#we made it we had to hide under thermal blankets against a rock face

[linddzz]

I think this shot from a video of me with my Dionysus pin, drinking a cider while a sleet storm rolls in on us in the middle of a hike with minimal shelter is a Peak Experience Moment

[rebeccccccaaa]

𝒽𝑒 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓈 𝓂𝑒, 𝒽𝑒 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓈 𝓂𝑒 𝓃𝑜𝓉

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𝐵𝓊𝒸𝓀𝓎 𝐵𝒶𝓇𝓃𝑒𝓈 𝓍 𝑅𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇

𝓇𝑒𝓆𝓊𝑒𝓈𝓉𝑒𝒹: imagine-all-the-fandoms said:

Hey you 💕 I’m so in love with your imagines, you’re a great writer! I hope it’s okay to send smth in as well ☺️ a Bucky one for where you’re crushing each other and head to a mission together in the snowy mountains where you get trapped by a storm in a cute cabin. First he’s all shy around you but in the end it’s all cute as he makes a little fire and shares his clothes to keep you warm which also leads to cuddling and finally sharing a kiss and even some loving smut when you finally admit your feelings ?

𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: Smut, 18+, Fluff, friends to lovers, shy Bucky, fluff, did I mention fluff? Plant stuff? you’re kinda like that bitch from sky high lol

𝒜𝓊𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓇’𝓈 𝒩𝑜𝓉𝑒: this is too cute and I had so much writing this, i feel it radiates like huge cottage core energy but in the snow XD anyways hope you like it bug and thanks for the request!!

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You were walking from the greenhouse/garden room holding a small plant when you bumped into a much larger figure, accidentally dropping said plant.

“Oh! I’m so sorry!” the voice said.

“It’s ok. I’m sorr-” you stopped.

The person was Bucky and under his big black boot was your little baby plant that you were taking to your room to nurse. You stared at him with a shocked and upset look on your face and Bucky stepped back to see the poor plant squished on the floor. 

Wanda was a bystander and rushed over to help clean up. She used her powers and mended the plant pot back together but the poor bud was still wilted. 

“Are you guys ok?” Wanda asked, handing you the pot with the wilted plant. 

“You squished my plant,” you said monotonously.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky said, panicked.

You playfully shook your head in disappointment trying your hardest to burst into giggles. It was ok because it’s what you do. You did… plant stuff. You weren’t exactly sure what your abilities were but you did know that you worked with plants very well.

You looked down at the bud and softly blew. Sage green magic circled the plant and life went back into the little sprout. Bucky’s panicked expression softened as he watched you use your magic. The way you smiled when the plant came back to life. That proud smile you had on made him smile too.

“There. All better,” you looked back Bucky. 

“All better,” he repeated with a smile.

“Hey, Y/n. Bucky,” Steve called you from down the hall.

“What’s up?”

“Fury needs you two in the conference room, says he’s got a mission for you two,” Steve walked away after he informed you both.

“Lead the way darling,” Bucky gestured his hand forward.

“Ah, you’re here. Why do you have a plant in your hand?”

“Bucky squished my flower under his boot,” you said.

“It was an accident,” Bucky mumbled.

“Moving on. I have a mission for you both in the alps. Some thugs are trading alien plant life so I need you,” he pointed to you, “to collect some samples for Tony and Bruce and Bucky will be there to protect you. If any plants die or get frozen you know what to do.”

You were plenty capable to handle yourself but you’ve never had to do so in the snow. You generally stuck to warmer and sunnier places when it came to missions. Bucky was pretty used to the snow so he knows to survive better in case you get stuck; but that won’t happen obviously.

“Wheels up in 30.”

You got to hide out and you were sort of struggling considering you had maybe seven layers of clothes on. You felt like a big puffy marshmallow waddling your way to the crime scene. The mission was somewhat successful, Bucky had really done all the work fighting and you just ran around tying up bad guys with vines and holding little seedlings in your pockets.

All was going until it didn’t. The wind picked up quickly and snow started thrashing around you and the others. You were fighting on the side of a hill, well Bucky was. You were still running around trying not to get shot. There was rumbling and the ground shook under you. You looked at Bucky who had taken down someone and his face held fear and concern. 

“Run!” he yelled.

“Where!” you started running anyhow.

“Follow me, doll!” 

You tried your best to run through heavy snow and with many many layers of clothes on you but it was becoming a struggle. Especially running against the wind made it a challenge on its own. Bucky was far ahead of you but thankfully turned back to grab your hand effectively dragging you alongside him running from the tumbling snow chasing after you. 

“Think you get us above ground? Maybe a tree? Rock platforms?” Bucky shouted, still running with his arm up to prevent snow and ice from getting in his eyes.

“The snow’s too thick and the wind is too strong,” you shouted back.

“I’m sorry,” you shouted shakily.

Before Bucky could respond the snowfall did a hiccup before finally settling within feet of you and Bucky. You two were exhausted and if you had to run any further, you’d probably be consumed by snow because you barely had any energy left in you to keep running.  

The wind was still harsh and the snow fell rapidly making it almost impossible to see even 5 feet in front of you. 

“We should find shelter,” Bucky said close to your face. Your nose was nearly numb from the cold and the warmth from Bucky’s proximity made it almost feel like it was burning. 

“I’m just following you,” you said with tired eyes.

After what felt like hours of walking you were practically dragging your feet and legs across the thick snow. The blankets of snow  glistened beautiful and sparkled under the sun. despite the sun now being out the weather was still almost unbearably cold. Your body still shook from the chill.

“You know, I’ve never liked winter. It was always so plain and boring with all the snow. And it’s so fucking cold; I’d rather be laying in the sun in a meadow. But this,” you circled your arms and twirled, “This is beautiful.”

“You what’s even more beautiful?” Bucky held your hand.

“What?” you said shyly.

“That cabin up ahead,” he smirked, and you smacked his chest.

“Well then, come on. I’m still freezing my butt off, and surely the seedlings in my pocket are frozen too,” you started treading the snow, grunting every step.

You got inside after a few tugs because the lock was practically frozen shut. The cabin was seemingly abandoned, else the hosts would certainly be surprised. Nonetheless, Bucky searched the house for anything to give you warmth. You stood in the living room area of the cabin awaiting instructions from Bucky since he seemed to know what he was doing. 

“Hey, doll. It looks like this place’s got two fireplaces. One here and in the master bedroom. Take your pick.”

“How long will be here?” you asked.

“I don’t know. I’ve hardly got any signal to send an alert.”

“That means we’ll probably spend the night. We should use the bedroom.”

“You can use the bedroom. I set a fire in the fireplace there, and then I’ll set one up out here for me when you’re taken care of,” he said.

“I thought we were sharing the room,” you mumbled, feeling embarrassed. See you had this little, itty, bitty, tiny crush on the fellow. But how could you not? He was perfect! You certainly weren’t going to waste the opportunity to share a bed with the guy if you ‘had to’. 

“Let’s get you taken care of,” he smiled softly.

You walked to the back room where the master bedroom was and it was beautiful. The bed was disassembled, the mattress was leaning to the side on the wall and the bed frame was taken apart. Bucky moved the bedframe to the side and flopped the mattress down to the floor. 

“Let me check for any blankets in this place,” Bucky ran off. 

You looked around and walked into the connected bathroom. To your absolute surprise there were small plants, unfortunately dead, and pots filled with dried out and chalky dirt. You could work with that. 

You picked them up and took them to the bed. You sat on the mattress and placed the pots in front of you on the floor at your feet. You pulled out the frozen seedlings and plants and placed each one in their own pot. 

That same sage green magic circled your hands and traveled to the pots where the dirt grew damp and the seedlings grew into buds. You smiled to yourself before looking up, eyes meeting Bucky’s who watched you with a grin on his face.

“It’s amazing what you do,” he said holding a bunch of blankets.

“It’s nothing.”

“No-” he was interrupted from the branches of the trees right outside the room baniging against the window hard. 

“Oh no. storm’s picking up again,” Bucky mumbled.

“Are we gonna be ok?” you asked.

“”We’ll be fine. Now are you hurt?”

“Just cold,” you whispered.

“Ok if you feel uncomfortable let me know and I’ll leave you ok?” you nodded.

“I need you to take your layers off until you reach your thermal.”

You zipped down your snow jacket that was incredibly wet from all the snow from outside. Next was a layer of your snow pants after you took your snow boots off, which were also wet; both the pants and boots.

Bucky helped you with the rest of your layers under you simply wore a thermal and your undergarments underneath. Your body was shaking still and the fire still wasn’t on yet. 

“Here are all the blankets I could find. Warm yourself up while I turn on the fireplace,” Bucky walked outside to gather some stumps of wood that were conveniently stacked next to the front door. He came back with a rock and banged it against his metal hand to create sparks which thankfully successfully lit the fire. 

“Are you feeling ok?” he asked shyly.

“Sort of, but the fire’s going so I think I’ll feel better very soon,” you responded.

Bucky was about to leave you and make his own fire in the living room when you stopped him.

“Buck, you don’t have to leave,” you said.

“Thought I’d give you some privacy,” he responded.

“I don’t need privacy, besides the fire’s already made. Just stay here,” you scooted on the bed for him to sit.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Come sit,” you smiled and patted the spot next to you.

He sat with you very closely and you feel his body heat radiating off his body like a heater. He asked if it was ok if he got rid of wet clothes too and you let him. When he took his last layer off he accidentally lifted his thermal shirt with it exposing his lower stomach. The muscle of his abdominals surprised you and you couldn’t help but oogle.

