#I want to give them matching Icelandic sweaters | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

urmomsstuntdouble · 4 years

Note

if you’re okay with hetalia! I would love anything with the nyo!nordics they are absolutely my guilty pleasure. it can be shippy or familial or whatever else. I’m partial to stupid AUs like “they all work at the mall but don’t match their stores at all” and “iceland is into vocaloid” but you could also go the complete opposite direction and I’d be just as happy with high fantasy or whatever inspires you :)

here ya go i guess. sorry this took so long, i sort of got carried away with it and now it is Lorge. is it good? in character? who knows. anyway, i hope you enjoy :)

December 19, 20XX

After five years of living together, there were certain things Ylva had come to expect of her roommates. Harassment at work was nearly a given when one of them had a problem, whether it was Runa needing a place to sleep for the night or Maija needing to workshop material for her latest gig. Thankfully, Ylva worked at a Color Me Mine instead of a bank or something serious. And today was no exception to the Workplace Harassment Rule. At 7:32, Maija burst through the front door and charged over to where Ylva was filling bottles of glaze. If she were any other customer, someone might have something to say about it, but by now, every staff member was acquainted with her and found her charming. Some had even been disappointed to hear she was taken, though Ylva couldn't imagine why. Her girlfriend was a fucking nightmare.

“I need to paint some mugs,” Maija demanded, tossing the end of her scarf over her shoulder. Ylva didn't look up, didn't even take her headphones out of her ears.

“Cool.”

“For Tuli and Astrid. For Christmas.”

“There have been enough Color Me Mine presents circulated within our apartment already,” Ylva said. The bottle of glaze had been filled, and it was time to move on to the next one. It was butter yellow, almost the same shade as Maija’s hair.

“Okay, you’re not wrong, but if I order on Amazon, it’s not gonna come on time. Also, you’ll get paid this way.” Maija moved a clump of hair away from her forehead with delicate fingers, as though it were made of glass. Ylva snorted, cracking open the yellow glaze.

“My knight in shining armor,” She said, “It’s not like this place is going under.” Quite the contrary, in fact. This close to Christmas, the place was packed as people scrambled to make gifts for their loved ones. Dumbasses. When they rushed the place, it was nearly impossible to get everyone’s stuff through the kiln in time for Christmas.

“Okay, well, have you considered that I’m your girlfriend?” Maija said, giving her best puppy dog eyes. Ylva rolled her eyes, trying to suppress the warmth she felt inside, and shrugged.

“I’d like to not pay rent next month,” She said, “Make that your Christmas present to me. Instead of paying my share of the rent, I get to pay off my student loans.” Maija rolled her eyes, but shifted closer to Ylva.

“Done, if I can make them mugs.”

“Fine.” Ylva glanced up at Maija. “Your hair looks cute today.”

“Oh, thanks! I’ve actually been wearing a hat all day, so I was worried it would look ugly, but…Anyway. So, I sent Runa some tickets to my show on Saturday, but I haven’t heard back from her. Do you know if she’s, like, alright?” Once again, Ylva had to shrug.

“Runa’s a big girl, she can handle herself.”

“I know, but I get so worried about her. Like, what if some handsome boy seduces her and she runs away from home, and-”

“My sister? Run away with a boy?” Ylva had to laugh. “Are you high?” Of all the reasons Runa had to run away from their mother’s house, a boy was not one of them. She’d be more likely to start her own brand of sweaters or write a TV show for Netflix, but never once had Runa talked about boys.

“Whatever. Is she doing okay?”

“I think so. I’ve been sending her money for a couple weeks, so I know she’s not starving.” Ylva had to take comfort in that. The truth was, she hadn’t heard from her sister in a while, and it was becoming unnerving. But if she got anxious about it, so would Maija, and an anxious Maija was no fun to deal with.

“Besides, when has she ever missed one of your shows?” Runa made it a point to go whenever one of them had a gig. She was always in the front row when Ylva’s band, Lithium, was playing, and always somewhere in the room when Maija was doing “comedy.” Cringing along with the rest of the audience.

“That’s true. I just wanna make sure she’s safe, you know?” Ylva nodded. It was a feeling she knew all too well. Looking after Runa defined her middle school career.

“What sort of mugs do you want?” She asked, changing the subject. She was tired of talking about her sister, tired of thinking about all the ways Runa could end up dead in a ditch. Or dead some other way, like drugs or if she ate scallops, which she was allergic to, or if she got too close to some birds while trying to take a picture and got hit by a car.

“Oh, um, I think Tuli likes the round ones.”

“All mugs are round,” Ylva snorted. Her manager probably wouldn’t notice if she wandered away to paint mugs with Maija. She stopped pretending to fill bottles of glaze and stowed the refills under the table, where they usually lived, and guided Maija over to the selection of paintable ceramics.

“This is what I mean,” Maija said, grabbing a mug from the top shelf. Ylva enjoyed the way her hoodie moved, how the fabric straightened against her waist while she rose to her toes. The mug in question was wide at the bottom, but the sides slowly curved up to the top, not unlike a sugar pot. It was cute, and exactly the sort of mug Tuli would like.

“Oh,” Ylva said, “That’s cute. I think Astrid would like that one.” She pointed at another mug on the top shelf, and took pleasure in watching her girlfriend stretch to reach it. Over the next few hours, Maija painted the mugs. Her efforts to be artistic were sincere, but it was clear she didn't have the attention span. As always, Maija never stopped rambling and never stopped making jokes out of everything. By now, Ylva was immune to most of it, although she did laugh at the occasional joke while picking bits of clay dust out from under her fingernails. Once most of the customers had left, she kicked up her boots on the table, which was mostly an excuse to show off her fishnet leggings to Maija.

“I think I’m done,” Maija said a couple hours later, paintbrush between her teeth as she stared down at her work. Both mugs were sloppily painted, but Ylva could see what they were supposed to be. Astrid’s was a reference-less portrait of her dog on one side, with cherry blossoms covering the rest of the mug, and Tuli’s had a rainbow painted along the handle and a bunch of Pokemon adorning the outside. Well, Pokemon via the brush of an ill-experienced painter. There were some that erred more to the side of horrific than cute, but Ylva knew what Maija was going for.

“They look like shit,” She said, “They’re gonna love them.”

“Hey!”

“You can’t tell me this is supposed to be Eevee,” She said, tapping what looked like a bear on the side of Tuli’s mug. Maija’s face fell, a pout gracing her lips.

“It was supposed to be a Pikachu.”

“That’s talent, I guess,” Ylva said, “Or lack thereof. Don’t worry, you’re talented in other areas.” She tacked on at the end, when Maija’s pout increased.

“Well, that’s rude. Can we go do the glaze now?”

“They’re already glazed,” Ylva said, “The next coat is just to protect them when they go in the kiln. But you can come.” The pair stood up, and made their way to the back room, where Ylva removed her fishnet gloves and dunked each mug in the pre-kiln glaze, then set them aside to dry. Before she could put her gloves back on, Maija snatched one of her hands.

“I need my hand,” She complained, but allowed Maija to press a kiss to her knuckles and pull her into a hug. It was nice, after a day on her feet, to lean against someone she loved.

“This is nice,” Maija murmured, breath warm against her neck. Ylva shivered at the feeling, and though she wanted to rub her face further into Maija’s shoulder, she couldn’t walk out of the back room with smudged eyeliner, so she stayed put.

“How was your day today?” Ylva asked, her voice muffled somewhat by the hoodie.

“Long,” Maija said, “Feels like yesterday was years ago, and I didn't do anything the whole time. You?”

“I’ve been at work,” Ylva said, closing her eyes. She could almost ignore the ache in her feet when she focussed on how warm Maija was and the pressure of arms on her back.

“Mm,” Maija hummed, “When do the mugs go in the kiln?”

“When they’re dry,” Ylva mumbled, swaying slightly. She missed this. Even though she was done with school, no one else in the apartment was. Finals week was almost done, though- Which reminded her, Maija really needed to be studying. She had a test tomorrow. Eh, she’d already spent two hours painting mugs. A few more minutes spent hugging wouldn't hurt.

“That’s annoying,” Maija said, her voice high and soft. Her sentence was punctuated with a yawn, and Ylva was glad her face was hidden, because how dare someone make a sound so cute. The smile on her face would become a target for mockery, and go straight to Maija’s ego.

“My shift ends soon,” Ylva said, clenching her fingers in the back of Maija’s hoodie.

“Yeah.”

“The car’s not far.”

“Thought Tuli took the car to school today,” Maija mumbled, straight into some of Ylva’s hair.

“Astrid got them an Uber,” Ylva said. This was where it was at, even though Maija was insufferable most of the time. Conversations that meant nothing, hugs, and the comfortable familiarity of someone she’d loved for a long time. But, technically, she was still on the job. So she pulled away, gave Maija’s hand a quick squeeze, and left the back room feeling energized.

December 20, 20XX

“Do you think I should dye my hair?” Maija asked, leaning heavily against the shopping cart.

“Mm. It could look cute. What color are you thinking?” Tuli asked, not pausing in her examination of the supermarket’s selection of spices. Maija clicked her tongue, and ran her hand through some heavily gelled hair.

“Oh, you know. Blue and pink are the classic colors, but what if I got, like, green or something? That would be pretty neat.” Tuli plucked something from the shelf and returned to the cart.

“But: Are you biased to dye it green right now because green is a Christmas color?” Hm, that was a good point.

“I don't think so?” Maija said, “I mean, green’s a nice color.”

“That it is,” Tuli agreed, and laid a hand on the shopping cart. “What else did they tell us to get?” Maija pulled a crumpled up list of ingredients out of her back pocket, and read over them. From the looks of the shopping cart, most of it had already been gathered.

“Uh, craisins. And…those sprinkles that are actually eyes?”

“Oh!” Tuli smiled, “I put that. I wanted to put them on cupcakes, but then I didn't really plan anything else, so…I guess I’ll just end up eating a bunch of eyeball sprinkles. Or maybe someone else will do something with them.” Tuli shrugged, and brushed some hair out of her eyes. “So. Craisins.”

“Craisins ahoy,” Maija replied, though she wasn't sure what Craisins ahoy actually meant. To her knowledge, most Christmas meals did not include craisins, but when Ylva and Astrid were in the kitchen, she did not question them. They were magicians of the culinary persuasion, except for when Astrid tried to say that bananas on pizza were good. No, Maija hadn't tried it, she would not try it, and it was not good. End of discussion.

“Craisins,” Tuli agreed, and turned away to search for them, leaving Maija to follow behind with the cart. Though they were out for craisins, both of them had a habit of picking up interesting foods, sharing it with the other, and deciding if it was actually worth buying. Jalapeno chocolates? Yes, but we can't tell the others it’s spicy. Mango flavored tea? Not actually that interesting, but the box was pretty.

“Hey, Tuli,” Maija asked while they were waiting in line at the checkout.

“Mm?”

“Do you like Pokemon?”

“Oh, yeah! I was super competitive on the Pokemon scene in middle school. I was one of, like, three kids who actually knew how the card game worked,” She said.

“I didn't know I was in the presence of royalty,” Maija teased. Tuli gave a soft laugh, and adjusted her hoodie.

“Plot twist,” Tuli said, “I’m actually both Jessie and James, smashed into one body.” She laughed at her own joke, though it wasn't funny. Maija gave her a pity laugh though.

“Oh, move the cart up,” Maija said, and Tuli did, pulling the cart after her. The store was super crowded today- Probably not the wisest idea to save the shopping until this close to the holiday, but oh well. At least Maija had gifts for everyone this year. She was rather proud of that. It was worthy of straightening her bow tie- If she had been wearing a bow tie, that is. She should get more of those. Insufficient bow ties was an excellent description of her wardrobe. Unfortunately.

All in all, the trip to the store lasted about two and a half hours. Not too shabby for a pre-Christmas haul, if Maija had anything to say about it, and soon enough, they were back home. Ylva was out at work, and Astrid was busy working on her thesis, so the pair set about to silently put all the new groceries away. Once that was done, they traipsed off to their respective rooms. Maija knew she had to work on her new set, but couldn't think of anything funny. Literally, hours went by and she was still staring at the same blank screen. How fun.

Eventually, she got bored and sent Astrid the link to a YouTube video called i sword fight my ex gf in a denny’s parking lot with the caption omg this is so us!!1!. A couple minutes later she was rewarded with the word Blocked, despite not actually getting blocked. Love you too bab <3. No response. At least Ylva thought she was sort of funny. Or at least, funny enough to go to her shows. Did Ylva actually think she was funny? As if they hadn't had that conversation before. But, Ylva was on her mind, so Ylva she would text. babe. A couple minutes passed before the response of what.

am i funny

You’re the courtiest of court jesters. i lose my spleen laughing every time i go to one of your shows.

