before opening his eyes back up, wiping off the mixture of tears and rain.

“like i said, if you hate me or suddenly don’t want to be my friend, tell me. i truly, truly, don’t understand this shit your pulling and if you won’t talk now then when will we? you’ll just ignore me again so just spit it out now!” nick keeps rambling on and i just stare at him, seeing how hurt i’ve actually made him. i don’t know what to say, i really don’t.

i just want to shut him up, have him realize that it’s my fault and i don’t hate him. i cut him off as he continues to yell at me, “nick!” my voice feels weak as he shouts back, “what!” i stare at him for a moment, seeing those blue eyes i miss, those star earrings, his grown out roots and before i know it my hands go up to his face, pulling him in as our lips press together.

my hands hold him as strands of his hair poke my fingers, our noses slightly brushing against each others. i quickly step back, eyes wide as i realize what i just did, taking my hands back. “i-im sorry“ my breath is short before i turn around, running away from him to get back to the shit hole of comfort i’m living in to avoid what i just confessed.

i swear i hear him try to call my name but i ignore it, i can’t see him. what did i just do. i can’t even process any of this.

°:. *₊ ° . ☆

i finally reach my place again and i swiftly open my door and walk inside, standing as raindrops slide off of me, creating a small puddle on the floor below. i shake off my hair a little, flicking the water droplets off of me. i take off my jacket, putting it on a hook to let it dry as i take off my shoes too, leaving them by the door.

i wipe my face off with the palms of my hands, wiping off many of my tears that still fall. i walk over to my fridge, getting out another dr pepper then walking over to my couch, slumping down into it as i set my can down and wrap a blanket around myself to warm me up again.

i slowly slide to the side, laying myself down on the cushions. why the actual fuck would i kiss him? what that really the best thing i could do? he already hated me, i did not have to make it worse. i ponder in my head, genuinely trying to find a valid reason of why i just kissed my best friend that hates me. oh. my. god. i’ve ruined my life -not like it was already ruined- i’m never coming back from this.

i stare at the unopened dr pepper sitting on my coffee table, i try making myself reach for it but my arms don’t want to leave the warmth of the blanket i’m huddled in. i hear my phone buzz next to the dr pepper on, i also cannot seem to have my arm reach out to see who’s calling, i hope it’s not who i think but why would he even call me?

rain pelts out on my window, water sliding down the cold glass of it as i lay holding my blanket close to me, pulling the blanket over my eyes as they close, resting as i try forget about my phone continuously buzzing and the drink still on my table.

☆ °:. *₊ ° . °

taglist : @slutforchriss @mattsleftnipple03 @mattsdinosweater @ccolleenn @mixvchelle @leah-loves-lilies @sturn-wrld @redz0nez9 @cheriematt @freshloveforthefit @nickuniversity @whore4matt @txssvx @will-yummy @matty-bear @venusbabysblog @m0r94n

[pbandjesse]

It was a nice memorial day today.

I slept fine last night. I woke up a few times but when I woke up at 9 I felt pretty good. James came and laid in bed with me. They had already done laundry and gone for a bike ride. They told me the world was beautiful today. We would lay in bed for a bit longer but we would get up and went to get dressed.

I liked my outfit. It's the same new shirt I got on Friday and it is so soft. It's great.

I felt pretty good overall. James made a coffee and I had some soda and we decided to go out for breakfast. So pretty soon after that we were off and into the world.

We decided to go to Broadway Diner. And it was busy! I wasn't shocked, it's a bank holiday. James and me have an ongoing will they won't they about the right side of the restaurant. Which we have never once sat at. Every time we go to James makes a whole thing about how this is going to be the one!!! But nope, we still seated in the left side.

We had a quiet brunch. My stomach continues to hurt when I eat but I still enjoyed the morning with my husband. I would people watch and we looked at things on each other's phones. I had shared the styles of doors I would like for the house. The type of fence too. It was a good morning.

While we were out i decided I would like to stop at the craft store because I wanted to get yarn. And so we did exactly that.

The yarn was not as on sale as I was hoping. But I have an idea about creating a double layered loom knit blanket. Almost like a puff quilt.

We did have a 20% coupon though and I got 6 skeins of yarn for my project. I am very excited and I really hope that it works out the way I am imagining. It is going to be a lot work though! Nice to have something outside of my temperature blanket though.

We would get home and have a few hours to just chill. James would play some video games. I would work on knitting. We had Ruby trying to clean but she kept getting stuck. Poor Ruby. She has her good days and her bad days.

We would leave here around 1. I would do a quick little vacuum of the frog tank because the snails were going crazy. And very soon we were on the road.

It was a nice drive to DC. I worked on knitting and we listened to a podcast. There wasn't much traffic. And we would arrive in Eve's beautiful little neighborhood a little after 2.

She is moving to Trinidad at the end of the summer but she's going to do some other traveling throughout the summer. But the state department is sending the movers to come pack all of her stuff up tomorrow. Crazy! I am very excited for her. Like it's going to be a really amazing experience I am sure!!

When we got to her place her and her roommate had us up on her roof. We were the first guests but more would come. We had burgers and dogs and fruit and an amazing lemon cake. And I was just having a really good time.

I would have some great conversations. Specifically with this girl Charlie. She was so nice! We exchanged numbers and I hope we hang out some time because she was so lovely. Me and James would tell a whole story about when I was a furby influencer. And there was lots of baseball talk. It was fun.

Eventually we would join the table with everyone else. Where I had a really great time talking to one of Eve's friends who is into mushroom foraging. I got to show him my mushroom pictures and he was able to name them all!! He's much braver then me and actually eats them though!

We would be there for 5ish hours. We all tried to download an app to do palm reading. We had amazing lemon cake. We told stories. I got to talk about my arthritis stuff which was nice. It was nice to be able to talk through the whole craziness of last year and the chemo and the weirdness of that. I am finally feeling like I'm back to myself after a year.

We would leave there around 6. And after stopping in her apartment to use the bathroom and say hi to her beautiful cats, there were hugs and then goodbyes!!

It was a nice drive home. But the sky was getting darker and darker. There has been a tornado watch in DC and a severe thunderstorm warning in Baltimore. It felt like we were racing the storm home. But it would start to come down right before we parked.

But it wouldn't get bad for a little while. We were safely and securely in the house when the sky opened for real. Lightening and thunder!!

James would paint their nails. And I would just chill on the couch. Had a little dinner. And we have just been resting and having a nice evening.

But now I would like to go shower and get ready for bed. I have a long day tomorrow. Both camp and then an event. I really hope that it is an easy transition. Fingers crossed.

I hope you all sleep well tonight. I love you all. Good night!!!

[starks-hero]

I Missed You

Pairing: Stucky x Fem!Reader

Request: Hi! Could you write something about Stucky coming home after a mission to find their girl crying on the couch, late at night. They are worried, initially, but relax after she shows them a video on her phone of a cute dog or puppy? - anonymous

Summary: After one long and tiresome mission, Steve and Bucky want nothing more than to go home and cuddle up with their girl.

Word Count: 1,424

Warnings: fluff

Steve and Bucky laboured up the stairs towards their apartment, their shoulders brushing. Every single muscle ached and Steve couldn’t bite back a groan each time he was forced to put pressure on his left foot. 

They didn't say much, they were too tired for conversation. They just wanted to get home, change out of their gear and then crawl into bed with their girl.

As both men reached their door, Bucky all but collapsed against the wall as Steve fumbled with the key, lazily dragging it across the wood till it slipped snugly into the lock.

Bucky's eyes were closed but a tired smile tugged at his lips at the thought of you waiting for them on the other side of the door. He wanted to hold you so bad. To just gather you up in his arms and fall asleep with your hand gently running through his hair until the latest mission was nothing more than a distant memory.

He titled his head lazily and glanced at Steve. The blonde's expression told him he felt the same way.

As the door opened, both soldiers almost tripped over each other's feet as they hurried inside, Steve softly closing the door behind them. Bucky sighed dramatically as he was surrounded by the comforts of home, earning him a half-hearted glare from Steve.

“Quiet down, Buck. It's late.” He reminded him. “She's probably asleep.”

Bucky nodded, scratching at his beard as he followed Steve into the living room. The television was still playing lowly in the background and the boys glanced at each other questioningly. Soft smiles replaced their confused expressions when their eyes landed on the couch. Amidst the darkened room and the heaps of blankets and pillows, they could barely make out your form.

Bucky wasted no time in stepping towards you with Steve hot on his heel. God how they'd missed you.

“Hey, doll.” Bucky hummed gently. “Hope you don't mind that we made it home a little earlier than expected.”

The playfulness in his tone died out immediately as he neared you. The light illuminating from the television proved to be just enough for Bucky to make out your tear-stained cheeks and his heart almost stopped.

“Doll, what happened?” He immediately rushed to your side, hand hovering over your back as he looked you over for any sign of injury. Steve leapt forward at Bucky’s worried tone and joined you both on the couch. You frantically wiped at your eyes, trying to hide your tears as both men seated themselves on either side of you.

“Stevie, Buck-”

“It's alright, Sweetheart. We're here.” Steve comforted gently, arm wrapping around your waist as he carefully guided you into his side. “What's wrong?”

You breathed out a quiet laugh as you wiped away the last of your tears. Both Steve and Bucky were staring at you intently.

“I just missed you both,” you mumbled and you heard the boys breathe a sigh of relief. Bucky moved closer and gingerly kissed your head as Steve held you.

“We missed you too, Baby.” His hand comfortingly ran down your back, his nose grazing your jaw.

Steve placed his own kiss against your cheek and you smiled. You were sandwiched between them both, exactly where you wanted to be.

“You want to tell us what's got you so upset?” Steve urged gently, raising his eyebrows and smiling softly. The same way he always did when either you or Bucky were having a bad day.

You shook your head and waved your hand dismissively. “It's stupid, Steve. Besides, I'm fine now, it doesn't matter.”

“Hey now, don't talk like that. If it's upset you then it's not stupid. Not to us.” Steve's tone was soft and encouraging.

“Steve, I promise, I'm okay.”

Before Steve could pry any further, Bucky cut in, gently nudging you in the side.

“This wouldn't be the reason for those tears, now would it, doll?” He held up your phone for you all to see, the screen still paused on the video you'd been watching before they'd gotten home. Bucky seemed slightly amused but Steve was still staring at the screen in curiosity, confused as to what about such a wholesome video had made you so upset.

You snatched the phone from Bucky's hand and he let you. Any other day he probably would have held said phone just out of your reach, forcing you to stand on your tiptoes or press up against his chest to retrieve it. But he knew better. Now wasn't the time. Not to mention that if he did Steve would probably make him sleep on the couch as punishment.

You held the phone in your hand and refused to meet either of their gazes but Bucky was quick to snap you out of it.

“Y/N, you know you can talk to us. However simple or stupid you may think whatever's upsetting you is, you know we're here to listen.”

“Always.” Steve agreed.

You grumbled before giving in. You knew neither of them were going to leave you alone until they were sure you were okay.

“I've just been feeling down since you guys left for the mission last week.” You confessed and both men glanced at you sympathetically. “I missed you both, tonight especially. So I tried to watch some cute videos to cheer myself up and-” you glared at the adorable shepherd puppies currently gracing the phone screen. “It didn't help.”

“Sweetheart,” Steve started gently once you'd finished. “We told you to call if you needed us. Even just to talk or fall asleep with us on screen.”

“I didn't want to bother you when you were on a mission.” You admitted sheepishly and both men chuckled slightly at your words.

“Mission or not, it doesn't matter. You're our priority. Always.”

Steve released you slightly from his hold so that Bucky could pull you into him. You sighed against his shoulder. The horrid feeling that had settled in your stomach the moment both Steve and Bucky had walked out the door a little over a week ago was already dissipating. This was exactly what you needed. They were exactly what you needed.

“Why don't we take this to the bedroom?” Bucky suggested as he noticed your head contently lulling against his shoulder. He scoffed as both you and Steve turned to him with an expression that asked ‘really?’

“I meant to sleep.” He clarified and Steve couldn't help but chuckle.

“Sure you did, Punk.”

Bucky opened his mouth to respond but you ended the argument before it could start with a quiet, “Sleep sounds like a good idea.” You threw in a yawn for good measure.

Bucky wordlessly nodded to Steve and they smiled. Bucky readjusted his hold on you as he lifted you from the couch and into his arms.

Steve switched off the television and assured the house was locked down for the night as Bucky carried you to the bedroom. He gingerly placed you down before stripping and clambering in next to you, his aching body almost sinking right into the mattress.

A cool mental hand settled on your waist as you rested your head on his chest. Steve wandered into the bedroom a few minutes later, smiling softly at the sight of you and Bucky curled up and already dozing off.

He kicked off his boots and pants and pulled his shirt off over his head. Sliding in behind you, he slid an arm over you, resting it just over Bucky's stomach. You were perfectly encased in-between them both.

“Steve, Bucky?” You mumbled their names quietly just as they were on the brink of sleep.

“Yeah, Sweetheart?” Steve rasped and Bucky hummed against your temple.

“Can we get a dog?”

You could feel the chuckle that shook Bucky's chest at your request and Steve cracked a tired smile, shuffling closer to you.

“Think about it, that way when you two are off saving the world I won't be so lonely here on my own.” You rambled on drowsily.

“She makes a compelling case, Stevie,” Bucky smirked, cracking open an eye to glance over at the blonde. He couldn't keep the amusement from seeping into his tone.

“We'll talk about it in the morning, Baby. Just get some rest for now.” Steve yawned, nuzzling into the crook of your neck to silently put an end to the conversation.

“That's a yes.” Bucky clarified and Steve harmlessly jabbed Bucky in the gut, electing a fond chuckle. You smiled, just glad to have your boys home.

tag list: @miraclesoflove​​ @doozywoozy​​ @bakerstreethound​​ @kealohilani-tepise

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Yours, Mine, and Ours [7] Finale

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), trauma, violence, general sadness and shittiness.

This is dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You must face change.

Author Notes: I got another old series tied up and I’m editing the last chapter of another one as well. I’m trying to clear some stuff out as best I can.

A special thank you to everyone who reached out to me over the last few days. And extra thanks to @lokislastlove​ for always encouraging me.

Please let me know what you think, like and reblog <3 love ya

Masterlist

Bucky knelt beside you as your ass throbbed in pain and your head thrummed. He touched your arm gently with his metal hand, his other on your cheek as he cradled your face. You met his blue eyes but he quickly lifted his head and glared across the room.

“Don’t fucking move or I’ll hit you again. Harder.” His snarl was so harsh and deep, it made you shiver. He turned his attention back to you as he helped you roll over and sit up, “Are you okay? Careful…” he backed off the bed slowly as he guided you to the end of the mattress.

You clung to him and glanced over at Steve as he spat blood onto the floor. His eyes darkened and his nostrils flared as he looked back but he made no move towards you, his head lolling just slightly as he sat straight. 

You let Bucky usher you to the door as he turned back and searched around the floor. He huffed and took off his jacket instead, draping it over your shoulders.

He pointed you through the door and followed, snatched the throw from the back of the couch and offered it as he urged you on. You found your purse where you dropped it and stopped to grab it, groaning at how your body ached. You continued to the door as he opened it and followed you out.

You were silent as you descended, cloaked in his jacket and the thin blanket. You came around the building and neared your car. He kept away from you but hovered as if you might keel over.

“I can’t drive,” you let your purse dangle weakly from your hand.

“I’ll take you back,” he said softly, “and then you don’t have to see me ever again.”

You nodded and rounded his car. You opened the door and slumped into the seat, your purse on your lap as you hung your head. It was over. You knew it was. You thought there would be a way to hold onto Steve, to find the man he had been, but he assured you that that Steve was gone. Everything you had was lost.

The engine turned and you barely noticed the blur of the city as it passed outside the windows. You fought against the wave of grief that swept over you and leaned your head back.

“You said I’ll never see you again,” you croaked, “but you saved me.”

“So? I did all those other things too,” he gripped the wheel and sniffed, “I’ll keep my distance. I started all this. I never should’ve-- I’m fucked. I try to act like I’m not but I am.”

“Bucky…” you said weakly.

“Don’t. I know it’s the truth and I know everything that happened to you is because of me. Steve’s an asshole. I don’t know what changed in him, but I’m worse,” he sighed, “I’m gonna resign. I’m gonna… look into rehab or therapy, whatever they got for me. I can’t stay near you or Steve. I can’t do any of it.”

You nodded and rubbed your hands together. Your body hurt but your soul hurt worse.

“No, I’m going,” you said, “I’m leaving. I’m not a hero like you or Steve. I don’t matter. And I can’t stay with him. I can’t even stay close because I know he won’t stay away. Right now, he’s getting up off that floor and you can’t tell me he’s not coming after us right now.”

Your voice cracked and you muffled it with a corner of the blanket. You hunched over as suddenly you felt nauseous and you held in a retch. Your body shook but you kept the sickness in and murmured.

“Please, just get me back,” you begged.

“I will,” he vowed, “I’ll make sure you get out and I’ll make sure he doesn’t stop you,” you heard him gulp between his words, “and after, if you ever need me to knock him on his ass again, I’ll be there. No strings, no expectations, we don’t even need to talk.”

You crossed your arms and leaned against the door, watching the pedestrians and other cars. You could only think of everything that needed to be done; grab what you can, email Tony, go back and get your car and drive without stopping.

“Shit,” you sat up as you neared the compound, “I forgot my phone.”

“Good,” Bucky said, “he’s tracking it. Get a new one.”

👥

Bucky closed the yellow taxi door and watched the cab pull out into the swell of New York traffic. She’d packed the remnants of her former life in a single backpack but he could see, she didn’t even need that. He backed away from the curb and tucked his hands into his pockets. His chest was tight and heavy. He was guilty but he didn’t feel sorry for himself. He felt sorry for her.

He was almost thrown off his feet as a hand gripped his arm and swung him around. Steve was white with anger as a vein popped out in his forehead. His lip was split and his nose bruised from Bucky’s fist. The men faced each other in mutual detest. He never expected to look at his oldest friend that way and feel it so succinctly.

“Where is she?” Steve growled.

Bucky shrugged and shouldered past him, “gone. Far from us.”

Steve followed him and stopped him before he could pass through the door. He shoved him back against the façade of the building but Bucky hardly felt it. He just stood, staring at the man he didn’t know any more, and lifted a brow.

“You gonna beat it out of me?” he asked, “then you’ll have to kill me.”

Steve’s eyes searched Bucky’s and he growled under his breath, “all you had to do was follow the fucking rules.”

“I never liked those rules. I only wanted to be close to her. It was selfish. It was abuse.”

“She liked it,” Steve snapped.

“No, you told her she liked it and she loved you so much, she believed you,” Bucky’s voice turned raw, “she loved you and you threw it all away.”

“You ruined it,” Steve accused.

“Fuck you,” Bucky snarled, “you deserve to be alone.”

“I’ll find her,” Steve curled his fingers into a fist and puffed his chest, “I know exactly where she’s going. She won’t get to her car before I do.”

“No, she will,” Bucky pushed away from the wall and grabbed the front of Steve’s shirt and pinned him, “you won’t make it past me.”

Steve narrowed his eyes and his lips thinned. He gripped Bucky’s shirt in kind and the pair rolled against the wall until they stopped in a bitter stalemate. They stared each other down as their soles scuffed on the pavement and grunted almost in unison at their opponent.

“You won’t keep me from her forever,” Steve said calmly.

“She’s not the only one leaving, Steve,” Bucky hissed, “and I won’t feel bad at all when you wake up one day and realise how lonely you are.”

👥

Your new apartment was mostly empty but it was yours, unlike that seventh floor box Steve had made your cage. It was far from him, far from Bucky, far from everyone you ever knew. You knew you couldn’t hide with your parents or your sister or even those distant university friends who you knew would have your back. You had to be alone. It was your fear of that which got you into all that mess.

You didn’t see Bucky again but he did get a message to you. He left a gift for you at a safe house on your way out of the state. New identification, an unopened cell, and a wad of cash. It wasn’t atonement but it was what he could give you. You kept driving and exchanged your car at the stateline. You kept on until you felt as if you were in an entirely different country.

You took a job at the grocery store as a cashier. You remembered when you were a child and your mother had the same position. She went back to school and made you promise you’d never end up in the same boat. If she could see you now…

If you could see her.

You dropped your bag on the side table as you entered and turned the lock on the handle and the latch above, the deadbolt over that, and hooked the chain last. You clutched the pepper spray you kept up your sleeve and searched the single bedroom, the living room, the kitchen, and the bathroom. Your paranoia was your only companion.

You kept the curtains drawn day and night, even those stolid nights when you couldn’t sleep for the thick sweat that coated your body. Those nights came more often and even during the day, you found yourself suffocated in fits of unbearable heat. And at night, you were trapped by the dreams of the past.

You sat and opened up the novel you kept on the coffee table. When you’d been with Steve, you never had much time to read between his need for attention and your work. Your relocation was freeing in more ways than one. 

You laid back and wiggled, still in your stiff grocery store uniform and lost yourself in the fantasy adventure of a young warrior. It was a fight you could control; that you could win.

👥

Bucky held the position and breathed out slowly. His muscles vibrated as he strained and slowly lifted his leg, the toes of his other foot firmly planted on the mat. He turned and outstretched his arm and leg to the ceiling and inhaled. He let out another breath as he reached the next position then returned to downward-facing dog.

He pushed himself back to sit on his knees as the noise of the lapping lake reached his ears and sent a cool breeze over the dock. He pulled his legs out from under him and bent his legs as he leaned his sweaty arms over his knees. He looked out at the glistening water and listened to the noise of birds and critters.

Peace. He couldn’t call it that. Exile, more like. He didn’t trust himself to be near people. His therapist visited once a week and he attended daily video sessions with him. One of his tasks was to find hobbies and to face himself. Yoga was both of those. It cleared his hand and ate up his time.

But then he found himself wishing she was there. He knew she wasn’t in some serene lake house, she didn’t have all the support offered by SHIELD and Stark, she didn’t have anyone. He did what he could, what she would accept from him, but there was nothing he could give her in that life that would ever be enough.

Then he felt awful about those thoughts. She was never his to have.

He stood and walked up the dock and the dirt path to the house. He climbed up onto the large deck and through sliding doors. He poured himself a glass of water and added a slice of lemon. He took it with him as he went to the bedroom where he slept alone, where the shadows of trees loomed over him in the night and swayed like the wraiths of his remorse.

The white cat hopped up on the bed and twirled in expectation, in demand of his attention. He scratched Alpine’s head as he neared and got a nip when he pet him a little too long. The moody feline retreated to the corner of the bed and watched him with his pale blue eyes. The creature was his only friend now.

He took a deep gulp and sat on the edge of the bed and set the glass down. He slid open the drawer of the hand-crafted night table and dipped his fingers inside. He pulled out the pink fabric and held them in his metal hand and stroked the dainty elastic. He should get rid of them, like he had the rest, but he just couldn’t. He knew it was wrong, but he couldn’t. He would never forget about her.

👥

You pushed the boxes and cans over the scanner and onto the next belt so that they were carried down to the end of the counter. You smiled as you asked the usual questions and waited for the customer to punch in their pin. You waved on the next in line as the former bagged their goods and you kept the distant tune playing from the low speakers in your head.

The routine was your only comfort. It was easy. Even when you got those fussy customers, the ones with the expired coupons or the wrong flyers, it was simple work. You rang them through and saw them off without concern. Their tantrums were not the worst you’d faced in your time.

When it was your time to clock out, you stopped by the café in the same plaza as the grocery store and ordered a tall iced tea. You came out with your purse on the arm that hid the pepper spray and made your way to the end of the pavement and around the corner to the street. 

At the first corner, you turned off onto a small side street then cut through to the park and passed the memorials and statues set along the winding path. It was a longer walk than your normal route but you took it once a week. You liked to watch the ducks but you had to avoid the geese.

You sipped from your straw and smiled at a dog as he passed with his owner and looked over at the kids laughing on the monkey bars. Your uniform tented in the heat of the summer sun but you pressed on, refreshed by the fruity tea.

When you emerged from the park, the grit of the small town returned. The chipped bricks of your building rose above you and you unlocked the front door after a struggle with the ancient keyhole. The door closed heavily behind you and you headed up the dingy stairs.

As you got to your apartment, you went through the usual to-do; lock, search, and settle in. Two months, maybe three, it felt so long ago and yet it felt like only yesterday. You couldn’t help but feel watched, followed, and you knew that sensation would follow you for the rest of your life. But if it was only ever a thought, you could be okay.

👥

Steve didn’t know what to do with himself at first. First, his girl left and then his best friend.

In the early days of his solace, he told himself it wasn’t true. They’d be back. They couldn’t live without him. They would apologize because they betrayed him. They would realise that he wasn’t the villain. He wasn’t wrong. He busied himself with his missions and waited.

But after two weeks, he saw no signs, heard no tell, nothing. He tried to follow her trail but there wasn’t anything past the state line. He asked where Bucky went but Stark wouldn’t tell and SHIELD kept that information classified from all, even him.

Then, he felt bad and he lingered on those questions that tugged at his mind. Was he wrong? Was he the bad one? Had he really hurt them? Did he deserve it all? He felt awful and fell through on a mission and no one asked any questions. No one knew the reasons for the sudden departures and the downcast captain.

Then he was mad. He was breaking things. He was growling and shouting in frustration. He ripped a door off its hinges and punched a hole through a wall. He paid for the repairs but was told in no short terms to leave the compound. He was all too happy too. He still had that apartment and it wasn’t too bad being in his own space.

But it made him think of her. And as he thought of her, he missed another mission, this time without telling anyone. Phone calls, emails, knocks on his door, they all muddled together in the haze of his thoughts.