Bucky’s cheeks grew red and not from the cold. You two sat in silence. Your body was still trembling slightly and bucky wanted to help you. He just didn’t know if you;d be comfortable with the particular survival tactic. 

“I don’t want to upset you or make you uncomfortable but body heat and skin to skin contact is the most effective way to warm the body.

“Bucky, are you making a move on me?” you giggled.

“Uh no- sorry I, uh I-”

“I’m just teasing,” you smiled.

“I want to help you,” he whispered.

“Ok.”

Bucky moved away slightly and reached for the bottom of your shirt hesitantly looking to you for permission of which you granted. Your arms came up and the thermal slowly peeled off of your cold body. You were simply left in a bra and your arms covered yourself in coldness and also slight insecurity. 

Bucky also took his thermal off and tossed it to the side. Your eyes trained on his torso littered with little scars and bruises that made you want to reach out and hold him. He leaned back on the mattress and lifted his hips to remove his thermal pants and then looked back to you to make sure you were still ok.

You stood up and quickly discarded your pants as well as seeing Bucky turn his away from seeing you undress; which made your heart warm at his manners. When you were done you sat back down much closer to Bucky this time.

His arms wrapped around you and both your legs hitched over his thighs as you curled into him. His body was so hot, figuratively and literally. Your body instantly warmed up against his hardened muscles. You stayed this way while the fire burned and Bucky told you stories about him and Steve back in the 40s before everything happened. 

There was a moment of silence that settled between you and you looked into Bucky’s eyes. His hand came up and softly brushed the air from your face. You leaned into hand and smiled faintly to him and he smiled back. 

Bukcy leaned his forehead down to press against your and you could feel the tip of his equally cold nose on yours. You looked at each other waiting for the other to say something, anything.

“Are you going to kiss me?” you whispered.

“Do you want me to kiss you?” he whispered back.

“Please.”

Bucky lips attached to yours ever so gently. Your body practically melted against him, chills raising on your skin but not from the cold. His hands caressed the skin of your stomach and ribs and you moved straddled his thighs.

You felt growing wet from the way he held you tenderly against him. You started grinding yourself against his crotch feeling his dick getting hard pressing up against your core. Small moans and breathy sighs emitted from you and Bucky and his hands roamed to your ass. 

Bucky’s lips went to neck and you threw your head back for him and threaded your fingers through his hair. Bucky nipped and bit down on the skin before soothing it over with his tongue and dragged it down to your collarbone. 

You reached around and unclipped your bra and Bucky tossed over to the pile of clothes you had discarded beforehand. Bucky looked down at your chest for a second but averted his eyes to prevent you from being uncomfortable. 

His hands however kneaded the flesh of your breasts; insanely warm against your skin. 

“You’re so pretty, darling,” Bucky whispered in your ear making you shudder.

He flipped you over; the blanket fell to the side making your nipples harden from the chilly air. He stood up to remove his boxers and ran his hands up your legs sensually playing with the hem of your panties you still had on. 

He looked at you with gentle eyes before you nodded eagerly for him to take them off. After he did he crawled up body before settling between your hips. His cock was settled against your pussy and it practically throbbed, aching for more. 

He pumped his cock with his hand a few times leaning down to capture your lips with his. When he slid inside, you moaned loudly taking a hold of his shoulders with your hands. Bucky was huge! Nothing like any of your past lovers, not that you really many. 

“Hold on, hold on. I just need a second,” you told Bucky. 

He leaned down and pressed kisses all over your face; your hands cupping his face and jaw giggling. You looked into eyes once again and nodded letting him know that it was alright to move again. 

Bucky was in absolute heaven right now.

Your walls felt so soft and velvety as he easily thrusted in and out of you. A thin layer of sweat formed on his forehead. His hand reached down your arm and he intertwined his fingers with yours resting by your head. 

Bucky had been dreaming of this moment longer than he’d like to admit. He never considered himself to be a shy person; and definitely not jealous either. But when he met you, he always stuttered and stumbled over his feet and words barely getting a working sentence out of his mouth. 

Whenever Steve or Sam spoke to you, and generally flirted a lot of the time, he envied them for being so relaxed around you. He’d wanted to ask you on a proper date and take you home to worship you like you deserve; wake up next to you and make love all over again. But he couldn’t say hi without turning bright red.

But here you were, a dream come true, squirming, whining and moaning beautifully under him. 

“You are so gorgeous, baby. God, I can’t believe you're here,” Bucky kissed you. 

“Oh, Bucky you feel so good,” you moaned.

“Fuck, baby you’re taking me so well,” he praised.

You both moaned feeling your orgasm approaching rapidly. Your legs wrapped around Bucky’s torso driving him deeper in making you practically scream in pleasure. Bucky’s hips snapped in and out of you wildly desperate for that release he knows is going to be the best he’s ever had. 

When the coil in the pit of your stomach burst your back arched into Bucky and his face buried into your neck as he practically growled in pleasure. 

“Fuck that was amazing,” he kissed your neck and chuckled.

“Why are you always so shy around me? We probably could’ve done this way sooner,” you patted his back. 

“I, uh-”

“There you go stuttering again,” you giggled.

“I’m sorry. Y/n, I really like you and I have since I’ve met you. I don’t know why I feel so brain dead whenever I’m around you. I used to have no problem asking a pretty dame on a date, but when I met you, I couldn’t even say hi let alone ‘Hey wanna go on a date because I think you’re the most beautiful angel I’ve ever met in my goddamn life?’ It felt impossible,” Bucky sat up and sat you on his legs still wrapped in the blanket. 

“Bucky, I- oh,” you gasped.

“What?” you pointed to the wooden floor of the cabin. There were small buds and patches of grass coming through the cracks of the floorboards. There were also vines and branches covering the walls coming from the floor as well.

“Oh! Did I do that?” you looked back at him and he nodded.

“Oopsies,” you giggled.

“What if we had sex in the garden?” Bucky asked.

“Oh my gosh, Bucky!” you laughed.

“What?” a smile grew on his face watching you laugh in pure delight.

“You’re so silly,” you shook your head before yawning.

“Come on, doll. Let’s go sleep and we’ll see what’s gonna happen after the storm passes,” Bucky kissed you goodnight and you fell asleep comfortably in his arms.

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@mathletemadison 

ᴛᴀɢʟɪsᴛ:

ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴɴᴀ ʙᴇ ᴀᴅᴅᴇᴅ ᴛ�� ᴍʏ ᴘᴇʀᴍᴀɴᴇɴᴛ ᴛᴀɢʟɪsᴛ ᴍᴇssᴀɢᴇ ᴍᴇ! ;)

[syilcawrites]

for your zelink prompt,,,how do you feel about a modern AU where the two bike to the beach and have a picnic?

a/n: I added ‘high school’ to the prompt too hope you don’t mind asghjjhas (’: Also this turned out a lot longer than I planned hope that’s okay ;-; I want to practice writing in Link’s voice more so this is in his pov!! Anyway! I hope you enjoy this, and thanks a lot for the prompt <3

ao3

hot buttered apples with chamomile tea

There are two types of monsters: ones that sleep under your bed and ones that sleep behind your eyes. For Aryll, it's the former.

And Link saw a lot in the latter.

He rubbed his eyes to try to erase the bags that rest stubbornly underneath them, but he wondered if he was just making it worse. Probably. But why did it matter anyway? He usually got three hours of sleep tops, so he always liked to think that darkness had become a permanent edition to his features. He tapped his toes against the pavement, waiting, peering around the corner of the school's brick fence, trying to catch a glimpse of the black car that Zelda usually pulled up in. With five minutes left until school started, he was beginning to worry—she was never late. And for the first time in his entire high school career, he was early.

It was a last minute trip they had planned, when they had snuck onto the school roof after class yesterday.

"I want to see the ocean," she had told him, under the summer's unrelenting heat. They were both sticky with sweat, even though they were sitting under a shady area, and the next thing she said made no sense to him. "I've never been to the beach before." Living here and never once going to Hateno Beach? He thought she was kidding at first. But she stared at him dead in the eye with her lips pressed into a thin line, as serious as ever. When he jokingly proposed that they ditch school the next day to go to the beach, she didn't hesitate to say yes.

It had taken him practically the whole day yesterday to convince her to sneak up onto the rooftop, and yet she was completely fine with ditching an entire day of school to go to the beach.

She was weird and unpredictable and he loved it.

He decided to check his backpack again for the twelfth time in the past hour, just to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything. His memory was pretty terrible to begin with. He always found something new that he had forgotten whenever he went to check his backpack. The first time he checked, he realized he didn't bring any cups. Just that one thermal bottle whose lid doubled as a cup. The second time he checked, he realized he had forgotten napkins. If worst came to worst, he guessed he could just offer up his jacket or something, if she really needed to clean her hands or wipe her mouth—would that be any better though? When was the last time he washed his jacket?

"Link?"

Before he could try to sniff his sleeve, Zelda's voice pierced his thoughts.

He zipped up the backpack once more and peeked around the corner again—and finally, he saw her familiar twin braided blonde hair bobbing up and down as she ran toward him.

With… a frenzied kind of pace.

"Link!" she shouted again, breathless, as she waved her arms up and down in panic. Behind her he could hear another person shouting—but it was hard to hear their voice, since it was drowned out by the sound of Zelda urgently telling him to go, go, go.

Fumbling, Link lifted the bike away from the brick fence and rolled it out, hopping onto the front seat.

"I thought you said you had two bikes!" Zelda exclaimed, quickly tossing herself over the second seat without missing a beat.