Though Ylva still had her spleen, the message was reassuring.

should i dye my hair

Idc, its not my hair. A pause. also i got your dumb mugs

yay!

Ah, punctuation. Noice. Ttyl. Maija sighed at that, and returned to staring blankly at her laptop. Maybe she could write some jokes about her weird, not-quite-rivalry with Astrid. Or her relationship? Something didn't sit right with her about mocking her girlfriend on stage. It was only funny when Ylva could mock her back. And that was how Maija wound up watching clips of various comedians until the evening rolled around and Ylva came home.

“Hey,” Maija said, “Tell me what to write about.” Ylva paused for a second, taking off her coat and boots.

“How girls always dye their hair blond but do it so you can see their roots.”

“What?”

“‘Cause they’re, like, into beauty but half ass it when it comes to their hair,”

Ylva said, “It’s irony or whatever.” Maija didn't think the idea was that good, but stowed it away in her mind, just in case.

“Thanks, luv,” She said in her poshest English accent.

“Nobody with that accent says luv,” Ylva told her, “It’s not an upper class Londoner thing.”

“Upper class London can suck my dick,” Maija mumbled, “And thanks. Love.” Apparently saying the word “love” in her regular voice was enough to tinge Ylva’s cheeks pink. That was cute.

“Whatever,” She muttered, and brushed past Maija into their room. Ylva crashed on their bed, face down.

“Tired?” Maija asked, and she nodded.

“But the M-U-G-S are in my backpack.”

“That word is too short for you to spell out like that.” Ylva only stuck out her tongue.

“I’d fuck this bed if I could,” she mumbled, “So soft.”

“Consider yourself kinkshamed,” Maija said, taking a seat beside her. She wound one hand into Ylva’s hair, combing it out with her fingers. Ylva had such pretty hair. It was already blond, but with a liberal application of dye, she was silver-haired. Except for the side of her head that was shaved, where little golden tufts reigned supreme.

“There are worse kinks to shame, but alright,” Ylva said, “But I don't need to tell you about that.” Maija choked on her breath, heat rising to her cheeks.

“I- What?! What are you trying to say?” Ylva tilted her head to the side. Somehow she was both exhausted and playful, and the combination was not doing great things for Maija’s heart.

“Oh, nothing,” Ylva teased, kicking one leg in the air. “I just know you, is all.” Maija withdrew her hand and gave Ylva a light shove, only for Ylva to drag it back.

“No, just…Just stay here,” She mumbled, so Maija did, though not without workshopping her material until Ylva was no longer in the mood to fuck the bed. Although she could feel Ylva getting annoyed, at least she was laughing.

December 21, 20XX

Tuli scanned the room once again, wondering if she had gone to the right place. Maija’s shows were always at the same comedy club, but what if things were different this time? What if she made a mistake by ordering a cocktail? If this was the wrong place, it was probably too late to make it to the actual one. Would Maija be mad if she missed the show? Probably not, right? Yeah, it was just a simple misunderstanding. She checked her phone again, and it sure looked like she was in the right place, but what if-

“Tuli,” A voice said from behind, and when she glanced up, she was relieved to see Astrid behind her.

“Oh, Astrid! Sorry, I didn't see you come in.” She stood up, and pulled a chair away from the table for her wife. Astrid flashed her a tiny smile, and sat down, though she scooted herself in.

“There’s nothin’ to be sorry for,” Astrid said, her voice rolling over Tuli in a calming wave.

“Yeah. Anyway, do you want something to drink?” Astrid shook her head, causing her long hair to shimmer in the low light. One of her jobs was modelling, and for her most recent shoot, pink hair had been in order. Where her hair was usually a pale golden shade, it was now a faded bubblegum color at the ends, and Tuli loved it. She had suggested dying all of it pink, but apparently that was more than Astrid was willing to do. It was a bit of a commitment for someone with hair as long as her’s. Still, her wife looked cute enough with pink hair that Tuli was considering dying her own blond locks.

“Not two nights in a row.” The previous night, Astrid had attended a Christmas party for work, and had more to drink than was wise.

“You’re such a grandma,” Tuli teased, running one foot up Astrid’s leg under the table. Astrid’s slight shiver made her smile, though she tried to hide it by taking a long sip of her drink.

“Hey,” Another voice said from her other side, breaking the soft air between the two women. Ylva had arrived, it seemed, decked out in leather and fishnets, with only the most extreme eye makeup on.

“Hey, how are you?” Tuli greeted her with a warm smile, though Ylva did not return it.

“I’m alright. Don’t really want to see Maija embarrass herself again, but it seems to be her passion.”

“Oh, don’t say that!” Tuli gasped, “She’s not that bad!”

“She’s not that good either,” Astrid mumbled, leaning forward to rest her chin on her hand.

“You guys are so mean!” Tuli said, mocking offense. In her heart, she knew Maija wasn’t particularly good at delivering a joke, but she didn’t want to be rude about it in a space where Maija could hear.

“I’m allowed to be mean to her, she’s my girlfriend,” Ylva said, and kicked her legs up on the table. Tuli rolled her eyes, letting the meanness thing slide.

“You should be wearing pants right now,” She said, “You’ll freeze!” Though she wore knee high boots, fishnets and red denim shorts couldn’t protect her from the cold.

“I drove here, it’s fine. Relax, mom,” Ylva said.

“Okay, but if you get too cold-”

“It’s a great time for you to get preachy,” Astrid mumbled. Tuli blushed, though she wasn’t wrong. Her dress was better suited for the warmer seasons.

“I have a flannel in my purse,” She mumbled.

“That’s gay,” Ylva deadpanned, scrolling through her phone. Tuli rolled her eyes. At least one of them had the sense to dress for the weather. Astrid had on knee high boots that looked like they belonged to a high fantasy video game, olive green jeans tucked into her boots, and a gray sweater dress that hugged her narrow frame. She was lovely, or at least Tuli thought so.

For the next couple minutes, the three sat in relatively comfortable silence. Tuli had to wonder how Ylva was comfortable sitting with her knees in her chest, but she let it go. Astrid pulled her laptop out of her backpack and got started on some of her homework. Tuli had always liked the idea of grad school, but after seeing the toll it took on her roommates, she began to second guess it. Astrid would be paying off her student loans for the rest of time, and Maija would be saddled in debt after the heat death of the universe. At least the loans made for good comedy on occasion.

By the time the lights dimmed and the first comedian took to the stage, Tuli had grown bored, and was watching Astrid work over her shoulder. She was working on her thesis. It wasn't due until May, but she’d already started over from scratch twice since she started. When the lights went down, Astrid paused her typing, then lowered the brightness and started typing. She worked all through the first comedian’s set. He had some funny things to say, and some things that were more offensive than humorous. Overall, Tuli was more invested in her drink and checking over her shoulder to see if Runa was there yet.

When Maija came on, as the third act of the night, Astrid moved her laptop away from herself on the table, paying more attention. While Ylva didn’t set her phone down, she did look up from it.

“Has she already done this set in public?” Astrid asked, and Ylva shook her head.

“No, it’s fresh. She calls it a Christmas special. Must be why there’s so many stupid Santa jokes.”

“I like the Santa jokes,” Tuli said, though she wasn't really paying attention to Maija. She was listening, but tracing circles in the condensation on her glass.

“She might just be bombing,” Ylva said, a slight upturn in her lips. “You suck!” She shouted, interrupting the show. Maija paused, the smile dropping from her face as she looked out at the crowd. Her eyes were wide for a minute, then when she noticed Ylva, a smile crossed her face.

“Says the emo in the corner. Hey, did anyone tell you it’s not 2006 anymore? My condolences, but My Chemical Romance is dead.” That brought on a couple laughs, and Maija launched into a whole spiel about Hot Topic, all while staring straight at Ylva. Tuli shook her head- The whole thing was ridiculous. How Maija was funnier when she was improvising, how she needed Ylva’s help to do that. But Ylva didn't seem to mind, as she hugged herself and grinned up at the stage, saying nothing as her girlfriend dragged her through the mud. Not long after Maija began to deviate from the emo jokes, someone stomped over to their table and plopped down in an empty seat, then buried her shaved head in her arms. Ylva’s attention was immediately diverted from the stage, and onto the girl next to her.

“Runa?” She whispered, and laid her hand on the girl’s arm. The girl looked up, and holy shit, it was Runa. Tuli tried not to eavesdrop when they began speaking in hushed whispers, but couldn’t help but overhear a couple things. Failure, mother, homeless? And also college, driver’s license, weed. All that set her heart racing, but she tried to pay attention to Maija anyhow. Astrid, who was also peering over at Runa, took her hand, and gave a comforting squeeze.

When her set was over, Maija gave a dramatic bow and tipped her hat, then scurried off the stage. She returned a moment later to put the microphone back on it’s stand, which got a couple laughs. Tuli wondered if that had been on purpose. Shortly after, Maija made her way over to the table. She spun around the last empty chair and sat down, crossing her arms over the back.

“Hey guys,” She said, a little breathless, “How’d I do?”

“No better or worse than usual, I think,” Astrid said, pushing her glasses further up her nose.

“You were fine,” Ylva said, reaching across the table to pat her arm. The table was too wide, though, and her arms were too short, so she only managed to swipe at the air.

“Thanks,” Maija said, “Hey, Runa, glad you could make it.”

“Oh, yeah,” Runa said, her voice tiny. She had her arms crossed, and seemed to shrink in on herself a little. “You were cool.”

“Cool.” Maija smiled, “How’re you doing? Haven’t seen you in a while. And you cut your hair!” Runa shrugged, one hand coming up to her head, almost as if to tuck some hair behind her ear before she realized it was no longer there.

“Yeah, I guess I wanted a new look.”

“Well I like it,” Maija said, “It’s cool.”

“It’s a little messy,” Ylva said.

“Someone else is on stage, guys,” Astrid piped up, gesturing forward. All five of them looked up, dumb expressions on their face. They were, in fact, talking over someone’s set.

“Shit,” Maija said, not lowering her voice at all, “Do you guys wanna get out of here?”

“Can we?” Runa asked, looking hopeful.

“But we just got here,” Tuli complained, “Wouldn’t it be rude to-”

“Well, as we have just noticed, we are talking over someone’s set, so I think we should have this conversation in the lobby,” Ylva said, and that was something they could all agree on, so the group packed up their things and left the main area of the comedy club.

“Sorry to make you guys leave,” Runa mumbled, balling her fists in the ends of her sleeves.

“It’s okay,” Ylva said, “I can drive you home if you want.”

“I don't want to go back to mom’s house,” Runa said.

“Well, you’re always welcome at our apartment,” Maija said, playing with a piece of hair that had fallen into her face. “Can I ask who cut your hair? It’s so cute, and-”

“I did,” Runa said, “Thanks.” Though Maija was entertaining her with discussions of her hair, Tuli couldn't help but worry. She pulled her phone out of her pocket, and began typing out a message to Astrid. Do you think she’s ok? Astrid glanced down at her upon checking her phone. Idk. No way for me to know. She paused for a moment, then began typing again. Also, I watched you type that. Tuli shifted so she could get a better look at Astrid, and sent her a goofy expression. She was rewarded with a smug smile and a hand on her shoulder. Tuli shifted closer to her, until they were almost touching, with the hope that Astrid might put an arm around her shoulder, but to no avail. That was what she got for not asking, but it didn't seem appropriate with Ylva and Maija vying for Runa’s attention.

“I’ll talk to her later, okay?” Runa said, “I just need a place to stay for Christmas, and after that I’ll be out of your business forever.”

“I never said I wanted you out of my business forever,” Ylva said, her voice betraying some anger.

“Okay,” Runa said, though the indication of her tone was that it was not, in fact, okay.

“Okay,” Tuli butted in, “Runa needs a place to stay, and we have one, so that’s the problem solved. Let’s go home, I can make dinner, and-”

“‘S my turn,” Astrid said, “I’ll make dinner.”

“Sure, whatever,” Ylva said, “Is that okay with you, Runa?” Her sister shrugged, but nodded, in the ultimate mixed message.

“Dope! Alright, so you guys wanna go?” Maija said, gesturing to the door. As that was the general consensus, the group began to make their way out. Just as they were on their way out, a man came up to the group.

“Hey, I saw your set,” He said, talking only to Maija. “Maija, right?”