He remembered those days, decades ago when Bucky had been his only friend. When he was a boy, when he still felt young, when he still felt like him. He remembered everything that came after and how he fought to save the only man he ever admired. Then everything he’d made him do. He didn’t make him do that, he gave him exactly what he wanted.

Then she made his chest squeeze. He thought of the first time they met. He didn’t think much of her but she somehow won him over with her kindness. He recalled the realisation of how much he liked her, he wasn’t even reluctant enough not to think it was love in that instant. When she saw the loose stitch in his glove and pulled it away like it was nothing. She remarked on the little fix as ‘perfect’ and he couldn’t help his doofy grin and the line he spouted after, ‘not as perfect as you.’

And as he thought of her, he conjured all those hopes he had for them. The life he made for them in his mind. He was going to give it all to her but he just wanted a little fun first. That wasn’t so bad. He could still give it to her and that was all she wanted after all. She wanted the Steve she knew. She wanted the nuclear family and white picket fence. He wanted that too.

When the papers came to announce his dismissal from SHIELD, it felt like freedom. He didn’t care about saving the world anymore. He got out of bed these days and worked out, went for a run, and came back as he went about his own work. As he searched through the servers they tried to block him from and overrode the new restrictions. They always thought he was some clueless idiot from the past.

He could still have that life. All he had to do was find her. He smiled at the screen as he went over everything he had so far. The whiff of her blew out at the stateline but now he could go wherever he wanted without a leash. He could find her if he only tried a little harder.

👥

Steve gave notice on the lease and traded in his car for something with better mileage and more space. He sold everything that was his life before and headed out on the road with a new lease on life. He wasn’t the Captain anymore, he wasn’t the saviour, he only wanted to be one thing; a husband, a father, hers.

When he reached the state line, he stopped for a while at a motel and asked around. He had her picture and everyone was all too eager to talk to Steve Rogers. He found her car at a used dealership and got the plates and make of the one he’d switched her for. That was a start.

Then he moved on, stopping along the way for a day here and there to relax. He had time. He had confidence again. He did this everyday, this was her first time, she couldn’t outrun him forever. He had the skills and the savings to get him a lot further than she ever could.

He drove through several more states before he hit another block. A second car traded but the dealer was not as talkative. That meant he had to break in after dark and that was time he didn’t feel like spending on some stubborn bitch. But he got it done and moved on.

Then there was a week of doubt and desperation. What if he was wrong? What if this was all a part of her plan? Maybe she was smart enough to lead him in the wrong direction. Maybe Bucky was helping her. Maybe they were together. That thought made him livid.

He took off in the opposite direction but ended up with nothing but desert heat and rural nothingness. He turned around and assured himself that neither of them were smarter than him. He returned to the same point and slowly pieced together the clues until he was sure enough to keep on.

He was getting close. He could sense it. He pulled out his phone and opened those videos he’d taken from Bucky and the pictures of that day they’d made a mess of her. His hand was nothing compared to her and even if he came, he found himself dissatisfied. He ended up cursing only to start again a minute later.

That night he started in the bed then ended up in the shower and before he could get out of the bathroom, he was gripping his dick as he leaned on the counter and muttered her name over and over. He was impatient. He needed her soon or he was going to go mad.

He hardly slept as he tossed and turned in the hotel room. He checked out early but pulled over on the country road to get off again. It made him angry. She should be the one fucking him, he shouldn’t be using his own hand. He shouldn’t be alone. She should be there with his dick down her throat as he drove them to their suburban paradise.

He passed another city sign and spent a day running circles without a catch. He pressed on through the night, not wanting another motel bed, and pulled in at a station just outside a small town. He gassed up and chewed on jerky as he set out once more.

On a whim, he stopped in the small town and stopped for a meal at the local fish and chip place. It was unusual for the area but the fries were crispy and not overly salted and the fish breaded perfectly. He kept his hat on and his face down. He didn’t need to be recognized although his poor disguise seemed to draw attention.

“Louise,” the voice chimed with the bell, “gosh, I’m so sorry, I almost forgot.”

Steve looked up as his heart fluttered. He saw the green uniform shirt and black pants and at first, he was ready to deflate. But the way she walked, and her face, the way she glowed and smiled at the woman behind the till, he knew it was her. He’d found her.

“I am so stupid! I keep forgetting everything,” she counted out the money from her wallet, “I’ve been craving this all week and I’m halfway home and I’m like oh my god,” she chattered on, that way she did when they’d first met.

“Not at all, darlin’,” Louise handed her the parcel of fish and chips, “you go on enjoy.”

“Thank you!” she sang sweetly and scurried back through the door.

Steve stood slowly and left his tab on the table with a thoughtlessly generous tip. He adjusted his cap and headed out the door slowly. She wasn’t moving as fast as she made her way down the street. She swung the tied parcel from her hand and he noticed how her hips swayed. There was something different about her, something he liked.

He kept the same pace, sure to hang back so that she didn’t notice him. She led him through a park and she stopped to smile at a party of ducks in the small pond. She carried on over the small bridge and he sat on a bench when she looked back. She didn’t seem to notice as an older couple passed him and he hid behind them.

He got back up just as she was at the exit. He trailed her back to the streets and to an old brick building with an iron sign above the front door. She let herself in and he stood outside with a smirk.

“Perfect,” he said to himself as he backed away and strode down the sidewalk, “always so perfect for me.”

[heliads]

Deserve You

Based on this request: “Bucky imagine where you're dating but you're not an avenger, so you sometimes feel not good at all for him even though he loves you more than anything. one time he comes from a mission to you waiting in his room, doubting again but he immediately tries getting this thought out of you and gives you his dog tags to prove he's yours forever and it's all cute then? :)”

masterlist

You open your eyes gradually, the last remnants of sleep being dragged away by the brightness of dawn. You allow yourself one final moment of lingering silence before sitting up with a yawn. A brief spurt of panic flashes across you when you realize that you’re alone in your bed, but then you hear a quiet noise from the kitchen and your pulse begins to settle once more. Bucky must have already gotten up, there’s no need to worry.

You keep having moments like this, where you turn to find yourself alone and keep thinking that this is it, that he’s finally left you. Then you mentally chide yourself for thinking that way- every single one of the Avengers that you’ve met on your trips to the old Stark Tower keeps talking about how Bucky’s head over heels for you, so why would he ghost you out of nowhere? You always smile for a second, thinking about your boyfriend, and then the doubt creeps back in and you glance around to find him. Every single time, without fail, those lurking remnants of doubt always worm back into your mind, and sometimes it feels like there’s nothing you can do to get rid of them.

The only available option is to find Bucky and put your mind at ease by knowing that he’s still here. So, you slide your legs out of the still-warm blankets, grimacing at the shock of the cold air, and pad over to the kitchen. Sure enough, Bucky is holding a mug of some hot beverage, maybe coffee or tea, and staring out the window at the city below him. He does this, sometimes, just watches the city like he could do it for hours. You have a feeling that he’s studying the city for any last lingering resemblance to the New York he’d grown up in, when the most pressing news was World War II and he didn’t see himself in Siberia for anything more than a ski trip, if he could put together enough pennies to afford it. However, life has a way of throwing you for a loop, and all of Bucky’s plans for the future evaporated as soon as he plummeted from the train all those years ago.

Bucky turns when he hears you approach. “Good morning.” You smile, joining him by the window. “Good morning yourself. Are you up early for an assignment or because of a nightmare?” Bucky frowns. “The latter. Did I wake you? I thought I was quiet.” You shake your head. “No, I was asleep the whole time. I just knew because you have that same look on your face after you have your nightmares.” Bucky laughs quietly. “And here I thought I was supposed to be the spy who knew everything. Sure you don’t want a job at S.H.I.E.L.D.?” 

You raise your eyebrows. “I’m not sure that paying attention to my boyfriend really qualifies me for FBI: Avengers Edition, but I’ll keep it in mind.” You head over to the fridge, starting to pull out some items for breakfast. Bucky leaves within a few minutes, mumbling something about an early morning meeting, and you head to work yourself soon after. Your own workplace is no Avengers Tower, just a typical office building, and you slide into your seat just in time to start the day.

The morning itself is fairly uneventful, and you’re just starting to think that it’s going to be another boring day as usual when you head off to your lunch break. As you’re waiting in line to use the microwave, you hear a pair of women talking at a table near you. You had no intention of eavesdropping, but although their voices are fairly loud your attention was hooked from the beginning when you realize they’re talking about Bucky. More specifically, they’re talking about Bucky’s girlfriend, or lack thereof.

Ever since you started dating Bucky, he had been careful to keep you out of the public eye. When you work as an Avenger for long enough, you learn to keep everyone important to you out of focus, out of danger. If a HYDRA agent got word of the former Winter Soldier’s girlfriend, you’d be on a train to Siberia with handcuffs and a blindfold within the hour, a ransom request already placed on your head. That’s if they were patient- if not, they would just shoot you to send a message. By making sure nobody heard about you, Bucky could keep you safe.

The downside of this is times like now, when you have to listen to two of your coworkers discussing how strange it is that a man as attractive as James Barnes would still be single. Obviously, you can’t say anything, and you’re not sure that they’d believe you if you tried, but it’s still slightly uncomfortable to hear the conversation swirling around you even as you have to stay silent. 

One of the women clicks her tongue in confusion. “I mean, isn’t it weird, though? He’s a friend of Tony Stark, there’s no doubt he’d have a shortage of girls who’d be willing to go out to a bar or something on a weekend.” The other woman laughs. “I bet that surplus of girls includes you, right?” The first woman grins cheekily. “I wouldn’t say no if he asked, but even I don’t have a chance. I mean, he’s an Avenger, and one of the hottest ones there. No one here could hold a candle to him. He saves lives on a daily basis and what do we do, sit around all the time? The only woman I could see him with is an agent or maybe Black Widow. At least then he’d be dating someone who’s his equal.”

The words feel like shards of ice threading through your heart, and you turn to go back to your desk, hunger suddenly forgotten. As you stare at your work, though, you find you can’t concentrate. You keep hearing what the women had said, that no one in this miserable office could be worthy of dating the famous Avenger Bucky Barnes. They’re right, aren’t they? Bucky was saving lives all the time while you complained and acted so needy. You sigh to yourself, feeling your spirits dampen by the second. Why did Bucky see in you anyway?

Bucky’s shoulders feel like they’ve been carved from stone. He’s been tense for so long that he’s certain he’ll never be able to move again. Today is the day that he has to begin reviewing case files from his time as a Winter Soldier. He’ll have to come face to face with photo and video evidence of all the wrongs he’s done, of all the killings and blood shed by his own damaged hands. He’s been trying to avoid it for a while, but S.H.I.E.L.D. needs his input on all of the past Winter Soldier missions in order to proceed with the ongoing investigations into the last HYDRA strongholds. Bucky has no choice but to confront his past, he knows that, but it doesn’t make his job any easier.

It’s not like he’s alone, though. Natasha is here, because her experience with the Red Room could prove useful with putting together some pieces of the HYDRA-Siberia-Soviet puzzle that’s been plaguing them for some time now. Steve is also here, one door down, looking at his old medical files that detail exactly how some brilliant scientists turned a scrawny kid with a death wish when it came to standing up to bullies into the strongest man of the century. 

Bucky clenches his jaw, and turns back to the manila file folder in his hand. He flips it open, taking out the diagrams and security camera stills and laying them out onto the table before him as he reads. He’s flipping through the rest of the contents of the folder when he pauses, staring at the images awaiting his acknowledgement. Natasha sees him freeze slightly and glances over to see what’s troubling him. Her brow dips in understanding.

Lying before him are photo after photo of death and destruction. Bucky remembers this day now, after it was buried so long under HYDRA mind wipes and his own crippling want to forget. The bodies of the dead line a small street, buildings reduced to rubble. He can see the dead, so many of them. There aren’t just the few military commanders he was sent to exterminate- no, HYDRA wants no witnesses and so Bucky had killed everyone in sight. There are children in pools of blood, their mothers reaching over them as if to shield them from the inevitable bullets coming their way. He tells himself that their deaths were quick, efficient, maybe even painless, but it is not enough. There is no way to justify this amount of bloodshed.

Natasha puts her hand on his shoulder. The gesture, meant to bring comfort, startles him and it takes all of Bucky’s self-control to not flinch. Bucky swallows hard. “I did all of this. I killed every one of them.” Natasha’s voice is low and quiet. “It wasn’t you. You had no choice in any of this.” Bucky laughs, thought it is heavy with horror and breaks in upon itself. “It’s easier to say that, but it was still my hand pulling the trigger.” He leans back against the wall, trying to steady himself.

“How were you and Steve able to convince anyone to trust me? Why did you even want to save me in the first place?” Natasha stares at the photos, taking in the broken bodies of the dead. “Steve knew the real you, the one who’s standing here right now and would never attempt this sort of carnage. I knew what it was like to lose all control and feel like your hands would always be stained with blood. Second chances are more powerful than you might think.”

Bucky shakes his head slowly. “I don’t deserve that chance. I don’t deserve any of this.” He closes his eyes for just a second as if by blocking out the world he can block out the memory of the methodical shudder of the rifle in his hands, the recoil as he fired again and again. “I don’t deserve Y/N. She-” Natasha cuts him off smoothly. “Y/N knows what you’ve been through, and she knows that you are not that same man. I’ve spoken with her before, and she knows the full extent of what you did.”

Bucky’s eyes cut back to the photographs. “Then why does she stay?” Natasha’s gaze feels like a leaden weight, unflinching and unyielding. “She stays because she loves you. She stays because she knows that the real Bucky Barnes is a hero, someone who is willing and able to move on from their past. Y/N is one of the most important parts of your life, not because she’s a good kisser but because she’s one of the only people who can see straight through you and know that you’re a good man.” 

Bucky nods. “I don’t need you to tell me twice.” Natasha’s right, though, and even the barest mention of Y/N brings back a wave of good memories to fight against the bad. She’s like an anchor, someone holding him in place even when all of the darkness he’s had to endure threatens to pull him under. It astonishes him sometimes that he still wakes up beside her every morning. She’s so perfect, so wonderful. What does Y/N see in him anyway that would make him so lucky to have her with him?

You’re in a despondent mood for the rest of the day. You slump home, not even bothering to turn on the lights but discarding your coat and bag in the dark of the room. The faint light still shining through the windows is all you’ll need. You stare unthinkingly at the apartment for a while, then head to your bedroom. As you catch sight of yourself in the mirror, you stop with a sigh, leaning your hands against the dresser underneath.

You stare at yourself, at the dark circles under your eyes. Who are you, anyway? Who are you to think that you would ever be good enough for an Avenger? At this point, it’s only a matter of days before he breaks up with you. No wonder he keeps waking up before you- he’s trying to leave without seeing you that often, as a way to lessen the blow of the eventual goodbye.

The problem about gloomy thoughts is that they tend to wrap around you, pulling you away from everything else. You’re so distracted that you don’t hear the front door open, and you don’t notice Bucky enter the apartment until he knocks softly on the wall of your bedroom as he stands in the open door. You turn around with a flash, plastering on a smile, but your reaction is too late and his brow furrows. “Are you alright?”

You try for a smile, reaching out to kiss him in greeting. “Of course I am. How was your day?” Bucky is not to be deterred. “I saw your face, Y/N. You looked really upset. Is everything okay?” Maybe it’s that velvet tone of his, or the concern laced in his eyes, but your few fragile defenses break down. You turn to him, fighting back tears. “Why are you still with me?” Bucky frowns. “What?” You hold your hands up uselessly. “You’re an Avenger and you’re out there saving lives all the time. Why would you ever be interested in some girl from the city? I’m not half the person you are.”

Bucky stares at you for a second, then wraps his arms around you, drawing you close. “Y/N, love, why would you ever think that?” You look away. “Because it’s true. You should be dating some other superhero of a woman who could be your equal.” Bucky’s frown tinges slightly with anger. “Did you hear about this on some news show? I told that one news outlet that if they said a single thing about me I’d shut them down, and I’ll do it-” You cut him off. “It’s not like that. It’s just- You’re an Avenger, Bucky, and you deserve someone equally as brave as you are.”

Bucky guides you gently over to the bed, and the two of you sit down on the edge. He pulls you into his arms. “I don’t want some superhero. I want you. Y/N, I love you because you’re the only one here who sees me for who I really am, not just some soulless Avenger but a faulty person. Honestly, if anything I’m surprised that you’d still stay with me.” Your tears dry up as you stare at him. “What?” A quiet smile spreads across Bucky’s lips. “Every single day, I come home and you make a difficult day a thousand times better. You know me better than I know myself, and even despite everything I’ve done and the monster I’ve been, you still make me feel like a good man again. You’re one of the kindest souls I’ve ever met, Y/N, and you deserve someone equally as good as you are.”

You shake your head slowly. “That’s not the same. Anyone can be nice.” Bucky cups your cheek in his hand. “Nobody else knows that I always get up in the mornings and pace around because of the nightmares. Nobody else knows that I always stare down the alleyways on the walk home because I keep thinking I’ll see Steve in there getting beat up, or help me pick out jackets based on how easy it will be to remove the left sleeve. You’re the only one for me, doll, and I wouldn’t trade you for a heartbeat.”

He reaches into a pocket. “Here, I’ll prove it.” He takes out something silvery, like stamped metal. With a jolt, you realize they’re his dog tags, the ones he had from fighting in World War II all those years ago. He gestures for you to turn around and you do, feeling the weight of the metal around your throat as he fastens them. When you look back at him, he’s smiling. “See? You can’t get rid of me, love. Not in a million years.” 

You smile, running your fingers over the faded lettering. “Won’t you want them? You know, as a memory of your old life?” Bucky shakes his head, a content expression lingering in his eyes. “I don’t need them to remember. I’ve got you, and you’re the only home I’ll ever need.” When he kisses you again, you can feel the dog tags right over your heart, like a promise that he’ll always be with you, no matter what.

[calicocatwrites]

Ass, Titty, Or Thighs?

Word Count: 1,970

Warnings: Talk of titties and ass, kind of a given, a little bit of swearing in Bakugou and Shinso’s.

Headcanon: Do the BNHA boys prefer ass, titties, thighs, or magical answer number 4?

Characters: Iida, Bakugou, Kirishima, Todoroki, Midoriya, Shinso

Author’s Note: Just my take on this idea, of course you can have different opinions than me, this is just what I think!

Tenya Iida:

This is a titty man.

Hear me out with this one.

He looks respectfully, obviously, this is Tenya Iida we’re talking about, but just the way they move has Iida in a different state of mind.

His favorite subject is jiggle physics (I will take myself out-).

Like, how do they move? Does it hurt? Fascinating, truly.

He doesn’t care what they look like, as long as they’re on you, the person he loves, he’s happy.

You’re watching TV in your dorm room when Iida furiously knocks on your door. Pausing your show, you get up and open the door for him.

“Hey, Iida! You need something?”

He quickly glances around your room, as if checking if someone is there, and stutters out his request.

“Ms. Y/N, i-is it ok if I may ask y-you a question I’ve prepared?”

Not seeing any harm in inviting him in, you gently crack open the door a bit more, gesturing for him to enter. Iida gladly takes the invitation and darts into your room. You sit back down on your bed, expecting him to do the same. However, Iida carefully stays standing, looking down at you. Silence starts to take its place in between the two of you, and you finally speak up.

“So, what is it you wanted to ask me?”

“U-uh, y-y-eah, right. I w-was just wondering if I could a-ask you a question about-”

He cuts himself off, almost as if choosing his follow-up words very carefully.

“A-about your… chest area.”

Now it’s your turn to blush, although not nearly as much as he is. At this point it looks like he’s melting from sweat.

“Uh, yeah, you can, is something wrong?”

“N-no! I-it’s just that I w-w-was wondering i-if they work as… comfort. The tissue in breasts is noted to be much more flexible than average, and I assumed that would lead to them being s-softer than average, but does that mean that they hurt? I’d like to test my theory, o-of course not with my hands or anything! That would be extremely disrespectful and as Kirishima would say, ‘unmanly’, but maybe there’s… another way?”

It finally clicks.

“Iida, are you trying to lay on my boobs?”

“P-p-precisely.”

Laughing, you bring him over to lay down as he wanted, and unpause your show.

Katsuki Bakugou:

So we all unanimously agree this is an ass man, right?

If we’re all in agreement, I’ll continue.

But yeah, Bakugou just screams ass man.

He always has a hand in your back pocket when you go places, or stares at your ass when you’re wearing shorts (or even when you aren’t-)

Just like Iida, it’s jiggle physics, astounding.

He’ll buy you clothes that are specifically to show off your ass-

You get ready in your outfit, Bakugou wanting to take you to a new restaurant close to campus. It wasn’t anywhere fancy, just a sushi place, so you didn’t get dolled up or anything, just some leggings and one of Bakugou’s hoodies. You call over to Bakugou, checking if he’s ready to go, and when both of you have your shoes on, you take off to try some sushi.

Upon arriving at the restaurant, Bakugou instinctively goes to put his hand in your back pocket, something he always does when you’re out. However, you opted to wear leggings, something comfortable and easy to throw on.

“Y/N, back pocket, not there, what the fuck?”

“I didn’t wear jeans.”

“Well how is everyone supposed to know you’re mine?!”

“Babe, I’m wearing your hoodie.”

“Other people don’t know that’s my hoodie.

“Katsuki, your hand is literally on my ass.”

“Well you didn’t wear something with back pockets, where else am I supposed to put my hand?!?!”

Eijiro Kirishima:

t h i g h s

This man is the actual definition of a thigh man.

He lives for your soft thighs as opposed to his super muscular ones, you just balance him out perfectly, he loves you so much.

He loves laying on your thighs, in between your thighs, with his hand on your thighs, your thighs literally only exist to be perfect and for him.

Oh and the way certain pants compliment your thighs, he would literally buy you anything you want.

Constant thigh compliments, also little kisses on them.

You and Kirishima are just laying together in his dorm, you leaning on Kirishima's shoulder, watching videos pop up on Kirishimas For You Page. Suddenly, as if TikTok knew exactly who Kirishima was and what peaks his interest, a trend came up with a guy in between his girls thighs. Next video? Yep, a girl in between her girls thighs. As soon as the videos came up Kirishima looked at you with the biggest puppy dog eyes you or anyone else on Earth had ever seen.

“Babe! Pleaaaase???”

“Not right now, baby.”

“Y/N, I’m four times stronger than you, this isn’t really up for discussion anymore.”

“KIRI-”

Before you know it, Kirishima has pinned you face up on the bed, and laid his head in between your thighs, snuggled up like a little baby in a crib.

“Kiri, I want to have a blanket on my legs, y’know.”

“Then put one on, I can’t be suffocated by sheets if my breath is taken away by your beauty.”

He’s not budging, and will probably fall asleep like that.

Shoto Todoroki:

The next three boys are ‘magical answer number 4’ boys.

This, my friends, is a hand man.

Ah ah ah, hear me out. He loves comparing hand sizes because it makes him feel loved, no matter if your hand is bigger, smaller, or the exact same size, he just likes the feeling of bonding in a loving way.

He loves hand-holding and painting nails (yes, he lets you paint his nails, he also likes painting yours), little hand actions.

He absolutely adores tracing your hands, the outline and any scars, freckles, or crevices. He likes his hands traced as well.

It’s just such a sweet, innocent action.

You and Todoroki are just sitting in his dorm, eating cold soba he got dropped off at the house. You have little trays and are eating on his bed, just talking about whatever comes to mind. Suddenly, Todoroki finds a fitting topic he wants to talk about.

“Your hands are really nice.”

It’s a weird thing to come up with out of the blue, so you just casually dismiss it, a quick ‘thank you’, and more bites of food. Todoroki isn’t really ok with you just ending the conversation like that though, so he takes a more forward approach.

“Y/N, can I hold your hand?”

“Shoto, I need my hands to eat.”

“No, you only need one hand.”

Realizing you aren’t gonna win this battle, you slowly place your hand near him, which he swoops in and takes almost immediately. He starts tracing the outline and shape of your hand, then your wrist, then any scars or freckles, then any little crack or crevice in your hand, sometimes going over your knuckles.

“Shoto, are you going to eat your food or just look at my hands all day?”

“My food will be fine, not like it’s going to get cold, it’s cold soba.”

Yeah, he goes for the later of your suggestions.

Izuku Midoriya:

Ass? Nah. Titty? Nah. Thigh? Nah.

Tummy.

Midoriya loves your stomach, no matter what it looks like, no matter the size, or if there’s scars there, it doesn’t matter.

He likes to pepper kisses all over your belly, and holds you around your waist whenever he can.

He likes laying on your stomach, and falling asleep like that (more than he likes to admit-)

It’s just a beautiful thing, and he loves your belly so much.

You decided to wait for Midoriya in his dorm to surprise him, he went out training today, so you thought it would be nice to see him when he gets back, even if he is tired and desperately needs a shower. Finally, when he’s half an hour late and you’re about to call him to make sure he’s ok and safe, Midoriya stumbles through the door and into his dorm, where you lay on his bed, patiently waiting for his arrival.

“‘Zuku, you’re back, finally! I was getting worried.”

“Y-Y/N! Hey! Y-you should’ve told me you were here, I would’ve finished training faster.”

“Oh, it’s ok!”

Midoriya walks over to his bed, and, exhausted from training, gently flops onto his bed, placing his head on your belly.

“Um, baby, do you want me to move so you can lay on the bed and not… on me?”

“Hm? No reason to, I’ve got my favorite pillow right here, u-unless this bothers you! Then I can totally get up and relocate.”

“No no no, it’s fine, Izuku. Just go to sleep, you’re probably tired from training for such a long time.”

Midoriya gently closes his eyes, and you carefully play with his hair, petting it every so carefully, like it’s a glass vase tilting on an uneven surface, a wrong move and everything breaks. After a while, you hear soft snores coming from your boyfriend, and decide it’s probably best if you fall asleep too.