"I mean, this is kinda like two bikes isn't it?" She only learned how to ride a bike three days ago and he wasn't comfortable with leading her down a rather windy road to get to the beach on her own. The last time he taught someone how to ride a bike was Mipha, years ago, and she almost face planted into a cliff because he let go of her bike and had forgotten to tell her how to brake.

Besides, he had to bribe Aryll fifty rupees to take the tandem bike out today. If he wanted to borrow her regular bike, she would've asked for a hundred. That was equivalent to a week's worth of mowing Tokk's front lawn.

Link was probably getting scammed by Tokk, but he was only 40% sure about that.

"Won't we look ridiculous riding this around?" Zelda scoffed as they began pulling out onto the road. "I thought we were supposed to be discreet? A tandem bike—Oh Hylia!" She kicked his shin with her foot, urging him to hurry. "Impa's coming!"

"Who?" Impa? He didn't think Zelda had mentioned her before.

"Miss Zelda!"

Link glanced at the direction that Zelda had come from, and he saw an angry looking young woman in a black suit racing toward them at an alarming speed. A chill ran down his spine as they locked eyes.

"You!" Impa shouted, pointing a furious finger at him. "Who are you!"

Without a second left to waste, Link clicked into gear and pedaled away fast before that angry finger could intentionally poke out his eyeballs. They shot down the road, with Zelda's exhilarated laughter mixing in with the sound of the rushing wind whistling by them.

For some reason, it was a strange and distinct sound, like it was reverberating all around him; he felt trapped in it.

Until her laughter abruptly stopped.

"Look out—!"

He looked up; but by then, it was too late. An apple that hung low from the tree smacked him square on the forehead with a resounding thud.

——————————————————————

"You know," Zelda said, accepting his hand as he helped her down the rocky cliff that led to the shoreline, "the beach looks different from above."

Link hadn't been to Zelda's home before, but he knew what it looked like from below. It was an odd-looking building that used to be an abandoned lighthouse, but then someone moved into it a couple of years ago, and that someone had hammered on weird platforms and objects to it, so now it looked like Hateno's novelty sculpture.

"Your room's at the top of that lighthouse building right?" Link asked, grunting as he jumped down onto the sand with a hefty thud. He turned around and held out both of his hands to her.

"Mhm. Purah let me have the upper loft when I moved in with her. The view's amazing at night, you can see all the stars." Zelda crouched down and gratefully accepted his hands. Her hands were rough. She jumped down.

Link couldn't see the stars from his bed, because a gigantic tree was right in front of his window.

Her prickling stare withdrew him from his thoughts—she studied his face as if she was observing every detail on it. He could count the sun freckles that had begun appearing around her cheeks; heat climbed to his cheeks as he leaned back a little, finally aware of how close they were.

"I hope that apple won't leave a bruise on your forehead," she muttered, her eyebrows furrowing together, with that little crease appearing between her brows. Always one crease, never two. "You took quite a hit back there."

"I—" he paused, his mouth still slightly ajar.

What was he gonna say? That he was too focused on the sound of her laughter to the point where he wasn't paying attention to the road?

She tilted her head quizzically, waiting for him to speak.

Link let go of her hands to adjust the straps of his stiff backpack. "I know a spot near the rocks," he muttered, turning to a cluster of boulders near the water. It was flat enough that they could place the blanket down and set the lunchboxes and thermal bottle without having to worry about them falling over.

They walked side by side.

"The patterns on the rocks are so symmetrical," she murmured, tapping her chin with her finger. "Like the cliff we just climbed down from—you could tell during high tide the water reaches it, just barely though. I've always found it fascinating that exposure to water erosion could create such beautiful patterns. Don't you agree?"

Link nodded, and a smile quirked up on her lips. The hop in her step was a little higher than usual as she sped up to reach the cluster of rocks faster. He liked listening to her observations of little details, even though he didn't offer much opinion of his own. It was nice to hear and see Hyrule through a different kind of lens.

She was already climbing up the rock by the time Link reached it, and she stood there proud and tall with her hands on her hips, facing the vast ocean.

"We should eat before the food gets cold," Link called up to her, unzipping his backpack to hand her the picnic blanket. It used to belong to his mom. At one point he stole the key to his dad's chest and opened it up to find a bunch of things that used to be hers, probably, because there was a picture of her in there, squished in with a bunch of other stuff. He stole that picture too. And to this day, his dad still hadn't noticed anything was missing.

Link wondered if his dad knew, and just let him... have it.

"Of course," she said, her eyes glinting hungrily. She grabbed the blanket from him, and with it, his thoughts.

She spread it out as he climbed up to her.

Her reactions were always funny whenever Link brought food for her. For some reason, she always tried to mask her excitement—but she was terrible at hiding the anticipation that gleamed in her green eyes, and even more terrible at trying to keep a smile from erupting on her face while he pulled out the two lunchboxes.

"Chamomile tea," Link stated, as he pulled out the thermal bottle next. He paused to watch her, and her mouth formed an 'o' as she greedily grabbed it from him, opening the cap up. He popped open the lid of one of the lunchboxes and slid it toward her.

There were sliced hydromelons, egg pudding, honey crepes and fruits, and her favorite—

"Hot buttered apples!" Zelda exclaimed, reaching for one.

In the other box he had a handful of savory foods—maybe he should've opened that one up first.

"I'm glad you took my suggestion." Her fingers paused just before she picked the slice up. "But first, the tea," she said quickly, as if she was reminding herself. She poured it into the lid of the thermal bottle, handing it to Link.

"I want to see your expression when you try it," Zelda insisted, beaming. She was smiling a lot today—more than she has in the past two years that he'd known her. "You take a bite out of the apple first, and then drink the tea, and then it tastes amazing."

"Just like that?" he asked, eyeing the light crisp color of the chamomile tea she handed to him. It reminded him of apple cider.

"Trust me, Link. You'll want to keep eating it," she promised, tugging down at her two braids. She always did that when she was waiting for something—every time she was standing in line at the vending machines to get the both of them candy pop sodas at school, she did that same little tug. "I'm picky with my food, so you know I wouldn't simply be saying this without meaning it."

Link picked up the slice—the hot buttered apples had turned into warm buttered apples by now, but he figured it wouldn't change the taste all that much. As soon as he took a bite out of it and took a sip from the tea, her eyes sparkled.

The combination of the two warmed his stomach—the pinch of cinnamon she had recommended he put on it really kicked it for him, and he had to refrain from shoving at least ten more into his mouth. Considering how much she was staring at the hot buttered apples, he wanted to save the majority of it for her.

"Good? Right? They both have that toasty taste but it's a different kind of toasty. The chamomile tea, when brewed correctly of course, has that touch of floral kick to it too! And the hot buttered apples with that sprinkle of cinnamon just melts in your mouth and it's the most wonderful thing ever, isn't it?" She quickly thanked him as she accepted the tea when he handed it to her, and she picked up a slice to take an eager bite of her own.

"It's really good." He wasn't the best at expressing himself through words, but despite their simplicity, it seemed to have gotten through to her, as that gleeful glint in her eyes only gleamed brighter. "Did your parents—" He paused mid-chew, realizing just a little too late that his question was going to dampen her brightness.

And it did, just a little.

Idiot.

Whenever he asked about her immediate family, she would tense up—just like now. She cast her eyes down at the lunchbox, eyeing all of the food that he had prepared, her lips pursed. She would always be on the brink of telling him, but then she would turn away in the end.

Maybe… she needed a little push, to talk about it.

"My mom hated apples." The words felt weird in his mouth—he's never spoken about his mom to anyone, and he only brought her up once to his dad. Link raised his eyes to meet hers. Zelda had stopped chewing too, and looked at him with wide, curious eyes.

"That's what my dad told me at least, when I asked him what she hated the most." No one in his family ate apples that much, and it all made sense when he found out about that little fact a couple of years ago. It was hard for his dad to talk about her—time didn't heal the pain behind his voice when he told Link those three simple words: She hated apples.

And behind those three simple words were years upon years of grieving, and he never asked his dad about her again.

He watched as Zelda picked up another slice, her mouth parting slightly. "My mother loved making all sorts of meals with apples."

Loved, Link thought.

Past tense.

They sat in silence for a bit, just munching on those hot buttered apples, while passing the tea back and forth between each other.

"My mother made a snack for me that always involved apples in some way—whenever I was sad, angry, or when she was proud of me." He expected her to look lost in thought as she spoke, but she wasn't. She was as present as she could've been, and he was... it made him feel a little better. Less alone. "Hot buttered apples with chamomile tea was my favorite. She made it for me quite often," she said, chuckling. "What was your mother like?"

She gave him the last slice.

He hesitated; both in accepting the last piece and at her question. The only thing he had was a worn out picture of her, weathered down by age. And that blanket. "I don't know, I don't remember anything," he admitted, taking the slice from her.

Her gaze softened.

Link once punched another classmate in grade school because they asked him, how could he be sad? If he had no memories of his own mom? What was there to be sad about, since he couldn't remember anything? And for the longest time, he didn't let himself be sad over her. How could you be sad about someone you had no memories of?

But one day, Aryll barged into his room—her face red, with snot running down her nose, crying, because she had an argument with their dad. "What if I forget about her, Link?" Aryll had said to him in between her choked up sobs. "I feel like if dad never talks about her, she'll disappear forever."

He knew then that there was pain with memory, and pain without memory. One wasn't more valid than the other.

Because either way, no one won anything in the end.

"I wish I could've met your mother," she said. "I'm certain I could've changed her mind about apples."