“Yep, that’s me!” She said, putting on a voice eerily similar to Tuli’s customer service voice.

“Well, you’re really funny, and I was wondering if you might like to go out with me sometime.” Maija’s face went a deep red, and her fists clenched at her sides

“Um, thanks, but-”

“Have you ever heard of a straight woman with a rat tail?” Ylva asked, and threw her arm around Maija’s waist.

“If you have, I’d actually like to meet her.” Neither of them noticed, but Runa seemed to wince, pulling her arms even tighter around herself. Her cheeks had gone red, but the door hadn't been open long enough for it to be attributed to the cold.

“Oh, shit. Sorry, uh, you don't look gay.”

“I’m-” Maija sputtered, “This is my girlfriend. But I’m sure you’re- You’re very sexy to some. Thanks- Thanks for coming to my show, bye!” Tuli felt bad for laughing, but Ylva clearly didn't. She cackled, in fact, as they filed out the door and away to their car.

“But you should really get rid of the rat tail,” She told Maija, and Tuli couldn't agree more.

“It’s a part of my look!” Maija whined, running a hand through her hair. Though she had employed copious amounts of gel to preserve a coiffed look, it was mostly falling apart by now.

“Yer look is…You should change it,” Astrid said snidely.

“What’s wrong with it?” Maija asked, walking backwards so she could face Astrid, although she kept one hand firmly in Ylva’s.

“The rat tail, f’r one. Yer hair’s a mess, clothes never match, and-”

“We can't all be models, Astrid.”

“She’s got a point,” Ylva said.

“You’re all bullies!” Maija whined, turning back around. “I can't believe my own lover would betray me like this.”

“I said what I said,” Ylva said, seeming unbothered, though she yelped when Maija attacked her with a side hug.

“You guys are so loud!” Runa whined, hands now in her pockets.

“It never ends,” Tuli warned, though her tone was jovial, “You’re lucky Ylva’s already graduated.”

“Don’t remind me,” Astrid said, her cheeks paler than usual. Tuli chuckled softly at the memories- Ylva was probably the worst student out of the lot of them, and college had been a stressful time for her. Where Tuli wanted to rip out her hair sometimes, Ylva actually had. It was actually concerning how many times someone had found Ylva crying with fists full of blond hair. Not that college hadn't been stressful for all of them. Tuli was set to graduate in May, and her experiences had made her question grad school.

Though she was only a year younger than Astrid, she was further behind in school, due to her gap years. They had known each other for a long time, and had been together since high school, but Tuli had never seen Astrid more stressed out than when she was applying to PhD programs. Stress remained simmering ever since, but Tuli wasn't sure if she was willing to put herself through that. She would probably be fine getting a job at a museum or something, given her major of theology.

The group reached the car, only for Ylva and Maija to break out into an argument over who would drive home. Both claimed the car to be theirs, even though it was actually Astrid who paid for most of it. Ylva won out in the end, and she continued arguing with Maija the whole time. Runa seemed mortified by the whole ordeal, but Tuli didn't want to prod. Once they got home, Astrid fulfilled her promise of cooking dinner, and they enjoyed a round of extremely loud conversation, as was typical of their household, before Maija started drinking to celebrate her set. Though the air in the room was jovial, everyone was tired, and they somehow managed to get to bed before the time became ungodly.

December 22, 20XX

Saturdays. There should have been more stuff on Twitter, given that it was a Saturday. More people- Ylva, Maija, Tuli, Astrid- should have been out, given that it was a Saturday, but no. Weren’t you supposed to go out and party every night when it was a Saturday night? Four college kids sitting around the living room drinking wine and knitting and watching TV wasn't what Runa had expected when she crashed with Ylva. Weren't there places to go, things to do?

Instead, she had a pillow under her chest and her phone clenched in her hand as she laid on the floor, watching the nth consecutive episode of Sense8. How was there so much of a show that only went on for two seasons?

“So wait, is he actually there?” Maija asked. Ylva sighed, and paused the show to explain every detail of the situation. That was how, Runa thought. She turned her face into the floor, scraping her nose against the rug. Her neck thanked her for relieving it of the odd position she had been in previously. As Ylva prattled on about the ins and outs of Sense8, Runa brought a hand up to stroke her newly shorn head. She couldn't stop touching it- Although she sort of wanted to, it was getting greasy. Her hair had never been so short, and she didn't know what to think of it. It wasn't exactly uncomfortable, but she didn't know how to feel now that her hair didn't rest against her shoulders.

But it didn't matter. Her hair didn't matter, right? All that mattered was that she got into Princeton. She was smart, and she was going to Princeton, and she had a place to stay until Christmas. What am I doing? Sleeping on her sister’s couch while avoiding her mom wasn't something to be proud of, but it was all she had. But a song she liked was part of the soundtrack, so she turned onto her side, and watched the show. Maija was right, it was really confusing, but at least the soundtrack was alright.

Eventually, Runa redirected her attention to social media, blindly scrolling through various apps until there was nothing left to scroll through. Finally, she resorted to scrolling through her own Instagram page. She only had twenty posts, and eleven of them were of birds, with eight of those being pictures of her pet parakeet, named Puffin. Ylva teased her about it when they were kids, but it wasn't her fault puffins were the only bird she knew. Fortunately, since then, Runa had become more educated on the dopeness of birds. Scrolling through her own page didn't help, though. She was only reminded of how Puffin was dead. Maybe she could get another bird when she was at Princeton, if they let students have birds.

“Runa?” The sound of her name caught her attention, and she jolted into a sitting position. Ylva stood at the end of the couch, staring down at her with a blank expression.

“Where’s everyone else?”

“Maija’s in the shower, and we’re out of toilet paper, so Tuli went to get some. Astrid’s right there.” Astrid was, indeed, right there. She sat cross legged in an armchair, brows furrowed as she worked on some knitting, though there was a half empty glass of wine next to her. As if on cue, Astrid looked up.

“Hi, Runa,” She mumbled, and went back to her knitting.

“Hey,” Runa said, “What’s up?”

“Can I talk to you in the other room?” Ylva asked, by which she meant her bedroom. Runa couldn't really say no, so she got up and followed Ylva to the bedroom.

“Are you okay?” Ah, the age old question. Would she ever learn how to answer it in a way that didn't launch a whole discussion? Experts remain puzzled.

“I guess,” Runa shrugged, “I had a fight with mom. But it was really stupid,” Runa mumbled, and it really was. Things hadn't been going her way lately was all. She was eighteen, and every day her mom dropped hints that she’d be kicked out soon. But apparently, being eighteen didn't mean she could smoke weed or hug a boy- Even though she wasn't sure she even liked boys. And then she got to learn that her best friend was moving to a whole different country, because apparently it was Oxford or bust for her mother, and she was leaving over break- Everything was so much. And, as any responsible adult could tell you, sex won’t solve any of your problems. So why did Runa think it would work?

“I don't care how stupid it was. You’re my little sister, I care about you.” Runa couldn't help but cringe at that.

“Half sister,” She reminded her.

“Half sisters are still sisters. What happened?” Ylva pressed, crossing her arms. She adopted a stern look, and even rose to her toes to appear more intimidating.

“It’s really nothing-”

“Bullshit, tell me the truth.”

“I just- I did something stupid, and…Will you hate me?” Runa asked. It felt irrational, but what if her sister saw her as some sort of…traitor? She wasn't even sure what she was scared of. Why did Ylva’s approval even matter? Even if Ylva decided she hated her, Maija liked her enough to let her stay…Right?

“I am legally not allowed to hate you,” Ylva said, and though it was meant to be a joke, Runa didn't feel comforted. The law was just a bunch of words, after all.

“Well, um. Mom and I got in a fight. I did something, she didn’t like it. I guess I knew she’d be mad, but I didn't think she’d be that mad. I deserved it, but-”

“Until I know what you did, it’s going to be hard for me to have an opinion,” Ylva said, finally coming down from her toes. Runa supposed she was right. It would probably be better to say something, but she didn't know how. Would it even be safe? Who knew.

“I smoked a lot of weed…”

“Everyone smokes weed.”

“I, um. Please never repeat this,” Runa asked. Once again, her arms came up to hold her body. It was almost protective. Ylva nodded, and reached out to grab one of her hands. She refused to be okay with limply holding Runa’s hand between her own, and squeezed so hard that Runa had to squeeze back, as a form of revenge.

“Um. My friend and I were smoking, you know, and…In the basement. And I sort of, um. I sort of did...” She paused, remembering. “You know.” Ylva’s eyes went wide, and she started nodding. That, coupled with what she’d just confessed to, had Runa’s cheeks burning.

“Alright. Getting it, that’s cool.”

“No it’s not!” Runa yelled. Absolutely none of it was cool. “Our friendship is over! Mom said she’d leave us alone, but then she came downstairs, and we were just- She wouldn't stop yelling, and I was- I was still on the floor, and, and-” She could feel tears welling up in her throat, but refused to acknowledge them. She wouldn’t cry. She hadn't cried when her mom was yelling, or during any argument since then. Or before it, for that matter. No, Runa Stelisdottir didn't cry. Except now she was, and Ylva was watching her.

“I hate Mom.” Runa wiped her nose, because she couldn't cry over this.

“Me too,” Ylva said, and it really ticked Runa off how calm she could stay about the whole thing.

“You don't get it,” She said, though she despised sounding like a teenager.

“You don't understand! Your life is so perfect, with your girlfriend and your apartment-”

“My life isn't perfect just because I have a girlfriend and an apartment,” Ylva said, but Runa wasn't listening at that point.

“Mom was always so nice to you, and- And you have so many friends! You don't get it, you can't get it, and mom’s not gonna let me come home, and I don't have anywhere to go, but you won't-” Runa hiccupped, and she couldn't. She started crying harder, sobs shaking her body.

“Runa-” Ylva’s hand came down on her shoulder, and though her touch was gentle, it was even more unnerving.

“Don't touch me!” She shook Ylva’s hand off her shoulder, and ran. Her hiding place seemed to be the laundry closet, where the washer and dryer hummed away in their neat little stack and color coded baskets- Blue, yellow, black, and red- almost filled the rest of the room. Runa sank to the floor, phone clenched in her hand. It wasn't her fault, she told herself. It was all her mom’s fault. If she didn't want her daughters to act out, she should’ve raised them not to.

Knowing that didn't stop her from crying, though, and cry she did. She was an embarrassment, having a temper tantrum like a little baby. But eventually, she cried herself to sleep. Uncomfortable, cramped sleep, with her neck resting at an unnatural angle against the dryer, but sleep nonetheless.

She woke hours later to the faint hum of the dryer and the muffled sound of hushed voices.

“I think she’s depressed,” said one woman. Ylva.

“Really? That’s pretty bad.” Maija.

“Yeah. I mean, she’s got parental issues out the ass and doesn’t even trust me when I’ve been more of a mom than our literal mother.”

“Well, I mean, maybe that’s part of why? And it doesn’t automatically mean she’s depressed.”

“She’s on her phone all day. And I know, I know I sound like a boomer, but that shit’s not good for you. She doesn't talk to anyone, and…you know, maybe you were right about her running away with a boy.”

“I thought she was, you know…”

“I did too, but I guess not.” Runa choked at that, pressing her ear against the door. Was this a regular occurrence, that they just- just gossiped about her?

“Eh, it doesn't matter. I just hope she doesn't get into anything harder than weed.”

“You know that thing about weed being a gateway drug is bullshit, right?” Maija said, “They just say that to scare kids out of doing drugs-”

“Is it really that bad of me to want her sober? I mean, I’m not, like, saying you should never do drugs, but-”

“No, it makes sense. It would really suck if she got arrested or something.”

“Yeah,” Ylva murmured, and the conversation seemed to pause for a minute. “I just- Why wouldn't she tell me about the shit she clearly has going on?” Runa cringed at that, and she wanted to cover her ears, but there was something inside her that demanded she keep listening.

“Well, you said yourself that she doesn't really trust you,” Maija said. Runa wanted to rip her hair out. No! That wasn't it at all- Did they really think that poorly of her? Of course she trusted Ylva! It was Ylva who didn’t trust her, and only played the sisters card when things were going badly.

“She doesn't,” Ylva agreed, “And I sort of get it, ‘cause high school sucks, but since she doesn’t talk to me, I have to assume the worst.” Oh, come on. She talked to Ylva plenty.

“Yeah,” Maija hummed, “Do you think-”

“Runa doesn't care what I think.”

“I’m sure she does. But I’m not Runa.”

“It would be pretty weird if you were,” Ylva said, then paused. “I’m glad you’re not.” At that point, Runa couldn't keep listening. Her hand came up to the doorknob, and she was about to open it when Maija spoke again.