Hitoshi Shinso:

Kind of a stretch, hear me out.

Eyes man.

This man absolutely loves your eyes. No matter the color, shape, whatever, he just loves eyes.

How they seem to light up when you’re excited, and how they look in that one specific kind of sunlight that makes the whole world shine like gold and bronze.

He loves holding eye contact and doing your eye makeup, even if it looks bad.

Eyes are the gateway to the soul, and Shinso strongly agrees with that.

You and Shino are out at the park. The sun hasn’t quite started setting, but it will soon, in about a half-hour. Shinsou took you out to have a picnic, where he bought ramen noodles and cake and sushi for you guys to eat. Unbeknownst to you, he also brought black eyeliner, makeup remover, and a little gold eye makeup product. Granted, he had no idea how to use them, but maybe today he could learn. After you’ve both eaten, the sun is starting to set, making the whole world almost as beautiful as you, he whips out the cosmetics and explains his plan.

“Y/N, I want to try doing your eye makeup. Can I?”

It takes a good amount of time to process his request, but you agree and let him give it a shot. Laying down, he carefully crawls on top of you, pulls out the eyeliner, and focuses only on your eyes. As much as he wants to pay attention to the eyeliner applicator, for a brief moment he gets caught up in how beautiful your eyes look in the light, and slips up.

“Shit, I messed up.”

“It’s ok! Just take some makeup remover on a Q-Tip and try again, babe.”

After a couple slip ups, he finally gets the eyeliner and the little gold shimmer on your eyes, and brings you up to your feet so you’re both standing.

“Wow, you look incredible.”

“Thank you, Shinso, you look great too.”

He pecks your cheek, packs up the picnic, and you two are on your merry way, Shinso excited to look at your eyes again and again, grateful to call you his significant other.

[georgescatcafe]

the unofficial official catboy george au — 2

feel the same

rating: t warning/s: none pairing/s: dreamnotnap, dreamnotfound, georgenap, dreamnap genres/tags: catboy george, fluff, humor, domesticity, dogboy sapnap, dogboy dream, one shot collection word count: 3130 summary: George is part cat. Sapnap is part dog. Can I make it anymore obvious?

+ao3 +masterpost

;;

George stares with wide, unblinking eyes at the newcomer from his place on the couch. His tail gets staticky with every pass it makes against the couch, but he can’t help the way it sweeps the cushions with agitation. 

He doesn’t like the new person. An intruder really. Dream had consulted George about it, and George had said okay unthinking, for once, and it’s come to bite him in the tail. When Dream had said their new housemate would be someone like him, George had thought that meant a fellow cat, one that he’d understand and who would understand him. 

(Dream is great, wonderful, really, attentive, kind, and caring—but he doesn’t get it. Doesn’t understand George’s behaviors, what his tail means, the position of his ears. Sometimes it’s okay—George hooking his chin over Dream’s shoulder while the other is playing video games at his desk and “accidentally” brushing their necks together, he’d rather die than admit what that means to Dream—but other times, it’s like a real-life lag, George doing something, and Dream only returning that something after a Google search later that day.)

So George had thought that meant there’d be another cat in the house, a friend—maybe a friend that’s even better than Dream. 

But instead it is definitely a dog that stands across from him, his overbearing scent, his floppy ears, his dumb, stupid tail wagging back and forth. George turns up his nose. “This is... interesting,” he says. “Dream, who is this?”

Dream’s eyes are locked on George’s tail, while the dog leans forward, mouth curved in an open-mouthed smile. If he were to give in just the tiniest bit more to animal instincts, George is certain his tongue would flop right out his mouth. George holds back a hiss.

“He’s my friend,” Dream answers. “He’s looking for a place to stay and we have that spare room. Also, he’s like you, so I thought maybe....”

George’s ears are flat to the top of his head. “He’s nothing like me,” George finally hisses. “He’s a dog!”

“Wait,” Dream says. “Cats and dogs actually don’t get along?” He blinks, looking between George and his friend. “I thought they just played that up for TV.”

By this point, the intruder—ugh, George’s new housemate—has lost his smile, tail’s wag slowing to a steady back and forth. He no longer is leant forward either. Good. George’s ears lift the tiniest bit from the top of his head. “Of course we don’t get along,” George snaps. “He’s a dog! Do you even realize how loud he’s going to be?”

“You’re pretty loud yourself,” Dream replies, and then, “and he’s my friend! I’m not denying him a place to stay just because you’re having a bad day.”

George glares at Dream, teeth parting slightly, a hiss rising in his throat, when a low rumble comes from across the room. George’s eyes go wide as his ears immediately swivel back and the hiss breaks from his throat, slipping through his teeth. “What?” he snaps at the dog. “You haven’t said anything since coming here!”

“Don’t hiss at him!” the newcomer says. “He’s just being nice!”

“I know he’s being nice,” George feels his metaphorical haunches lower when he realizes the other hasn’t actually run at him, just growled (though that’s not much better), and they can’t exactly come to blows in the living room, “but that niceness is probably going to get him killed someday!”

At that, the newcomer turns to Dream, who offers a weak shrug and a smile. “You know he’s right there,” he says.

Their new housemate scoffs. “Maybe.” He turns to George. “Sapnap.”

George bites back a laugh. “Sapnap? What kind of name is Sapnap?”

“I’d rather be named Sapnap than George,” the dog retorts, and George is on his feet, tail free to lash as much as it wants now that there’s room. When the dog gets closer to him, George is filled with bittersweet pleasure at the fact that while Sapnap is taller than him, it’s not by much. When they’re near chest-to-chest, George allows himself to lift onto his toes more, evening out their height.

When he accidentally catches Dream’s gaze, the other raises a brow at this behavior but remains otherwise silent. On his way out the living room, leaving George and Sapnap to settle this sudden feud on their own, George’s tail suddenly curls around his waist for the briefest of seconds in a grateful gesture. When he looks back to Sapnap, the other’s eyes are focused past George, instead looking right at where his tail remains curled in the past shape of Dream.

George’s fists clench as his tail returns to its irritated back-and-forth.

;;

Over time, they lose the animosity (ha!), becoming something akin to friends, though George still sticks to Dream usually when Sapnap is also in the room, and even when Dream is there, George refuses to lay on the couch on his back. He just can’t. 

But Sapnap isn’t a terrible housemate. He’s not as loud as George thought he’d be—if anything George is the louder of the two, playing video games with the two and shrieking at the smallest things, yelling when the two make fun of the way his tail fluffs up—and eventually his scent mixes with Dream and George’s and it isn’t overbearing, just another smell of the house, and his tail stops being stupid and George finds he can read it pretty well. If he uses it to better push Sapnap’s buttons, well... who can blame him? He’s a terror at heart, and he’s certain Dream and Sapnap know it.

Dream says that makes him the worse housemate. George doesn’t ever respond.

So George likes being a menace and he likes leaving the two to wonder what he’s feeling, but George knows Sapnap isn’t dumb the first time George finds himself looking over to the other and closing his eyes for much longer than a second. When they open once more, he can feel the heat in his cheeks, and a smile tugs at his lips, awkward giggles coming out alongside apologies as his tail curls against his back. 

With Sapnap frozen staring at him, eyes wide, George makes a quick escape, retreating to his room and climbing into bed. When a knock comes a few minutes later, his ears twitch at the sound, but he just crawls deeper under his covers. “Go away!” 

“George,” Sapnap’s voice comes through the door, and George groans, pulling a pillow over his head. “George, it’s okay!”

“It’s not!” George calls back. It is. It’s normal. He supposes, he trusts Sapnap not to attack him ever, he trusts Sapnap with normal things too, the more human side of things. He’d tell Sapnap his secrets, and he’d let Sapnap tell him his. Besides, he stills has his stomach. Still keeps that protected. He’s not completely soft. Not completely gone.

He hears the door click open. Sapnap comes in, and George feels the bed dip as he sits on it. George peeks out from the blankets with wide eyes, and Sapnap sighs before moving to sit instead in his desk-chair. 

“Is it really that bad?” Sapnap asks.

George pulls the blankets over his head.

“No, nope, stop, c’mon,” George feels a hand tug at his ankle through the covers, “we’re doing this, George. C’mon.”

“It’s just weird,” George replies, still under the blankets.

“It’s not,” Sapnap replies. “Besides, Dream and I tell each other we love each other, like, all the time. It’s not a big—”

“It doesn’t mean I love you,” George says, finally sitting up, the blankets falling down to his waist.

“Okay,” Sapnap agrees, “maybe not, but... you definitely trust me.”

George grumbles, looking away, but he doesn’t deny it.

“No, hey, that’s a good thing.” Sapnap taps the tip of his index finger against George’s sheets. “We live together; trust is good.”

George gives a laugh at that, though it’s pitchy, awkward and breaking, a laugh that comes only from stress. “How are you so calm right now?”

“Because at the moment, you are looking much more embarrassed than I am,” Sapnap replies, and George scoffs, some of the tension breaking, when he realizes Sapnap actually looks somewhat proud. “Seeing you like that makes me feel a lot, and I mean, a lot, better about myself.”

George glares at him. “Thanks, asshole.”

Sapnap smiles back. “So,” he finally continues, “you trust me.”

George once again looks away. “Maybe.”

“Well,” and George’s head snaps over at how suddenly serious Sapnap’s voice has turned, “I trust you too.” He meets the other’s eyes, and George swallows. “I’ve trusted you for awhile now. I was just waiting for you to feel the same.”

;;

George can’t get the conversation out of his head after that, watching Sapnap while he sits at Dream’s side, tail curled around Dream's back and brushing against his hand, which holds his phone, the screen on and filled with Twitter memes. Sapnap sits across from them on a beanbag that he’d bought himself as a gift, the thing overstuffed but comfortable, George must admit, after a night spent curled up on it a few weeks ago. He’s also got his phone in hand, likely doing the same thing as Dream.

It’s peaceful, calm, and George is content to lean back and—

He freezes mid-stretch, eyes wide as they flit between Dream and Sapnap, who are both unaware of what George was about to do. The fabric of his t-shirt is rough against his stomach, and it is with cherry blossom cheeks that George tugs it down, embarrassed.

But he could’ve finished stretching and stayed like that. He’d be safe.

Sapnap trusts him. Sapnap has trusted him.

George’s tail gives an irritated twitch against the back of Dream’s hand, causing the other to look over at him.

“You okay?”

George swallows before nodding, eyes dropping to his lap. “Fine,” he replies. Sapnap’s gaze is tangible. George swallows, remains where he is.

Dream gives a shrug. Sapnap gets back on his phone. George leans forward and crosses his arms over his stomach.

;;

Just like the stupid blink, the stupid stretch, George’s stupid neck rub is an accident. He does the same thing to Sapnap as he does to Dream, Sapnap on the couch, watching something on his laptop, when George walks in and finds himself ducking down to hook his chin over his shoulder, all under the guise of seeing what he’s looking at. Their necks brush together on the way down. They brush together on the way up.

When George stands straight once more, Sapnap’s hand comes up to press against the place George just rubbed against.

“Did you just—?”

“No,” George cuts him off. “Just wanted to see what you were looking at.”

“George.”

“Sapnap.” George takes a step back from the couch, tail low.

Sapnap turns, hand still on his neck. “You aren’t as slick as you think you are, you know. Literally all I can smell right now is you.”

And then he giggles. And so does George.

“Imagine if—,” George catches his breath, “imagine if Dream can hear us right now.”

“It sounds so weird,” Sapnap agrees, lowering his hand from his neck. “I smell you? That’s so weird!”

They get out a few more laughs before George is once again thinking about just what that means, and his tail, which had apparently been lifting to curl into a happy little hook, lowers once more. “Um,” he says, letting out another laugh, this one much more fake.

Sapnap has gone back to his phone. “It’s not a big deal,” he says. “I’ve seen you do the same with Dream. We’re housemates, I get it.”

George flushes, nodding his head. “Right.” He worries his lower lip before nodding again. “Thanks.”

Sapnap waves a hand. “I’d do the same if you weren’t so prickly.”

George tugs on the other’s ears in response before deciding the rest of the day would be best spent in his room.

;;

He’s lost. Completely lowered his defenses and is left at the mercy of his housemates. 

Dream is out getting groceries, George having promised to make dinner, and that’s left Sapnap and George to sit on the couch, George with his knees once again to his chest as he scrolls through spaghetti recipes on his phone. He begins to shift his weight when he feels the backs of his knees getting tight, the couch cushions not actually that big when you’re a grown man and also have a tail.

So George flops over then does a little shimmy further across the couch, head managing to rest on Sapnap’s lap, then rolls onto his back, hands coming up to his chest so he can better see what’s on his phone. Meanwhile, Sapnap has gone tense, eyes wide as he stares across the living room at the TV. His gaze drops down to George, who’s none the wiser.

But then George looks up and meets his eyes.

George shrieks as he sits up, ears pricking and tail fluffing. Sapnap leans back just in time, not in the mood to have their foreheads crashing into each other. “Sapnap!” George shouts. “What the hell?”

“What?” Sapnap replies, hands coming up. “I didn’t do anything! You’re the one that laid across me!”

“My—I—”

George’s hands tug his hoodie even further down, the fabric gathering over his stomach.

Sapnap sighs, and George glowers. “It’s fine. I’m glad you feel comfortable enough with me to do that,” he says, voice placating.

George hisses. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

Sapnap’s eyes drop down to George’s stomach, the fabric still bunched up. “Why are you so determined to cover it then?”

George lets go. “I’m cold. If you cover there, you warm up faster.”

Sapnap raises a brow, eyes going back up to George’s. “Uh-huh.”

George nods.

Sapnap studies him for a second before his arms reach up and he arches his back in a stretch. George watches him all the while, eyes locked on where his stupid double-layers ride up, exposing the soft skin of his stomach.

“Sapnap,” he says, “what are you—?” He pauses when he sees the other’s closed his eyes, content to hang off the back of the couch in the stretch. The tip of George’s tail gives the tiniest twitch upward as he reaches out a hesitant hand. When it makes contact with the fabric of Sapnap’s t-shirt, Sapnap’s eyes fly open, locking with George’s. He doesn’t move, though, just waits for George to do something.

George splays his fingers then begins to move them up and down over the other’s stomach. Sapnap’s eyes fall shut again and he returns to hanging his head off the couch. A smile tugs at George’s lips. He keeps up the action for another couple of seconds before returning to his earlier position, hands once again holding his phone on his chest, the recipes page pulled up still.

He feels and hears Sapnap shift before a hand lands in his hair. George tenses. The hand moves to brush against the back of an ear. George bites his lip. Fingers curl to scratch at the back base of the ear. George tries but fails to stop the purr that begins to rumble in his chest. Instead of it stopping, it only seems to grow more thunderous when Sapnap lets out a laugh at the sound, George glaring up at the other as the ear scratches continue.

“I hate you,” George says.

“I feel the exact same way,” Sapnap replies. 

;;

The problem, George finds, in curling up next to a dog is when said dog’s tail starts wagging while it’s right next to you. George bats it away again and again as it thumps on the mattress. Sapnap meanwhile is sitting up, eyes wide and ears perked as he stares at the door.

“I think the pizza’s here,” he says.

“Duh,” George replies, glaring at the stupid tail that refuses to chill. “The deliveryman’s almost to the door. You just now smelt that?”

“I was kind of preoccupied with other things,” Sapnap says, turning back to George, though his ears stay as angled as they can towards the door.

George finally gives up and just grabs the other’s tail, staring at that instead of Sapnap, who he may or may not have been marking for the past few minutes. “Whatever.”

He glances up at the other when he catches sight of Sapnap’s wide smile. “You know,” he says, “when we first met—”

“You were really mean to me?” Sapnap fills in.

“—I thought that if you were any less in control of yourself, your tongue would just hang out of your mouth like,” and, here, George demonstrates for the quickest second, ignoring the other’s comment. He laughs when the other rolls his eyes.

“Because it’d be so normal for me to be like,” Sapnap imitates the face as George laughs some more.

“That’s why I said less.” George shoves the other’s face away when he tries to lean down, tongue definitely pointed and ready to lick George’s cheek. “Stop, that’s so gross, what the hell?”

Sapnap makes another attempt. George pushes him away. He goes in again.

Dream finds them on the try that actually does get Sapnap’s saliva on George’s cheek, eyes wide as he holds two pizza boxes in his hands. “Am I interrupting something?” he asks. “You two completely missed the deliveryman knocking.”

George rolls away from Sapnap (though his tail does maybe curl around Sapnap’s as he does so), sliding off the bed and making his way over to Dream’s side. “No,” he says, eyes wide. “Nothing.” He holds out his hands in a gimme gesture. “Here. I’ll hold one.”

Dream squints at him before shaking his head. “It’s fine.” He turns back around, heading out the room and taking the enticing scent of the pizzas with him. George’s ear twitches when he hears Sapnap’s feet hit the ground behind him. He turns around before the other can put a hand on his shoulder. 

“No!” he says, pointing a finger at the dog. “You are disgusting. Actually disgusting.” He narrows his eyes. “That is why we don’t get along.”

Sapnap looks unamused. “Maybe you should tell that to your tail, too.”

George freezes before his gaze drops to his tail, where it has most definitely curved around him to once again curl around Sapnap’s. He looks back to the other’s face, hating the smugness on it, and crosses his arms over his chest. “That means nothing.”

Sapnap gives a laugh, herding George out the door. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“I hate you,” George says, even as his stupid chest starts to rumble with a purr the closer Sapnap walks beside him.

“I feel the exact same way.”

[jiangchengrights]

i wake to you at dawn

also available on ao3

“Alright, I get it,” Wei Ying mumbles to herself from where she lays, half of her face shoved into the pillow beneath her head, the other half just barely illuminated by the screen on her phone, “This dog is friends with that other dog now. Whoop de-fucking-do.”

Usually, these soft animal videos on Instagram don’t annoy her that much, even when they are about dogs, but she’s seen this specific post about fourteen times tonight. She can recite by memory the posts that come after it (a celebrity laying out in the sun, the tagline only the sunflower emoji, followed by one of Wen Qing, looking stern but fond as her lap is completely covered by both Wei Ying and Wen Ning, the tagline for that being ‘Reluctant jie’, and so on and so on) because she’s been frenetically refreshing all of her social media apps in order; she now knows the current lineup of instagram posts and tweets in her feed and has seen every godforsaken not-actually-that-interesting story of all of her friends (which isn’t fair to them, really, considering all of the important ones are here trapped in this same hotel as Wei Ying).

“Oh my god,” Jiang Cheng grumbles from the other side of the room where he lays on his bed (because of course he’s a part of her bridal party. Kind of. He’s walking her down the aisle tomorrow which, okay, makes him technically not a part of her party but she wasn’t about to let him skate free the night before her wedding)(or any of her bridal functions)(not that she needed to worry: he’d taken all planning rights away from her for her bridal shower and bachelorette party, he’d only tolerated the help of shijie) and throws his extra pillow at her, “If I have to hear that fucking dog video one more time, I swear to god, I’ll break your kneecaps. Do you hear me? I’ll have to drag you down the aisle tomorrow because you won’t be able to walk.”

“I thought you liked dogs, Shidi,” she replies, shifting ever-so-slightly so that she can squint at him past her phone.

“Wei Wuxian-”

“A-Cheng, A-Ying,” Shijie hums soothingly, from the other side of the room, “Please rest, for me. Your Shijie needs sleep too.”

“And if you don’t,” Wen Qing pipes up, “I know other ways to make you shut up.”

“Okay, okay,” Wei Ying whines, locking her phone with an audible click and resting it on the pillow next to her head, “I’ll try to sleep. For Shijie.”

Wei Ying does not sleep. She tries, she really does. Turns off all the lights and all the sounds and everything shiny that could keep her just engaged enough to stay awake. She tries to listen to the steadying breathes of her bridal party around her; Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang lay on the bed to her left, Shijie and Wen Qing to her right, Wen Ning passed out on the floor (he’d been invited, truly, to sleep in the empty spot next to her, only he’d fallen asleep long before everyone else and moving him to an actual bed proved to be very difficult when all the adults in the room were half (three fourths) wine drunk and giggling, so they’d just put a pillow under his head and wrapped him in their softest blankets and left it at that). She practices all the meditation tricks Lan Zhan had taught her; tries to calm her mind and her breathing and her heart.

It doesn’t work.

God, she wishes to herself, regardless of however illogical it may be, I wish Lan Zhan was in my bridal party.

With a sigh, she spends some time reflecting. She’s made so many bad decisions in her life, ones that have resulted in no less than three broken arms (sorry A-Cheng), many school detentions, almost getting expelled from university, a car accident that had left Shijie with seatbelt burns and a black eye from the airbag and Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, had left Lan Zhan, who’d been sitting prim and proper in the back seat, with scars that still lingered across the expanse of her back in the shape of all of Wei Ying’s nightmares. She’d chosen to hide away after that for three years in a different city with different hair and a different smile on her face and pretend like she didn’t feel a bone crushing loneliness in her entire being every time she thought of her Shijie, and didi, and her Lan Zhan who wasn’t really hers anymore, and that fact that in her self imposed exile she would never seen any of them again. That was, until Lan Zhan found her and dragged her back home and made her whole again.

Wei Ying was always whole, Lan Zhan would say, has said, I just helped Wei Ying find a way back. Will always bring Wei Ying back.

But with all that behind her and mostly wrapped up, this, tonight, right here, feels like her worst idea yet. She’d been so confident too! Had fought every naysayer, including Lan Zhan herself, with a cocky smile and a wave of her hand.

Brides shouldn't see each other the night before the wedding! She had laughed, and then laughed harder when Lan Zhan’s fingers had tightened where they dug into her hip, Besides, we’re not one of those couples! We can handle one night apart!

And she had been right, for the most part. Of course she missed Lan Zhan, but a night spent apart, having fun with her little family, all of them basking in the shared excitement of her impending nuptials. What she hadn’t anticipated was trying to sleep without Lan Zhan beside her, not when she’s this nervous, hadn’t thought about how deeply she would miss Lan Zhan’s warm weight behind her, her steadying arm firm around her waist, holding Wei Ying together like she did every night. She feels the absence with every shift of her hips that press backwards into nothing, every time she throws an arm out to rest on an empty pillow and the fact that there are no warm, soft, calves to ruthlessly shove her cold toes against.

By the time she picks up her phone again, everyone in the room is peacefully asleep and the  clock on her bedside table blinks 2:36, proud and red and rude, if you ask Wei Ying. She gives up on sleep and starts mentally calculating exactly how much concealer she’ll need to cover the bags under her eyes. After all, she wants to look her absolute best for Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan who is so steady and warm and beautiful, Lan Zhan who could open her mouth wide and eat Wei Ying’s entire heart in one bite but doesn’t, instead offering her own heart up on a silver platter for Wei Ying.

Wei Ying opens their messages on her phone, reads through the last few, laughs at the pictures she’d sent earlier in the night of Nie Mingjue, eyes half lidded with alcohol, laying messy kisses to the side of Xichen-ge’s face, who seemed to be accepting them with grace and only slightly tinged red ears. She taps her fingers on the screen, starting a message, lan zhan i can’t slee-

She doubles back, erasing it, deciding she doesn’t need to be whiny the night before their wedding, when Lan Zhan is surely asleep anyways. Again she starts, good early morning, lan zhan! i can’t wait to see you in your-

Too much, that is utterly too much. i love you, she types, hesitates with her thumb over the send button. What if the sound of her phone wakes Lan Zhan up? What if then Lan Zhan can’t fall back asleep? What if Lan Zhan tosses and turns all night and ends up with a headache, overtired on their wedding day of all times? What if this texts absolutely ruins everythi-

Her phone sounds, the little swooping noise it makes when she receives a new message on the thread she’s already looking at. She looks down and finds a link from Lan Zhan to a video of baby bunnies playing together with a message that says, When we return from our honeymoon, I think it is time we get another bunny. Possibly two.

And well. Her decision is made for her really. If Lan Zhan is awake, laying in her own bed in a room on the other side of the hotel, fighting off insomniatic boredom with bunny videos, there’s no way Wei Ying can stay here and allow them both to suffer.

She finds herself glad that Wen Ning is on the floor, though it looks a tad uncomfortable, because she’s able to slip out of bed with ease, bare feet silent on the carpeted floor. The only thing she grabs is her phone, not even bothering to try to find her shoes in the colossal mess that is her dark bridal room, littered with take out and bottles and stripped off clothing. Her nose crinkles, amused, when she thinks of the look of reprove she’ll surely get from Lan Zhan when she realizes Wei Ying walked around barefoot.

She manages to zigzag her way to the door without stepping on anything or making any noise, a feat she will congratulate herself on later. The door opens slowly, making the barest hint of noise as yellow hotel-hallway light floods the entrance to the room. Wei Ying pumps her fist, gloating at being able to sneak out without a single one of her party-poopers (read: caring family) waking up to ruin it for her and make her climb back into her own bed.

That is, until she catches Nie Huaisang’s eyes, watching her from where he lays next to Jiang Cheng. The most dangerous opponent, really, because with one shove of his arm he’d have Jiang Cheng up and yelling, alarming the whole room before she’d even make it to the elevator. She’s not sure she knows the layout of the hotel well enough to make it safely inside Lan Zhan’s room before one of them caught her.

Silent, slow, she moves one finger up to place over her lips, keeping eye contact with Nie Huaisang the whole time. She pleads with him from across the room, imploring him to be cool. He blinks, once, twice, slow like a cat in the sun, and then closes his eyes a third time for good and raises one, slow, thumbs up to her.