There wasn't a lick of a tease on her face. She was serious.

For the first time in a while, Link laughed.

[main-to-card-games-and-pain]

The World Stopped

I wrote another one-shot! This one is definitely not as long but it was still so much fun to write. I LOVED writing the fluff and the angst into one short, and I just generally love Tony and Peter so... 

Please don’t tag as st*rker. ew. 

“Hey Buddy, how you feeling?” Tony flopped next to his very cute and very sick mentee on the couch. 

The midday sun ran in streams through the shuttered windows, muted but remaining bright; like Peter was, all sniffly and bundled in his blankets. He looked positively miserable but somehow still adorable? It still perplexed the inventor how the kid could have such an effect. 

May was on a twelve hour shift which ended at eleven. Peter had called from school at noon, way too sick to even think about staying at school. May had apologetically called Tony, asking if he could take Peter “just for a few hours, we promise he won’t be a bother. He can just sleep for a bit and then go home,” as if he wouldn’t clear his entire schedule to take care of his Spider-Baby. 

So there they were, Peter in a blanket cocoon half-awake with tissues littered everywhere, and Tony frittering about him like a worried dad. 

“Better…” the kid mumbled, burrowing down into the his cocoon a bit more. 

“Yeah?” Tony felt his forehead. “Your fever’s still up there, but I don’t think I should be worried about it just yet. I asked F.R.I.D.A.Y.” 

“Multiple times sir.” 

“Yes, thank you F.R.I.D.A.Y, I didn’t ask how many times I asked.” 

Peter giggled; the AI was suddenly forgiven. 

“You want to take another nap Spider-Baby?” Tony kept his voice soft and comforting, like he remembered the human Jarvis doing when he was sick. Peter’s senses went haywire sometimes when he was healthy, Tony didn’t want to chance it when he was sick. 

To his surprise, Peter shook his head with a groan while struggling to get his arms out of the blankets. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, calm down kid, what do you need? More water? I can get it.” Tony tried to stand up, only to find himself held down by a very indignant enhanced teenager’s hand. 

“No T’ny,” he slurred, “wan’ you t’ stay… w’tch movie or somethin’” 

This, to say the least, shocked Tony. “Yeah, sure, of course, whatever you want.” Appeased, Peter relaxed into the couch. “I’m just going to set it up, okay?” 

The teen made a sound that vaguely sounded like a confirmation so Tony rolled with it. 

If anyone who knew him had walked in at that moment, they’d have believed they were drugged or dreaming, because Tony Stark did not do chores. Yet, there he was, picking up used tissues and getting soup, water, and making unbuttered popcorn while the movie loaded. 

The Empire Strikes Back because Peter liked it and had seen it enough times to not be disappointed when he (inevitably) fell asleep. 

The mechanic reclaimed his spot next to the junior superhero and deposited all his ‘sick supplies’ on the coffee table in front of the pair. Peter snuffled and moved so his head rested on Tony’s lap. 

Tony’s chest filled with warmth, and his hand automatically began to card his fingers through the boy’s hair. Peter nestled towards the touch, grunting contentedly. 

About halfway through the show Tony felt his charge shift his weight, rolling over so he was completely facing the inventor instead of the screen. 

“What’s up Bud,” the inventor murmured, brushing away some of Peter’s curls, “want some soup?” 

The boy shook his head lethargically and smiled dopely at his mentor. 

“M’ster St’rk?” 

Tony smiled and pulled Peter closer to him, unconscious as the movement may have been. “Yes Peter?” 

“I l’ve you.” 

The world stopped. 

For Tony, there was nothing but him and this kid, this beautiful, loving, kid that God had given him, but Tony didn’t really deserve. Every day he got with him was a blessing, and it scared him a little bit. Everything he’d ever loved had been destroyed somehow, he didn’t want Peter to be collateral damage. 

But for now, Tony Stark was happy. 

“I love you too, bambino.” 

And of course, the universe had to ruin it for him. 

Peter had migrated up his chest so that he was laying down horizontally on the couch and Peter was laying flat against him. Tony liked sick and clingy Peter; holding him comforted them both. 

So, for that single moment, Tony let his guard down and simply napped while he cuddled his kid. 

And then the window shattered inwards. 

It rained glass on the sleeping pair, instantly waking the engineer who immediately pulled his bundle close and rolled them off the couch, so Peter was protected against the floor while Tony took the brunt of the glass as the next window imploded.

The kid was still lethargic, he could barely register what was going on around him. 

“Peter, hey, kid, I need you to wake up, alright Spider-Baby?” Tony tapped on his cheek, groaning when Peter barely opened his eyes. He could hear the whirring of machinery in the distance, a sound that was definitely not good. “F.R.I.D.A.Y? I need the whole tower locked down, like, yesterday.” 

“My attempts to lock down the tower have thus forth failed sir, there is something overriding my commands.” 

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” the mechanic cursed under his breath. “Alright, so, what’s these guys’ deal?” 

“I cannot ascertain a motive, sir, but I can tell you that they are heavily armed and preparing to breach the tower at this level in approximately five minutes. It is probable that they have thermal scanning technology.” 

Tony felt the beginnings of panic creep up his throat. He quashed it down with a heavy gulp and glance down at the kid below him. 

Step One: Get Peter to safety. 

There was a safe room in the floor below them, and there was also a lab. 

Step Two: Get a suit. 

If F.R.I.D.A.Y. couldn’t initiate lockdown she probably couldn’t get a functioning suit either. 

Step Three: Blow these assholes to kingdom come. 

They interrupted Peter’s nap. 

“Time to go bambino,” Tony breathed, scooping the teenager into his arms bridal style. He was too light for a sixteen year-old. 

Tony hurried from the room, frantically making his way into the stairway and down, careful not to jostle the sick child too much. Distant voices made their way to his ears, and more panic settled in his chest. 

He flung the door open, it hit the wall with a loud clash. Peter blinked up at him, still sick as dog, but with a furrowed brow as the situation began to dawn on him. 

“T’ny? Wha’re we doin’? W’as h’appenin’?” 

“It’s okay Pete, some assholes upstairs decided they were gonna crash our Star Wars marathon.” 

“Rude.” Despite the situation, Peter still managed to make Tony smile. 

“I know right? Who do they think they are?” In all this time, Tony had not stopped moving, still hurrying towards the safe room. It felt like they were running out of time. Something rocked the floor, so aggressively that Tony almost lost his grip on Peter. They were out of time and he needed a suit. “I’m sorry but we need a change of plans, bud.” 

“Tha’s okay,” Peter grumbled, “I didn’t know the first plan.” 

The inventor barked a laugh and swerved away from his original destination, heading straight for the lab. 

Peter noticed and tried to squirm away from Tony’s grasp. 

“And what do you think you’re doing?” 

“Sp’derman.” 

“Uh, no. Nope, no, nope. There’s no way that that happens, kid. You can barely talk, you’re not fighting whoever these assholes are.” 

Peter didn’t even disagree, which was the true testament of how sick he was. 

Arriving at the lab, Tony quickly scanned his hand, making sure to manually lock the door behind him. He deposited Peter on the couch before rushing to his computers to check the status of his suits. If they were compromised he wouldn’t activate any of them, he couldn’t risk that. 

Rapidly typing code into his computer, Tony sighed in peace. They’d only used blockers for the automated defence procedures, controlled by the AI, and hadn’t actually corrupted any of his system. With a sense of finality Tony typed the last piece of code into the computer, manually calling his suits to him. 

“Okay Peter, it’s going to be okay. Help is on its way, and I’m sure Rhodey will be here in a blink; we’re going to be okay.” 

Tony didn’t know if he was assuring himself or Peter. 

“Mr.Stark,” the kid groaned, eyebrows scrunched in pain as (presumably) all the noise and light got to him. “Something’s coming…” 

Something slammed against the lab’s entrance, something big and dangerous and most likely explosive. And Tony trusted Peter more than anything in the world, if he said he felt like he was in danger then he was in danger.

“Okay, okay, come here Bud, we’re going to put you somewhere safe.” Tony scooped his protégé back into his arms, hurrying through the lab while darting his eyes around trying to find a hiding place. He spotted a cabinet that he’d cleared up just last week. Peter could fit in there, but he didn’t like small spaces. 

Another boom, and this time Tony could hear voices on the other side of the wall. 

“Baby, kid, I need you to do me a favour,” Tony said, already making his way to the cabinet. 

“Anything,” Peter breathed his reply, looking a little more coherent and awake now. 

“I need you to do be so brave, just like you always are, and I need you to be quiet, absolutely silent, okay?”

“Why…?”

“These guys might make it into the lab, and we need to put you somewhere they wont find you.” The mechanic gestured with his head towards the cabinet, Peter’s eyes widened with the realization. 

“No. No, no, no, no, no, T’ny, d’nt wanna.” 

“I know, I know. But I can’t risk you getting hurt. Please, baby, just for a little while. The suits will be here any second.” 

Reluctantly, the teenager nodded his head. Tony sighed in relief, gently putting him down into the hiding place and carefully closing the door. “You’re the bravest kid I know, Pete, I’ll be right back. I want you to promise me, no matter what you hear, you stay there.”

He nodded, but there was an uneasiness in his gut as he did.  

Peter heard his mentor rush away from him, felt the vibrations of his steps grow farther and farther away. The boy focussed on what was happening outside his box, because if he started thinking about the inside and how small it was- 

Another explosion, and this time glass shattered. They were in. 

Everyone was yelling and rushing around and Peter lost Tony in it all until-

Flesh connected with flesh, Tony yelled in pain, and a body hit the floor. 