“Hey, it won't be that long before she’s out of your hair.”

“Yeah.” Ylva sighed, and the tone she said it in made Runa shiver. Like she was a temporary form of entertainment, or an obstacle, or- “At least I’ve got you.” She burst out of the laundry closet to find Maija sitting on the counter, one arm around Ylva, both with mugs in hand.

“Stop talking about me!” Runa shouted, and took a moment to relish in their surprise before she spun around and ran out of the apartment- A terrible idea, since she didn't really know the area. Her wallet and phone charger were in her backpack, which she had left behind. But she wasn't here to make good choices, apparently. No, she was there to anger her sister then leave all her shit behind after she had pissed off her mom.

Runa made her way into the lobby of the building, ready to leave, but the snow falling from a pitch black sky made her pause. Maybe she could find some storage room to spend the night in. According to her phone, though, she'd already spent most of the night in Ylva’s laundry room. And it was technically Sunday, so most people probably wouldn't be up and about for a while. So Runa set about wandering the first floor of the building- Not that there was much to wander- until she came across a door labelled T. It housed a dumpster and a recycling bin, both of which were empty. Sure, Runa thought, I can stay here. Besides, she was tired, and what harm was there in sitting down for a couple minutes? So she did, hiding behind the dumpster. Eventually, she managed to fall asleep, although her new position was no more favorable to her neck than the last.

December 23, 20XX

There was a certain sort of silence that came the morning after a heavy snowfall. It was a silence that Astrid found very peaceful, when accompanied by the correct lighting. Unfortunately, this morning was not one of them, which made waking up a lot easier. Though it would be more fun to stay in bed all day, there were things to do. Okay, she was getting up…now. Now. Okay, hug Tuli a little tighter, then…Awake! She reached across Tuli, still asleep, and felt around the nightstand for her glasses. Once she grabbed them and shoved them up her nose, she pushed herself up into a sitting position. There, Astrid combed her fingers through her hair, contemplated braiding it, but ultimately decided she could do that later, and rolled out of bed.

Upon emerging from the room she shared with Tuli, she spotted two things. One, the couch was empty, and two, her knitting basket was out of place. Instead of dealing with either of those things, though, she meandered over to the kitchen and pulled some mugs from the cabinet. She liked her own coffee black, so she didn't touch it before pouring her own mug, but for some reason, her roommates liked theirs with all sorts of flair. She left the remaining mugs on the counter and leaned against the sink. While she waited for her coffee to cool to a drinkable temperature, Astrid removed the filter from the coffee maker and tossed it in the garbage can. I should probably take out the trash, it’s getting kind of full. But then she’d have to put pants on…Eh, it would give her coffee time to cool off.

Astrid returned to the room, threw on a hoodie and a pair of running shorts, and after a moment’s thought, grabbed her phone. She grabbed the trash, replaced the bag, and slid into their Community Crocs, which were generally used for getting the mail or taking out the trash when nobody felt like putting on actual shoes. She checked her phone, saw that Maija had sent her a series of deep fried memes, and clicked away from Instagram. Maija sending her memes at four am was the least of her worries when it came to online harassment- Yet it somehow managed to be the most annoying. Astrid did modelling work as one way of paying for her degree, and apparently the rainbow flag and diamond ring in her bio weren't enough to deter the advances of the general public.

The elevator reached the first floor, and Astrid shuffled out, blinking in the bright lights of the lobby. With the trash bag slung over her shoulder, she felt like a woman on a mission- And she was, sort of, but in her head it was more along the lines of Stealth and Adventure. Maybe it could be, in her head. In an alternate world where spies take out the trash…

Or. In the regular world, where there might have been a dead body next to the dumpster. That was fun, and also the beginning of a cop show. Astrid dropped the bag in the dumpster, and kneeled down to get a better look- Or, in the regular world, where Runa was hopefully sleeping next to the dumpster.

“Runa?” She asked, shaking the girl on the floor. “Runa, are ya okay? Alive?” After a moment, the girl became awake, yelping and leaping away.

“Whatthefuckareyoudoing!?” She shrieked, then seemed to notice Astrid. “Oh. Uh. Hey, Astrid.” She made a move with her hand, as if to adjust her hair. Her cheeks only grew a deeper pink when she remembered she had none.

“Hey, Runa,” Astrid echoed, “What the fuck ‘re you doin’?”

“Oh, um.” Runa stared at the ground, her knuckles going white as she gripped her cell phone.

“Are ya okay?” Astrid asked once again, adjusting her glasses. Runa shrugged.

“I mean- I don't know.” She paused. “Can I tell you something?” Astrid nodded.

“Well, I, um. I kind of eavesdropped on my sister and Maija talking about me. Rudely.”

“Maija’ll do that. Ylva too, but less,” Astrid said. She sat back, leaning against the wall. “D’ya wanna talk about it?” Runa shrugged, leaning back against the dumpster.

“What even is there to say?”

“Not talkin’ about it is horse shit,” Astrid said, “Stuff happens, usually not great.”

“I think Ylva hates me,” Runa murmured. She ran a hand through her hair, and tipped her head back against the dumpster. “And our mom.”

“Why?”

“Well, mom hates me because I like getting high, I like to drive, and because I, um. Will you judge me if I tell you about something I did?” Astrid shook her head. Not because she wasn't judgemental, but because she didn't really care. From the way Runa was talking, it was just regular problems that seemed so much bigger to her because she was young. And everyone had those sorts of problems, so who was Astrid to judge?

“Don't really care ‘bout your probl’ms. No offense, but I’ve got my own issues to worry ‘bout.” Runa nodded, seeming to understand, then launched into an explanation.

“So, I have this friend, Li, and she’s pretty cool, but she’s moving away. To London. For college. ‘Cause of some weird custody battle that I don't really get. But then it’s like…She’s leaving me behind! And I’m- I don't- It’s weird, okay?” Runa spoke defensively, yet Astrid didn't know a single teenage girl named Li. Let alone one who was moving to London. “And we have this other friend, Noah. And his family’s also kind of weird, but that’s mostly his sister. Anyway, um. I don't know, there was this weird tension, and now Li’s gone, so I, um. Made out with Noah?”

“Why?”

“I don't know!” Runa said, “Why did I tell you that?” Astrid shrugged.

“Because 'm quiet, therefore ’m not a gossip, therefore ’m trustworthy?” Runa’s face scrunched up as she considered the possibility.

“Huh. But then my mom walked in on us, and Noah left, and we had a fight. Then his sister said we weren't allowed to hang out anymore, and my mom took my driver’s license away. And then I shaved my head, and we had another fight, and…Well, then it was now.”

“So ye’ve been busy,” Astrid said, “Sorry. ‘Bout your friends.”

“Thanks, I guess,” Runa said. “I still don't get why I told you that?” Astrid shrugged.

“Ye don't have to. But ye probably should tell yer sister.”

“That would be humiliating,” Runa complained, hugging her knees. “She makes me feel dumb.”

“Yer not dumb,” Astrid said. “Ya know, I’ve got some little nieces ‘round your age ya might like to be friends with.”

“Oh, um. Cool?” Runa said, though her tone indicated she couldn't care less. Perhaps Astrid hadn't presented it the right way. Whatever. Her nieces were menaces to society anyhow.

“D’ya want me to talk to Ylva for ya?” She suggested. Hopefully that didn't make her sound like a poser, or whatever. But Ylva was probably concerned, and she could probably help with whatever mommy issues had arisen, so. Yeah. And did it make Astrid a bad person if she was thinking through the psychology course she had to take as part of her teaching certification? No, this was something she’d have to deal with when she became an actual teacher. It was fine.

“I guess,” Runa said, “Can I, um, can I come back to the apartment now? I’m cold.” As anyone would be, after spending the night on the floor of the trash room. Astrid hoped she’d be a better mother than Runa’s when and if she and Tuli decided to have kids.

After a few more minutes, Astrid helped Runa off the floor.

“You’re um, you’re really tall,” Runa commented, having to tilt her head back to make eye contact with Astrid.

“Yes, I know,” Astrid said as they walked. Her feet slid around in the Community Crocs- somehow. How was it possible that they were too big for her? How did Ylva survive in these? “Yer kinda short.”

“I’m not that small,” Runa bit out, and the conversation ended. Typical short person response. Though Astrid amused herself, the air between them remained tense on the elevator ride up. When they got to the apartment, Astrid unlocked the door and slid off the crocs.

“Took the trash out,” She announced to the now heavily populated main room. Tuli sat on the floor, head in one hand, eyes shut, but perked up at hearing Astrid’s proclamation. A sleepy smile crossed her face and god, she was so cute. Warmth flooded Astrid’s chest, before she remembered the Runa she had in tow. “Also, Runa’s here.” She stepped aside, revealing Runa. Ylva, who sat on the counter, slammed her mug down.

“Runa,” She said, voice neutral. “Hey.”

“Ylva,” Runa said, shoving her hands in her pockets. She shuffled to the side, allowing Astrid to block her from view once again.

“Hi, Runa!” Maija said, and took a sip of her coffee. “How are you?”

“I’m ok,” Runa mumbled. Astrid made her way across the room to join Tuli on the floor next to the refrigerator- Her wife liked iced coffee year round, and when she could not buy iced coffee, she made iced coffee. The only drawback was how long she had to wait for the coffee to chill. Astrid kept telling her it was easier to pour warm coffee over ice, but Tuli wanted to do it her way, so Tuli got to do it her way.

“Hi,” Astrid whispered, joining Tuli on the floor, trying to be quiet so as not to disturb the family drama going on around them.

“Mornin’” Tuli yawned, “Thanks for taking the trash out.”

“No probl’m,” Astrid replied. Tuli hummed, and leaned her head back against the fridge. She didn't incite any further conversation, so it seemed they’d just be listening to Ylva and Runa attempt to talk to each other about their mother. Awesome. Well, more like really bad parenting and a control freak mother- Which, actually, explained a lot of Ylva’s personality. And life choices. And taste in music. And women.

Though she did try to tune them out, Astrid was unable to ignore the pair forever. Mostly because Runa called on her to arbitrate the conversation, which was dreadfully boring, seeing as it turned out that not much had actually happened. Runa was acting rebellious, whatever that meant, and their mom didn't approve. Ylva sent her money, which Runa had allegedly spent on bus fare and food. She actually spent it on weed, until their mom took her license away for Bad Behavior, which was apparently the lying but mostly the Noah thing. Which was somehow related to the hair thing. If Astrid had to comment, which she didn't, Runa was just confused about a lot of things. Unfortunate, really. But! She was now staying with them until she had to go back to school, so that was cool. Maybe during that time she would become less confused- Although Tuli taking a coffee mug out of the freezer surely didn't help.

“Why was your coffee in there?” Runa asked, pulling Tuli into the limelight.

“Oh, I like iced coffee,” She said. She set her mug down on the counter, grabbed some milk from the fridge, and then honey from another cabinet. A generous amount of both went into her mug.

“But it’s winter,” Runa said, dumbfounded. Tuli only chuckled.

“Yeah, but I still like iced coffee. It just tastes better,” She said, taking a sip.

“It’s a seasonal beverage,” Maija butted in. She managed to stay silent while Runa and Ylva talked about what had happened, but it seemed that was over now.

“How is iced coffee a seasonal beverage?” Ylva asked, “It’s literally just coffee with ice in it.”

“It’s got summer vibes,” Maija explained, “Like how you wouldn't get, like, a peppermint latte in July.”

“I could if I wanted to,” Ylva snapped back, “If I liked peppermint.”

“Okay, but you not liking peppermint doesn't mean it’s not a Christmas drink,” Maija said, “I think you just lack fun.”

“Here’s the thing, though,” Ylva said, tapping Maija’s chest with every word.

“Peppermint exists all year round, so it’s not a goddamn seasonal drink.”

“Yes it is!” Maija shouted, “They only have it in the winter, how is that not seasonal!”

“You can ask Starbucks to make you a peppermint latte in the summer, it’s just not advertised as much.” Astrid, along with Maija, and at least Runa, rolled her eyes. If there was one thing the inhabitants of their apartment were good at, it was pointless arguments. Most of them broke out between Ylva and Maija- Hopefully Runa didn't take the wrong message from that.

“Welcome to our apartment,” Tuli said, almost drily, then turned her attention to Astrid. “I’m gonna go get ready, alright?” Astrid nodded, and gave her shoulder a squeeze. She’d probably wander back to their room soon enough- She had so much work to do, it wasn't even funny. But for now, the greatest entertainment in town was watching Ylva scream at her girlfriend about the seasonality of peppermint lattes.