Her sigh of relief is the last noise in the room before she shuts the door and power walks to the elevator at the end of the hallway. She is going to buy him the biggest fruit basket. She dances by herself once inside the elevator, suddenly feeling cold and exposed in her red silk sleep tank and shorts, goosebumps prickling her arms and thighs. If only Lan Zhan’s room wasn’t so stupidly far away.

Of course her room has to be far away! Jiang Cheng had yelled when Wei Ying whined about it, the second you start drinking all you want to do is sit in her lap! You’re lucky I’m letting her party stay in the same hotel as yours!

And well, he hadn’t been wrong, per say, she thinks to herself as she tiptoes off the elevator and down the maze-like hall to get to Lan Zhan’s room. She still didn’t appreciate the distance though. She quietly tap taps on the door with one hand, pressing send on a text with the other that reads, lan zhan let me in lan ZHAN!!!

The door opens before her hand has even fallen back to her side. And there is her Lan Zhan, in soft cloud print pajamas pants and a white t-shirt, hair drawn up into a neat bun, eyes tired but awake.

“Wei Ying,” she says, the smile in her voice all Wei Ying needs to know about her welcome. She slides closer, wrapping her arms around Lan Zhan’s neck, grinning when she feels the others arms sneak around her waist.

“Mmm, Lan Zhan,” she hums against Lan Zhan’s neck, moving up to her tiptoes so she can nuzzle her nose against the corner of Lan Zhan’s jaw, “I’m tired, let’s go to bed.”

“I thought I was not supposed to see the bride the night before the wedding,” Lan Zhan replies, but she’s already inching backwards into the room, dragging Wei Ying along with her.

“Who ever said that?” Wei Ying asks, knowing full well she was the one who said that, a smile on her face when she lets Lan Zhan drop her into bed.

“Besides,” she says, once Lan Zhan is settled beside her, reaching one hand up to pet the side of Lan Zhan’s face, thumb rubbing gentle circles across the expanse of Lan Zhan’s cheekbone, “Does it count if there’s two brides? I don’t think so, we cancel each other out, see? If anything we have to do the opposite, you know, we have to see each other extra hard tonight.”

“Hmm,” Lan Zhan hums, her lips pulling up ever so slightly on one side as she leans in to rest her forehead against Wei Ying’s, legs tangling together, one hand sliding underneath Wei Ying’s shirt to spread warm and wide and firm in the valley between her shoulder blades, “Is that so?”

“Yes, tonight we have to,” Wei Ying nods, finally allowing her eyes to close as she presses further into Lan Zhan’s embrace, sleep finally weighing on her shoulders. She lets her head drop down, lips brushing against Lan Zhan’s collarbone, breathing her words right into Lan Zhan’s chest, “And every night too. I’ll tack that on for free, Lan Zhan, every night.”

“Yes, Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan sighs against her hair and melts under Wei Ying’s nimble fingers, relaxed at once with the promise of forever, “Every night.”

“I love you,” Wei Ying whispers, one final thing, around a yawn and finally, finally settles for the night. She almost misses Lan Zhan’s whispered reply, I love you too.

But she doesn’t. She never wants to miss a single thing Lan Zhan has to say.

Coda:

For all of fifteen seconds, the world is warm and bright and everything good when Wei Ying wakes up. Toned legs tangle with her own and a soft hand pets her hair away from her face, gentle and comforting again and again. She herself is pressed messily against Lan Zhan’s chest, quite possibly, embarrassingly, drooling ever so slightly. She does not have time to register this, however, before the banging starts.

“Wei Wuxian, I know you’re in there!” comes a belt from the other side of the door, that has her shooting up in an awkward half sitting position, splayed on one-fourth on the bed and three-fourths in Lan Zhan’s lap. Lan Zhan’s hands act as a steadying force, one on her hip, the other on her back, as she blinks deliriously around the room.

Nie Mingjue seems to be in a similar position, probably blinking off a hangover and propelling up from his sleeping position, glaring around the room like he might find the source of their disturbance somewhere inside. Jin Zixuan, on the other hand, groans loud and long, pressing his pillow over his ears.

“I see you are up,” Lan Xichen smiles from the little table where he sits, drinking his cup of tea peacefully, unperturbed by the pounding on their door, “I hope you rested well.”

“I did, thank you Xichen-ge,” Wei Ying tries to laugh around the blush high in her cheeks, only now really registering the fact that Lan Zhan was also sharing a room and not, in fact, alone just waiting for Wei Ying to traipse her way in.

But when she looks down at the woman laying beside her, she sees none of her own embarrassment reflected there, only a fond smile and a soft hand reaching out to tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ears. Huh, she thinks, revising her earlier thoughts, maybe not alone but definitely waiting for me.

“Wei Wuxian!” comes again from outside the door, though this time it just has her laughing, pushing into Lan Zhan’s hands like a cat.

“When did you get here?” Nie Mingjue asks, rubbing at his eyes. But he stands and stumbles his way over to Xichen and the tea and doesn’t seem particularly hard pressed for an answer, so Wei Ying ignores it.

“Hi, we’re getting married today,” she says instead, meeting Lan Zhan’s smile with her own.

“Mn,” Lan Zhan hums while the banging on the door stops. Finally, Wei Ying sighs, leaning down to press her lips against Lan Zhan’s, chaste because they are still in front of Lan Zhan’s brother and her brother in law. She’s still there when the door pops open, revealing a quietly furious Wen Qing.

“Wei Wuxian,” she seethes, taking calculated steps closer, “You were supposed to stay in your bed.”

“I did!” Wei Ying says, smiling wide to prove her innocence, “Lan Zhan is my bed!”

“I am going to-” Jiang Cheng barges through, leaving no one to hold the door open; it swings heavily back straight towards Jiang Yanli.

Before Wei Ying can even shout a disgruntled hey! Jin Zixuan, who was already on his way to the door, catches it with his hand and leads Jiang Yanli inside with a gentle hand and a soft smile that makes Wei Ying want to puke.

But Yanli-jie smiles back, big and happy and unashamed, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek, “Hello, husband.”

“Good morning, A-Li,” he says back, wistful and dopey as he leads her inside with a soft hand on the small of her back. Right in that moment, Wei Ying decides maybe she doesn’t hate him. For now.

“Sorry, Shijie,” Jiang Cheng responds, automatic when he looks back but Jiang Yanli waves him off with a forgiving smile.

“I know it wasn’t on purpose A-Cheng.”

The commotion leaves Wei Ying relaxed in a way she should have known better than to be, because all too soon she is being hoisted away from her warm spot on the bed and dragged out of the room.

“You promised, Wei Wuxian!” Wen Qing snaps, but Wei Ying can already hear the forgiveness in her voice, the amusement. Wei Ying lets herself be dragged along, barefoot again, back to her own room. And then because honestly she’s a little on the edge of too-excited and too-in love she shouts over her shoulder:

“I’ll see you at the end of the aisle, Wife!” and maintains vision of the room just long enough for Lan Zhan, who’d pushed herself into an upright position, turn red and drop back down into the bed with a gasp, like all of the air had been knocked out of her.

Wei Ying’s cackles are only rivaled by the quiet, but pleased chuckles from Lan Xichen.

“Do you have to be such an annoyingly sweet couple every single day?” Wen Qing huffs, letting go of her (fake, Wei Ying is pretty sure) anger entirely, sliding her arm up so they can lock elbows, walking arm and arm back to Wei Ying’s room.

Wei Ying thinks of Lan Zhan, warm around her and ever inviting, even if it was 2AM, even if Wei Ying looked like a ragamuffin, even if, even if, and smiles wide, cheesy, deliriously with all the right decisions she’s made in this life and says, “Yes.”

[fanfictiongalore]

College Monsters - Part 1

After Sam leaves college with Dean and doesn’t come back, after Jessica’s death, they suspect him of killing Jess.

The morning after Jessica dies – 7am

Luis, one of Sam and Jessica’s best friends, is woken by a loud, thundering knock on his dorm door early in the morning. He groans and with his tired, unrested legs after walking back to his dorm after a long night studying with his friends at the library, walks over to the door. It doesn’t seem like a long walk but to his exhausted body and brain, it’s a marathon. He opens the door to two men, dressed in bright blue uniforms and a bullet vest. ‘Are you Luis Dunn?’ he’s scared ‘Yeah, yeah I’m Luis’ confused as to what’s happening and what the police could possibly want with him, the uniformed man in his door asks, ‘Do you know either Jessica Moore or Sam Winchester?’. Shit. What have they done now. ‘Yes, I know them, they’re my friends. What’s happening exactly?’ The officer hesitates before speaking, only striking more fear into Luis’ heart. ‘Jessica Moore died last night, and we’d like to know some more information on Sam Winchester.’

‘I’m sorry?’ almost on cue, other students open and peer out of their doors, watching. They whisper and mutter amongst themselves.

His heart skips a beat. His roommate Joel, also a friend of Sam and Jessica’s, walks to the door and stands behind Luis. ‘Luis, what’s happening?’ the hairs stand up on the back of his neck, he doesn’t even turn to his friend. ‘Jess uh... Jess is… dead.’ Joel, stumbles backwards to his bed in disbelief. ‘I’m sorry for your loss, but we need information. Will you boys be able to provide any information on Sam Winchester? Jessica’s parents didn’t have any information on him’ Luis takes a few steps back and they both sit on their beds. The police enter the boy’s messy shared pig-stye of a room, littered with books, pages and sticky notes strewn all over the walls, having to step over their possessions acting as if they’re mines, about to go off at any second.

They answer the policemen’s questions and are left, senseless in their room, numbed by the fact that one of their friends is dead and the other is missing, or possibly dead as well.

Luis and Joel explain to their other close friends, Sarah and Gabe, the situation at hand after the police leave.

Six years later

Luis, Joel, Sarah, and Gabe are still at college, completing their final year of their bachelors’ degree. After a long day and night of studying in the library, Sarah is “relaxing her eyes”, she falls asleep. Luis and Joel are about to leave for food and drinks for the group when Gabe, staring in disbelief at his phone screen, questions ‘What the hell?’ Joel and Luis stop. ‘What? What’s wrong now Gabe, did you study the wrong topic again?’ they laugh. ‘How long has it been since we’ve seen Sam?’ Joel is taken aback. ‘Wow, that bastard?’ ‘Joel, stop. We’ve talked about this.’ Luis barks at him and he rolls his eyes. ‘Since Jess died so around six years, why?’ ‘He’s on the news with his brother.’ Luis is surprised and Sarah wakes up, confused. ‘What are we talking about?’ ‘Sam. He’s on the news with his brother and it’s not good.’ Luis snatches Gabe’s phone from his hands and on the screen is security from the First Bank of Jericho in California. Joel peeks over Luis’ shoulder and the video plays. It shows him and his brother shooting the people in the bank’s elevator, then at the diner and finally his and Dean’s old mug shots. ‘What the fuck.’ Luis drops Gabe’s phone, normally he would freak out about it being potentially damaged, but he’s too stunned to move. ‘What’s wrong?’ Sarah asks, even more confused than before. ‘Our old friend, Sam Winchester, and his psycho brother are murderers. That’s what’s wrong.’ Sarah demands to see the phone and replays the video. The group abandons the library and each go to their dorms, saddened by the video they’d witnessed, each one trying to get some tiny sliver of sleep.

Joel and Luis, silent in their beds. Staring at the roof, too hesitant to say anything. Gabe sitting in bed, waiting for the lingering darkness of the night to fade away, Sarah doing the same. They struggle to fall under sleeps weighted blanket. Any sleep the group get, isn’t great.

The next morning

Joel, Sarah, and Gabe are all sat in their usual places at the library, Luis isn’t there yet. Joel left him to sleep in after the sudden learning experience of the night before. Luis finally decides to take on the day, organizes his studying equipment and dawdles to the library, unable to think of anything else than his old best friend. Sam was the one who was always there for everyone. Sam was the one to help him study. Sam was the one who meant everything to Luis.

Luis arrives at the steps of the library and walks up the stairs to find his friends at their normal table, books spread out everywhere like normal, but the energy is different, dim, and slow. ‘Hey bud, how are you feeling?’ Gabe asks but Luis doesn’t reply, instead he sits down and places his head in his arms. Hours go by, Luis still sitting there with his head in his arms. ‘Ok, that’s enough. Luis, get your head up and focus on something. We always knew he was strange’ Joel demands. Luis lifts his head, pushes his hood away from his face and stares at Joel. The only thing he says is ‘Fine.’ He pulls his hood back over his head, obscuring his view to just his screen. He pulls out his laptop and searches up one thing. Sam Winchester. Thousands of results pop up. Sarah, sitting next to Luis, sighs and signals to Joel and Gabe to look at their friend’s screen. Luis perks up, confused as to why so many results have come up. ‘Guys, look at this’. He can’t see but as he pulls his hood back again, his friends have surrounded him, looking curiously over his shoulders. ‘Why is there so much?’ Sarah asks. No answer. Everything from a broadcast to a book series called ‘Supernatural’ by a man called Carver Edlund. ‘What is all of this?’ no one answers Gabe, he is left unanswered, alike the rest of them. ‘We have to look at this… But not here.’

Sam and Dean are in the impala driving through Nevada just off a case, listening to Dean’s favourite music because ���driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole” which he still lives by, religiously. They sit in silence as Sam researches the case they’re unknowingly heading towards. ‘Ok so I’ve found something in California which is close to us’ ‘You never put that thing down, do you? Take a break man. We’ve been on the road for days’ Dean remarks annoyed. ‘Yeah, I know Dean, but this case is close to my old college.’ Sam looks at Dean, Dean stares at the road, saying nothing. ‘Dean.’ Still nothing, Dean is as solid as stone and as quiet as a mouse. Sam isn’t sure if he can even hear what he’s saying. Sam crumbles ‘Ok what if I get you some pie’ ‘Close, but no cigar.’ Sam is frustrated. ‘We can do it but you have to promise me something’ Sam knows he’s going to regret this but he asks anyway ‘What.’ ‘You have to promise me that you’ll buy me pie whenever I ask and that you’ll put that damn iPad or whatever-the-hell that thing is down because it annoys the crap out of me.’ Sam thinks for a moment ‘Oh and you have to tell me about any embarrassing things you did in college so its actually worth it’ Sam, kind of surprised his brother would say that. 'Isn't it already worth it? We're saving people...' They pause 'Yeah it is, I just wanted to hear old embarassing stories you have...'

‘Anyway, as I was saying. This case seems like a normal Lycan case but there’s been reports from multiple people of a giant bear-like creature killing the local pets, more cats than any others and a few suspected people.’ ‘Oh wow so it’s a real-life Cats VS Dogs movie’ Dean chuckles to himself but Sam doesn’t find it funny at all. ‘You know, if Cas was here, he’d laugh at that because unlike you, he likes my jokes.’ He continues to mumble under his breath. ‘You don’t even know why Cas laughs at your jokes, do you?’ Dean’s expression changes from pride to complete and utter confusion in a split second. ‘Ahh you’re oblivious.’ Sam laughs, then instantly moves on, leaving Dean in the dark and continues to explain the details of their next case.

[digitalworldbound]

miyako and hikari (platonic) for 133?

Number 133: “Slushies aren’t just for kids. Fuck society!”

Characters: Miyako & Hikari. Finally, one of my 02 babies! This is set while the girls are maybe around 15 and 16.

I wrote this in first person as Hikari, just to give it a more casual, carefree feel! I hope you enjoy these teenager-y, summer vibes. The ending kind of sucks, but please ignore it. (Minor swearing) 

Send me a prompt! 

As a certified teenager, it’s safe to assume that I love summer. Why wouldn’t I? It’s the time of the year when you can pretty much do whatever you like. Summer is the grand time where the months-long prep and countdown for family vacations actually come in fruition.

But there’s danger that lurks during summer. It’s the trap of monotony where sleeping late, waking up at noon, watching endless TV, and playing video games for hours become a routine. Well, not if you are friends with Miyako.

Despite chatting with friends into the wee hours of the morning, the girl is an early riser. She’s the “get up and go” type, only grabbing a banana for breakfast as she sprints out the front door. Afterall, an object in motion in stays in motion.

It was the first Saturday of summer vacation when she barged into my room, a flurry of purple hair and lipgloss. “Hika!” she screeched. Miyako was one of the only people that called me by a nickname, and never failed to abuse this privilege. “What are you still doing in bed? If you want to go scope out hot guys on the beach with me, you have to get up. We’re burning daylight!”

I didn’t even have to glance at the clock to know that it was inhumanly early. The coffee machine in the kitchen was silent, and the sound of my brother snoring permeated the apartment. Somehow, I managed to pull myself away from the warmth of a slept-in comforter, yawning all the while. Before my feet hit the floor, Miyako was rummaging through my wardrobe, clicking her tongue in disapproval at my large collection of borrowed basketball t-shirts. “Hmm, where do all these come from, I wonder?” she asked pointedly. She laughed airily, flashing me a wink.

“Ha, ha, Miya, very funny. You know me and him are just friends,” I offered, attempting to stretch the sleep out of my joints. She shook her head in disapproval, purple ponytail swinging behind her.

A note about Miyako: she fancies herself a matchmaker, and believed I was her perfect target.

For years, she has tried everything to pair me up with my best friend. A few summers ago, she locked us both in the hall closet, smushing us between the extra linens and a scratchy, wool blanket. Takeru and I are pretty close, so we weren’t particularly bothered by our close proximity. We might have been able to enjoy our time together had Miyako not forgotten about us. It wasn’t until my brother came home from soccer practice that someone heard our desperate pleas for freedom. Ever since then, she has stayed out of it.

With a hum of approval, she tossed a sundress in my direction.  I barely had time to catch the flimsy, yellow fabric before she barked out another order. “Go to the bathroom and put that on, we need to hurry.”

Another note about Miyako: Never argue with her when she gets in one of her Moods.

My socked feet padded their way silently to the bathroom, pausing only to check the time displayed in the hall: 7:45 in the morning. Changing quickly, I slipped the sundress over last season’s bathing suit, adjusting the straps as the material settled around my hips. Miyako, being a full year older than me, had taken puberty gracefully, filling out gradually and evenly. My body, it seemed, had other plans. The hips seemed to be its first priority, leaving the top of my dress little to fill itself out.

I made my way back towards my room, careful to avoid any creaky floorboards. Miyako sat atop my bed, flicking through a stray magazine. She hadn’t noticed my arrival, and I took my few extra moments of silence to study her.

This past semester, she had shot up several inches, giving her legs the slender look of a model. Her cut-off shorts only emphasized this fact. Her Hawaiian-esque button down should have been tacky, but she left the buttons undone, showing off her camisole underneath. A bathing suit top poked out from underneath it, accentuated her new curves. Compared to her, I felt like a little girl playing dress up.

While I struggled to coax the tangles out of my horrendous bedhead, Miyako gave me the rundown of the day. “Okay, so I was thinking we hit up Starbucks first. They have some new fruity lemonade that I’ve been dying to try, and I’m also kind of hungry.” As if to punctuate her statement, my own stomach growled, and I grinned sheepishly up at her. “Make that two of us,” I laughed.

She rambled on about sunbathing and beach volleyball, the metallic jingle of her bracelets accentuating every point. Miyako talked with her hands, making gestures large and small as if it would help the listener understand her better. Spoiler alert: it never did, but it was fun to watch all the same.

My hair finally tamed, I applied some light concealer, desperate to rid myself of the dark circles clinging underneath my eyes. “You know,” her jingling stops, “You really don’t need any makeup, Hika.”

I only snort in response; taking compliments has never been my forte. Grabbing my purse and phone, I slipped on a pair of sandals. “Okay, I’m ready.”

“Let’s rock and roll!”

-

As one could expect on the first weekend of summer vacation, Odaiba beach was cluttered with people. For mile it seemed the white sand was obscured by sunburnt bodies and an array of towels, but that was understandable.

The passing heat wave had been brutal. One could not go outside without sunscreen, lest risk getting sun poisoning. Within minutes, Miyako sucked her lemonade dry, settling on chewing the left-over ice. “Oh!” she squealed, bits of ice flinging about. “An empty spot, just over there!”

Years of running away from evil Digimon  looked like practice as we narrowly dodged the ample bodies of beach-goers. Arms linked together; our feet kicked up sand behind us as we ran. Just as we were about to secure our small area, a blue beach towel obscured the white sand.

I was panting too hard to notice Miyako’s eyes light up or the stranger’s shadow obscure the sun’s rays.

“Hey, guys! What are you two doing here?” a familiar voice asked, humor lifting at the end of his question. My breathing stopped mid-pant, silently cursing whatever deity that would listen. Once my heartbeat was under control, I managed to stand up straight. Raising a singular eyebrow, I challenged our guest. “Well, Takeru, the last time I checked, this beach is open to the public.”

His blonde hair reflected the sunshine, a soft, golden glow haloing around him. As if I needed any more reason to fall in love with him. He laughed in good nature, smiling a boyish, toothy grin.

“You took our spot.” Miyako pointed out, arms crossed over her chest. Wrinkles formed between her brows, her effort to look more menacing. A pair of heart-shaped sunglasses shielded her hazel eyes, and I almost giggled at the thought of her trying to look domineering while wearing something so innocent.

“Who says we all can’t share?” he countered; blues eyes illuminated by mischief. Never one to back down from a challenge, Miyako stood her ground, “I don’t think so.”

Anxiety clenched at my stomach. As of late, being in a close proximity to Takeru made me nervous, especially when he was shirtless with little rivets of water trailing their way down his abs. He was no longer the cute little eight-year-old that sat with me by the campfire. Years of basketball practice had solidified his athletic figure, and two summers ago, his growth spurt had him towering over his own brother. Seeing him in nothing but a pair of swimming trunks did not help my flushed state.

“It’ll be fine, Miyako. We can just squish our towel beside his.”  Rolling her eyes, she begrudgingly pulled out her Hello Kitty! themed towel, spreading it haphazardly on the ground. “Let’s just get in the water. That’s where all of the cute guys are, anyway.”

Takeru, for his part, pretended not to notice the hostility in her voice. He was as used to her moodiness as I was. Standing there awkwardly, he only made the move to leave as we began to strip down to our bikinis. “I should probably go find Ken and Daisuke. I’ll catch you both later,” he stammered, eyes intently focused on the granules of sand that had clung themselves to his hands.

Looking at each other, Miyako and I burst into a fit of giggles. She had a twinkle in her eyes as she wiggled her eyebrows in my direction. “No, absolutely not.” I deadpan, knowing exactly where this was about to go.

Her glossed bottom lip poked out, her attempt at a puppy-dog look. In my opinion, she looked more like a Kardashian, and when I told her exactly this, the lip was sucked right back in.

Though it was still pretty early, the sun was high in the sky. My cheeks were warm, and my shoulders had turned a light shade of pink. “We need to put some sunscreen on before we fry.”

“Nah, I’m good. I need to work on my tan anyway.” Miyako’s high-waisted bikini bottoms and halter bathing suit top suited her figure, the cornflower blue color complimenting the slight tan she had already developed. She raised an eyebrow at my pink one-piece, but I just shrugged. Shopping for a skimpy bathing suits had never been one of my priorities.

Neither of us felt comfortable oogling guys when our friends were here and apt to make fun of us, so the though of swimming was abandoned. I smeared sunblock on any bit exposed skin, using the technique a toddler would when icing a cake: all hands on deck.  

The pair of us sprawled out, Miyako’s body covering most of the cartoon cat. My pale legs claimed Takeru’s towel as my own. His blonde hair had disappeared in the throngs of beachgoers, and considering that he wasn’t the sunbathing type, I figured he wouldn’t complain.  

Rays of sunshine encapsulated me, and the muscles in my shoulders slowly unwound. Eyes closed, I only half-listened to surrounding conversation. A child begged his mother for ice cream while some teenaged girl made her move. A nearby volleyball game was in full swing, both teams shouting at one another. The summer air was stagnant, smelling of sunscreen, sweat, and salt.

We laid around, soaking in the sunshine and the freedom that came with summer vacation. Those last few weeks of school had been stressful. Between taking pictures for the school paper and studying for any upcoming exams, I had been ready to lose my mind. Takeru had also been acting strange, flip-flopping between avoiding me at all costs or never letting me out of his sight. It had all be so intense that I was grateful for Miyako’s distraction, even if it meant waking up at the ass-crack of dawn.

“Psst.” I whispered. I rolled onto my side, doing my best to ignore the way iced coffee moved around in my belly. In our haste to get to the overcrowded seaside, we had forgone any breakfast, hoping that caffeine would be enough to fuel us throughout the day. The rumble in my stomach proved otherwise.

Miyako groaned, peeking at me through her ridiculously long lashes. Note to self: interrogate her about the brand of mascara she uses.

“Psst, Miyako.” She ignored me once again, opting to rotate like a rotisserie chicken.

“Ugh, fine, I’ll go find food on my own.” I stood up, dusting invisible debris off of my legs. Sure enough, I had my friend’s full attention. Anything that involved eating always got her going. In a flurry of purple hair and sand, she was up on her feet, eyes searching for the nearest snack source. A laugh bubbled out of my throat. Miyako tended to do all things with a theatrical flair, making even the most mundane tasks enjoyable.

Once, in middle school, we were both sentenced to lunch duty. Our job was simple: serve food to our peers. Dishing out food was easy; just ladle the mystery meat on a plate and voila! You were finished. It would have been simple enough, had we not had to wear hairnets and white smocks that made us look more like a middle-aged lunch lady than we ever wanted to. Miyako was never the type to wallow in self-pity. She ignored the looks of sympathy other girls gave us and found pleasure in the odd slurp sound the food made when hitting the trays. Soon, it became a competition of who could create the best squelch, testing out different flinging techniques until we were satisfied. By then end of lunch period, our smocks were littered with oil stain, and our cheeks were sore from smiling.