“Asshole,” the inventor spat, standing up only to be punched again. “It’s getting old pretty fast, dude.” 

“I never thought that I’d find the Tony Stark cowering in a corner.” 

“Well, I’m full of surprises, bitch.” A gun cocked but Tony kept talking unbothered. “There a reason for your visit?” 

“Maybe I just want to rid the world of another good-for-nothing billionaire.” Peter’s whole world threatened to stop. 

“That’d be pretty anticlimactic for me, I admit.” The leader chuckled, and Tony hit the floor again. Someone must have been holding him up. 

“Shoot him.” Peter would have screamed if he could breathe. The gunshot went off and tears fell down Peter’s cheeks. Tony yelled in pain, but didn’t cut off, his breaths stayed there, ragged and pained, but there. “It hurts, doesn’t it? I hope you now know how serious I am in this endeavour. Next time it will be somewhere a little more severe.” 

Tony grunted as the sickening sound of a squish found Peter’s ears. He could just imagine the scene, Tony with blood spreading around him, the men surrounding him, tormenting him. Peter wanted out.

“There were two heat signatures when he cased the building Stark. You have a guest over?” 

“Fuck off.” 

“I’ll take that as a yes, was it Ms.Potts? Tony Stark, always getting the girl, the fame, living a life of luxury while we on the ground scrounge for scraps.” 

Weight shifted near Peter, startling him. His hand flew to his mouth in an effort to muffle the sounds of his heavy breathing. Peter heard the suit approaching, that was good. Iron Man always saved the day. 

But then- “Boss.” Light assaulted Peter’s eyes as a rough hand assaulted his arm, ripping him from his hiding place. 

The first thing Peter saw was Tony, looking scared and in pain and glaring at the man holding Peter. 

“Stay away from him,” he hissed, eyes screaming for murder. “Stay away from him or I swear to God, I will kill you.” 

The man laughed, stepped away from Tony and regarded Peter instead. Peter had eyes only for Tony, Tony and the bullet hole in his shoulder. 

“He’s cute.” A hand extended, touched Peter’s face; Tony tried to stand with a shout, only for a guard to slam his boot down on his wound. 

Both Peter and Tony shouted at the same time. Then the world burst into chaos as the suits finally came. There was a cacophony of gunshots and shouts, and Peter couldn’t think. The boy dropped to the ground, unable to do anything but hold his ears and rock himself back and forth gently.

It ended when Peter felt Tony pull him into his chest. 

“Shhh,” Tony whispered into his ear, “it’s going to be okay, we’re going to be fine.” 

Peter believed him. 

[dxlansfxck]

EVERY WOUND WILL SHAPE ME [G.D] • 03

They really had some kind of fun this day – even Y/N was laughing one of the most real laughs in the last couple months. But now, she was laying in her bed, thinking about everything that ruined their day. Thinking about what Grayson was doing wrong, again.

I am the ghost in the shadows, I am the fear of the dark, I am the murderer of apathy – an angel that’s fallen.

Her head was buried between her pillows, her body rolled up in her soft blanket, trying to get the comfort she truly needed right now. Once her body was hidden, she didn’t have to think about the issues she has with how she looked in her swimsuit, how much flatter her stomach could’ve been if she didn’t eat the breakfast Grayson brought her. But well, he didn’t need to worry about what he was eating, his body was close to being perfect.

But Grayson – of course – didn’t mind her weight as he quickly carried her on his shoulders, walking around with her and throwing her into the warm saltwater. Little did he know that drowning was one of her biggest fears ever since her parents died. Even if it was just a simple pool instead of the gigantic ocean, she didn’t like being under water, squirming and fidgeting under the surface, trying to get up again.

Grayson loosened his grip on her head, letting her breathe again, but while she was literally gasping for air, all he did was checking out some girl that was walking past them with such a perfectly shaped body and huge tits that made Y/N cover her own with her hands.

Well, Y/N wasn’t feeling to be left out once again, so she quickly decided to get over into another pool area, enjoying the even warmer water on her own while watching Grayson talk to this fucking idiot that was about to steal her best friend.              

I am the psycho, the sinner. I am what you can’t escape. I am the splinter underneath your skin, I am a monster.

With a bang, I feel my heart start to separate, the enemy within can no longer be contained.

Even an hour later, Y/N was already laying on one of the deck chairs, trying to dry off a bit, Grayson was still talking to that slut, obviously enjoying her company. It may be just an hour, but to her it felt like 800 years of pain and suffering. Of being left out. He came with her, he begged her to come here, so why is he spending his time with someone different? The smile he was giving this woman was a smile that she didn’t see that much, it was his happy smile. The one that only showed once he was really comfortable around someone, showing off his perfectly white teeth while a soft giggle was escaping his lips.

She had to turn her head, looking away, before she started to cry again. It pissed her off that she couldn’t leave, because Grayson was the one that decided to drive today. Looking around while huffing in annoyance, she saw someone that caught her eyes in seconds. He was tall, a giant, with soft blonde curls hitting his shoulders and a slight scruff covering his face. His shoulders and chest were broad, but he wasn’t as built as Grayson was – but Y/N didn’t care. Hell, he was fucking attractive.

She smiled at him, winking while biting her lip to hide a giggle that desperately wants to escape her mouth, almost feeling like a schoolgirl having her first crush. The unknown man laughs while walking towards her, receiving an winning smirk from Y/N, before he sits down next to her, asking for her name before introducing himself: Luke, 22 years old, musician in a pop-rock band. And definitely Y/N’s type of man.

I’m running from myself, there’s something inside of me and it’s ripping a hole through my chest.

They were talking for almost as long as her ‘best friend’ talked to this annoying girl, but by now she didn’t even care anymore. Starting to really like Luke and his dry humor, they talked about lots of things, mostly about him and his band. Luke was a born and raised Aussie, touring with his band through the entire world. He was currently living in Los Angeles while they were recording their second studio album and he probably will be there for another few months.

Instead of going for another swim together, Y/N offered him to come home with her, not needing Grayson to drive her anymore. He could spend the entire day with that girl, Y/N didn’t want him to be around her anyways – and once she saw Luke in his boots and leather jacket, she was damn sure what she wanted for that day instead.

The blood in my veins is made up of mistakes.

Well, now she was laying here, in her bed, that she shared with Luke not so long ago. She was still naked, but he was dressed and gone by now. Her body was aching, tired, but also satisfied. Smiling, she tries to burn the pictures of the last few hours into her brain.

His phone number in her phone, that she would either call very often or never again.

His body against hers, his hands everywhere at the same time.

His mouth, covering every place she wanted it to cover.

His lips, slightly parted, while they were repeating her name over and over again.

His eyes closed as she climbed on top of him, taking all of his length as she slid down onto him.

His fingernails buried in her back while she was riding out their highs.

Thinking about him, the one that betrayed her insecure self so much today.

His face as he entered her room and saw them laying in her bed, her bodies connected.

Her smirk as she slid down onto Luke again, pinching her own nipples as she looked him dead in the eyes and moaning his name, instead of the man’s that was currently laying underneath her. “Gray.”

I spit the fire from my lungs, the creature I buried is now the beast that I’ve become.

We pretend that we can be somebody else, but heaven’s judgments nothing when you’re already in hell.

Hours later, her tired feet were dragging her through the empty streets of Los Angeles. One cigarette after another finds its way out of the package, while Y/N’s lungs must’ve filled with pure smoke by now. But she just couldn’t stop, she didn’t get enough. Music was filling her ears, while the beat was keeping her heart alive.

The empty pack of cigarettes lands in the trash. Rain was running down her face, making strands of her hair stick together. Her phone was currently vibrating, but she ignored it, concentrating on anything but the two man that wanted to talk to her.

Grayson. Luke. Grayson. Luke. Gray… Luke.

We are possessed. We are all fucked in the head.

Once she finally arrived at her desired destination, a relieved sigh left her lips. It was a nightclub, nothing luxurious, probably something... shabby. But it was the only place that had what she wanted right now. Pills. Powders. Liquids. Everything that was necessary to forget what happened.

Those women and men that were dancing were dressed different than you’d see in usual clubs, most of them covered in latex – others were almost naked. But she was looking for someone special, the only person that could fulfill her current needs. Jairus. The one with the best… medicine. He was the one Y/N lost her virginity to when she just turned 16. Shortly after that, she started to buy her stuff from him. Ever since, she sleeps with him.

Once she bought – and took – what she needed, her body already reacting to the substance, she sat on top of Jairus’ desk, her feet dangling from it without touching the ground. “You’re always coming back, aren’t you?” Jairus’ fingertips were drawing lines onto her covered legs while Y/N was trying to process her current high. His lips started to move against her neck, while she crawled onto his lap, her fingers buried into his hair. Soon enough, their lips met. Teeth were nibbling on her nipples. Fingernails were scratching over his skin, leaving permanent marks. He opened his pants with one hand while holding down her neck with the other one, pressing her cheek against the wooden fabric of his desk. He’s the one in charge, both of them know them. Hell, it’s always like that. The drugs she always takes before sleeping with him – before she has to sleep with him – leaving her not caring at all, leaving her numb. But that’s what the needed to forget about Grayson.

Love is a hell, you are the devil and I am burning in the flames.

And suddenly, all the love songs were about you.