“Are they- Are they always like this?” Runa asked, once again clutching her phone to her chest.

“Ye get used to it,” Astrid confirmed, “Nd, for what t’s worth, your sister ‘sn’t that bad.”

“I know,” Runa sighed, “Thanks.” Astrid flashed her a slight grin.

“Not a probl’m.” After all, who would she be if she didn’t look out for her friends?

10 notes · View notes

rmjagonshi · 4 years

Text

In For A Penny, In For A Pound - Chp 3

On AO3

Amidst the giggling and affectionate name calling, the toe fish were baked and shredded. The evening was spent eating bland fish smothered with cheese and re-hydrated guacamole. Ford had dug through their cupboards and pulled out a box of chipackers and powdered sugar. They’d used some leftover butter and water to make a crude frosting and had a desert of hobo cookies. Two folding deck chairs were pushed together, an empty bucket used as a table in the small space. The bowl of frosting sat between them, forgotten, as they watched the stars and listened to the sounds of the ocean. With no light pollution from the city, the sky lit up with millions upon billions of stars, all twinkling more brilliant than any light show Stan had ever seen. Even living in Gravity Falls, far off the beaten path, the skies were nothing like they were out on the ocean. Ford pointed out what stars and constellations and galaxies he could remember; holding Stan’s hand and helping him trace the patterns in the night sky.

Stories of Greek and Roman gods and heroes gave way to reminiscing and inside jokes. Ford regaled him with tales of his inter-dimensional travels and Stan retorted with his own sordid history of crime and punishment, and his own experience with the paranormal creatures in Gravity Falls. Though it hadn’t been as detailed or as scientific as Ford’s, Stan had tried keeping a journal of his own to keep track of everything he had learned about physics, and all the weird stuff he’d encountered. He’d been on first name basis with some of the gnomes and manitaurs, part of the reason they had run to the mystery shack when things got hairy at the end of the summer. They were both flopped on deck, a giggling mess by the time either one thought to go to bed. It was fucking magical.

Stan’s heart was light when he curled up into his freshly cleaned sheets. Not even the memories beginning to prickle at the edges of his mind could ruin his night.

“Hey, not to push, but we really are getting’ low on supplies. Think well be alright fer another week or so. Wouldn’t give it much more than that. But it’s up to you.” It wasn’t completely a lie. They were getting low. The ship’s storage could only hold two, maybe three months’ worth of food and water tablets before they had to start stacking cans in the bathroom.

“Yeah. We can hit port. The ‘toe-fish’ as you call them really aren’t that strange. They act like any other species of Atlantic cod, aside from their odd appearance. I think I have enough data to document them. We can head for Ireland starting tomorrow.” Ford had already pulled off his sweater to change and was now hunched over his bunk, straightening the sheets. Stan’s eyes traveled over the scars and ink that littered his brother’s back and arms. He felt his gut tighten and his hands hitched with the desire to reach out and touch them. It had been a long few months before Ford was ready to show Stan the damage the past thirty years had done. Stan knew they were there, knew where each one had come from, but it didn’t make seeing them any easier. Sure, Stan had his own fair share of scars, but they were few and far between compared to his brother.

Stan bit his lip to hold back saying something that really didn’t need to be said. Not at this point. He let his mind drift as he watched the muscles of Ford’s back shift and slide under the raised scars and burns. He was still amazed at how much stronger Ford was. Gone was the lanky teen from their youth. Gone was the scrawny researcher he’d caught a glimpse of that late January day. Ford was muscular, but not overly buff. Lean, like a runner. Legs able to sprint a mile with little effort and arms that could throw a punch to match Stan’s own. It was kinda hot. Intrusive thoughts prodded at Stan’s mind, but he shook his head to get rid of them. Not now. Not ever, but really not now.

Ford turned, picking up the discarded tank he slept in, and caught Stan’s eye. Stan turned his head, staring at the wall to give his brother privacy. “Sorry. I didn’t mean…I just…thinkin’s all. Didn’t mean ta stare.”

“No, Stan. It’s fine. I…it helps…sometimes…for you to see them. Helps me be more comfortable in my own skin.” Ford rolled his knuckles and flexed his fingers as he spoke. He smiled and held up his hand, fingers spread. “Of course, you’ve always helped me feel comfortable about myself.” Stan chuckled, giving his brother a shy smile. But it was getting too touchy feely for his tastes. Any way too intimate.

“Yeah. If you’re gonna be made fun of, it’s gonna be about your nerd personality, not how ya look. Besides, can’t be a badass pirate without the badass scars to go with it.” Ford had pulled on his shirt and sat on the now perfectly straightened sheets.

“Stanley, we aren’t pirates.”

“Yes we are.”

“No, we aren’t.”

“Yes, Poindexter, we are. We were in international waters, and took control of the abandoned Iceland research buoy without permission. Ergo. Pirates.” Ford had reworked the buoy’s internal system to act as a satellite sonar beacon. It was bobbing about two miles from their ship. They’d go and pick it up before they headed to port the next day.

“I…” But Ford didn’t really have a response. While the buoy hadn’t been active, it was still Icelandic property. Technically, they had stolen it. Technically, Stan was right. They were pirates. “Shut up, Knucklehead.”

“HA! I’ll get the cloth from port and sew up a nice pirate flag! Unless ya want ta string up our shirts like we did before?”

“No. And you are NOT raising a pirate flag. Do you have any idea what would happen if we ran into the coastguard?”

“Which coastguard?”

“Any! It’s bad enough that I’ve got a criminal record the length of the Mississippi, thanks to you, and you are legally deceased. We don’t need anymore legal trouble.” Ford had curled up under the three blankets he insisted on having to keep warm. Stan, being the human furnace he was, was fine with just a sheet most nights. Hot and cold, the two of them.

“Get some sleep, Stan. We’ll set out tomorrow.”

“Night, Sixer.”

Stan and Ford drifted off with the slow rocking of the boat and the gentle sounds of the ocean waves.

Stan stretched out his spine, letting his back ease into the soft mattress. The boat rocking back and forth with the smallest of motions. He felt warm. The sheet around him growing softer and heavier. He could hear music. Light and unobtrusive. A lullaby. Wait. There were words. Someone was singing? Stan blinked open his eyes to be greeted by a smiling stuffed rabbit. It was tiny and hung on a string above his bed with four other tiny stuffed toys. A mobile. His mom was singing, off somewhere else. But it was okay. She was near. Stan turned his head to see the grey fluff of his brother’s head. Ford was sleeping soundly with six fingers wrapped around Stan’s arm. Stan rolled to his side, facing his brother. With light touches so as not to wake him, he traced Ford’s features. Fingers running over each closed eyelid, trailing back to trace over the curves of his ears. Over Ford’s hairline and eyebrows. Down the bridge of his nose and over the pink parted lips.

Ford’s lips puckered as Stan traced them with his thumb. Ford mumbled, chapped lips catching on Stan’s skin. His eyes blinked open, lashes fluttering. Bright blue eyes stared blearily back at Stan as a sleepy smile spread over his lips. He gently kisses the thumb resting against his lips and nuzzles against Stan’s open palm.

“Morning.” He breathes against the callused skin. Stan grins.

“Morning, Sixer. How’d ya sleep?”

“Mhn. Good. Still tired.” Ford closed his eyes again, pulling the covers up to his neck and pushing his face further into the pillow.

“Heh. We don’t hafta get up. Nothing we gotta get done right now.” Eh, that wasn’t true. But who was paying attention out here? They could enjoy a late morning if they wanted.

Ford hummed, frowning. “Cold.”

Stan chuckled, holding the blanket up. “Well then, get yourself over here, nerd. I’ll keep ya warm.”

Ford shuffled across the space between them and wrapped his arms around Stan’s torso, burying his face in the soft grey hairs that blanketed Stan’s chest. He hummed in delight, resting his forehead on Stan’s clavicle. His body fit perfectly along Stan’s, hips chest pressed into Stan’s soft gut and hips settling against Stan’s thighs. Stan hummed at the feeling of Ford’s soft cock sliding against the sensitive skin of his inner thigh. He ran a hand over Ford’s bare side and back. Callused hands sliding over scarred skin to trace along the pudge of a hip, the top of a thigh. Ford squeaked when Stan gripped one ass cheek in his hand and squeezed. Dexterous fingers followed the line of it, up and down, each pass getting closer and closer to Ford’s tight puckered hole. The tip of his index finger pressed against the ring of muscle and worked to ease the tension.

“Stan.” Heavy breaths ghosted over Stan’s chest. He could feel Ford relaxing for him. The ring of muscle contracting and loosening around his fingertip. He circled the ring from the center outward. A slight press and his finger was enveloped in heat. A muffled whine echoed in the room. Stan pressed a grin into Ford’s hairline, still working his finger passed the first ring. It was dry. He wasn’t going to get far, he wasn’t trying to, but it was the best way to get Ford worked up. Light touch, teasing, just fingering the inner ring. Six fingers clutched Stan’s hips, kneading the flesh. Ford was mewling before long. His hips rocking against Stan’s thigh. He was hard, or getting there. He was panting now, hands traveling south to squeeze Stan’s ass.

“Shh. It’s alright. I gotcha.” Stan pressed a kiss to Ford’s temple. Pulling his finger free, he pushed against Ford’s shoulder to roll him onto his back. He placed a quick kiss against Ford’s lips, a soft nip along his jawline, before sucking a trail down Ford’s neck. Lips and tongue danced over pecks, pausing to give each nipple attention. Ford watched him with half-lidded eyes, gasping and wanting. Stan circled each rosy bud with his tongue, nipping at the sensitive flesh and rolling it between his gums.

“Stanley! Uh, huh, uh!”

“Heh, whatcha want, Sixer? Whatcha want yer brother ta do for ya? Just name it.” Stan purred into Ford’s abdomen. He mouthed a line down to Ford’s navel. “Hm? What is it?” He darted is tongue in and out of Ford’s navel, tracing the outer circle. “What do you need?”

“Stan, please!”

He grinned.

He leaned back, just enough to kneel on the bed and get a good look at Ford. Writhing and wanton and aching. Ford was hard and leaking. Prick straining and twitching; the head pulsing. Stan wrapped a hand around the shaft and Ford’s hips came off the mattress with a scream.

“This what you want? Need yer bro to take care of ya? Just ask me, Sixer.”

But no answer came. He looked up, expecting to see Ford red faced and shy. instead, Ford’s face was cloudy and distorted, like one of Mabel’s drawings had gotten wet and all the colors had run together. An answer came then, distant and muffled, coming through water.

“St-n”.

“Wha’, Sixer, what’s wrong?”

“Sta-, pl-se. I’m -orr-. Ple--, don- -o…”

What the hell was going on? They were just getting started. Ford was aching to go, wasn’t he? But...no. Ford wasn’t under him anymore. Least, not the one he was expecting. The sculpted body he’d been worshiping was gone. The form under him, beside him, drifting away from him, was child-like. A kid. Ford was younger now. Ford was just a kid. Scared and crying. Was it him? Was Ford crying because of him? But Ford had wanted it...didn't he?

Oh God.

What if Ford hadn't wanted it? Was he just placating Stan? Was that why Ford was going away? Was that why he was crying?

“Please. I’m so sorry...don’t…” Ford voice grew clearer, even as he drifted further and further away.

“Ford. Hey! What’s wrong? Hey! Sixer! Talk ta me!”

Stan was losing him. Ford had known about Stan's dream. Had figured out Stan had gotten off to it, even though he tried not to. Ford had cleaned his sheets, of course he knew. Genius man he was. He was going away now because he knew Stan was disgusting. Stan didn't even know why he wanted this. But it didn't matter. It was going to end now. He'd do anything to keep Ford with him. He'd never jerk-off again. He'd castrate himself. He'd do whatever Ford wanted if he'd only just stay.

"Ford! I'm sorry. I won’t do it again. I promise. I don't know why it happened the first time, but I swear, never again!"

Ford's voice was getting louder and more desperate. He was pleading. But why? Stan had stopped. He was so far away now. Why was Ford still asking him to stop?

"Don't leave!"

But Stan wasn't leaving. He wasn't moving. Then...Ford wasn't trying to leave. Something was making him.

"FORD!"

“Please…don’t…NO!”

Stan was awake and out of bed before he’d even had the chance to make a conscious decision or even realize he was asleep. His heart hammering in his chest and eyes scanning the room for any signs of danger. Survival skills ingrained and hard learned from his tie on the streets kicking into high gear. His blurred vision fell on the struggling lump across the small space on the second bunk.