Miyako channeled her inner lunch lady food-flinging abilities as she practically pushed innocent bystanders out of her way. God help those who stood between Miyako and, well, whatever it was that she wanted. Her ponytail navigated through the crowd, giving me no choice but to follow. Her legs lead us to a slushie cart, manned by a woman who was all smiles and sticky syrup. It might not have been solid food, but I wouldn’t deny myself a sugar high.

A small line had already formed, several children tugging on their parents’ sleeves. My bathing suit clung to my skin uncomfortably. I tried to shift in place, but the air was thick with heat. Aside from seeing my childhood crush half-naked, waking up early hadn’t been the best idea. The sun was high in the sky, my morning shadow disappearing.

The line moved quickly, and before long, the pair of us stood at the front, pondering our choices. Finger resting on her lip in faux-concentration, Miyako made a show of deciding on a flavor “Could I have a mix of wild cherry and blue raspberry, please?”  

“Why pretend to chose when you get the same thing every time?” As a woman of few pleasures, I found a great joy in calling Miyako out. Her flush of embarrassment was a rare sight.  Turning towards the employee, I order the first flavor to have ‘strawberry’ in its name.

A few minutes later, we found ourselves walking along the shoreline. The waves lapped at our bare feet and we slurped on our slushies, rambling on about anything that came to mind.

“You know,” I said, disrupting the natural lull of conversation, “The last time I drank a slushie like this was before I even met you.”

By now, Miyako’s slushie had melted into a dark purple, the last remnants of red dye staining her lips. “But slushies are, like, a summer staple. What’s up with that?”

I twirled my straw around, savoring the last bits of pink ice that had collected on the bottom of my cup. “Well, my brother would probably make fun of me. He already gives me a hard-enough time about my ice cream addiction; he says sweet things are for children.” Switching voices, I lowered my pitch and curled my arms, much like an ape would at the zoo. In a horrible attempt at mocking my brother, I continued, “ ‘Hikari, sweets bad, protein good. Eat more meat.’”

I took a few more steps before I realized she was no longer beside me. Turning around, I barely had time to register the shocked look on her features before she cried out: “Slushies are not just for kids! Fuck him!” Apparently, my friend took summer treats very seriously. 

If her passionate outburst hadn’t of attracted attention, her colorful language sure did. Quickly, I grabbed her arm, hastily pulling her towards our belongings. Embarrassment colored my cheeks as I attempted to dodge the gazes of judgmental bystanders. “Miyako, you can’t just say things like that,” I whispered to her, clenched teeth giving my tone a pinched quality.

“C’mon,” I thrusted her towel into her arms, “let’s get out of here before we get kicked out.”

Pulling on her shorts, she cast me a sideways glance. “I’m sorry, Hika, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Sighing, I held both of her hands between mine. “You said what you did because you care about me, and I can’t fault you for that.” I gathered up the rest of my own belongings before continuing. “Besides, you forgot to feed me today. I’m thinking we get some McDonald’s. Your treat?”

She laughed, hands now busying themselves with her shirt. “Isn’t McDonald’s for kids?”

Tossing my purse over my shoulder, I turned around and winked. “Fuck society.”

[hollyhomburg]

Call Me Yours Pt.3

(Ot7 x Reader) (Hybrid Au!) (Blind! Reader)

Summary: You never would have imagined that more love was hidden right next door, just over your garden fence.

Pairings: (Human! Hoseok) x (Human! Reader) x (Wolf hybrid! Namjoon) x (Dog hybrid! Seokjin) x (Cat hybrid! Yoongi) x (Tiger hybrid! Taehyung) x (Bunny hybrid! Jungkook) x (Cat hybrid! Jimin)

Tags: Established relationship, Mentions of Hospitals, Indications of hybrid Mistreatment, Panic Attacks, hurt/comfort 

W/c: 4.5K

A/n: I Had to split this chapter because it started to get way too long! a few reminders- This is a Sequel! All Parts are under my master list as Part of the “Dance To This” universe. ALSO- I do not separate my tag list from fic to fic. there is only one tag list, so if you want to be tagged- go to the link in my bio and like that post. 

- In the next few days after the first impromptu afternoon meeting and the following weeks, the 4 of you become extremely accustomed to the company of Hoseok and his hybrids. 

- Not that you have much of a choice when Hoseok’s three hybrids eventually get bored after they wake up with Hoseok, kiss him goodbye before he goes to work, eat breakfast, play video games, and come over to your house to bother Seokjin, Namjoon, and Yoongi. 

- Luckily this is usually some time after you sequester yourself on the second floor. Usually, you’re Determined to get some work done even if the promise of cuddles and seeing the 6 of them interact is more than a small distraction. The few times you don’t manage to make it up before 11 you end up with a lap full of a very cuddly Taehyung or Jimin for half the day. 

- But, you and Hoseok do need to work, regardless of what you often find each other texting in the morning- though you’re fonder of voice messages. 

- It’s usually a welcomed mid-morning reprieve after the giddiness of 2 cups of coffee has worn off. Which feels ridiculous, because you’d only just seen him last night- it wasn’t like you’d spend any time apart and yet, and yet you’re stopping everything to pick up your phone when it dings. The drone of his office the clicking of pens and shuffling of papers behind him as he breathes into the mic, his voice low enough and quiet enough that it’s husky “I should warn you,”

- “I think Jungkook is going to surprise Yoongi with a water gun today- he shot Jimin with it yesterday and he jumped like 5 feet in the air- and Taehyung and Jungkook spent like 40 minutes laughing at him. Just a polite heads up that Yoongi might be traumatized.” 

- You replay the message at least a half a dozen times before you respond. Happy to hear his voice in your office and imagine for a second, that you worked in the same place. As foolish as it seems. Seokjin tells you that you’ve been watching too many office themed dramas. 

- You giggle at Hoseok’s message- taking a short break to send him a voice note back. “I will do no such thing, but I will have Seokjin video record it for you, and start planning Jungkook’s funeral, did you want lilies or roses?” you text Seokjin. 

- Sure enough, A few hours later. You hear a shriek of Yoongi and a shrill yowls of “you brats!” through your open window as the three younger hybrids (Jimin included because there was no way he wasn’t going to take the opportunity to tease the elder cat hybrid) dash to find a hiding place with Yoongi on the hunt. Taehyung hiding behind Namjoon and Jungkook unceremoniously jumping the fence. 

- Seokjin sends the video to you, and you send it to Hoseok, and he sends you back another message, just him laughing before he rapidly sends another “fuck- I’m so glad that I went to the bathroom before opening it- Jesus Christ my stomach hurts, Yoongi looked about ready to- fuck” he wheezes. And you send back a stream giggles. And Hoseok definitely doesn’t replay the message half a dozen times and wish he could take off early from work just to hear it in person.

- Definitely doesn’t think of doing that- because like, that would be something someone who like- had a crush would do- and Hoseok definitely can’t have a crush on his cute neighbor. Who also may or may not have hybrids that may or may not also have crushes on Hoseok’s hybrids, because that would be ridiculously complicated for a bunch of 20 somethings to handle. 

- Hoseok was just beginning to get the hang of loving 3 people instead of just Jungkook. And loving 4 others would be dizzying, and why the fuck is he thinking about love when it’s obviously just a crush. 

- Especially When Hoseok can definitely definitely not have a crush on his incredibly cute neighbor. So he goes back to work, and concentrate on the stocks and bonds and projected growth estimations over the next quarter. And absolutely does not have the growing pink heart emoji next to his neighbor’s name in his phone (you know- this one 💗 because it’s Hoseok’s favorite emoji, and is also- kind of apt for the situation) 

- Back in Namjoons garden, exactly 43 minutes away from Hoseok’s office if you speed on the highway, The three of them end up in a pile on the grass by the end of the day, all vendettas involving water guns forgotten. 

- Taehyung licking against Yoongi’s hair and grooming him. Jungkook cuddled up with Jimin half in his lap and half in Yoongi’s. They quickly pull Namjoon and Seokjin into the pile, exchanging purr (and chirping crunches in Jungkook’s case) in exchange for a plate of healthy snacks from Seokjin. (Those boys eat way too many bags of chips and chocolate in his opinion). Seokjin falls asleep to the gentle hum of conversation- somehow sleepy despite the fact that it’s barely the afternoon. 

- Seokjin wakes up with his back against that grass, his head moved onto a more bony thigh than Taehyung. A small hand carding through his hair, fingers tracing feather light across his lips, his cheekbones, the arch of his eyebrow. And the sound of muted conversation notable absent. Seokjin cracks his eyes and looks up at Jimin.  From this angle, he looks pouty and soft with his tangled hair, and the light hanging all hazy through the trellises, the white shirt he’s wearing so baggy the sleeves almost go to his elbows. 

- Jimin catches Seokjin’s sleepy staring, brushing his bangs back from his forehead. “How are you so pretty Jin hyung?” Jimin murmurs, something heavy and almost half sad in his when he looked down at Seokjin. Jin smiles, and teases, “a little jealous Jiminie?” Seokjin lets the promise of a question hang in the air- what’s wrong, open up to me, tell me why you look so sad. 

- Seokjin has never ever seen Jimin like this- or ever seen him be anything other than sultry confident, or bratty happy. Jimin sucks in his lower lip. Letting his hands do most of the talking against Seokjin’s scalp, his beautifully pointed years, the perfect silky hair. “No, I’m not it’s just-“ 

- “Jimin I was just teasing.” Seokjin says, nudging his head into Jimin’s hands. the request just as much about comforting Jimin as it is for Seokjin. letting others care for him has always been that way, and screw it, Seokjin loves head rubs. “I know.” Jimin seems like he wants to ask something, looking away from Seokjin “Would you mind if sometimes I-“ 

- Jungkook and Taehyung choose that moment to pounce jumping and picking them up (how the fuck that bunny was strong enough to lift Seokjin- he’d never know) and move them into a sunny spot as Yoongi fluffs out a heavy knit blanket and Namjoon comes out with a box of ice pops. 

- Jimin’s words die alongside Seokjin’s screeching protests at being picked up. To which Jungkook only grins at and proceeds to hold Seokjin more firmly. Leaving the elder to wonder exactly what Jimin had wanted to ask about. 

- In the past few weeks, there is no one that has been a more constant in your house than Jungkook, who will come over to help Namjoon with the garden nearly every day, and will text Namjoon things like Sorry hyung, say hi to the carrots for me, Hobi-Hyung took us all for hair cuts today T_T, but I’m thinking about keeping it long what do you think? if he doesn’t come over before 12.

-  In the mornings Jungkook waits until he hears the slide of your porch door (Nothing could get past those large brown ears) before he bounds over to the fence in excitement, literally hopping and lifting his body over the side instead of going around the corner. 

- “Yah Jungkook you’re going to land on one of the beds!” Namjoon will chide, hair still ruffly from sleep, and Jungkook will happily beam, “I’m a good jumper hyung! I won’t hurt the squash!”

- In the coming months- Namjoon will also go over to Hoseok’s side of the fence and - only with Hoseok’s explicit permission, because Namjoon is nothing if not respectful of the yard that is not his own- erect 4 raised garden beds with the help of Jungkook and Yoongi- who has a new found talent for making things.

- Jungkook loves gardening so much, and spending time with Namjoon just as much, he bugs Hoseok for gardening gear and it’s almost a shock when he comes over one day, with matching green gardening gloves, a canvas apron, and a matching set of green trowels and a straw hat with two holes pierced in the top for his ears (which Hoseok had cut very very carefully). 

- Namjoon can barely look at the bunny; he’s blushing too hard. Last week Seokjin found Namjoon scenting the younger, His lap full of a very happy bunny munching on some of the fresh radishes that Namjoon harvested that morning. 

- Which makes Seokjin coo and squish the Youngers cheeks with how cute he looks. And take about half a dozen pictures of him and Namjoon working in the garden because – wow, just wow, how is Jeon Jungkook so cute with his curly brown hair hanging in his eyes as he diligently weeds the window boxes. 

- Seokjin comes up to your office to tell you such, rolling around a little bit where you’re stretched out on the floor with your computer in front of you (a change of pace to keep you on task) groaning, “ughh he’s just so cute? How do you handle having a crush when you can’t do something about it? Jesus, I thought I was done with this with Yoongi.” (said hybrid has currently disappeared with Jimin and Taehyung somewhere on Hoseok’s side of the fence and it’s a guess as to what they’re doing or where they are)  

- You snort, Seokjin’s thigh pins into some of your papers as he rolls from his back onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow. “That’s easy you just do something about it instead of coming to your girlfriend and gushing about the cute bunny next door.” 

- Your phone dings next to you, another voice message from Hoseok. Seokjin clicks it open and listens to it.

- “Yah you need to stop feeding them so much! I swear they can just get food from my house! They’re gonna eat you out of house and home! I promise the next chance I get I’m going to go to the store and replace all of the food they’ve probably eaten.”

- A laugh ends the message, and before you can stop yourself you’re smiling way too hard. You can tell Seokjin’s smirking before you say it. “Ugh- his laugh is so cute!” Seokjin replays it so you can listen to it again.

- “So gushing about the bunny is apparently less bad than gushing about the cute boy next door?” he teases, you shove his thigh away playfully in reply before he pulls you down, on top of the papers and all. 

- Let’s just say work ends a very different way then you intended. With a shower in the upstairs bathroom after Seokjin explains that they’ll definitely be able to smell him on you if you go downstairs like that. Clothes all skewed and hair all ruffled, a small amount of rug burn in some unfortunate places that Yoongi 100% teases you both about later. Office sex has its downsides. 

- You few stolen moments in the middle of the day, rubbing conditioner out of his hair as he tells you about Jimin and the curious question he’d never finished the day before. “I think Hobi mentioned something about Jimin drawing a lot the other day, that could be it?” 

- Seokjin returns the favor of the conditioner, sliding your hair through his fingers appreciating how long it’s grown. Something primal in him both loving taking care of you, providing like this, and also hating that he has to wash his sent off of you. But it’s not polite to smell like sex around hybrids that aren’t your own. 

- Taehyung will come over to help Namjoon in the garden too- sometimes; Namjoon can sense him watching through the crack in the fence, if he’s feeling bold he’ll peer around the gate by the side. Jungkook does a good job of dragging him over to your side and not leaving him alone. It’s a bit funny to see the massive bunny wrangle the whining tiger. The hybrid is still noticeably shy and quiet to an extreme around them.  

- Especially the first time he tries to go beg pets from you during a workday, with you on an important call upstairs only to be stopped by Seokjin in the kitchen. “You can’t bother her when she’s working Taehyung” he chastises, the tiger’s shoulders dropping terribly low as he makes to leave, assuming that no one wants him here. Really he should just go back home and not be in the way- even if he like- really really wants pets right now, the touch starved ness reaching a fevers pitch inside of him. 

- Seokjin is quick to stop him, hand sliding down to the nape of his neck and making Taehyung shiver. “but I am baking some pies today if you want to help.” The tiger’s ears perk up almost instantly. And though Taehyung might be the messiest cook that Seokjin has ever seen, spilling flower on the floor and getting preserve on his cheeks, it is really nice to have someone to nudge shoulders within the kitchen and show how to knead dough out to the right thickness. Even if Tae barely speaks except to ask careful questions. 

- Hoseok and you have been dancing around each other over the last two months. Seokjin invites him and the hybrid trio over for dinner often enough to try and foster the affection that he can see in both of you. If Hoseok didn’t like you Seokjin would be incredibly surprised. 

- Why else would Hoseok bring you sweet-smelling flowers and little things, stopping by after work with the pastries that Seokjin just happened to mention where your favorite the last time he was over. 

- Why else would he lean in close and blush when you hang out on the back porch, greeting you with a hug instead of a hello. Not that you mind at all- Hoseok had practically grown up with Jungkook, so affection is more usual to him than the absence of it. 

- The first time he hugs you is just after Jimin and Taehyung’s monthly check-up. Taehyung has to get a few shots- he’d missed out on so many of them when he was a hybrid working in the circus industry that the doctors were trying to play catch-up. Hoseok is used to the tantrum that he and Jimin go through every time that the 6th of the month rolls around. and hopes that they’ve forgotten about it. 

- Hoseok had reminded Jungkook about it. In the kitchen the night before when Jimin and Taehyung were upstairs. Taehyung had unfortunately overheard from the hallway. 

- Hoseok has so much trouble just getting him out the door to go to the doctor’s office. (he’d been planning on saying that they were going to the park and then pulling a fast one on them to get them into the car- but Hoseok knows that Taehyung must have found out or something) 

- Jimin locked himself in the bathroom earlier but Jungkook’s managed to extricate him before Hoseok has had a chance to placate the frightened Taehyung and now Jimin stands next to Jungkook, holding his hand, More subdued and more still then he ever is, His tail wrapped around his pant leg for some form of comfort while Hoseok tries to convince Taehyung to let go of the beam in the kitchen. 

- Taehyung has literally wrapped himself around it, “I’m not letting go until you call the doctors and cancel” and maybe Hoseok would be angrier if it weren’t for the fact that Taehyung is trembling- Jimin is too, neither of them wants to go. But they have to, and it breaks Hoseok’s heart to make them go. He reminds himself that he has too- he to not take them is to be like their other owners. 

- So he picks up the phone and calls you. You are such a comfort to Taehyung that he thinks it will be good for him, that you might be able to convince Taehyung to let go of the beam. Of course, Seokjin comes too, walks into Hoseok’s kitchen to Taehyung shaking his head every time Jungkook tries to pull him off. Hoseok honey voice trying to bribe him with a trip to the amusement park (not that Taehyung really knows what that is). 

- All Seokjin has to say is, “Tae, come on.” His voice nothing but a pure command for Tae. All the hybrids to straighten up, Tae has his head down, ears pinned to his hair and his hands sliding off the coulomb to hang by his side. “Yes alpha” he murmurs, suddenly contrite. Much to the wide-eyed surprised of everyone in the room- especially Hoseok.

- “Okay that’s new” Hoseok mentions, only to receive a well-placed elbow from Seokjin, “shut up” he hisses, the blush turning his cheeks bright bright red. Seokjin is definitely not used to being called alpha. No one- not Namjoon or Yoongi has ever referred to Seokjin as such. 

- Hybrid dynamics aren’t all that new to you- but to Hoseok, who had only ever dealt with one other hybrid until recently, it takes some explaining for him to understand the connotation of alpha.  

- (You end up explaining Later though on the phone. Hoseok ends up falling asleep on the other end, tired from the excitement of the day, it’s not the last time he calls, however. 

- You make a habit of it, always after dinner, Hoseok will call you on your house phone and you’ll sit on your bed chatting with him for an hour or two, sometimes he’ll be doing the dishes in the background and sometimes Jimin will steal the phone to gossip about whatever cute thing Yoongi or Namjoon did that day, endlessly telling you about Seokjin and how the way to a hybrid’s heart is through their ears but also stomach.)

- Jungkook decides to stay home as there simply isn’t room in Hoseok’s car for all of them to go to the doctor’s office and you seem to have more of a positive effect than Jungkook does. He’d been looking forward to some music Yoongi wanted to show him anyway. The ride in the back of Hoseok’s car to the doctor’s office is long and bumpy. You sit in the middle back seat so that both of Hoseok’s hybrids can line themselves along your sides. 

- Taehyung folded over your lap and Jimin’s head hidden in your neck.You run your fingers through Tae’s hair and hold onto Jimin’s hand. Murmuring comforting words to both of them the whole way. 

- Even Jimin has lost his sunny disposition by the time you pull into the medical center, folding himself between Hoseok and you, looking small and scared eyes vacant in the wake of so much panic. Murmuring, “Hate this place” every time they pass a doctor and hiding under Hoseok’s shoulder. It doesn’t take much to wonder what happened to them. 

- (Hoseok will tell you later on the phone, that after the circus Taehyung had to get some serious surgery on his knees, while Jimin had been so sick from neglect that he needed to be in inpatient care  and a few rounds of antibiotics to get rid of some serious pneumonia before he could be transferred to the adoption center. 

- You could imagine how traumatic that could be, could imagine that whatever doctor’s had treated them, they probably hadn’t bothered to explain to them why they were doing what they were doing- and left them in the dark about what was happening with their own bodies.) 

- You’re steely and stalwart, holding Taehyung’s hand just as strongly as he’s holding yours, whispering reassurances every few feet. Taehyung’s knees knock the entire time. 

- Through the entire check-up, Taehyung shakes and whimpers, golden eyes wide and terrified of absolutely everyone that approaches him. The only reason why he doesn’t push the doctor away (he’d done that last time and actually climbed on top of the counter) is because both you and Hoseok hold onto both of his hands through it. 

- Seokjin is babbling in the corner, holding Jimin’s hand while he waits for his turn looking like he’s about to head to the gallows rather than the doctors wax paper covered table. Seokjin talks to them about the new videos he’s making for his YouTube channel to distract them. Telling them he’d love it if Taehyung and Jimin guest starred and decorated cookies with him one day. It isn’t a lie- but you can hear the distress In Seokjin’s words, how much he’s trying to comfort the two hybrids. 

- It’s not surprising that Taehyung starts to cry when they give him the first shot, the big fat tears soaking the shoulder of your shirt even has you hum and scratch at his scalp. Jimin too when he gets his a few minutes later- you can tell he tries to hold back the tears before sniffling. Seokjin almost growls, narrowly avoids letting out the noise strangled in his throat. 

- It’s nothing that ice cream can’t fix, though they both hold their arms stiffly and seem a little quieter on the way back. The adrenaline jump and then the come down make them both sleepy but twitchy. Hoseok takes a moment to text Jungkook when he’s a stop to pick up half a dozen ice cream cartons from the store. 

- It takes a few hours and no small amount of cuddling That night on the stoop of Hoseok’s house, 4 of the hybrids piled on Hoseok’s dark blue hammock, the others fallen off on the grass giggling and happy as Jungkook uses his body weight to make it sway this way and that and Jimin cries, “you’re gonna break it!” Yoongi and Seokjin laughing from the grass, ducking to avoid the swinging feet. Already fallen off but punch drunk from a little bit of sangria that Seokjin had supplied and too much rocky road. 

- Hoseok hugs you, startling you a little, but not unwelcome, his whole body lined up against yours, lithe and a little broader than you’d expected but firm and steady under your hands. His hand cupping the back of your head. he speaks through the thickness in his voice, and though you knew hoseok hadn’t been happy to do what he’d done today, you hadn’t realized he was close to tears. “Thank you- I don’t know what I would have done without you today, y/n I-”

- “Hobi” the nickname slips out without you realizing it, “it’s okay- I- I love them too much to let them be so scared on their own like that.” You can almost taste the smile on Hoseok’s mouth when he says that he likes it when you call him that. You pull away but stay a little closer than usual, and maybe it’s Hoseok’s imagination but you look like you’re trying not to show how happy you are. 

- “This is starting to feel a lot like family isn’t It.” he says, you nod agreeing even as Jimin shrieks and falls off the hammock, much much happier than he’d been 5 hours ago. “Yeah,” you say, soft and heavy. And Hoseok can tell that you don’t mind one bit. “Yeah, it does.” 

- Your new closeness isn’t missed by any of your hybrids and even when you go back to your own houses (albeit reluctantly) Jungkook and Jimin smirk at Hoseok, but don’t say anything. 

- For the next few days, every time he thinks about it he groans and slaps his hands over his own flaming cheeks, Jungkook poking at them. Jimin’s sing-song voice teasing of, “Hoseok and Y/n sittin’ in a tree” Jungkook and Taehyung joining in for the k-i-s-s-i-n-g part. They must have heard it at the park the other day because he has absolutely no idea where they would have learned it.

- Hoseok starts to realize, every single time he gets a notification on his phone from you, your name popping up on his home screen, his heart beats quick and heavy. it Dosesn’t matter if it’s Another voice message or a text or a picture that one of them has taken, he can’t help but start smiling.

- One night after you send voice messages back and forth, you end yours with “sorry I’m being dragged away by Yoongi to cuddle, goodnight Bobi! I’ll see you tomorrow” and even after Hoseok sends back a “goodnight! sleep tight! don’t let the bed bugs bite” he still finds himself lying in his bed legs hanging off the side, Jungkook and Taehyung giggling from the bathroom, while Hoseok lies in bed and replays the message again and again just to hear “goodnight Hobi! I’ll see you tomorrow.”

- You know how little kids get? when they get so excited about going to some amusement park or zoo that they can’t fall asleep the night before. So excited for tomorrow to come that today somehow drags. That is exactly how Hoseok feels. Jimin sidles up to the side of his bed, listening to the message twice, 

- “You’re crushed like a grape” Jimin nudging Hoseok’s thigh with his foot when the message ends. “You are so so fucked”  he laughs, Hoseok whines. He replays the message and Jimin smiles, Pressing a kiss to Hoseok’s forehead before he goes to join Taehyung and Jungkook in the bathroom.  Whatever they’re doing it required not one but 2 types of bubble bath and dish soap and would probably inevitably damage Hoseok’s floor. 

- “I feel objectified when you compare me to fruit” Hoseok complains, but Jimin just winks at him from the door, licking his plush lips and eyeing the little bit of skin at Hoseok’s waist where his shirt has pulled up- where Hoseok knows there are still hickeys, barely faded, from a few nights prior. “at least you’re yummy?” he says, before he’s pulled into the room by Jungkook and leaves Hoseok to wallow. “Woh! how did you get the bubbles that big?”

- And when Hoseok takes stalk of his emotions, feels his crush on you multiply, he realizes that he is absolute- irrevocable- pass the point of no return-

- Jimin is right,  Hoseok is royally fucked. 

(Please comment and reblog! Likes are nice, but they do little to support content creators!)

[wistfulcynic]

Their Way By Moonlight: Broken (Chapter 16)

In which the chapter title says it all, really. 