Still dazed by her intoxication, she arrives at the house, walking straight into the bathroom while already removing her clothes, ready for a shower to scrub off anything that happened with Jairus. Humming along to some random melody in her head, she didn’t hear that the shower was already running. Not hearing that someone was already inside, but as soon as she opens the bathroom door, a naked Grayson was revealed under the shower. Gasping, she couldn’t help but stare at him, enjoying every single muscle on his stomach before her gaze wanders further down – only to see the thermal bath-hoe kneeling in front of her best friend, lips wrapped around his erect cock. She could’ve enjoyed the view, for sure, if it wasn’t for this bitch to be on her knees. His groans causing goosebumps on Y/N’s skin, but most likely out of disgust. She was the one that was supposed to make Grayson feel those feelings, but now it was someone else. Again.

Closing the door silently, she walks straight towards to the other bathroom, stripping out of her remaining clothes before going directly under the way too hot waterjet. She rubs and scrubs her body as clean as it could get, while her skin gets redder with every second in this heat. Once she steps out of the shower, she instantly shudders at the temperature difference. Starring into the mirror, she grabs the blade out of instinct, holding it against the skin right under her left breast. Remembering the scenario, she presses the blade against her skin. Directly against her heartbeat.

Can you fix the broken? Can you feel my heart?

She wasn’t ready to leave. Not yet. She doesn’t want to leave. Instead, she slits line over line in her left thigh, silent tears running out of her eyes without mercy. Then, the blade falls onto the ground in silent and Y/N collapses, each and every feeling of being high leaving her body. The tears weren’t stopping, fleeing out of her messy head while she just screams out her frustration until her throat was sore and nothing but sobs were coming out of her lips. Her fists were punching the ground rapidly until her knuckles burst. Grabbing her hair, scratching her face, but nothing stops Grayson’s moans.

Sudden rage, sudden strength was running through her veins, the adrenalin pumping through her body while she successfully covers her scars and gets dressed, leaving her with almost no pain at all. Instead, she smirks. Opening his bedroom door, she forces some tears out of her – now almost empty – eyes, while a pout forms on her lips. Ignoring the fact that he isn’t alone, she steps into the room like she always would after a nightmare.

“Gray, can I sleep in your bed? I just dreamed a fuckin- Oh. I didn’t know you had someone over. Sorry.”

Stepping back into her own room, she grins, knowing that Grayson would feel bad for her, kicking this girl out and coming to comfort her. He always does. And he always will.

You smiled at the stars like they all knew your secrets.

Now they are laying here. In Y/N’s bed. Grayson and Y/N. She’s telling him about her ‘nightmare’ while Grayson listens quietly, wrapping his arms around her stomach to calm her down.

“It was so weird, Gray. I was there, but somehow, I wasn’t. I saw how I… drowned. But you were standing right next to me, not helping me at all because you were talking to some girl”, she bows her head, knowing his conscience gets worse by second. But as soon as he was about to say something, she continues to speak. “You were holding me under water, not realizing I was drowning. Once I was dead… You just went on and walked over to that girl. You didn’t care about me at all.” By now, she got angry again, talking herself into rage. “You didn’t give a single fuck about me. Well, then I woke up and wanted to take a shower in my bathroom, but what did I see? This fucking girl from my fucking dream sucking your fucking cock.”

His otherwise perfectly shaped lips open, but instead of speaking up, he closes them again. “I know, I know, I couldn’t care less about who you’re fucking, but in my bathroom? In my shower?” Now the side effects of the amphetamines were talking out of her. Anger. Fury. Hate. “You’ve got a bed to fuck your whores, Grayson. Don’t you?” His eyes widen in shock while he balls his hands to tight fists, now getting angry himself.

“Well, at least I don’t moan someone else’s name while riding some random guy, Y/N. I don’t moan your name. You’re nothing better than me, Bubbles.” This time, the nickname didn’t sound loving at all. It was full of scorn. “I don’t care about your sexuality and you know that. But what was that? Besides that, I found a towel, covered in blood in the laundry. And I bet it didn’t come from your ‘shaving accident’, huh? Care to explain?“

The air was thin, ready to be ripped from all the anger in it, but it wouldn’t be Y/N if she hadn’t had an answer for that.

“Oh, Grayson, little do you know, mh? I am cutting myself. I take drugs, different drugs every night. I drink too much alcohol. Whenever I fuck guys, I think about you. Think about your big cock deep inside my pussy while moaning out your name. Whenever I fuck girls, I imagine it’s you eating me out. Whenever I cut my legs open, I think about you. Even when I’m high, I think about you, Grayson. I don’t know why and I wish it wasn’t like that, because it fucking sucks, okay? But I can’t change it. I even dream of you, god damned! And when I wake up, I need to finger myself until I can’t come anymore, just because of you.”

You’re afraid to tell people how you feel because it will destroy them, so you bury it deep inside yourself where it destroys you.

Grayson was watching the girl in front of him the entire time, hesitating to say anything. Grabbing his own hair, he swallows loudly. “You’re dreaming of me? What exactly are you dreaming, Bubbles?” He doesn’t run, he doesn’t leave her side. He just watched her in anticipation. She coughs, trying to calm her voice down at least a little bit.

“We’re laying here in this bed, you’re touching me right there”, she gently places her hand onto his thigh, “while your lips move from my mouth to my neck”, her fingertips trace exact those spots, leaving him shiver under her touch. “Then, you’re removing my shirt, slowly. You’re always looking at me with that passion, that drives me crazy. Then, you’re kissing me again”, she touches his lips, so soft and featherlike, he almost didn’t feel her fingers. His breath hitches, not being able to look away from what he thought was his best friend. Until now.

“Your hands roam my body, exploring every inch, from my breasts to my legs”, his eyes wander to the baggy shirt she wore, while she keeps on talking. “You’re telling me how much you want me; how much you love me. Then I’m crawling onto your lap, removing your shirts and just stare at your abs for a while”, she giggles, “I’d be finally able to touch you wherever I want.” She draws a line from his jawline to his bellybutton and he flexes his abs out of reflex. “Your eyes are dark from lust while you’re looking at me like nobody else ever did. You’re kissing my scars, telling me you don’t mind them.” She pulls the covers to the side, exposing her legs to him.

He stops breathing, not being able to speak up. But Y/N didn’t care. Instead, she keeps on talking. “Then you’re giving me one of the best fucks I’ve ever had, we’re laying in each other’s arms while enjoying every second of it”, she shrugs it off as if it was just a dream. But the bulge in Grayson’s pants were speaking for him. “But it was just a dream, so don’t worry, I won’t jump onto your dick or something like that.”

Standing up, she lets the over sized shirt fall down to her thighs, covering her black lace underwear while she grabs the cigarettes from her nightstand before walking towards the opened window. He just sits there and stares at the girl he thought he knew. But she was so different to what she used to be like. He remained quiet the entire time until she came back onto the bed, looking at him all innocent. “Would you mind leaving now? I’d like to sleep.”

Grayson stands up nodding, walking to the door awkwardly and tries to hide his erection – without success. Once he was out of the door, he looks over his shoulder, starring at Y/N. Then, he shakes his head and basically runs towards his best friends, kissing her without restraint.

You don’t need water to feel like you’re drowning.

[klcthebookworm]

Unexpected Consequences Teaser 03

Luke, Mara, Lucinda, and Artoo successfully evaded the stormtroopers and have finally found a place to stop on their first night in Myrkr's forest. And Lucinda has finally realized who she crashed with.

It hadn’t taken much further before they crossed one of the small clearings the forest was dotted with and sent the encrypted message to Karrde. Mara insisted they push on further before stopping at a large tree bole and underneath its canopy as the last bit of dark blue faded from the gaps between the leaves leaving blackness above them. “We’ll make camp here.” She eased down and pulled out the survival kit’s worklight and set it to its lowest setting. Now that the most pressing survival needs have been answered, she had time to pay attention to her throbbing ankle and the two people she hadn’t expected to become traveling companions. She had hoped to get a spare moment to confess to Skywalker, but now she was second guessing that. His family were all targeted by Thrawn.

Lucinda took the make camp announcement as time to talk. She closed in on Luke. “You’re Luke Skywalker. Jedi Knight Luke Skywalker.”

He opened his survival kit. “I am.”

“You blew up the Death Star.”

“The first one I did.” He pulled the thermal blanket from the kit.

“You killed Jabba the Hutt.”

Mara wondered where this hero worship came from. She hadn’t passed on any Luke Skywalker stories to Lucinda and she had made sure the history lessons were accurate for the events and not holodrama stories. She pulled a glow rod out from her survival kit, so it would be out and ready.

He flattened the blanket next to the tree. “No, I fought all his guards and bounty hunters which gave my sister the chance to kill him.”

Lucinda grinned. “Dankin is telling it wrong!”

So it’s Dankin’s fault, Mara thought ruefully.

“You’re Luke Skywalker,” Lucinda’s voice got serious. “What are you doing on Myrkr?”

And I haven’t taught her how to not give information away.

“Ask your mother.”

Mara cocked her head as she glared at him. She couldn’t believe he just said that.

He ignored her glare as he held out his hand. “Let’s treat your leg.”

“It’s fine,” she insisted.

“It’s not and you should not hike for three days on a damaged limb.”

Becoming a Jedi had improved his confidence, Mara observed, but she wasn’t sure if she approved of that right now. “It’s just my ankle and you can’t do Jedi magic to it, not on Myrkr.”

“I was going to do Rebel-trained medpac on it. You have a problem with that?”

She grabbed his hand and he leveraged her up and then set her on the thermal blanket. He shifted her survival kit with the lit worklight to her feet. He lifted up the right leg and pushed the survival kit under to use as a foot rest.

Lucinda waited until both adults were settled. “Mommy, why is Luke Skywalker here?”