“STAN!”

“Hey, I’m here. It’s okay. Shh. It’s alright.” Stan knelt on the floor beside Ford’s bunk, voice low and soothing, or as soothing as his smoker’s voice could be. Bed springs screeched under the thrashing, covers tossed and tangled around arms and legs. Ford was panicking. The last time Stan had tried to wake him from a nightmare, Ford had damn near broken his jaw. His jaw throbbed with phantom pain at the memory. But this was a bad one. Stan reached his hand out, soft and deliberate, to curl around one of Ford’s flailing hands.

“Sixer! Ford, common. Wake up.”

Ford shot up with a snap. A fist swung at Stan’s head even as a second gripped his fingers hard enough Stan felt his bones creak. Stan ducked, head and shoulders hitting the mattress and dodging the swing by millimeters. His knees slipped on the smooth floor, and Stan found himself clinging to the bed sheets and Ford’s hand for support.

“Ford, Jeezus! It’s me!”

“Stan?! Oh, God. I’m sorry…I…” But the end of his statement was swallowed up by a heart-wrenching sob. Instead, he rolled off the bed, pushing Stan flat in the space between their bunks, and crawled into Stan’s arms. Stan found himself laying on the floor, ass naked, with his brother curled up tight to him. Ford had buried his face into Stan’s gut, chest in line with Stan’s hips. He was shaking. Splatters of water caught in the grey hairs to pool in his navel.

Stan carded his fingers through the sweat damp fluff of Ford's hair, rubbing his thumb over Ford's temple. Hushed and incoherent words tumbled from his mouth. Attempts to sooth, but not to pry. Ford would talk when he was ready. Maybe. Sometimes they didn't talk about their nightmares. Too much emotion all at once that neither one was ready to deal with. Neither one used to being able to lean on someone when they were having problems. They would get there, but after a lifetime of bottling up their emotions, it wasn't going to happen right away.

So, Ford may or may not talk to him about it. Which was all well and good because Stan was not really up to talking himself. It happened again. He'd dreamt about Ford again. And this time, he was complicit. He'd known it was Ford. Before, he was just enjoying a steamy dream about a hot guy. His subconscious had made it Ford. But this time...he knew. And he still did it. What did that say about him? That he would actually, knowingly...

Stan clenched his eyes closed and willed the memories to go away. Ford was calming down now. Harsh and heaving breath eased, tears all but dried. Ford's heart at slowed, no longer hammering its way through his chest. But he showed no signs of moving anytime soon. Stubbled cheek scratching against the soft skin of Stan's navel. The delicate flutter of an eyelash tangled with the fine hairs.

Stan felt chapped lips part against his skin as Ford sighed. His hand stalled in Ford's hair. He became acutely aware that he was still naked. When Ford shifted to ease the pressure on his back, Little Stan became aware of Ford's position. Little Stan was very interested in continuing where things had left off, even if they were imaginary. Stan was strongly against it, but Little Stan wasn't listening. Stan desperately tried to imagine McGucket in his swimsuit. Or that creepy hand witch. Something, hell anything to make his erection wilt. He felt it twitch, filling with blood and rising to meet the pressure and warmth above it. Stan wondered if he could shift, ease out from Ford's grasp just enough to let the cool air shock his system enough to stop this problem before it got any worse. Ford buried his face in Stan's navel, a deep inhale and shuttering breath heaved out if his lungs. Stan pulse flared. This was way too close to a memory he was trying very hard to ignore.

How was Ford not feeling this? Stan wasn't really complaining, he didn't want Ford to notice, but he was still confused as to how he hadn't yet. Stan didn't want to brag, but he wasn't exactly small. He wasn't a monster by any means, but a respectable 9 inches was still big enough. Certainly, big enough for Ford to notice that it was pressing up into his chest. He could feel Ford breathing. Every breath brushed against his straining cock. Another deep and shuttering sigh and Stan's eyes crossed, toes curling. NOPE!

"Hey, Sixer. Ya wanna move this off the floor? My back is gonna be yelling at me if we lay here much longer."

Ford said nothing. Just patted Stan's stomach and lifted himself onto his hands and knees. 'Wait. SHIT! NO! Don't do that. DON'T...' But it was too late. Ford's movements had brought him face to face with Little Stan. Little Stan was very happy with the arrangement.

It was dark. Completely dark below deck on the Stan O' War II. There was a chance Ford hadn't noticed. Please, please let him have missed it. But that little glimmer of hope died when Ford stopped dead. Stan couldn't see him, even if he didn't have his eyes closed, but he could fucking feel Ford's breath ghosting over the straining head. And he stayed there. He wouldn't move, get up. Wouldn't say anything. Stilted breaths enveloping Stan's prick in warmth, teasing with a promise that wasn't a promise and he didn’t want it anyway. He almost wished that ship would hit a rogue wave and knock them about. Ford took a breath to speak. Finally.

"I'm..." But that had been a mistake. Ford's lips had moved. He was a lot closer than either one had thought. Chapped lips just barely brushed Stan's leaking head. Stan's eyes bulged out of his sockets when he felt a sticky strand follow the movement of Ford's lips. NOPE!

A foot connected with Ford's shoulder. Not a kick, but enough force to propel Ford up to his knees and as far away from Stan as they could get. Stan sat up and scooted back until his hands hit the curtain covering the doorway.

"SHIT! Sorry. It can't tell the difference between you and the busty babe I've been dreamin' about. Imma go piss, you sit. We'll talk if ya wanna when I get back." It was all said in one breath as Stan stood and backed out of their shared room. Stan felt his way to the bathroom and flicked on the light. He squinted through the brightness to the toilet, feeling a rush of deja vu as he flipped the seat up. His gut rolled, but it wasn't enough to come up this time. Instead, he braced one hand on the wall above the bowl while the other wrapped around his prick. He squeezed. He muffled a moan by biting the flesh of his upper arm. He didn’t bother trying to clear his mind this time. He couldn't, not with the real memory of...SHIT!

He pumped once, twice, hips following his fist. His mind blanked, body seizing. Sticky white jets splattered over his hand and the underside of the toilet seat. His jaw clamped down on the flesh of his arm to quiet his moans. He couldn't actually break skin without his teeth, but the bruising wasn't going to feel too great either. He felt his knees give out, and he sat awkwardly backwards on the toilet bowl, hunched over the small water tank. His chest heaved. Head spinning.

Stan was still in the shock and disbelief stage of grief. He hadn't had enough time to really comprehend what had just happened. He knows if he does sit with this, he may end up throwing himself off the boat. But he doesn't have to process this. He doesn't have to deal with this. He can shove it down and ignore it. Denial, denial, denial. But he and his subconscious were having a bit of a disagreement as to what was okay and NOT okay to think about. A little voice in the darkest and most depraved pit of his mind remind him that Ford hadn't pulled away. Ford hadn't reacted with disgust. Hadn't really reacted at all, as a matter of fact. Stan pile-drived that voice back to the rancid and perverse pit it crawled from.

But the thought was there now; he couldn't get rid of it. He'd been so close. Ford had been so close to...he'd...no. No. No way! It wasn't intentional. Ford was just as shocked as he was. He didn't pull away because his nerd brain had overloaded. He was just looking for comfort from whatever nightmare had spooked him and hadn't been expecting a hard dick in his face. And Stan had just left him there to deal with it on his own. What kind of brother was he? Stan chose not to answer that stupid question. Mainly because he wasn't ready to deal with the answer. It was fine! It was all fine. Stan's thoughts tumbling over themselves. It was best now to shove all that shit down and bury it under more and more layers of repression. A few tons of self-hate wouldn't hurt either. Just bury it where that shit won’t ever see the light of day again.

He didn't know how long he sat there, ass and thighs going numb balanced on the slim toilet bowl rim. He needed to get up, clean up and see how much Ford was freaking out. Shit! Ford was probably freaking out now. He had to explain. Though maybe the absolute truth in this case was a very shitty idea, but he could come up with a lie. He's good at that. Been doing it far longer than anything else in his life. But it was definitely time to go and figure out what hole Sixer was spinning himself into.

Stan stood on shaky legs, tore a wad of toilet paper from the roll and wiped himself and the toilet seat down before washing his hands. He refused to look at his reflection. Hands dried and all evidence flushed away, Stan was about ready to flick off the light when he spotted a pair of Ford's boxers left tucked behind the door. Comets and planets and little UFO's. Considering how awkward this was gonna be, he should try and cover himself up. Ford had been fine with Stan sleeping nude, but that was in his own bed. Best to make this less awkward. Though, they were Ford's boxers. From today, yesterday? Would that just make it worse? Stan didn't bother mulling it over. He picked up the worn fabric and slipped them on before flicking off the light and stumbling his way through the darkness.

Stan felt his way along the galley counter, shuffling through his shitty night vision to the far wall. He stubbed his toe a few times on the books scattered on the floor and nearly tore down the curtain when he collided with it. He lifted the curtain and stood in the doorway, hesitant. There was no way to disguise what he'd done. He'd been in the bathroom too long. Ford might be oblivious to many social cues, but it wasn't hard to put two and two together. But he couldn't stand there forever. Time to rip the band-aid off.

"Hey." His throat felt dry.

"Hey." came the reply in the darkness. His ears, sans hearing aid, could only tell him that Ford was off to his left. Ford's bunk was on the right.

Stan cleared his throat. "You, ah...ya wanna talk about it." Stan paused, then corrected himself. "Nightmare, I mean. Seemed pretty bad this time. Could hear ya even in my own dream." Not that he was going to talk about that. Nope. Nope, not that. Never that.

"Heh, at least you enjoyed yours." Ford sighed. Stan could hear shifting on the bunk and he could picture Ford picking at the sheets. "I don't...I shouldn't bother you with this." The bed creaked as Ford shifted to stand, but Stan wasn't having it.

"Hey, no. I'm here if you wanna talk. You ain't bothering me. You never bother me."

"Oh"

"Well, mostly. Nerd talk is still a bother, but not this. Not something this important."

"Stan."

"No, 'cuz it is. You said yerself, we need to stop pretending we don't have feelings." Stan felt his way to the bed, hands patting the sheets to find where Ford was sitting. Hands found one hairy knee and Stan worked his way onto the bed. "So, I'm here ta listen. If ya wanna talk, that is." They sat wrapped in silence and darkness, shoulders rubbing together every so often. Stan blinked, attempting to let his eyes adjust to the dark, but there wasn't enough ambient light to see by. It was all just oppressive blackness. He couldn't even see his own knees.

Ford didn't talk, and so the silence permeated the darkness around them. It pressed in on his mind, and without a distraction, it dug into the layers and layers of freshly laid repression and self-hate to unearth what had just happened. His mind had been given enough time to work through the denial and really get to the meat of it. It was starting to set in what had actually happened. A spike of guilt and despair beat down on his shoulders while revulsion and horror clashed with each other in his gut. There wasn't much in his stomach but bile, but he doesn't think that will matter much. He enjoyed it. That was the worst part. That was the worst part of all of this. He'd wanted it. For a brief moment, he'd wanted Ford to lick....

STOP! Don't. Just, don't. Screw it. It happened, now let it go.

God, he needed to get laid.

A weight slumped to his side shook Stan out of his thoughts. A voice spoke in a harsh whisper right next to his ear. "You were gone. You were gone and there wasn't anything I could do to bring you back." Oh. Stan blinked as Ford continued. "You...", there was a long pause while Ford collected himself. "You left. Told me I made you sick. That you didn't know why you brought me back. Said you wanted to travel without me. That I was holding you back." Oh and damn. Now he really felt like a pile of shit. Ford had woken up panicking over Stan calling it quits and Stan had gone and waved his dick in his face. Stan swallowed down the rising bile and self-revulsion to address Ford’s statements.

“Ford. I’m not…I’m not going anywhere. I would be outta my mind ta want ta leave.” An uncommitted grunt was the only response. Stan sighed. “Stanford,” not a name Stan used often, “I spent thirty years trying ta get you back. All I’ve ever wanted was ta be out here with you. Nothing you could ever do, will make me want to be without you.” Stan leaned his head over, resting his lips atop Ford’s scalp. He could feel the tension drain from Ford’s body. They were pressed together, sharing the warmth and comfort of being close to one another. The bed was big enough, heck there were two beds, they didn’t have to. They were men. Pines men. But it felt nice. It felt really nice, and after the shit Stan was trying to pin down and bury, he was willing to indulge in a little nice. Even better when Ford started rocking from side to side.

“Promise?”

“Always, Ford.”