For @thisonesatellite​​ and @ohmightydevviepuu​​ and @katie-dub​​, YOU KNOW WHAT YOU DID 😘😘😘 (and shoutout to @winterbythesea​​ for filling the gaping holes in my video game knowledge) 

SUMMARY: A new curse has fallen on Storybrooke and this time Emma is trapped inside it, deliberately separated from Henry and anyone else who might  help her break it. But what no one knows –including her own cursed self– is that she and Killian have the ability to share their dreams, and are working together in secret to find a way to break the curse and free everyone from a new and dangerous foe.

Rating: M

AO3

- 

Broken: 

All her life Emma had loved to sleep, but she wasn’t the biggest fan of naps. Sleep, to her, involved putting on comfy, loose clothing, making the room as dark as possible, burrowing into her pillows and blankets and letting oblivion wrap her in its soothing embrace for at least eight hours, preferably more. Obviously, those perfect conditions didn’t happen often, but still a girl could dream. 

Naps, she felt, were like fast food sleep. They met her most immediate needs but left her feeling heavy and groggy and a bit gross. Exactly the way she was feeling now. She peeled one sticky eyelid open and groped for her phone, groaning when she saw the time. Ten past six. She’d slept for over two hours, and Neal would be here in less than one. Rubbing her eyes with the heels of her hands, she tried to force her foggy mind to focus. 

A burst of triumphant laughter sounded from the living room, followed by a dramatic groan. 

“Right, you’ll pay for that,” snarled Killian’s voice. 

“Oh yeah?” Henry crowed in reply, “Who’s gonna make me?” 

Emma heaved herself up out of bed and went to the curtain that separated her and Killian’s bedroom area from the main part of the apartment. She peeked around it and grinned at the sight that met her eye. Henry and Killian were on the sofa, controllers in hand, playing what was apparently a very hotly contested game of Battlefront II. 

She thought back to when Killian had first begun attempting to play video games with Henry in New York, hampered by his missing hand and his general bafflement as to why anyone would want to sit for hours in front of a flickering screen, shooting imaginary bolts of light at each other. He seemed to have gotten over that in the past year, she thought, and now with his modern prosthetic he was able to manage the controller and navigate the game deftly enough that Emma had a sneaking suspicion he might be letting Henry win. 

Although, she thought, as Henry racked up another kill, pumping his fist as his character respawned into Han Solo and Killian’s eyebrows snapped together indignantly, maybe not.

She pushed aside the curtain and went to sit on the arm of the sofa next to Killian, who flashed her a brief smile before returning his attention to evading Henry’s digital assault on him. 

“Hey, guys,” she said, unable to resist letting her fingers sift through Killian’s hair. She still found it difficult to go too long without touching him. “Who’s winning?” 

“The lad has a temporary advantage,” Killian replied grudgingly. 

“Temporary my ass.” 

“Language,” Killian rebuked, and Henry snorted. 

“That’s rich coming from Mister oh bloody hell,” he retorted. 

“Perhaps, but when you swear in front of your mothers I get the blame.” 

Emma chuckled and Killian paused the game, looking up at her with the soft, adoring smile that never failed to make her weak. “How are you feeling, love?” he asked. “Rested?” 

“Yeah, I guess.” She shrugged. “Kinda groggy. Do you think I have time for a shower before Neal gets here?” 

“Aye, a quick one.”

“And you don’t need me to help with anything?” Emma looked around the apartment. It was as neat and tidy as ever, the way Killian always kept things.  

“No, everything’s prepared for dinner, it just needs cooking. Go have your shower, then Henry and I should probably freshen up too.” 

“What? I’m fresh!” 

“Your mouth is, perhaps,” said Killian, quick as a flash. “But as this is meant to be a nice meal, please indulge me by putting on a shirt that isn’t covered in dog hair.” 

“Ugh, fine.” Henry rolled his eyes but couldn’t suppress a grin. Neither could Emma.

“What about that nice grey one I got you?” she suggested. 

“Mom, I outgrew that like six months ago.” 

“Oh.” The little flare of loss and regret was familiar now, but no less sharp. “Okay.” 

Killian squeezed her knee sympathetically. “It has been replaced by another nice grey one, however,” he said. “Which I happen to know is clean and ironed and hanging in your room. Wear that.” 

“Fine,” sighed Henry. “Can I finish kicking your arse at Battlefront first, though?” 

“You can try,” said Killian.

~

They were making dinner together. 

Mary Margaret knew it was happening, she was here, she was experiencing it. She could smell the rich aroma and hear the sizzle of frying onions, could hear the rhythmic sound of knives on a chopping board as she and David sliced mushrooms and minced carrots. Hell, she was the one doing the mincing. But she still couldn’t quite believe it. 

It had been David’s idea. When they finished their lunch at Granny’s that afternoon he’d walked with her back to her office, as slowly as they could get away with, then lingered even longer by the door. 

“This was fun,” he said. “I had fun. Did you?” 

The thread of uncertainty in the question squeezed Mary Margaret’s heart and set her mind racing. What if—she could barely entertain the thought—what if David felt as she did? What if he wanted the same things? What if he was just as unsure of her as she was of him? 

What if—this was the scariest what if of all—what if she actually told him what she wanted? That’t she’d like to give their marriage a real shot?  

What would happen then? 

“I did,” she replied, slightly breathlessly. “A lot of fun.” 

David’s smile widened. “We should do it again.” 

“We should,” she agreed, as her heart raced faster.  

“Like tonight.” 

“Tonight?” 

“Yeah.” David nodded eagerly. “Let’s eat together tonight. Let’s make dinner.” 

“Make dinner? I can’t cook!” 

“Me neither. It’ll be fun. Half raw and half burnt maybe, but, you know—” his eyes seemed to bore into her “—ours.” 

“Ours,” she repeated, wishing she could draw some air into her lungs. “Okay.” 

“Okay?” he echoed. 

She nodded. “Okay.” 

“Okay.” His smile was so soft, his eyes warm. “I’ll get some stuff. Ingredients and things, and I’ll—see you at home.” 

Home, thought Mary Margaret, letting her eyes caress his ass as he headed back down the street, then jerking them away when she realised what she was doing. Maybe they could actually have one. 

And so now here they were, standing next to each other in their kitchen, chopping vegetables and browning meat in an attempt to make spaghetti. 

“Shouldn’t be too hard, right?” said David, opening an old cookbook he’d unearthed from the back of a cupboard. “We just follow the instructions.” 

They browned their meat and added their veggies and a can of tomatoes, several pinches of herbs and a generous glug of wine. The aromas were amazing and the kitchen warm and steamy and Mary Margaret took off her cardigan, draping it over a chair, and when she turned back David was watching her, his gaze hot and almost tangible on her bare arms. She caught her breath and he seemed to catch himself, his eyes flying to hers, their gazes catching and holding, lingering as they began to move towards each other, slowly as if in a dream, drawn by the tug of attraction they could no longer ignore. David’s fingers gently traced her cheek and hers gripped his shoulders, and when their lips touched—so softly at first then harder, growing desperate—it felt right and natural and like coming home, and also sent the sharpest spike of lust through Mary Margaret’s belly that she could ever remember feeling. 

She couldn’t remember it, yet it was so familiar. This was familiar. David’s lips on hers, the silky slide of his hair between her fingers, the breadth of his shoulders, the firm comfort of his arms around her making her feel safe and  treasured. Loved. 

Then his hands slid over her hips to cup her ass and all she could feel was the frantic certainty that if she didn’t get him naked, right now, she would die. She sank her nails into his shoulders and rolled her hips against his, swallowing his moan and adding her own as he hoisted her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist and then—

“Wait—wait,” Mary Margaret gasped, tearing her mouth from his. She was still a sensible woman, no matter how lust-drenched she felt, and just enough of that sense remained to remind her not to burn the kitchen down. She leaned over and turned off the burner beneath the bubbling spaghetti sauce, then wrapped her arms tightly around David’s shoulders and kissed him fiercely, telling him with her lips what she couldn’t put into words. What she felt for him, and everything she hoped that they could be.  

When they broke apart he stared at her like he was seeing her for the first time, like she was his sun and moon and stars and everything in between. 

“Mary Margaret,” he breathed. “I want—” 

“Me too,” she gasped against his mouth. “Me too. Let’s—upstairs?” 

The icy blue of his eyes had never been so hot. “Fuck yes,” he said. 

~

That evening Archie returned to the small, draughty room he rented in the boarding house where most of the mine workers lived. His body felt as exhausted as it always did after a double shift, his mind as fallow. He collapsed onto the small sofa that doubled as his bed with a sigh and let his head fall into his hands and his eyes fall shut. 

The cushion beside him shifted and sagged as Pongo leapt onto it, his tail swishing across the threadbare cover. Archie looked down at the dog with a faint smile that grew wider as Pongo covered his chin with sloppy kisses then settled down to rest his head in Archie’s lap, gazing up at him with warm brown eyes full of trust. Trust, and love. Archie’s heart swelled in his chest and the worst of his exhaustion seemed to lift, lightened as all burdens are by the presence of a friend. Tears prickled behind his eyes as he stroked Pongo’s silky head. 

“Good boy, Pongo,” he said. “That’s my boy.” 

~

“Your love does not see them. He sees you.” 

Oisín’s words rang in Regina’s ears as she stood examining her reflection in the mirror in the loft’s small bathroom. Carefully she applied another coat of lipstick then brushed a tiny crumb of mascara from beneath her eye. She’d managed to resist the urge to put her glamour spell back on but not the one that had drawn her into the market on her way home from Emma and Killian’s to pick up a stash of land-without-magic cosmetics. It was all well and good to talk about trusting people with the truth of her appearance but did have standards, after all, and no intention of going on a date with nothing whatsoever on her face. 

She gave herself a final once-over just as a knock sounded at the door and took a deep breath to quell the butterflies in her belly. It didn’t work, not even a little, and they fluttered more frantically than ever as she went to open it. 

Robin—no, John, she reminded herself firmly—smiled when he saw her, a smile that had warmed and softened considerably over the past few weeks. 

You look lovely, Regina,” he said, producing a bouquet of wildflowers from behind his back and offering them to her, almost shyly. She caught her breath. He’d brought her flowers before, many times during their slow, cautious courtship, but always from the florist. Tasteful, professional arrangements that a banker would choose, nothing at all like this handful of blooms he’d clearly picked himself. 

“Where—where did you get these?” she asked, taking them from him and breathing deeply, barely stopping herself from burying her face in them. 

“Ah.” He looked a bit abashed. “From the woods. If you don’t like them—” He reached for the bouquet but she snatched it back, cradling it to her chest. 

“I love them,” she said. “They’re just… different from the ones you brought before.” 

“Indeed. It was the most peculiar thing,” he explained, stepping into the loft as she held the door for him and following her to the kitchen where she took out a vase and filled it with water. “Every morning I go for a run, as you know. Always around town, along the same route. But this morning—I don’t know what it was but I just felt the need to get out of civilisation, into nature.” He shook his head wryly. “I’d barely had that thought when I found myself jogging down the road that cuts through the forest on its way out of town. I was feeling brighter than I had in some time, lighter somehow, and then I noticed a footpath leading off the road and into the trees, and on a whim I followed it. It led through some dense trees and then opened into a little clearing with a tiny rock pool surrounded by the most stunning wildflowers.” He caught her eye and smiled. “They reminded me of you.” 

Regina flushed with pleasure at the casual sincerity of the compliment and returned her attention to her flowers, arranging them in the vase and admiring their colours in the fading glow of the evening light. 

“So I took note of the location and went back there just now to collect some for you,” he concluded. “Do you really like them?” 

“They’re beautiful,” she replied, looking up again to see he had moved closer to her—so close—close enough that she could feel his breath on her cheek and hear the hitch in it, see his pupils dilate as he too became aware of just how close they were. 

They’d seen each other nearly every day since she’d asked him to lunch, sharing coffee and meals and conversation but only rarely touching. Touches between them when they did occur were gentle, restrained. Cautious. 

(“Regina,” said Emma, coming up behind her as she stood by Granny’s outer gate, watching Robin return to work after their first lunch date. “I’m really glad you’re happy. But… don’t forget he’s cursed, okay?” 

“As if I could,” snapped Regina. “It’s kind of obvious in the way he doesn’t remember me.”

“That’s not really what I meant.” Emma shuffled her feet, her face the picture of both deep discomfort and grim determination. 

“Well what did you mean?” 

“Just that he—he doesn’t have control of himself. He can’t make decisions like he would if he weren’t cursed.” 

Regina frowned. “Are you saying that un-cursed he wouldn’t be interested in me? Because I can assure you—” 

“No! That’s not—look—” Emma crossed her arms over her chest, clutching her jacket sleeves so hard her nails left grooves in the red leather. “Don’t sleep with him, okay?” she burst out, flushing at Regina’s outraged glare but barreling on. “I know it’s none of my business and believe me, I really don’t want to be talking about it, but just—don’t. Cursed people can’t consent, and—” she took a deep breath “—I know that’s something my parents had to deal with after the first curse.” 

Regina scowled, trying unsuccessfully to ignore the twinge of guilt that needled at her. She’d cursed Snow and Charming to those lives with full intent to hurt them as much as she could, and while she wasn’t precisely sorry for it her own recent experiences had given her a new perspective on what she’d put them through. 

Things between her and Robin hadn’t exactly been friendly when the curse struck the Enchanted Forest, and while she’d had a whole year to think about that he had not. She’d spent those moments of the past year that weren’t consumed with her fear for Henry’s safety thinking about Robin and the way she’d treated him, wondering what might have happened if she’d been less scared, if she hadn’t let that fear make her so snappish and bitchy to him. Emma was right. Un-cursed, Robin might not wish for her to touch him. 

That thought hurt far worse than she’d expected.)

But she wasn’t thinking about that now, not with him so close and leaning closer… not when her heart was pounding and her breath short… not when his lips touched hers and she just… melted into the kiss. Melted into him, unable to think of anything now but how right this felt, how right they felt, and how profoundly she wished she hadn’t fought against it for so long. She felt consumed by him, by them and by this moment, and neither Emma’s words of caution nor her own regret, nor even the ominous shifting and creaking of the magic in the air around them could pull her attention away from it. 

~

When Belle arrived home she carefully removed the books Killian had lent her from their bag and placed them on the small table in her living room, taking a moment to let her fingertips trail over them, across the cloth bindings and the leather ones, tracing the titles and the authors’ names, and the illustrations on their covers. They all looked so fascinating she couldn’t wait to dive in and lose herself in the tales they carried within their bindings. And she knew exactly where she would begin. 

(“It’s an adventure tale,” Killian explained as he handed the book to her, his eyes twinkling at the way hers widened and her hands trembled with eagerness. “A heroic quest to rescue a prince and reunite true loves.” 

“Ohhh,” Belle breathed. “That sounds wonderful.” 

“I figured you might like it,” Killian’s grin was warm. “I can tell already that you have excellent taste.”)

Belle made herself tea in her favourite cup, the one she saved for the most special occasions, and carried it carefully to her sofa, curling her legs beneath her and tucking a fluffy blanket around them, and a plump pillow behind her back. She sipped the brew with a contented sigh, and then she opened her book. 

~

Neal Cassidy was no stranger to disappointment. It was always there, clinging to him like the smell of stale cigarette smoke he carried home with him each night from the Rabbit Hole, harsh and acrid and never wholly gone even when his clothes were freshly washed. The disappointment was the same, ever present, hovering in a cloud around his head, wherever he was, for as long as he could remember. 

He’d had dreams once. At least, he thought he had. He must have, everyone did. He’d had dreams and he’d had a family—or at least he’d had a father, though he could barely remember the man, no more than a hazy impression of a hunched form and a plaintive voice. 

I love you, son. 

But that was a long time ago, impossibly long it sometimes felt, lifetimes ago. He was alone now, and had been for—well, for as long as he could remember. He worked as a janitor because he could do no other job, he drank alone because that’s what everyone did in Storybrooke. Each night the Rabbit Hole was silent but for the blaring music that was always on its speakers, patrons scattered throughout the dingy room, staring into their drinks and pretending the rest were somewhere else. Possibly pretending they were. 

He worked as a janitor at the town hall, every day the same, sweeping and mopping and scrubbing, always under the sharp eyes of Mayor Green. Eyes that watched him more closely than a mayor really ought to watch a janitor, and with a smug, triumphant gleam that made him itchy and uncomfortable. 

And then one day Mayor Green was gone, replaced by Mary Margaret Nolan. Deputy Mayor Nolan with tentative determination in her eyes, who greeted him with a kind smile and didn’t watch him as he worked, and who one astounding day had called him into her office to inform him that he owned the pawn shop. 

(“It belonged to your father, apparently,” she said, “and he left it to you. I’m sorry I only found the records yesterday, they must have gotten lost. But the pawn shop is yours, and if you’d like to open it again, well, more business in town wouldn’t be a bad thing.”

“Um.” Neal’s head was spinning. He didn’t know the first thing about running a business. And yet… “Yeah, sure. I can try.” 

When he unlocked the pawn shop the next day it was dark and dusty, with that stale smell places get when they’ve gone too long without exposure to fresh air. Neal stood in the doorway feeling the full weight and scale of the task that lay before him and how very poorly equipped he was to tackle it. He was seriously considering locking the place back up and never thinking of it again when a voice spoke behind him. 

“Hi,” it said. “Are you gonna open this place?” 

Neal turned. He didn’t recognise the boy—not surprising as he didn’t recognise most people in town—but his bright, cheerful expression lightened Neal’s heart and gave it an odd twinge. 

“Uh, yeah,” he replied. “I’m gonna try. I guess.” 

“Cool!” exclaimed the boy. “Can I help?” 

Neal frowned. “Shouldn’t you be in school or something?” 

“It’s Saturday.” 

“Oh yeah.” Neal didn’t know much about kids but he was pretty sure this one was still a bit young to be going around talking to strangers. “Um, where are your parents?” he asked. 

“My dad’s at work,” the boy replied, like he was expecting just that question. “He owns a bookstore.” 

“He does?” 

“Yep. I helped him get it set up, so I know what needs to be done. I could help you too.” He shrugged. “You know, if you want.” 

Neal kind of did want. He wasn’t sure just how much help the kid could actually be, but just the idea of having someone around, of not having to do everything by himself, made the weight on his shoulders seem lighter. Still, a kid he didn’t know… “You sure your dad wouldn’t mind?” he hedged. 

“He won’t,” said the boy decisively. “But I can call him if you like, to be sure.” Again he sounded like he’d been expecting exactly this development. Neal’s frown deepened. He wondered if he was being played somehow, though he couldn’t imagine how or why. 

“Yeah, why don’t you do that,” he said. Let this play out, at least.  

The boy took out his phone and tapped on its screen, then held it to his ear. “Hey, Dad,” he said. “I’m at the pawn shop. Yep.” His eyes flitted to Neal’s face and then away. “There’s this guy who’s gonna get it open again and I offered to help him but he wanted to be sure it’s okay with you… uh huh… yeah… okay.” He looked up at Neal. “My dad wants to talk to you.” 

“Oh. Um, sure.” Neal took the phone from the boy. “Hello?”

“Hello,” said a voice, a deep, smooth, accented one that gave Neal another odd twinge, less pleasant than the one inspired by the boy. The voice was friendly, but it made Neal tense, his fingers flexing on the boy’s phone. “I hope my son isn’t troubling you,” it said. 

“No.” Neal had the oddest urge to contradict everything this voice said. “He’s not.” 

“Good. He sometimes lets his enthusiasm overwhelm his common sense. If he’s bothering you, feel free to send him away.” The voice was light and careless and Neal bristled at its lack of concern for the kid’s feelings. 

“He’s not bothering me.” Neal glanced at the boy, who was listening intently.“He offered to help, and actually I could probably use it.”

“Excellent.” There was a hint of amusement in the voice now that Neal found deeply objectionable. He scowled. “Well, let me know if he causes you any trouble,” the voice continued. 

“Sure thing,” said Neal shortly, and handed the phone back to the boy before he snapped and said something much longer. The boy took it back with a bright grin. “So I can stay?” he asked. He listened for a moment, then sighed and rolled his eyes. “Yes, I know. Okay. Okay, bye!” He ended the call and stuck the phone in his pocket. “I’m Henry,” he said, holding out his hand. “Henry Jones.��� 

Neal took the hand, feeling that twinge again as the small fingers wrapped around his own. “Neal Cassidy.” 

“Nice to meet you, Mr Cassidy,” said Henry. “So, where do we start?”) 

Henry Jones turned out to be just as enthusiastic as the voice had warned, bright and cheerful and actually very knowledgeable about running a shop. As was his dad, Neal discovered, when the man arrived later that day to pick up his son. Neal had ignored the funny twist in his gut at the sight of them hugging and forced a smile as the man—Killian, as he introduced himself—cheerfully inspected their progress and answered a lot of the questions Henry hadn’t been able to, and even some Neal hadn’t thought of yet. And Neal found himself taking the man’s number, almost gratefully, and even calling it, just once or twice, whenever he hit a snag he hadn’t anticipated. 

Though he liked Henry very much Neal had weirdly mixed feelings about Killian Jones. He couldn’t seem to quell the hostility he felt deep in his gut whenever they met, the twisting anger and resentment that at most times simmered low but at others flared so high they licked right at the edge of hate. This despite the fact that the man was never anything but perfectly nice and helpful and by all appearances the kind of loving father Neal wished like hell he could remember. He tried to like Killian, he almost liked him. But that gut reaction was too troubling to ignore.  

And that was how he came to find himself at ten minutes before seven p.m. walking straight past the Rabbit Hole and towards the harbour, turning down the small street where he could see the sign for Jolly Roger Books hanging from a wrought iron hook above the shop’s wide doorway, swinging gently in the chilly evening breeze. 

Neal set his jaw and rang the bell, and a minute later Henry’s cheerful face appeared. “Come on in, Mr Cassidy!” he said, pulling the doors open. “You’re right on time.” 

~

It was a typical night at the Rabbit Hole. The bar’s interior was smoky and dark though the sun was still in the sky outside, adorned with neon signs in precisely the wrong colours and a ceaseless blare of music from the speakers. Not bad music, not exactly, but bleak and melancholy and a strain on the ears, and just loud enough to make conversation impossible, should anyone wish to converse. 

Generally, no one did. 

A handful of patrons sat at random around the dark and grimy room, staring into their drinks or off into space, not looking at each other, not so much as a civil nod. This was not the place for civility.  

It was a typical night and no one expected otherwise, none there hoped for any more or less from their drinking place or from their lives. 

And then the music stopped. 

It stopped abruptly, with no hiss of interference or record scratch, just silence that fell with the grace of an anvil and was in itself so deafening that it took a moment for those present even to register the change.

The town records clerk was first to notice, rousing from his reverie and frowning as he looked around, his eyes meeting the confused gaze of the librarian sitting one table over to his left. 

“What happened?” he asked. 

The librarian shrugged. “Maybe it’s broken?” 

“Wouldn’t be a bad thing if it was,” said the clerk, and the librarian snorted. 

“Maybe they’ll switch it for something good,” another voice chimed in, this one belonging to a man the clerk vaguely recognised. Did he work for the bank? No… the insurance company, maybe? 

“Let’s hope so,” the librarian agreed. 

“I hope so,” said a fourth voice from behind the clerk’s right shoulder. “If I never hear that whatever-stank again it will be too soon.” 

“Hoobastank,” supplied the librarian, and they all groaned. 

“Even the name’s bloody awful,” said the clerk, and the other men all nodded their agreement, sliding their chairs ever so slightly closer as they did, drawn by the unifying power of a shared grievance. 

On the other side of the bar a similar conversation was occurring. 

“Finally, I can hear myself think,” growled Leroy, still glaring at his beer like it had done him a personal wrong, but doing so in peace and quiet at least. 

The man down the bar to his left sneezed, startling the man down the bar to his right, who had been dozing into his mudslide. “What?” said the sleepy man. “Wha’s happ’nin?”

The sneezy man wiped his nose with an enormous handkerchief. “Something’s wrong with the music,” he said. 

“What music?” asked another man from further down the bar, blinking wide, guileless eyes. “Was there music?” 

“Of course there was music,” growled Leroy, glaring at the dopey man. 

“Loud music,” agreed the sneezy man. 

“Kept me awake,” muttered the sleepy man as his eyes drifted shut. Leroy snorted. 

They all turned to look as the door to the back room opened and another man entered, wringing his hands anxiously and blushing bright pink, the sweat on his forehead glistening beneath the neon glare of the bar lights. 

“Um,” he whispered, far too quietly to be heard over the faint buzz of conversation that now filled the bar. He tried again. “Um,” he said, slightly louder. 

Leroy felt a flare of anger oh his behalf. This bashful man was just trying to get their attention and no one was taking any notice. 

“HEY ALL OF YOU,” he shouted at the very top of his lungs, turning so that the men at the back of the room would be sure to hear him too. “THIS GUY HERE IS TRYING TO TELL US SOMETHING,” he continued, pairing his bellow with a nasty glare that killed every last conversation in the room. “WHY DON’T YOU JERKS SHUT UP AND LISTEN TO HIM?”

The bashful man was pinker than ever but he nodded gratefully at Leroy. “Um,” he said for a third time, and every ear in the place strained to hear him. “I—I’m so sorry, but the music seems, ah, to be, er, broken.” 

“What’s wrong with it?” called the clerk. 

“I don’t know,” the bashful man confessed. “I can get someone in to look at it tomorrow, but it’s too late to do anything tonight. I’m so sorry.” 

“Don’t be,” said the librarian. “I’d rather talk with this group of scoundrels than listen to another note of that shit.” 