Mara glared at Luke again, but he ignored it as he untied her boot. She set the glow rod in her lap and drew her blaster out of the forearm holster. “You need to watch for vornskrs.” She held out the blaster.

Luci took it and turned to face the dark forest with excellent form. She had practiced that at least while Mara was away. Luke’s expression was sabacc-blank, so he was hiding how he truly felt. “You think an eight-year-old is too young to know how to shoot.”

His eyebrows raised at her snappish tone. “Has someone critiqued your parenting? I was shooting a Czerka 6-2Aug2 hunting rifle when I was her age.”

She was expecting critique and argument about what she had done for nine years. And her fear of losing Lucinda still hadn’t recovered from learning what Thrawn was up to only to get revved up by seeing her childhood lessons in action followed by stormtroopers who would add the Jades to Thrawn’s collection of Force sensitives. And it all could’ve been avoid had Luke just waited in the shed. Luke peeled off her sock and Mara sucked in her breath from the throbbing and swelling.

Lucinda looked over her shoulder. “You had a slugthrower when you were a kid? Why?”

“Watch the forest,” Mara reminded her.

Luci huffed but she turned her head back. The droid rocked into place to Mara’s right and rotated a sensor dish extended from its dome, so both side of the camp were covered.

Luke dug for the medpac out of his survival kit. “Blasters are expensive on worlds with harsh climates, which Tatooine qualifies. Slugthrowers take less maintenance, and you can make slugs if you want to take the time.” He found the medscanner and aimed it at her ankle. “Second-degree sprain. I think you hurt it worse with the running.”

“Well, I wasn’t going to slowly saunter away from stormtroopers,” Mara said.

His gaze went back to the medpac. “You should have just turned me in.”

Her back straightened right off the tree bole, but his grip on her leg kept that from jerking off the improvised foot rest. “You idiot! I was trying to keep them from learning we had you, which you didn’t help at all.”

He found the flexible tape and began winding it around her ankle and foot to immobilize it. That he was doing properly. “They came to dinner,” he said without looking up.

“No, they were uninvited. We had another set of guests that Karrde figured didn’t need to know about you. And since we haven’t heard any orbital bombardment, Karrde got them safely out of Imperial sight.” She took a deep breath against the throbbing in her ankle. “For the last time, I don’t want to see you in Imperial hands. Especially now that they have ysalamiri. And if Karrde decided differently, I was planning on telling you that and equipping you to help your escape.”

He looked up at her face, the lingering suspicion clearing from his blue eyes. Her heart turned over in her chest. Nine years, nine years, she should not still have a weakness for those blue eyes after nine years!

Mara’s other weakness scuffed her foot against a root. “Why are the Imperials after him? It it just ‘cause you’re New Republic or is it something else?” Lucinda didn’t turn around with her questions this time.

Mara leaned back against the bole with a sigh. “The Imperials have a new bounty out on him since he broke his hyperdrive getting away from them. We found him on the Wild Karrde’s last flight.”

“You found me.” Luke concentrated on winding the flexible tape around her foot. “Karrde gave you all the credit for that.”

Mara really didn’t want to get into a philosophical debate over what the Force was doing by leading her to him after nine years. So she went with her lingering outrage. “Why didn’t you just stay put?”

He sighed. “I am sorry for all this. I was trying to get you out of divided loyalties.”

He did it for her? She shook her head, of course he did. “Only you could cause this much trouble doing someone a favor, Luke.”

“Lucinda’s father,” he nodded at the little girl without looking at Mara, “must be going crazy back at the base.”

Oh damn. She wasn’t ready for this conversation. Not in front of Lucinda, not to put them both on the spot without any reflection on it. “He’s not—”

Lucinda interrupted. “He doesn’t care about me. He left Mommy knocked up.”

“Who told you that?!” Mara demanded looking at Lucinda’s back. She suspected Karrde had some theories that he was using this whole situation to find answers for, but if he was questioning her daughter behind her back, he would rue it.

Luci’s shoulders jerked up to her ears. “Ghent,” she answered sounding sorry to get the young man in trouble.

That was less troubling. Mara sighed. “Do not get biographical details of your life from Ghent; he wasn’t there. We didn’t meet him until you were three and I had to give you the job of keeping him fed because he only looked up from his consoles when he was getting shot at.” She looked at Luke, who was pretending to be fascinated with her ankle. “Her father doesn’t work for Karrde.”

Luke met her eyes with his own. “And didn’t keep in touch.”

She didn’t want him to feel bad about that. She smiled, “You may have missed it, but there was a war going on.”

“Still going on.” Luke’s shoulders slumped slightly as he finished wrapping her ankle, and put the flexible tape away.

“Wait, he was running away from the base.” Lucinda’s voice was puzzled as she faced the forest. “You found him, but he was running away. You were trying to keep him here?”

“Captain Karrde was keeping Jedi Skywalker here.” Mara kept her voice calm. Lucinda was about to go shrill over this, which was probably something else to blame Luke for. “I was trying to keep the Imperials from finding him.”

Lucinda whirled around to face the adults and remembered to aim the blaster at the ground. “But Captain Karrde can’t just keep people! It’s wrong!”

And there it was. Luke smothered his laugh as he set a medical cold pack over her bandaged ankle. Well, if Karrde hadn’t had a hellacious time with this venture of who will pay more for a Jedi yet, the Jades would finish that off. “Luci-love, when we get back to the base, I’ll make sure that you tell Captain Karrde keeping people is wrong and you can explain in great detail.”

Lucinda considered that. “Will you lose your job? I’ll do it, but you like this job.”

“After this fiasco, I’m sure Captain Karrde has learned his lesson.” Mara held her hand out for the blaster. She was looking at a suspicious shadow behind Luke.

The droid’s dome rotated a few degrees and it gave a quiet gurgle. “I think Artoo’s picked up something.” Luke twisted to face the darkness.

“No kidding,” Mara said. She aimed the glow rod’s beam over Luke’s shoulder.

A vornskr stood in the circle of light, its front claws dug into the ground, its whip tail pointed stiffly back and waving slowly up and down. It ignored the light as it stepped forward, its attention focused on Luke.

The beast stepped forward twice before the blaster bolt went neatly through its head. It collapsed to the ground, its tail giving one last twitch before doing likewise.

“Be faster on the trigger next time, Lucinda,” Mara corrected. She played the glow rod over the area, but there were no more suspicious shadows.

“Sorry, I thought the light might scare it off.”

“We know better now,” Luke said. “Thank you.” He nodded at her before he dug into the medpac again.

Lucinda grinned as she nearly skipped to Mara’s side and handed back to the holdout blaster. Mara drew her down to sit next to her. Luci yawned and pulled Mara’s arm around her.

“Are Karrde’s pet vornskrs a different species?” Luke asked. “Or did he have their tails removed?”

Mara blinked at him, impressed at his Jedi calm in spite of herself. Most men staring down a vornskr’s gullet wouldn’t have noticed a detail like that. “The latter,” she told him. “They use those tails as whips—pretty painful, and there’s a mild poison in them too. At first it was just that Karrde didn’t want his people walking around with whip welts all over them; he found out later that removing the tails also kills a lot of their normal hunting aggression.”

“They seemed pretty domestic,” he said. “Even friendly.”

“They were friendly to you?” Lucinda exclaimed. “They keep trying to eat me.”

“They weren’t that friendly,” Mara admitted. “They do better around people who aren’t Force sensitive. Karrde’s thought occasionally about offering them for sale as guard animals. Never gotten around to exploring the potential market.”

“Well, you can tell him I’d be glad to serve as a reference.” Luke said dryly. “Having looked a vornskr square in the teeth, I can tell you it’s not something the average intruder would like to do twice.” He moved to Mara’s right side and poured some tablets into the palm of his right hand. “Pain killers.” He held them out to her.

She shook her head. “Those will blunt my reaction time.”

Exasperation finally crossed his face. “I can shoot the vornskrs tonight. You have to rest that ankle.”

She glared at him but half-heartedly, and then took his hand and licked the three tablets from the palm. That contact jolted him from his Jedi stoicism and a flush spread over his face. He looked away, abashed. There was a glimpse of the younger man she had known within the Jedi. She passed the holdout blaster to him.

He walked around to settle on the left and pressed his back against the tree. Lucinda yawned again between them and snuggled closer to Mara. “Myrkr,” he said softly. “Reminds me of Endor. A forest always sounds so busy at night.”

“Oh, it’s busy, all right,” Mara said. “A lot of the animals here are nocturnal. Including the vornskrs.”

“Strange,” he murmured. “Karrde’s pets seemed wide enough awake in late afternoon.”

She wanted to rest her head on his shoulder. Luckily, the space between them prevented it. “Actually, even in the wild they take small naps around the clock. I call them nocturnal because they do most of their hunting at night.”

He mulled that over for a moment. “Maybe we ought to travel at night, then,” he suggested. “They’ll be hunting us either way—at least then we’d be awake and alert while they were on the prowl.”

Mara shook her head. “It’d be more trouble than it’s worth. We need to be able to see the terrain as far ahead as possible if we’re going to avoid running into dead ends. Besides, this whole forest is dotted with small clearings.”

“Through which a glow rod beam would show very clearly to an orbiting ship. Okay, we’ll travel by day. Good night, Mara.”

Her arm tightened around Lucinda as she closed her eyes. “Good night, Luke.”