“Even if I did something you hated?”

“You could never do something like that.”

“What about if I did something ‘unmanly’?”

“Well, when ya put it like that…” But there wasn’t really an end to that statement. Stan breathed a deep and rumbling chuckle over Ford’s hair, grinning at the responding laugh.

"Stan..." Ford had placed a comforting hand on Stan's knee. Except it was dark, and that wasn't his knee, and his borrowed boxer shorts had ridden up his thighs. Six surprisingly soft fingers fluttered over the sensitive flesh of Stan's inner thigh for a brief moment before Stan linked his fingers with the offending appendage and lifted it to rest where it ought to be. Six fingers completely enclosed his as they rocked back and forth on the ocean waves.

First

#Stancest #in for a penny in for a pound #fanfiction #writing

10 notes · View notes

peaches-of-1 · 5 years

Text

Tarmac Romance

Taehyung x Female!Reader

You’re on time for your flight. Great. You’re sat next to a cute guy. Even better! That cute guy turns out to be idol and stage actor Kim Taehyung! That’s amazing! Now you’re stuck on a delayed plane with him and his castmasts for the next forseeable future. What happens is beyond your imagination.

Your flight was finally called. It did its best to get out before the snowstorm hit, and you were grateful for that. Because you were you and wanted to look good while in comfort, you were wearing a thick pair of Kwanzaa themed leggings and a green warm sweater dress with a black tank top underneath instead of a bra.

Cuz you weren’t about to take a 5 hour flight wearing a bra.

You noticed a lot of colorful baggage being thrown onto the plane after you sat down. The overhead compartment had your larger carry-on bag inside it while your purse was at your feet. That wasn’t the only thing, but a lot of beautiful people were on the plane too. Like more beautiful in their own unique ways. A lot were bare faced with masks on their faces.

Since you had been one of the first people on the plane, you knew it’d be a while for take off. So your eyes wandered outside. Thank god you got a window seat. The person sitting next to you greeted you from behind a mask. You looked to see who it was and it was a cute man dressed in a pair of sweats and a comfy green sweater. It’s funny how you two actually matched.

Their deep voice sounded comforting, and they didn’t seem like they’d be too much of a hassle during this flight. There was a small seven pointed star on the silver necklace they wore, but you didn’t think much of it. Very masculine, but you never knew.

“Hi, I’m Kim Taehyung. It seems we’ll be sitting together during this long flight.”

“Hello, I’m (Y/N). It seems so. Where are you headed?”

He replied, “The company and I are headed to New York. We’re performing there and also get to take a bit of a vacation too. What about yourself?”

“Just going to spend the holidays with an internet friend. What company are you in?”

Taehyung pointed to a guy’s tealish blue sweater retro accents that read HAIRSPRAY! You started gushing about how much you loved the Korean revival of it and how they make the music sound more like kpop even though you weren’t really into idols. You could apprciate the artistry and how amazing the costumes looked. He chuckled. Then it struck you. Which actor was he? It was sort of hard to tell with his face mask on, but judging by his voice...and his name!

“Link! Kim Taehyung plays Link Larkon! I knew I recognized that name!”

“You’re a fan, huh?” He asked playfully.

As if you hadn’t just been the most uncool fangirl there ever was. You blushed and gave an awkward chuckle before you nodded and introduced yourself.

He smiled, “Glad to meet you.”

“I’ll try not to bother you too much.” You said. “You probably need your rest what with performing eight times a week and being a lead.”

“Someone as beautiful as you could never bother me.” He replied.

You nodded and then got out your reading material and put in your earphones. It was what you had planned to do before you knew you were sitting next to a [Broadway] star, and he seemed to be doing the same. The last thing you wanted to do was take his sleep from him.

A few minutes later, you looked up. Why hadn’t you moved yet? The snowstorm would arrive at any moment, and you couldn’t wait to taste found family traditions on your tongue. Eggnog and homemade cranberry sauce. Pasta casserole! A flight attendant passed by. She was making sure everything was fine before the safety videos.

Those began to play on the screens. Must’ve been just a minor delay. You checked to make sure your phone was on airplane mode and continued listening to your multilingual Broadway playlist. It was on shuffle, so one second it was Spanish Hamilton and next thing it was Icelandic RENT.

You started humming along to English Lion King, and Taehyung seemed to perk up a bit. He looked over to watch your lips.

“It’s the circle of liiiiiffeeee,” You sang under your breath.

He smiled and you felt a tap on your shoulder.

Your cheeks instinctively got hot as you took your earbud out and looked at him, “Sorry. Am I being loud? Sometimes I can’t tell.”

“No, not at all. Can I listen with you? You’re singing under your breath and it sounds like an interesting playlist.

“Oh, a sure. It’s musical theatre songs in every language I could find.” So you you put your earbud back in and gave him the other one after wiping it off.

Taehyung stuck it in his ear and the two of you just sat...and sat...the delay was announced. Just 30 minutes, nothing too long. It was nothing to worry about until 30 minutes passed by already.

“We should be taking off now, shouldn’t we?” Taehyung asked you.

You nodded since that’s exactly what you thought. He took off his face mask five minutes later and you couldn’t help but think how cast pictures didn’t do this man’s beauty justice. The natural theatre grace with which he moved. His golden skin glowing in the led lights of the plane. Your heart began to pound in your ears, tuning out Hair in Russian. It wasn’t until you forced yourself to continue reading did your heart settle a bit.

Ten minutes later, and everyone was getting restless. You looked outside your window. Snow was falling. No. No. No!

“Um…” You started to say to your seating neighbor, but he noticed too.

“Yeah, I uh…” He handed your earbud to you. “I’ll go see what’s up. Be right back.”

You nodded, “Okay.” and turned off the music until he got back. In case he still wanted to listen to your International Broadway playlist.

It was hard to focus on the page without is warmth by your side. Looking at the snow made you worry. Would you get to taste your step brother’s pumpkin s’more pie on Christmas Eve like you planned? Was the snow sticking? Yeah. Yeah, it was. Very well in fact.

“Dear passengers…” A voice came on the speakers.

Taehyung sat back down next to you, and by the tense look on his face, it wasn’t food news. He shook his head and sighed.

“...I am sorry to inform you that we are currently unable to fly. The snowstorm arrived sooner than expected and all flights have been told to either land or--in our case--not go anywhere until things clear up.”

Everyone groaned and moaned and sighed and protested in unison.

The voice continued, “We are also not allowed to let you off for safety reason at this current moment. So for now, please relax and be patient. We will do our best to take care of you and will give you more information as it becomes available. For now, it is best if you contacted friends and family who are waiting for you and let them know about the delay as well. Thank you.”

So, you were stuck on a plane. It could’ve been worse. Your seating neighbor could’ve been a super talkative creep or crying baby. Luckily, it was the beautiful Kim Taehyung. International idol and actor of the stage and screen. Although you weren’t too into idols, you were into theatre. So this was great for you.

“Jeez.” You sighed. “I’ll have to tell my friends I’ll be later than expected.” and took out your phone.

“Yeah.” Then he stood and turned around. “Hey, boss!”

Another deep but feminine voice called back, “Yeah, I’m on it!”

Afterwards, you two just sorta continued to listen to music in a comfortable silence. You soon stopped paying attention to your book and just stared outside as the snow and wind got thicker and higher. Taehyung’s head suddenly dropped on your shoulder giving you a bit of a startle. You smiled at him as he smacked his lips and grabbed his Tata plushie tightly.

Cute.

You then allowed yourself to read again. There was nothing to be done now other than wait. A cast member who introduced herself as Darla asked if it was ok that he was leaning on you like that. He just looked so adorable and you didn’t want to wake him, so you said it was.

“Dear Passengers, we still have no news about being able to let you off, but since this is the time the first movie would be showing, we will be doing that soon. Also, all headphones are free as an apology for this situation. Let your attendant know if you’ll need a pai. Thank you for your continued patience.”

However, you dozed off as soon as you were told there was no real news. Languages and musicals mixed together as you performed in the mother of all plays. Not to mention, Taehyung was also there. He sand like the deep voiced angel he was as he played all the love interests allowing your true wishes and desires to come apparent. He began singing “It Takes Two” just to you.

When the song ended in your dream, the handsome apperutuib trued o kiss you. It startled you so much that you opened your eyes while still in shock. Hart, please calm down. You begged.

Taking in your surrounding, nothing much had changed. Taehyung. Taehyung was...holding your arm? Ok…? Where had his plushie gone? The heart shaped head was under his tired and heavy foot. You allowed yourself just to stare a bit at his sleeping face and let out a small giggle. His face did a tiny smirk before settling back to its relaxed state of sleep.

“Taetae!” Someone called from the back.

You shook him gently, “Taehyung-oppa. Wake up. One of your castmates is calling you.”

“Hmmmm….” He hummed. “Call me oppa again.”

“Oppa~” You laughed a bit at yourself and how sweet you sounded.

“Yeah?” He looked up at you with his boxy grin springing forth.

You couldn’t help but giggle once more. The guy called his name again, so Tae stretched and yawned before he stood and looked at his phone. It sounded like the director again. He told the idol to check the group chat. Taehyung smiled and showed you the message.

“What song?” He asked and handed you his phone.

Knowing there was only one answer to get everyone involved. Taehyung smiled when you showed him the message you had not sent. He pressed the SEND button and everyone chuckled.

“Tracy, you’re up!” The director said.

A plus sized girl with beautiful black hair stood up and began to sing, “You can't stop an avalanche as it races down the hill/You can try to stop the seasons, girl, but you know you never will/And you can try to stop my dancing feet, but I just cannot stand still/Cause the world keeps spinning 'round and 'round/And my heart's keeping time to the speed of sound/I was lost 'til I heard the drums, then I found my way.”

Taehyung stood and joined in, “Cause you can't stop the beat/Ever since this whole world began/A woman found out if she shook it she could shake up a man/And so I'm gonna shake and shimmy it the best that I can today/Cause you can't stop the motion of the ocean or the sun in the sky/You can wonder if you wanna, but I never ask why/And if you try to hold me down I'm gonna spit in your eye and say/That you can't stop the beat!”

As the cast performed an acapella version of the song, it was just indescribably beautiful. It was so cool to see the switch from human to character especially for the girl who played Penny. The girl who played Maybelle hadn’t returned from the bathroom in time for her part, so you picked up where she would’ve come in before you could stop yourself.

“Oh, oh, oh, you can't stop today/As it comes speeding down the track/Ooh child, yesterday is history and it's never coming back/Cuz tomorrow is a brand new day/And it don't know white from black!/Yeah cause the world keeps spinning 'round and 'round/And my heart’s keepin time to the speed of sound/I was lost ‘til I heard the drums, then I found my way!”

Everyone gave a bit of a cheer and clapped as we continued with, “Cause you can't stop the beat/Ever since we first saw the light/A man and woman liked to shake it on a Saturday night/And so I'm gonna shake and shimmy it with all of my might today/Cause you can't stop the motion of the ocean or the rain from above/They can try to stop the paradise we're dreaming of/But you cannot stop the rhythm of two hearts in love to stay/Cause you can't stop the beat.”

A few of the members were dancing in the walkways. It just sorta happened. Yeah, you were no Broadway baby, but they didn’t seem to hate your voice. Taehyung put his arm over your shoulder as the song came to a close.

“...But you cannot stop the rhythm of two hearts in love to stay/You can't stop the beat/You can't stop the beat/You can't stop the beat/You can't stop the beat/You can't stop the beat!!!”

People had their phones out and recorded the impromptu performance. For the next couple of hours, that’s what happened. When things got too anxious or boring someone would send a song to sing to the group chat. You got to trade off lines with both the Maybelle actress as well as the one who played Tracy. They’d just point at you, and you’d sing the next part.

There was a strong part of you that wanted to suggest “It Takes Two” for Taehyung since no one had so far, but you were wayyyy too nervous to do such a bold thing.

Taehyung had a baby ARMY in his lap anyways and was playing with her. She looked like your’s and his love child with his nose and eyes but your skin tone and hair color and a slightly similar texture. Adorable. What if...no no no. What were you even thinking? You having a child with the Kim Taehyung. ARMY would eat you alive!

“You’re staring, (Y/N).” His brown eyes sparkled as they looked at yours. “Did you wanna play with the baby too?”

He sat the cute little bean in your lap and you let her grab your pointer finger. Her hand started to shake is as she smiled all excitedly. Soon enough, you were playing peek-a-boo with the baby girl. She laughed every time. Then the father came and thanked you two for playing with and watching her while he got some rest before returning to his seat.