A chorus of “ayes” and “huzzahs” rose from the men around him, the clerk and the insurance man, and several others who had gathered around them to raise a pint in merriment together. Men whose day jobs left them drained and hopeless and who now preened in delight at being referred to as “scoundrels,” knowing it was as far from the truth as anything could be and yet feeling that somehow, deep in a place they hadn’t known they possessed, that secret place that brought them dreams of forests and campfires and glad camaraderie, scoundrels they might actually be. 

“Doesn’t bother us—achoo!—either,” said the sneezy man, who had moved to sit next to the sleepy man and nudge him with a gentle elbow whenever he began to doze off. Leroy noted that the dopey man was now flanked by two companions, one white-whiskered with round, wire-rimmed glasses and the other wearing a broad grin that Leroy suspected ought to annoy him but instead made him feel like he’d found something long missing from his life. The happy man raised his glass to Leroy, and Leroy raised his in return.

“Doesn’t look like there’s a problem here,” he told the bashful man. “Why don’t you join us—” he’d meant to say join me, but the us he spoke instead felt far more right “—for a drink?”

The bashful man looked over at the group in the far corner, now laughing uproariously and toasting each other’s exploits, then back at Leroy. “Okay,” he said. “I’d like that, I think. Thanks.” He smiled shyly. “Thanks for everything.” 

“No trouble at all, brother,” replied Leroy. 

~

Neal followed as Henry raced up the winding staircase to the third floor and burst through the door to the apartment. Through it Neal could see Killian standing in the middle of an open-plan living space with his head bent towards that of a blonde woman, whispering in her ear. Their pose was unmistakably intimate, his hand curled around her waist and hers resting lightly on his chest, their heads touching. They turned when he entered the room and both smiled, strangely rigid smiles, Neal thought. 

The woman’s face he could swear he recognised, though he couldn’t place it, and vague recognition definitely shouldn’t make him feel so angry at the sight of them together, or cause a stab of jealousy to pierce his gut when Killian’s fingers tightened on her waist and he pulled her almost imperceptibly closer. 

So why did it? 

Neal forced his emotions down and returned their smiles in kind and Henry, seemingly oblivious to the odd tension in the room, said, “Mr Cassidy, this is my mom, Emma.” 

“Your mom!” Neal cried in astonishment, then wondered why he was astonished. 

“Yep!” Henry’s bright grin faded slightly at the look on his face and Neal attempted to smooth his features as Emma stepped forward and offered him her hand. “It’s nice to meet you,” she said. 

“And yo—” Neal began, when he realised in a flash of memory where he’d seen that face before. “Wait—did you say Emma? Emma… Swan? The sheriff?”

“That’s right.”

 He could place her now, sitting at the end of the table at the town council meetings, sighing and tapping her pen impatiently. Neal frowned again as he tried to remember what he knew about Emma Swan. It was… not much. He didn’t know much about anyone in Storybrooke, and for the first time that felt wrong. He stared at her as he strained to remember, watching as she toyed absent-mindedly with the chain around her neck, the ring on her wedding finger catching the light. 

“You’re married?” he shouted, and that gut feeling flared again when he saw her glance back at Killian, silently seeking support from her husband. 

“Yeah, we—” Emma began, but Neal interrupted her. 

“No,” he said, forcing the fury and jealousy down again and making an attempt to smile. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. Of course you’re married. Henry’s parents.” 

“Yeah,” Emma smiled in relief and from the corner of his eye Neal could see the tension drain from Killian’s stance.  “Hey, don’t worry about it. Come in and sit down, Neal. It’s okay if I call you Neal?” 

“Sure.” 

“Do you want a beer or something?” 

“Yeah, thanks.” Neal was starting to think he needed a hell of a lot more than a beer, but it was better than nothing. His gut was roiling and his head felt stuffed with cotton balls, and there was a distant buzzing noise in the back of his mind, like white noise from a broken television. He tried to force himself to think, to remember more about Emma, about Killian, about all these things that seemed to be teasing at the edges of his mind, but the harder he tried the louder the buzzing grew. He gave his head a hard shake and then another, and ignored Emma’s surprised look when she returned from the kitchen in time to catch him doing it. She pasted on a smile and handed him a beer. 

“So Henry tells us you’re reopening the pawn shop,” she said, sitting next to him on the sofa and taking a pull from her own beer. She smelled like flowers, clean and sweet, and gods, he could swear it was familiar. Her scent slammed into him like a Mack truck, carrying memories of something he could feel but not touch, as powerful as they were indistinct. Why couldn’t he remember? 

He gulped his beer and tried to concentrate on her question. “Yeah. I guess,” he said. “Kinda sudden, I know. I just found out recently that the place used to belong to my father.” 

“Oh?” Emma’s voice rose a bit too high on the question. 

Neal frowned at her. “Uh huh. I don’t remember much about my papa—er, I mean my dad. So it was a pretty big surprise to find out about it. But Henry, he’s been a major help with everything. I probably couldn’t have done it without him.” He looked at Emma and warmth bloomed in his chest. “Thanks for letting him come by.” 

“Of course,” she said with a smile. “But you know, with Henry it’s sometimes hard to stop him.” 

“That’s what, um, Killian said.” 

“What did I say?” asked Killian, perching on the arm of the sofa next to Emma as Henry came to sit on the floor. 

“That sometimes when Henry decides he wants something there’s not much we can do to stop him,” Emma replied. 

“Aye, unquestionably,” said Killian. “The lad is a force of nature when he sets his mind on a thing.” 

There was so much pride in his voice as he said it, and so much pleasure in Henry’s answering grin, and so much love on Emma’s face as she looked between them and her fingertips absently traced patterns along Killian’s thigh as his played with the ends of her hair, and suddenly it was all just too much. They rose up and they choked him, all the feelings between these three people and the ones churning in himself, and it was too much and too strong and too confusing, and the buzzing in his head was so loud he could barely think straight. 

Blindly he set his beer down, hoping he managed to get it onto the coffee table, and lurched to his feet. 

“Is everything all right, mate?” Killian’s voice hovered just at the edge of his consciousness, and the mate made Neal want to punch him. 

“I’m fine,” he growled. “I’m just—not feeling very well. Think I should go.” 

“Oh.” Emma stood as well and approached him cautiously, taking him gently by the shoulders, her hands warm through the fabric of his t-shirt. She tried to catch his eye but he evaded her. 

“I’m really fine,” he said, stepping back. “I just gotta go. Maybe we can do this another time.” 

“Well, if you’re sure,” she said. 

“Are you sure?” Henry asked. He was clearly trying to be calm but his eyes were so disappointed, and again Neal felt a surge of emotion that was far too strong for the circumstances. He shouldn’t care about disappointing some kid he only met a few weeks ago. But he did. He did. 

“I just—I feel like—” he stammered, groping desperately for the words he needed to say, to explain. And then Henry stepped forward and hugged him. 

Henry hugged him, and Neal’s arms came around the boy in return, automatically, naturally, like they’d done it before. He looked down at Henry’s eyes, big and brown and so damned familiar, so different from the clear green and blue eyes of his parents. 

Was that even possible? 

“I—” he tried again, but Henry interrupted. 

“Please stay,” he said. “I don’t want you to go.” 

“I—damn it.” Neal snarled. He wanted to go, wanted to run, fast and far away from all of this mess and tangle of emotions hot as fire and memories thin as smoke. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t bear for Henry to be disappointed in him. 

“I’ll stay,” he said, and the world exploded. 

~

Sleeping curses broke elegantly, the Dark Curse dramatically, but this odd chimaera of a hybrid curse, cobbled together from odds of this and ends of that, bound by Oz magic and twisted through the mirror world… this curse shattered. It burst into shards like the very mirrors that made it possible and Emma, Regina, and Zelena gasped in unison as they sensed its fracture. There was no burst of light, no gasp of awakening, just a sharp shock and then memories and then…

The world blurred, shifted, settled, and then snapped back into focus. The colours and shapes and sounds of Storybrooke were themselves again, the breeze through the town was warm and welcoming and the trees in the forest tall and straight, their eerie menace wholly gone. 

Emma looked at Killian, eyes wide. 

“What is it, love?” he asked, reaching for her and pulling her close. “What was that?”

“I think…” Emma lowered her voice to a whisper. “I think the curse just broke.” 

“Really? How do you know?” 

“I—I felt it. I felt it shatter and its magic is… well, it’s everywhere.”

Neal was staring at Henry, blinking rapidly, then a huge grin split his face. “Henry?” he said, pulling his son in for a bone-cracking hug. “Oh my God, Henry. I’ve missed you.” 

“Um.” Henry was still reeling from what had felt like an earthquake. He looked past Neal to where Emma and Killian were standing with their arms around each other, whispering frantically, then his eyes lit up with triumph as the pieces fell into place. “Have you?” he said. 

“Yeah, kid.” Neal loosened his hold and ruffled Henry’s hair. “I did. I—wait.” The smile faded from his face, replaced with a scowl as he turned to Emma and Killian. “What’s going on here?” 

They exchanged a look. “What do you mean?” asked Emma. “You were cursed—” 

“Yeah, I know that, but I mean you—you two—” He gestured at them, his scowl deepening as they unconsciously drew closer to each other. “You aren’t actually—it was the curse for you too, right? All this is just the curse.” 

 “No, mate,” said Killian gently. “We weren’t cursed. Emma was briefly, sort of, but Henry and I never were.” 

“Then you’re really—” Something dark and angry flared in Neal’s eyes. 

“Yeah,” said Emma. “We’re married.” 

“You married him,” sputtered Neal, almost choking on the words. “The pirate? The one who fu—” he broke off with a glance at Henry “—who took my mother away. Him, of all people.” He stared at them, shaking his head, then gave a bitter, grating laugh. “So much for your word, huh Hook?” he said. “You remember, your word that you gave me, to back the hell off and give me a chance to be a family with my son and my—well, her.” 

“A lot has happened since I made that promise,” said Killian, as calmly as he could when the nasty curl of Neal’s lip was making him wish he was wearing his hook. “A lot has changed Bae.”

Neal hissed an angry breath. “Don’t call me that.” 

“Neal, then,” Killian amended. “As you like. We have much to discuss, lad, why don’t you—” 

“I’m not a lad,” snapped Neal. “I’m as old as you are in this realm, maybe older. I’m not that boy you knew.” 

“You’re right of course. I’m sorry.” Killian’s voice was genuinely contrite now, his expression sorrowful. “I do know that. Sometimes I just—forget.” 

Emma’s arm was still around his waist and she squeezed him reassuringly. “Look, I know there’s a lot we need to talk about,” she said. “And I promise you, Neal, we will explain everything. But right now the curse has just broken and people are going to be confused. So can we table all this, please, until we’ve had a chance to figure out what we have to do?” 

“Do for what?” asked Henry. “Isn’t the curse broken?” 

“Yeah it is.” Emma shivered at the sharp, dangerous feel of the magic that had come untethered by the shattering curse. “But that’s not necessarily the end of our problems.” 

“So what do we need to do?” asked Killian. 

“I’m not sure yet. Let’s start by finding Regina. And my parents.” 

-

@katie-dub​​​​ @kmomof4​​​​ @teamhook​​ @stahlop​​​​ @mariakov81​​​​ @snowbellewells​​​ @thejollyroger-writer​​ @jennjenn615​​ @tiganasummertree​​ @lfh1226-linda​​ @winterbaby89​​ @ultraluckycatnd​​ @resident-of-storybrooke​​

-

[spideyfic]

Red and Blue

Peter reached out and moved the projection back and forth. “Did you change the color scheme? This looks red and black.”

“Thought it might be time for an image over-haul. Tone down the primary colors, make things a bit sleeker, a little more grown-up.”

Peter bit his lip, trying to say what he was feeling without sounding ungrateful. “And it looks great Mr. Stark, it really does, but I like the red and blue. Could we change the color back?”

When Peter is invited up to the compound to work on his suit with Tony, he's surprised to find that red and blue is now red and black, and Tony wants to know why he's so attached to his original color scheme.

Read on AO3

Peter was pulled abruptly from his dream by the sound of Back in Black blasting from his phone, which was weird on two levels – one, he usually had nightmares, not dreams, and two, his ringtone was a yodel.

He fumbled for his phone, pulling it towards him by its charging cable, and nearly dropped it when he registered the caller ID. Why the hell was Tony Stark calling him at 8am on a Saturday morning?

Hitting decline, he dropped the phone face down in the blankets, turning over to face the wall and wrapping his pillow around his head.

“Did you just send me to voice mail, kid? Why can I only see darkness? It’s like looking into the depths of my soul.”

Peter let the pillow spring away from his head and reached back behind him to grab the phone, dragging it over his body until he could see the screen. Tony’s face looked smugly back at him, entirely too cheerful for someone who had just woken Peter up from the best dream he’d had in months.

“’s 8am Tony,” he muttered, squinting at him with one eye closed. “I was sleepin’.”

“Yikes, rough night? You should get more sleep, you’re a growing spider-baby and all that. I was in bed by ten last night, and I feel great this morning. Hey, how come you’ll call me Tony when you’re half-unconscious but not when you’re actually awake?”

Peter suspected that Tony was mostly feeling great because of a massive amount of caffeine, if his run-on sentences were anything to go by. He felt a moment of jealousy - he was six weeks into a total caffeine ban after May caught him downing five cans of Red Bull following a patrol that had ended an hour before he was due to sit an AP exam. “Was there a point to you forcing your call through to my phone? Because I don’t mean to be rude, Mr. Stark, I like talking to you and everything, but I only got home from patrol at three and I’m tired.” Oops. And there was his early morning lack of filter.

“May still got you on that caffeine ban, huh? You’re very direct when you’re tired, did you know that?” Tony took a sip from his mug of coffee, and Peter caught a flash of the Spider-Man symbol printed on the side. That was almost enough to make him forgive Tony for his blatant caffeine consumption. “I was calling to see if you wanted to come up to the compound today and mess around with a few concepts for upgrading your suit, but if it’s not a good time - ”

Peter sat up so fast he nearly brained himself on the slats of the top bunk. “Yes! I mean, I gotta ask May, but yeah, that’d be great, thanks Mr. Stark.”

“Already talked to May, she said yes to you coming over and staying the night. Get moving kid, Happy will be at your place in fifteen. See you in a couple hours.” Tony ended the call on a wink.

Peter flung himself out of bed, standing in the middle of his room and looking wildly about as he planned what he needed to take, before pulling open his closet and looking for the overnight bag Tony and Pepper had given him for his sixteenth birthday. With the exception of the suit, it was the most expensive thing he’d ever owned - it probably cost more than the entire contents of his closet, and he lived in constant fear of somehow losing or damaging it.

“May!” he called, panicking when the bag was nowhere to be found. “Have you seen my bag? The one Mr. Stark and Pepper gave me?”

His bedroom door swung open and May stood in the doorway, his bag in her outstretched hand. “All packed and ready to go, baby.” At his confused look, she smiled. “Tony called last night when you were on patrol, so I packed for you and told him to call you this morning.”

“You’re the best, May,” he said, kissing her on the cheek as he slipped past her to head for the bathroom.

“And don’t you forget it,” she called after him. “I’ll have breakfast to go waiting for you.”

Exactly ten minutes later, Peter was sitting in the back of the Audi Happy always picked him up in, clutching a breakfast burrito in one hand and a blessed travel mug of coffee in the other, feeling slightly dazed.

“You OK there, kid? You look a little flustered.”

He met Happy’s gaze in the rear-view mirror. “Fifteen minutes ago I was asleep and dreaming about M - uh, I was dreaming, and now I’m in a car heading up to the Avengers compound to work with Tony Stark.” He shrugged, taking a bite out of the burrito. “And Mr. Stark woke me up by forcing a video call through to my phone.”

Happy chuckled, turning his attention back to the road and pulling out into traffic. “Yeah, Tony’s done that to me a buncha times. He stopped when he caught me – well, you don’t need to know what he caught me doing, but he doesn’t do it anymore.”

It took everything Peter had to stop him screwing his face up in instinctive disgust at the idea of Happy doing whatever he’d been doing and covered it by taking a sip of coffee. His timing was bad, because Happy spoke again. “Maybe he could catch you with MJ.”

Peter gulped his coffee down and breathed in at the same time and coughed so hard he thought he was going to hack up a lung. “Happy!” he rasped, when he was able to breathe again. “Me and MJ – we’re not – you know. We’re not even dating.”

“Only in your dreams, right kid?” Happy said, with a knowing tone. “You should ask her out. You talk about her all the time.”

“I talk about Ned all the time but you’re not telling me to ask him out,” Peter mumbled around a mouthful of burrito.

“That’s because you don’t look like a lovesick baby deer when you talk about Ned. All I hear from you is ‘MJ said this’, ‘MJ is so great’, ‘MJ is terrifying’. It’s like it’s 2011 again and I’m listening to Tony talk about Pepper.” Happy signaled to merge onto I-295, flipping off a car that tried to cut in. “What I’m saying is just ask her to be your little nerd girlfriend, and then you can mentally scar Tony for life and he’ll stop forcing video calls through to your phone.”

“Happy, stop,” Peter moaned. “MJ doesn’t even like me like that. We’re just friends.” He wasn’t about to tell Happy he thought MJ kinda liked him liked him, and that he was going to ask MJ out during the trip to Europe at the end of Junior year. OK, that was almost a year away, but he was a planner, and that plan involved – well, he wasn’t quite sure what, but it would be meaningful and heartfelt and away from New York and Spider-Man. It would just be Peter Parker and Michelle Jones in some romantic European city, and if he was lucky it’d play out like his dream.

“Sure, Parker, whatever you say,” Happy said, apparently deciding to humor him. “Finish your breakfast and go to sleep. I’ll wake you up when we’re five minutes out.”

Never one to pass up the opportunity for a nap, Peter did as he was told. He spent the rest of the journey curled up against the window and lulled into a light doze, only stirring as they passed the Esopus fire department.

“We’re almost there, kid,” Happy said as the car turned on to the narrow, tree lined road that wound its way down to the compound. “Hey, you know this road is called Parker Avenue, right?”

He said it so casually, like he didn’t know that Peter had obsessively Google Street viewed as much of the area as possible.  “Yeah, I know,” he replied. “Why?”

“Nothing really. I just thought it was a nice coincidence, Tony owning this place since before you were born, and the main road in being called Parker.” Happy pulled up at the security stop, flashing his ID at the bored looking guard stationed there, who waved them through. “You know you’re good for Tony, right?”

Startled by the question, Peter almost dropped his travel mug, his stickiness activating just in time to stop coffee spilling all over the expensive upholstery. “Uh – I – what?”

“You’re good for him. He’s really settled down with Pepper, the company is in better shape than ever, he’s sleeping properly for the first time in years, and he seems to get a kick out of spending time with you.” Happy parked up in front of the compound and then turned in his seat to look at Peter. “You’re a good kid. All I’m trying to say is I’m glad Tony found you.”

“Oh.” Unused to Happy showing him anything other than bemusement, Peter grabbed his bag and fumbled with the door handle, desperate to get out and break the awkward mood. “Uh, me too. Thanks for the ride, Happy.”

“You’re welcome, kid. I’ll be back tomorrow evening to take you home.” Happy, apparently feeling as awkward as Peter, made a show of busying himself looking through the glove compartment until Peter closed the door, then drove off.

Peter watched him drive away, then climbed the stairs up to the foyer, heading straight for the elevators up to Tony’s lab. “Hey FRIDAY! Could you take me up to Mr. Stark, please?”

“Good morning, Peter. Boss is waiting for you in lab two.” The elevator doors slid closed and the cab began to move smoothly up. “Are you enjoying your summer break from school?”

“It’s been great! May is letting me patrol every night until one, and Ned got the LEGO Saturn V as a reward for the results of his AP exams so we’re gonna build that next week,” Peter responded enthusiastically, long over the strangeness of making conversation with artificial intelligence. “Oh, and I keep seeing this dog when I’m out on patrol - he’s a husky and he’s such a good boy. His owner is this really sweet old lady, she’s like sixty, and I walk with her when she takes him out in the evening, because her husband died last year and she doesn’t like being on her own that time of night.”

The elevator doors opened, and Peter stepped out into the labs entrance hub. “Thanks, FRIDAY!” He dropped his bag outside the doors to lab two, then pushed them open to find Tony huddled over something on a lab bench. “Hey, Mr. Stark! Thanks for having me over.”

Tony swiveled around on his chair, grinning widely. “Hey kid. Did you manage to sleep on the ride over? I told Happy you were running on about five hours of shuteye and to let you rest.” He crossed the lab and pulled Peter into his side in a brief, one-armed hug as they walked back to the bench.

“Yeah, I zoned out for most of it. I’m good, May made me some coffee for the trip.”

Tony deposited him on a chair and then sat next to him, making a sweeping gesture that saved and cleared the hologrammatic schematics of the Iron Man suit he’d been working on, and bringing up the selection carousel for the Spider-Man suits.

“So, I ran with your suggestion of using your webbing as an underlying protective layer for the suit, and the initial tests are looking really promising for friction and fire resistance,” Tony said, expanding the schematics of a suit design Peter hadn’t seen before. “Even if the outer layer gets damaged, the webbing should hold up long enough to get yourself out of whatever dumbass situation you managed to get into.”

“Hey,” Peter grumbled, mildly offended. “The dumbass situations find me, not the other way around.”

Tony gave him The Look™ and even though he wasn’t a dad, he’d obviously been taking parenting lessons from May, because it made Peter confess every stupid thing he’d done recently.

“OK, so I guess accidentally knocking myself out with my own taser web was my fault. And that time I thought the mayor was breaking into her own office and I webbed her up was probably my fault too. But you have to admit my ass being set on fire wasn’t on me. And that did make me think about using my webs as fabric.” Tony raised an eyebrow and Peter sagged dejectedly. “I’m a dumbass, aren’t I?”

“The smartest dumbass I ever met, other than myself,” Tony confirmed. “When you’re old enough I’ll tell you about what happened in Vegas. It involves superglue, a massive amount of alcohol, and a poker chip, and you can’t hear about it until you’re twenty-one because I think telling you now would count as corrupting a minor.”

“Can you wait until I’m like, forty? I don’t think I’m ever going to be old enough to hear that story, Mr. Stark. The trauma of future me is so strong that it’s radiating back through time to current me.”

Tony snorted. “Trauma builds character, just like having your ass catch fire inspires innovation.” He tapped some codes into the system, and a half-scale, three-dimensional full color projection of the new suit formed in the air in front of them. “Take a look, see what you think. If you like it, I’ll start the building process and you can take it for a spin this afternoon.”

Peter reached out and moved the projection back and forth. “Did you change the color scheme? This looks red and black.”

“Thought it might be time for an image over-haul. Tone down the primary colors, make things a bit sleeker, a little more grown-up.”

Peter bit his lip, trying to say what he was feeling without sounding ungrateful. “And it looks great Mr. Stark, it really does, but I like the red and blue. Could we change the color back?” His voice wobbled and he swallowed in an effort to cover it up. “You know what, never mind, the red and black is fine.” He turned his seat back to face the lab bench, ducking his head and pretending to concentrate on the coding displayed on the StarkPad set into the surface.

Tony spun Peter back to face him, turning him with a hand against his knee. “Kid, you can have red and blue, it’s not a problem. Why are you so attached to that color scheme, anyway?”

Peter twitched a shoulder up in a one-sided shrug. “I just like it, is all.”

“Pete,” Tony said quietly. “C’mon, I can see you’re upset, and I’m not that great at comforting people, so why don’t you just talk to me?”

“I chose red and blue because they’re the colors of the NASA logo,” Peter said, twisting his fingers together. Tony didn’t say anything, just looked at him with a soft, sad expression on his face, like he knew there was more to it. “Ben – my uncle – he loved NASA, like full-on fanboy. He was a cop, but when he was a kid, he wanted to work in mission control. He was born in 1961, so he grew up during the space race, watched all the moon landings, and he had all these binders full of newspapers and magazines.”

“I wish I’d been around for the moon landings,” Tony said, and Peter believed it – he had a look of childlike wonder, the same look Ben used to have whenever he talked about it. “’We choose to go to the moon in this decade and do the other things, not because they are easy, but because they are hard.’ How can you not be inspired by that?” He gave a little chuckle. “Sorry kid, my futurist is showing.”

“No, it’s fine, that speech was Ben’s favorite, he had it pretty much memorized. He used to tell me all about the NASA missions at bedtime, and I when I started really getting into geometry, he got me copies of Katherine Johnson’s calculations. NASA was our thing, you know? He was going to pull me out of school to go watch an Atlas V launch, we had a whole road trip planned. But he died the night before. He knew about my powers, did I tell you that?”

Tony shook his head, and Peter carried on. “The night he died, we went for a walk, and he got the story out of me about the spider bite, what I could do, and he told me that I had power, and that meant I had a responsibility to do good with it. All I wanted to do was make a stupid YouTube channel and post videos of me doing pointless shit, and we argued. And then we walked right into the middle of a bodega robbery and he was shot.

“May came and got me from the hospital they took me and Ben to, and when we got home, she made me take a shower because I – because I was covered in blood. She grabbed me some pajama pants and this shirt.” He gestured at the NASA t-shirt he was wearing. “This was his, but it was mixed up with my laundry and she didn’t realize. We just sat on the couch together and cried for most of the night until May fell asleep. I couldn’t switch my brain off though, couldn’t stop thinking about how if I’d – “ he trailed off, his voice thickening with impending tears. “How if I’d stepped in front of him, he’d still be alive.”

“And you might be dead,” Tony said softly. “And I can guarantee that out of the two, he’d choose you living over himself.” He placed a hand on Peter’s shoulder, squeezing it gently. “He’d be so damn proud of you, Pete.”

Peter sniffed, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes to stem the tears, but they kept coming, and so did the words. “The next morning, I decided I’d use my powers to do good like he wanted me to, and I looked down at his t-shirt and that’s when I chose red and blue for Spider-Man’s colors. Because it’s like having Ben with me when I’m out on patrol, reminding me why I’m doing it, who I’m doing it for.”