[kaaramel]

ask for more webber content where the spider is at the wheel, and ye shall receive

a warning: some descriptions of blood and injuries but it’s more about them getting treated than being inflicted and everyone is OK in the end i promise

–

It’s a calm night, at least as calm as things get, in this place. There’s a thick layer of snow on the ground, and a waxing, more than half-full moon hanging in the unnaturally black sky, but the firepit is warm and the iceboxes well stocked. A handful of survivors have clustered around the warmth of the fire, enjoying the relative peace.

The calm is shattered when Webber and Wendy stumble into camp haphazardly supporting each other. There are fresh tears frozen on Wendy’s cheeks, a pale and lifeless flower clutched in her free hand. The light from Webber’s mining helmet is dim and nearly extinguished, and he leans heavily on Wendy to one side and a walrus-ivory cane on the other, spiderlimbs pawing vaguely at the air.

There’s a brief explosion of hubbub and panic as everyone tries to leap to their feet and help the children at once. Wickerbottom’s reedy voice is unable to cut across the commotion; it takes a thunderous bellow from Wolfgang to restore order.

Heated stones and warm blankets are the easiest to procure, and Walani is delegated away to the ‘kitchen’ area for food. Wilson sorts through the storage chests for salve and bandages, fretting himself half to pieces along the way, and between them Wolfgang and Wickerbottom guide the children to sit, as close to the fire as is safe.

Wendy sits stiffly and woodenly, fingers still clenched so tightly around Abigail’s flower that Wickerbottom is afraid she’ll crush the frail petals, and her pale skin is marred by scratches and the beginnings of some unpleasant-looking bruises. Something with sharp teeth has left one ankle a bloody mess. Webber’s injuries are less obvious under their thick coat of fur, and he’s settled into a hunched, curled-up position, still clutching the cane for support, all eight eyes squeezed tightly shut.

“Two legs. Stupid,” he mumbles, voice hoarse and thick.

“What on Earth happened to you two?” Wickerbottom demands, concern winning out over indignation, but only just. It’s not the first time any of their little group has been injured, and the children aren’t immune no matter how much anyone might wish otherwise, but when this particular pair has gotten into dangerous mischief in the past, it’s been a safe bet to assume that Wendy had the idea and dragged sweet, agreeable Webber into it.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Wickerbottom,” Wendy sniffles. Wolfgang’s enormous hand rubs her frail back with infinite tenderness. “It was my fault. I wanted to show Webber something downstairs.”

'Downstairs’ is their euphemism for 'underground,’ to the maze of cave systems that winds its way beneath the island. The place has its uses, but wandering too far through the caves is exponentially more dangerous than exploring aboveground, and the eternal darkness poses a constant threat as well as weighing on one’s spirits. It’s easy enough to guess details from there - the children are strictly forbidden from spelunking on their own, but Wendy has depressingly little regard for authority and Webber is loyal enough to follow her. The roving worm-creatures would account for Wendy’s wound and Abigail’s dismissal…

Wilson attempts to dab some of the blood away from Wendy’s ankle, with a bowl of warm snow-melted water ready to hand, but she deliberately pulls her leg away. “Treat Webber first,” she insists, although her pained expression is obvious. “He’s hit his head… there was an earthquake…”

Webber opens two eyes - not the large main pair, two of the lesser eyes to one side - and hisses, low and vicious. It makes Wilson flinch and Wolfgang swallow a startled yelp, but Wickerbottom remains firm, begins to reach for his helmet so they can assess the damage.

“None of that, young man,” she chides him. Webber’s spiderlimbs try vainly to swipe at her hands, push her away, but the blows are weak and unfocused, and she pulls the hat away to assess the damage with pursed lips. There’s not much to look at, externally; a matted area of fur and a faint smear of the unnaturally-colored blood leaking from his tough carapace. The rock that hit him must have been blunt, not sharp, but no less damaging for that.

“Leave me alone,” he whines, squeezing their eyes shut again and curling tighter in on himself. “Help Wendy first, she’s bleeding, I can smell her bleeding -”

“Enough of that nonsense,” Wickerbottom says briskly, before it can become an endless circle of self-sacrifice. She kneels beside Wendy, takes Wilson’s water-soaked rag. “We are treating both of you at once because you are both obviously hurt. Wilson, what is your opinion on that head injury?” He’s the one with formal medical training, however spotty it might have been.

Wilson shuffles over for a closer look, bites his lip. “I don’t know how to check compound eyes for a concussion. Or how Webber’s anatomy works in general, I’m afraid… There’s plenty of ice, at least.” He reaches to gently probe at the injury, looking for the extent of the cut. “A cold pack, some salve and some rest might be the best we can -”

When his fingers brush against Webber’s fur, the boy lets out a hoarse, snarling moan, not of pain but raw fear. “Don’t touch me,” he snaps, flinching away, “don’t don’t don’t…” His spiderlegs curl to cover his face, hiding his eyes. “Wake up and help me, why won’t you wake up..”

“Just let them help, Webber,” Wendy coaxes, voice tight but otherwise stoic in the face of Wickerbottom disinfecting the deep wounds in her leg. She glances sidelong up at Wilson, sees the adults’ confusion. “It’s the spider. I think he got knocked out when he hit his head but the spider kept going. Its brain must be somewhere different and it’s scared. Webber, nobody is going to hurt you…”

He opens a few eyes and peers at Wendy through his legs, the round white dots gleaming in the firelight. “He won’t wake up. Wendy, I don’t know how to deal with all these people. Not on my own.”

Wilson suppresses his mingled disgust and scientific curiosity and moves, carefully, into the spider’s field of vision. “I’m going to touch you if you’ll let me,” he tries. “I’m not going to hurt you and Wendy would probably pop me one if I did. I’m more or less a doctor. I’d like to take a better look at your head and then you should get some rest anyway, and us humans will leave you alone. Okay?”

“Okay,” the spider allows, cautious, and Wilson pushes its fur aside to examine the wound as gently as he knows how. It shudders but doesn’t object to the touch this time.

“Standard practice is to ask you questions to keep you talking and alert but again I don’t know how that works when I guess you’re not really the one who’s concussed,” Wilson says. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

“No,” it insists.

“Show him your arm, Webber,” Wendy says, gentle but insistent. Her leg has been neatly bandaged, and Wickerbottom is making and applying honey poultices for the worst of Wendy’s other scrapes. Under normal circumstances she might have begun to protest this coddling, but apparently keeping Webber calm is enough of a distraction to keep her passive, which is all for the good as far as Wickerbottom is concerned.

Reluctantly, Webber unfolds enough to display the underside of his right arm to Wilson. The long scrapes, probably the fault of another hungry worm, are unpleasant but not deep.

“Salve will do for this,” Wilson decides, “and for the one on your head. Will you let me do that or do you want to put it on yourself?”

“You’d better,” Webber says, deeply reluctant. “I’m not as good with his hands.” It doesn’t react nearly as strongly to being touched this time, even though Wilson knows the crude disinfectant they use stings like the dickens. Either it’s beginning to trust Wilson’s good intentions or it’s worn itself out.

“Brave spider-child should not hide wounds,” Wolfgang tries, and Webber glares at the poor man with another low hiss. Wolfgang stands, rather abruptly. “Wolfgang will get ice.”

“Be nice,” Wickerbottom chides it. “Now tell the truth this time - are you hurt anywhere else?”

“No,” Webber says, meekly. Ms. Wickerbottom’s no-nonsense manner appears to transcend species to get results. “Really this time, no more.”

Walani and Wolfgang return from the direction of the 'kitchen.’ Wolfgang is lugging an entire stone pot of thick, meaty stew; Walani has, as usual, opted for the easier path and is bringing a stack of wooden bowls in one hand and a bundle of grass presumably containing ice in the other.

Walani hands over the crude cold pack to Wilson and starts dishing out her stew, passing a bowl each to Wendy and Webber. “Soup’s up, dudes, eat it while it’s hot.” She ladles out a third bowl for Wolfgang, who accepts it with the clear gratitude of a man who has never turned down food in his life. “I overheard most of that, enough that I got the vibe, I think,” she continues, offering a fourth bowl to Wickerbottom and then to Wilson; when they both refuse, she settles down to eat it herself. “Feeling any better yet, spiderbuddy?”

Webber has the cold pack in two of their spiderlimbs, holding it firmly to their head while leaving both hands free to grip the carved-birchwood bowl. “Better. Yes,” it says, claws fidgeting for a better grip on the ice. “He’s, the other half’s not really awake yet but he’s not so quiet. I think he’s okay.”

“That is good news!” Wolfgang declares, already returning to the pot for seconds.

“Once you’ve eaten, get as much rest as you can,” Wickerbottom instructs them. “That goes for both of you children, but especially Webber. Take those thermal stones with you. You’re most certainly exempt from chores around camp until you’ve made a full recovery.”

“Yes, ma'am,” Wendy says, her usual melancholy composure all but returned. Before long she sets her bowl aside, takes a glowing-red stone into her lap, and waits for Webber to finish. He’s clumsier about it but more enthusiastic for the food, and finishes to the last drop.

Wilson helps both children to their feet and gets them back into position supporting each other, which will certainly get them far enough to reach a tent if it got them back to camp in the first place. He notes that the spider’s objection to being touched by humans doesn’t appear to apply in this case. It’s not exactly proper for Wendy and Webber to share a tent for the night, but they’ve done it before and this place is far, far past propriety.

Once the two of them have left the circle of firelight, Wilson sags slightly and turns to look at Wickerbottom, who is already washing out the discarded bowls in the basin of snowmelt. “I’m never going into pediatrics.”

“Or veterinary work, I presume,” she rejoins, peering over the top of her glasses at him.

“That either.”