“Jesus Pete, I don’t know what to say.” Tony slipped off his chair, then pulled Peter off his own chair wrapped him in a tight hug.

Surprised, Peter momentarily tensed up before relaxing into it, bringing his arms up to make the hug a mutual one. “Oh,” he said, his face pressed against Tony’s shoulder. “Are we there?”

“We’re there,” Tony confirmed, slapping his back and then stepping out of the hug. “Kid, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have changed the design without talking to you first.” He made a move to delete the schematics, and Peter reached out to push his hand down, before closing the projection with a pinching motion.

“No, keep it,” he said. “It’s not that I don’t like it, I do, I’m just – not ready.”

“That’s fine, we can use the old external design and lay it over the new internal structure.” Tony paused, the moment still and quiet and loaded with emotion. “And it’s also fine if you’re never ready, too.” He cleared his throat and picked up his phone, rapidly tapping out a message to someone. “Give me a minute, and I’ll show you how to isolate design elements and combine them into one suit.”

Peter felt a wave of relief that Tony had understood. It had to seem like something so small and insignificant, but the idea of being Spider-Man without his own, private tribute to his uncle felt wrong. He knew that feeling might change in the future, but for now, the red and blue was like a comfort blanket he drew around himself every time he pulled on the suit. “Thanks, Tony.”

Tony looked up from typing something into his phone, and the smile that lit up his face made Peter’s internal struggle to say ‘Tony’ rather than ‘Mr. Stark’ totally worth the effort. “See, that wasn’t hard, was it? I knew you could do it.”

“I can only do it under a really specific set of circumstances, Mr. Stark,” Peter said, struggling to keep the smirk off his face.

Tony put his phone down, obviously not feeling the need to keep his own smirk in check. “Do those specific set of circumstances include us flying down to Florida next month to watch the Falcon 9 launch from Kennedy, followed by a private tour of the center?”

“Are you joking?” Peter gasped. “Please tell me you’re not joking, Tony. Because if you’re joking there’s a chance I might die of disappointment and you said if anything happens to me, it’s on you, and that’d definitely be on you. Really? You’re actually taking me to the Kennedy Space Center?”

“Glad to see that warrants a ‘Tony’. And yup. Got a buddy from MIT who works in Launch Control, he’s always inviting me down there for a tour. I’ve already squared it away with May.”

Impulsively, Peter flung his arms around Tony in a brief hug. “You’re the best Mr. Stark – “ he faltered at the look that got him – “Tony. Thank you so much.”

“It’s nothing, kid.” Tony waved it off, like his statement was actually true. “You work hard, it’s about time you had a little R&R to make up for it. And talking of hard work, come on, we’ve got a suit to build.”

It was an awkward segue, but Peter eagerly got to work, glad to move on from the unexpected emotion of their morning. Tony coached him step by step through how to use the system, and Peter clumsily mirrored his smooth, practiced gestures again and again until they were in perfect synch, hands moving gracefully through the air as they uploaded the finalized plan to the construction capsule.

Tony wasn’t a replacement for Ben. He had his own distinct role and place in Peter’s life, a mentor and a friend and a father figure all wrapped up in one, and Peter was pretty sure that Tony cared for him in the same mixed up way, the lines starting to blur in their relationship.

 “Tony?” The name was starting to have emotional weight in his mind and on his lips, like saying May,or Ben, a whole lot of meaning and emotion caught up in two small syllables.

“Hmm?” Tony looked up from watching the webbing under-suit forming in the construction capsule, his usually coiffed hair curling loosely over his forehead, and his eyes bright and unguarded without his glasses. He looked relaxed and happy, nothing like the carefully controlled Tony Stark image he presented to the world every time he left the sanctuary of the compound or Tower.

“I’m really glad I met you.”

Tony looked surprised, and tried to hide it with a sniff, but he gave Peter a soft smile. “Yeah? Same, kid.”

Peter wasn’t ready to leave behind the red and blue, but he felt like one day, red would mean Ben and black would mean Tony, and it would just feel right to wear their colors together.

***

Seven years later, but only one year older, Peter, weary, battle worn and determined, stands in a jet as it hovers above a field of tulips and decides that he’s finally ready to use the red and black suit.

When he glides down towards Tower Bridge and the biggest solo fight of his life, it feels like Ben and Tony are there keeping him safe, their colors wrapped around his body like a talisman. Proof that they existed. That they loved him. That he’s got this.

They’ve returned to stardust, but that doesn’t mean they’re gone.

[dirtydobrik]

camera shy - d.d.

plot: you and David are friends and get into a huge fight about you not wanting to be on camera and in his vlog. 

requested: yes, by drawingsupernova ! Could you make an angsty one with an introverted reader where David wants to put her in vlogs and stuff but she doesn't want to then they get in a fight then it has a fluffy ending????

author’s note: hi! this was requested, hopefully it was something similar to what you wanted. again, i’m not the best at writing angst, so sorry in advance!! if you want to send in a request for an imagine about David, send me a message and i will write it

word count: 2,050

masterlist

You and David were alone in his house, a rare occurrence since your friend group was constantly coming over. David was editing the vlog that was supposed to go up tomorrow while you watched reruns of Friends on your laptop, half paying attention while you chatted with David. He was stressed about his vlog, and you told him to take a break and relax, even offering to give him a shoulder massage. But he refused, shaking his head and saying he wanted to finish. You leaned back on the couch, your eyes returning to Friends., glancing over at David every so often to watch him work. He was focused now, his fingered moving rapidly across the keyboard. You heard the same clip replay a few times before he moved on to the next clip then and played them together. It was fascinating watching him work, he was always so focused. He bit his lip and sighed in frustration whenever something didn’t flow.

"Fuck," he yelled a few minutes later, causing you to sit up.

"What's wrong?" you asked, concerned.

"I accidentally wiped the memory card and it had footage that I hadn’t imported yet. I'm screwed. I don't have enough to finish the vlog. And no one is answering me so I don't know if they have anything with me in it that I can use" he groaned, and you frowned.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" you asked, knowing there probably wasn't anything you could do to help at this point.  

"Can I please record a bit with you for the vlog?" David asked, a pout forming on his lips and his eyes widening. He was trying to use the puppy dog face on you, which probably would've worked in any other situation but he knew how strongly you felt about this.  

You shook your head, "You know I don’t want to be on camera."

You loved hanging out with David and his friends, but you made it clear to them that you didn’t want to put in their videos or on any of their social media accounts. You didn't like having the attention on you, and if David put you in his video people would wonder who you were and that was exactly what you didn’t want.

"Come on, please. No one else is around and I only need another 24 seconds for my vlog," he begged.

"David, no," you repeated, and he rolled his eyes.

"What's the point of hanging out with me and my friends if you don't want to be on camera?" he asked, and you weren't sure if he was being serious or trying to make a joke. Either way, his words felt like a slap in the face and you couldn’t believe they had just come out of his mouth.

"Fuck you," you spat.

"What? Come on, I was kidding!"

"It didn't sound like you were, Dave." You could feel your face getting hotter as you tried fighting back tears.

"Of course I was kidding!" he tried to reassure you, but you still didn't believe him. "I'm just stressed about not having footage for my vlog that has to go up tomorrow," he sighed.

"Find something else to film then. You know how I feel about this."

Something in David flipped, you watched as his jaw clenched and his eyes darkened. "This whole act of you being shy and not wanting to be on camera is getting really old. I am sick of having to make sure you aren't in the background of every clip I film, and I'm sure everyone else in the friend group is tired of it, too."

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" you shouted. Your blood was boiling and your eyes stung as you blinked back tears. You stood up from your spot on the couch, ready to leave. "You know I don't like being the center of attention. You don't get to use that against me."

You could not believe David had just said that to you. He knew you didn’t feel comfortable being on camera for his millions of subscribers to see. You didn't let him or any of his friends follow you on any social media because you knew their fans would find out who you were if they all did. You loved your friends, you did. You just didn’t fit into their lifestyle and you weren't quite ready to adapt to it yet.

"Wait, I'm so sorry," David apologized, but you brushed it off.

"I cannot believe that just came out of your mouth. It isn't something to make fun of me for and it sure as hell isn't something for you to make me feel bad about," you yelled, walking towards the front door.

David hopped up, chasing after you. You felt his hand grab your shoulder, bringing you to a halt, as he stepped in front of you, "I'm sorry." His eyes were soft now, and you knew he felt bad.

"David, I don’t care," you sighed, just wanting to leave and go home. You didn't want to fight, but you couldn't forgive him. You just couldn't.

"No, listen to me. Please," David begged, and you let out a long sigh, really not in the mood to listen to him. But your feet didn’t move and you opened your mouth to say something, but nothing came out, so David took it as his cue to talk. "I feel horrible for what I said. I don’t even know why I said it. I know you don’t like being on camera. I know that you're an introvert and I know that it's hard to feel like you fit in with our friend group since we're all always filming. But you need to know that I never want to pressure you into doing something you aren't comfortable with."

"Are you done?" you asked, not impressed by his speech. If he knew everything already, he has no excuse for what he said. He glanced at you, and nodded slowly, waiting for your reaction.

"Okay." was all that you were able to say, as you stepped around him and walked out the front door. He stood frozen for a moment, before running after you again, stopping you before you opened the door to your car. You turned to face him, looking up.

"No, I'm not done," he breathed out, his face close to yours.

"David, there is nothing you can do that will take back what you said," you said, watching as his eyes flickered to your lips for a split second.

"I know. I'm an asshole. I just want you to know that I really am sorry. I'm just really stressed and I need a vlog for tomorrow and no one is around to film with me. And I just, I don’t know. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad. I know you don't like being on camera, I shouldn’t have ever thought it was a good idea to ask. I'm sorry." His words were raw and genuine and honest, and he started choking up as he rambled on.

"David, stop talking," you whispered, cutting him off. He looked at you, confusion splashed across his face.  "I know you're stressed out about your vlog. And I know you're sorry for what you said." You watched a tear roll down his face and pressed your thumb to his cheek to brush it away, not moving your hand after doing so.

You two were face to face, your eyes meeting his before you quickly looked away, shaking that idea out of your head. You had no intention of being anything other than friends with David.

"Come on, let's go finish your vlog," you said with a soft smile, even though you had no clue how you were going to do that. David followed you inside, hoping you could figure out a way to help him. It was already almost 2am, and none of your friends were answering their phones so he would have to wait until the morning to get any footage they had and he wanted to finish the video tonight.

You curled up next to him on the couch, draping a blanket over your legs.

"Do you have any old footage you can use?" you asked.

David shook his head, "I posted a blooper video last week so I don't have anything that hasn’t already been posted."

You thought for a minute, trying to think of something for David to do for his vlog that was possible at 2am.

"What if you go to a fast food place and pay for people in line behind you, or buy a bunch of food and give it away to drunk people at a party?" you suggested.

"That could work," he paused. "Would you hold the camera and film? You don’t have to be in it." You nodded, and five minutes later you were in his Tesla driving through the nearly empty streets of LA.

You stopped at a 24-hour Taco Bell and a McDonald's, ordering a wide range of food, before driving to a club to hand it out.

You sat in the front seat of the car, pointing the camera out the window while David walked up to different people and asked them if they wanted food. Within ten minutes, all of the food was gone, and David returned to the car to watch the footage. He was pleased with how it turned out, and you headed back to his house.

He transferred the footage to his laptop and imported it into iMovie to finish editing. It took him an hour and half to cut it down to 24 seconds, and you had fallen asleep on his shoulder about twenty minutes in.

David lightly shook you awake, and you let out a low groan as you sat up, realizing it was almost 4am. You were planning on spending the night at your place tonight, but that wasn't going to happen now.

"I'm going to bed," David announced, standing up. "You're staying over, right?"

You nodded and lazily held your arms out for him to help you up. Instead, he bent down and told you to wrap your arms around his neck, scooping you into his arms.

"Where do you to sleep?" he asked, not realizing that you had already fallen asleep in his arms.

He carried you into his room, carefully placing you down on his bed. He quickly changed and climbed into bed next to you. You stirred, rolling over to face him and draping your arm over him. He knew you were sleeping and the action wasn't a conscious one, but his breathing still stopped for a moment. He smiled, looking at you sleeping peacefully next to him, and he had the urge to kiss you for the second time tonight.

The next morning, you woke up next to David. You were facing each other, your noses almost touching. You realized that your arm was draped over him, and you quickly pulled it away.

Nothing between you had happened physically, but there was something about last night that changed your relationship. You didn't know what to make of it and you weren't ready to talk about it with him. You rolled over and got out of bed, quietly walking towards his door. But he sat up as you reached for the doorknob, asking where you were going, and practically begging you to come back to bed.

"Come here," he whispered, and you listened. There was something pulling you towards David, and you couldn't resist it.

You sat on the edge of the bed, but he motioned for you to come closer. You were inches from his face now, and it was like this magnetic pull that pushed you closer to him. Your stomach fluttered as David moved one hand to the back of your neck and the other to cup the side of your face. You swallowed, completely aware of what was going to happen next. David leaned forward and you leaned closer to him. It felt like it was happening in slow motion, but your lips finally connected with his.

You pulled away first, and he brushed the hair out of your face. "Wow," you breathed out, before reconnecting your lips.

[etherealwaifgoddess]

Puppy Love

Main Characters: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: A continuation in the What He Wants universe where Bucky and you spend the weekend snowed in with your new puppy.

Warnings/ Content: definitely a warning (spoiler?) the puppy breaks his leg in the snow. It’s not graphic or very descriptive of the injury but it’s a topic and he’s gonna be just fine after the vet trip. But it’s still a little heart breaking because... puppy.

Word Count: 2518

Author’s Note: First off, a HUGE thanks to @lancsnerd who gave me the deets on how to post a fic with the “keep reading” option on an iPad. This fic would not have been posted anytime soon without her help. Also, @lancsnerd is a BRILLIANT fanfic writer so if you haven’t read anything of her’s yet you are missing out and should do so ASAP. Now about Puppy Love... I seriously meant to write just a sweet little fic about Bucky and the reader adjusting to puppy parenthood but.... I’ve been angsty lately. Sorry not sorry. When I was a little kid my dog broke his leg in the same way Poe does and got a little purple cast too. So that’s where that came from. If you haven’t read the rest of the What He Wants series it isn’t super necessary but I’m kinda in love with it so you can find the master list HERE if you want to check it out first.

Okay, I’ve rambled enough for now. Love you all & thanks for reading!! XOXO - Ash

Puppy Love

There was a distinct learning curve for all three of you when Poe arrived. You had visions of early morning snuggles, warm, and cozy in bed with your man and puppy. The reality was something very different.

“Oh no! Not again!” you scold as Poe tries in vain to wiggle his little butt under your blankets. It’s your first weekend morning with him and you just want to sleep in a little. Bucky had taken him out for his morning potty trip and now he was ice cold and far too wiggly.

“Come on, he just needs mama snuggles.” Bucky protests on Poe’s behalf, giving you equally sad puppy dog eyes.

You grumble but make room, allowing both man and beast to slide into the warm bed next to you. It’s barely a minute before Poe and Bucky are both restless and resort to playing peek-a-boo with the comforter. Cold air hits your bare skin and you squeal, displeased with the commotion in your bed. Giving up on your dreams of warm, snuggly weekend mornings you get up to find clothes and start the coffee.

“My boys.” you call out affectionately from the doorway when you return. Bucky is sprawled out on his back with Poe flopped on top his chest, having apparently worn each other out with their play. You set the coffee mugs down on your dresser and pull your phone off of it’s charging station so you can snap a few pictures of the saccharine sweet domestic scene. Bucky grins up at you from the bed and extends his right hand, beckoning you to join them.

Bucky straightens up so you can hand him his mug and Poe reluctantly shifts down onto his lap. He hasn’t bothered to put his prosthetic on yet but he did carefully pin up the empty sleeve on his left; there will be no risking leaving it down in bed and having Poe think it’s a toy again. “I think the snow’s almost here. The wind was picking up a bit while we were out earlier.” Bucky tells you.

“I hate March snow storms, just when you think we’re done… Nope! And I’m sorry it ruined your party, love.” You kiss his shoulder gently to punctuate your apology. You had spent an hour on the phone with Pepper canceling and rearranging everyone’s plans the night before when the severity of the pending storm was confirmed.

“It’s not a big deal, we can go up in two weeks and it’ll be just as fun. ‘Sides, I’d rather spend the weekend curled up with you two anyway.”

Shooting him an indulgent smile you lean your head to rest on his shoulder lightly. As much fun as it would have been to see everyone again, a quiet weekend at home to get adjusted with Poe is a much more appealing option. Bucky is, as you suspected, a completely over the top puppy-dad. He had spent the better part of his nights the past two days finding “the best” dog care items out there from a feeding bowl with a time release function to a cozy dog bed that looked like an actual human bed. Toys were coming in endless supply as well as books on training and Bucky had already started talking about moving Poe onto a “filler free” puppy chow as soon as possible. It was all a bit over the top but Bucky cared so much, you didn’t have the heart to dissuade him.

By noon the storm was in full swing and so were Bucky’s efforts to train Poe. The books all agreed that formal training should wait until he was a little older but Bucky was determined to teach him the basics. So far you had been lucky with no accidents and he wasn’t big on barking so that left what Bucky deemed the “fun” bits of training like responding to small commands to sit, stay, follow, speak, roll over, and shake. You watch quietly over the top of your book as Bucky sits cross legged on the floor with Poe trying to teach him “speak”, mimicking a yipping sound to encourage him. It’s tempting to get a quick video of the ridiculousness for the Avengers group chat but you resist the urge long enough that they moved on to “shake” before you can.

Eventually Bucky hops back up announcing it’s time for another potty break, scooping Poe up in his arms. Bucky dresses him carefully in the little red and black flannel dog coat he had purchased for him, insisting it’s too cold for a tiny dog outside. Bucky had been amazed by next day shipping and the plethora for dog items on Amazon. Not that you had any room to talk, you had found a Bucky-sized coat that matched Poe’s exactly and it was due to arrive later that afternoon. It was too good of an opportunity to pass up and their twinning is guaranteed to bring you endless amounts of amusement each winter.

They are only outside for a minute when you hear a sharp, high pitched yelp followed by Bucky screaming Poe’s name. You bolt up from the sofa, forgetting the blizzard outside and racing into the storm. The ice and snow bite at your sock clad feet and the wind hitting your face stings like needles. You yell for both of them frantically, fearing the worst, until finally Bucky comes into view holding a crying Poe in his arms. Bucky is a mess, eyes large and watering from more than just the storm, his expression panicked. “He got a little far out so I called him back and he was being a good boy and listened but he when he jumped back up on the patio he slipped on the damn ice and fell off. He couldn’t get back up and he’s not letting me touch his back leg now. I think he’s hurt bad. What do we do?” Bucky rambles breathlessly, clinging to the tiny, whining puppy in his arms.

“Okay.” you steel yourself against your own growing concern. They both need you to be strong right now. “Okay, we need to get everyone back inside so we can see what we’re dealing with and go from there.”

Bucky nods and follows you back up to your apartment where you can better assess Poe’s condition. It’s obvious something is seriously wrong by the way Poe keeps his leg curled up close to his body and actually growls when you get within an inch of it. It’s his back right leg and Bucky has been careful not to hold him there. “Let’s set him down and see if he can put any weight on it.” you suggest and Bucky shoots you a look but places him carefully on the floor between you. Poe’s leg stays curled close to his body and he limps three leggedly towards his bowl. “I’ll call the vet now.” you say and Bucky hurries over to pick him up. You watch as Bucky carries Poe over to his food bowl and sits down with him on the floor to hand feed him so he can stay comfortable in Bucky’s arms.

The vet agrees he needs to be seen immediately and they have a 24 hour emergency clinic that can take them. Thankfully Poe and Bucky are already bundled up so as soon as you have your coat and shoes on you are out the door and slowly navigating the roads to the vet’s office. Bucky sits ramrod straight the entire ride, a haunted look in his eyes as he watches Poe, whispering a never ending stream of comforting words to him. His fear and worry are palpable and it’s heartbreaking that things have gone so terribly wrong just a few days into having him.

The emergency vet clinic is empty when you arrive and they take Poe back right away. Bucky glares down the nurse who requests she take him back for xrays and you step in. “Sweetheart, she has to do this. If his leg is broken we need to know.” you tell him softly, rubbing his back in a soothing motion. Bucky nods stiffly and hands over Poe to the patiently waiting nurse. “I know you’re worried, I am too.” you assure him.

“He’s just so tiny. And it’s my fault. I was calling him back and he was hurrying because he’s just such a good boy and then he fell...” Bucky’s voice cracks and he trails off, not trusting his voice to continue.

You wrap your arms around him, pulling him close. “I know, love, I know.” You tuck your head below his chin, snuggling against his still cold coat and letting the contact comfort you both.

It is an agonizing ten minutes until the nurse reappears with Poe. They gave him something for the pain but encourage Bucky to not touch his hurt leg when he takes Poe back into his arms. She tells you the vet will be in to go over the results in a few minutes and thankfully the waiting time is brief.

“Hi folks.” a tall, grey haired woman announces as she joins you in the small exam room. “I’m Doctor Kate, it’s good to meet you, though it could have been under better circumstances.”

You shake her hand and give her a quick smile. She is the vet you were supposed to have Poe’s well check with next month. “I’m Y/N and this is my fiance, Bucky.”

“And this little guy must be Poe.” she reaches out to scritch Poe behind the ears affectionately. “So, we have bad news and good news.”

“Just give it to us straight, doc.” Bucky requests, his voice thick with concern.

“My kind of people.” Dr. Kate gives him a kind smile before continuing, “So your little guy did break his leg when he fell. He’s going to need a cast while that heals but the good news is that puppies heal amazingly fast. About half the time of an adult dog. So we’ll get you all back for another set of x-rays in about four weeks and hopefully the cast will be able to come off then too. Do you have any questions?”

“Do you have any care instructions for while he’s healing?” Bucky asks.

Dr. Kate nods, “Yep, I have a whole bunch of papers printed out for you to go home with. You can start reading over them if you want while we get Poe’s cast on him.”

Bucky thanks the doctor and trades her Poe for the stack of papers. You curl up under his arm to start reading along with him while the doctor takes Poe off to get his cast put on. “He’s gonna be okay.” You remind Bucky.

“I know, but… it’s still hard.” He sighs heavily, scrubbing a hand across his face.

“But we get through it. When have our lives ever been easy?”

Bucky huffs a wry laugh, “Yeah. Pretty much never.”

You tilt your head up to kiss him, needing the grounding connection of your lips against his. A sigh slips from your throat and you nestle in against him when you finally break the connection.

Dr. Kate returns a few minutes later with Poe who is sporting a small purple cast on his broken leg. “Do you have any more questions?” She asks handing the puppy back to Bucky’s eager arms.

You shake your head, “No, I think we’re good for now. Thank you so much for helping him.”

“That’s what I’m here for. You folks have a safe trip home.”

You shake her hand and gather your things to leave.

The ride home is more difficult in the storm than the ride there but the mood inside the car is significantly less tense. Bucky is talking softly to Poe who is looking a little more alert than he had been.

“You know,” Bucky tells him, “I fell and got hurt too, a really long time ago. It was scary but I’m okay now and you’re gonna be okay too. And you, lucky pup, get to keep your leg.”

You take a shuddering breath, trying not to become overwhelmed with emotion while driving. You know exactly what fall he’s talking about and it makes your entire body ache to think about what he had gone through at the hands of HYDRA because of it. How he can so calmly talk about it now is extraordinary but shows he really has been working hard to move on from all the trauma in his past, and god knows there was a lot of it.

Safely back in your apartment, Bucky sets Poe down in his new doggie bed and tucks him in with a tiny fleece blanket which is as necessary as it is cute. He joins you on the sofa where you're curled up to watch Netflix, burrowing in so that his head rests on your chest. You move your arms to hold him, his adrenaline rush from earlier is crashing now that everyone is home safe. Bucky helps pick out a show and you wiggle your way out with a promise to be quick so you can get two tumblers of whiskey. After an afternoon like that, a little whiskey is absolutely called for. With the serum degrading, he’s been able to feel the effects of alcohol again, a new and amusing discover for you both.

You cuddle up once again, letting him use you as a pillow, and hand him his glass. He’s picked out a documentary on the solar system and it doesn’t surprise you in the least. Bucky is fascinated by space and loves learning more about the world outside of your own. He sips his drink slowly and you can smell the sharp sweetness on his breath when he cants his head up for a leisurely kiss.

“He really is gonna be okay.” Bucky says with a long sigh.

You smile down at your poor worried soldier, “Of course he is. A few more weeks and it’ll be like it never happened.”

“Watching him fall into the snow… it was awful. Brought back some memories I wish I didn’t have.”

“I can’t even imagine. But you held it together. You helped our boy and got him to the doctor so he could get patched up. You did everything you possibly could have.”

“I know.” He says slowly, letting his mind catch up to everything he’s feeling, “I know I did. I think I just need a little time to process everything that came up today. It was a lot.”

“Oh, sweetheart, of course. We don’t have to do anything else this weekend except lay together watching space shows and drinking whiskey. If you want to talk I’m here, and if you want to just sit quietly we can do that too. Whatever you need, love.”

“Just need you.” Bucky says into your chest, nuzzling in comfortably.

You card your fingers through his silky hair, watching as your engagement ring catches in the low light. “You got me. Always.”

Tag list lovelies: @my-current-fandom-is @blacklightguidesnic @amazonianbeauty  @abswritesfandoms @rupestria @dark-night-sky-99 @ladyemofhousestark  ***IF ANYONE WANTS ADDED / REMOVED JUST LMK :)