“Dear passengers, first we would like to thank you for your continued patience. The snowstorm seems to be clearing up from our readings!”

Everyone erupted in cheers!

“We have no word about what’s to come next. That is we do not know if we will be able to fly yet or if we’ll be able to drop you back off at the airport for you guys to reschedule for another flight--which better be free or I’m gonna fight the airline for you.”

People laughed.

“We have been told either one or the other will be happening within the next hour. We will let you know when we have information. Thank you again.”

“At least that’s something.” Said the man who played Corny Collins. He sat in front of you, and his face popped up as he looked at you from kneeling in his seat. “Aye, (Y/N) lemme ask you something.”

You looked up at him, “Yea?”

He grinned, “What would it take for you to become part of this cast? We’ll figure out a part for you to play if you want it. I ask cuz I think you’ve got a future in musicals. Pipe like yours are hard to find.”

If you got to be Tracy...you’d get to kiss Tae--

Your face got hot, “No, no, I could never!”

The bottle blonde Eunha who played Amber scoffed, “You’re talented, girly. At least think about it.” She lowered her voice. “Some contracts are expiring soon, so there will be space for you.” She grinned.

Corny nudged her and she playfully stuck out her tongue.

When her attention shifted back to you, she said, “I know what can get you to say yes.”

You laughed, “What?”

“Taetae, do your solo.”

Without a second of hesitation, Taehyung burst into singing, “They say it's a man's world, well, that cannot be denied/But what good's a man's world without a woman by his side?/And so I will wait until that moment you decide~”

The ensemble males began to croon softly with Tae, “That I'm your man and you're my girl/That I'm the sea and you're the pearl/It takes two, baby/It takes two”

No fucking way! Your face felt like it was burning and that sensation reached your ears too. The flame only got hotter when he made you stand in the middle of the aisle as he sang to you and only you. He even leaned in to touch his forehead to yours making sure he had a clear view of your face no matter if you were too nervous to look into his.

You wanted to glare at Eunha, but he wouldn’t let you take his eyes off of him, as he got you to sway with him, “Lancelot had Guinevere, Mrs. Claus has old St. Nick/Romeo had Juliet, and Liz, well, she has her Dick/They say it takes two to tango, well, that tango's child's play/So take me to the dance floor and we'll twist the night away!” He did the move slowly in front of you.

God his voice was powerful! The unique huskiness making it just the right amount of sensual. It also made your panties very wet, but that’s another situation. He put your arms around his neck as he held you around the waist. You knew that everyone was looking at you, but it felt like it was just you and him in that moment. How could Tracy do this every night?

“Tell me you're my girl and I'm your boy/That you're my pride and I'm your joy/That I'm the sand and you're the tide/And I'll be the groom if you'll be my bride” He got on one fucking knee, fam. “It takes two, baby. It takes two.”

Then he held your chin up to look at him, “It takes two, babaayyyyy. It takes...two.”

Ya melted. When he hit the last high note, the plane began to move. You were thrown into his arms and he fell on his back onto the seats. Everyone gasped. Lips.

“Dear passenger. Please get into your seats and buckle up! We are ready for take off! We only have a small window of time to do so. I repeat…”

As the attention had gone elsewhere, you and Taehyung scrambled to get back into your seats and get buckled. You hid your hands in your face and he tried to head to the bathroom.

“Sorry, sir,” A stewardess stopped him, “We must ask that you stay seated until we are in the air.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He sat and put on his seatbelt.

You couldn’t bare to look at him with your heart pounding in your ears even as you apologized for falling into him. He pat your back and said it was ok. Was that a chuckle you heard?

At some point, you were finally able to sit up but still found it hard to look at the beautiful man directly. Also, turbulence with your head down would not be fun.

“Don’t worry about it, ok? I know it was an accident.”

“You’re ok? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

He shook his head, “No, I just…”

You were about to ask what he was trying to say when you saw him move the long recovered Tata to cover his crotch. That area wasn’t that high before, was it? You blushed when you realized.

That was a boner.

“Did I do that?” You asked, having lowered your voice.

Taehyung nodded, “ I was gonna go to the bathroom to...but…”

You swallowed knowing you could help him out. The blankets provided by the airline and the darkness of the plane could hide things if he could keep quiet. Just had to unfold them and put them on your laps.

“I...I’ll help you.”

His eyes got big, “Really? It wouldn’t be--”

“Yes. Really.” You nodded and got the blankets set up and waited for the flight attendants to pass by before you slid your hand down his now unbuttoned pants. You whispered into his ear, “Just stay quiet, ok?”

#BTS #Bangtan #Kim Taehyung #V #V x Reader #Reader x V #Kim Taehyung x Reader #Taehyung x Reader #Reader x Kim Taehyung #Reader x Taehyung #Hairspray

15 notes · View notes

builder051 · 6 years

Text

Drift

The Hildur and Pierce arc, part 16! Sorry it’s been ages since I’ve written for these guys. Hildur’s due on October 8th, so we’re getting close.

Character information is here.

Catch up on the previous parts here.

_____

They’re in the waiting room. Again. It feels like the hospital is the only place Hildur goes anymore. If not for one of her own appointments, she’s there for one of Pierce’s.

He’s doing fine. The tumor hasn’t changed size or shape or done anything else to set off alarm bells. His headaches aren’t any worse. Pierce treats it like an annoyance, and the doctors do too, as if it’s just an ulcer or an ugly skin tag instead of a mass putting pressure on his brain.

They’re at the clinic for Hildur today. She doesn’t want to be there, but Pierce had begged her. He’d called to make the appointment after seeing her breathless getting out of bed one time too many.

“I don’t think this is normal, sweetheart,” he’d said. “I’m…I’m worried.”

Hildur had shrugged. “I don’t know. I think I’m ok.” But her heart had been racing, her vision blurring around the edges. “I just…stood up too fast.” Never mind the fact that the beach ball-sized swell of her stomach keeps her from moving faster than a tortoise.

“Do you think you should see Kris? Or at least call and ask?”

A rush of nausea had saved Hildur from responding. But through the closed bathroom door, she’d heard Pierce answering his own question, barely stuttering as he’d checked the schedule with the receptionist.

“You thought about it any more?” Pierce asks, laying his hand over the fist Hildur has clenched on the arm of the plastic chair. “About, uh, what you want to call him?”

Hildur looks down at the bump straining at her sweater. It’s riding up, showing the elastic band of her maternity jeans in a way that seems less than dignified. She slides her hand away to pull her top down enough to cover it.

“Not really,” she murmurs.

“You and your siblings, you all have, uh, Icelandic names.”

“Mm-hm.” Hildur knows Pierce is just trying to occupy her, to cheer her up and distract her from the anxiety that naturally hangs around the hospital, but she doesn’t have much patience for it today. “They got misspelled a lot.” She thinks of school forms that inserted extra letters to make Gunar’s and Palina’s names into Americanized bastardizations. She thinks of the medical assistant her in the prenatal clinic calling her Hilda.

“My family’s tradition,” Pierce says. “It’s stupid.” He shakes his head. “Peabody starts with P, so all the first names do too. My initials, uh, they spell PEP. My brother’s do too.”

“Hm.” Hildur already knows. She already knows Pierce doesn’t want to continue the pattern with their son.

“He could have your last name,” Pierce prattles on. “Or we could, um, hyphenate…”

“He can’t have my last name,” Hildur says. The words come out a little rougher than she intends, but she’s having a hard time controlling her breath. “Gorisdottir is only for girls. Gunar’s name is Gorisson.” She shakes her head. “It comes from the father, see? And Pierce-son…It doesn’t really work.”

“Oh.” Pierce finds Hildur’s hand again. “I guess…Peabody would be easier.” He pauses. “You could…um… You could have my last name, too.”

“Pierce…” Hildur sighs. “Can we please? Not now.” Her hair ripples toward tow-headed blonde.

“Alright,” he says quickly. “I’m sorry.”

“Hildur?” The medical assistant appears. She’s learned from her earlier mistakes. Hildur wishes Pierce would too.

“Ok.” Hildur uses the arms of the chair to heave herself to her feet. Her head swims for a second, and she sucks in a breath before slowly waddling toward the hall to the exam rooms.

“Ok?” Pierce hovers his hand above her shoulder, ready to help, but respecting the distance. He’s the picture of love and devotion, and Hildur instantly regrets wanting him to change. She’s the one who’s in the wrong.

The medical assistant takes Hildur’s vitals and scribbles them down on her clipboard. All the time in doctor’s offices has made her an expert in interpreting the hidden messages in the tilt of a head and the scratch of a pencil as a digital readout becomes a conclusion and a label. Healthy or not. Concerned or not.

“Alright,” the medical assistant says quietly. As she disengages the Velcro on the blood pressure cuff. No smile. Just a little exhale, then she stands up. “Your midwife will be in to see you shortly.”

The wait truly is short, and Hildur’s grateful. She doesn’t think she can stand the tension in the room, feeling her heart beat and wondering if she can actually hear it or if the physical sensation’s just carrying up her throat and jaw to her ears. Her sweater feels too tight. Hildur hooks her fingers over the neckline and pulls it down an inch.

“Good morning!” Kris opens the door, the cheer in her voice matching the lively autumn floral on the blouse beneath her lab coat. “We’re in the home stretch.” She nods at Hildur’s stomach, then rolls her stool into place.

Pierce makes a sound of amused agreement. Hildur stays quiet.

“How’re we feeling?” Kris’s brown eyes are wide and clear, her expression blankly expectant.

Hildur’s usual response of fine dies on her tongue. “I. Um. I don’t know.” She gives a tiny shrug. It’s a teenagerish response, and a stupid one. She fails at everything, even talking to her doctor. She loves Kris. She trusts her. Hildur doesn’t understand why speaking to her is so hard.

Pierce exhales. Hildur feels sick.

“Well.” Kris looks down at her clipboard. “Your blood pressure is high.” She returns her gaze to Hildur’s. “Not dangerously so, but high enough that I’m concerned.”

“Ok.” Hildur doesn’t know what she expected to feel, but the emptiness that washes over her is decidedly not it.

“That can sometimes lead to other complications if we don’t get it under control, ok?” Kris explains. “It can develop into preeclampsia and cause some other problems.”

Hildur nods slowly. She understands.

“Have you been feeling sick? Dizzy?” Kris asks.

It’s Pierce that answers. “Yes. Unsteady when she stands up sometimes. And sick to her stomach, like the, uh, like the morning sickness again.” He leans forward to give Hildur’s knee a gentle touch.

Hildur stiffens. “It’s…I’m ok,” she whispers.

“No, it’s, this could be serious.” Pierce looks at Hildur, then to Kris, and back. “This has been going on for almost a week. I’m really worried, sweetheart. I’m worried about…” He nods to the baby.

Hildur presses her lips together. Nausea rises along with renewed frustration. “I’m worried about you too,” she murmurs in a rush before tears can take hold. “You keep playing down your health and putting mine first, but, but…”

Hildur tastes bile. She can barely breathe. Her hair goes silver and her fingers are transparent as she clutches the rim of the trashcan that’s suddenly in her lap. She coughs and gags, and once the panic dies down, she’s grateful for the warm, steady hand on her back.

“I’m sorry,” Hildur chokes as she sits up. “I just…”

“It’s a lot,” Kris says. She moves the bin to the corner of the room. “I know it’s a lot.”

Tears run down Hildur’s cheeks. She tips her aching head back against the exam table angled up behind her.

“You need to take care of each other.” Kris gives Pierce a long look before she meets Hildur’s eyes again. “You already do that, but it’s more important than ever right now. And you need to take care of yourselves.” She’s not butting in and organizing their lives, though Hildur wouldn’t blame her if she did. Her message is simple. Eloquent. And it’s what they need to hear.

“I’m going to give you a couple medications, Hildur.” Kris pulls a pad from her pocket. “And I’m going to prescribe bedrest. We want you to stay comfortable and safe for these last couple weeks. Ok?”

“I. Um.” Hildur swallows, her throat raw and dry. “Ok.”

Pierce moves his hand to stroke Hildur’s hair before he echoes, “Ok.”

#my oc #oc fic #bostonians #hildur and pierce #hildur gorisdottir #pierce peabody #hildur's pregnancy 2k18 #kris tyler #sickfic #hurt/comfort #angst #relationships #hospitals #pregnancy #emeto #emetophilia #benign brain tumor

6 notes · View notes

hellomissmabel · 6 years

Text

Nothing under 7 inches (3)

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Baker!Bucky x reader

Warnings: Aaaaaaaaangst

Word count: 3k

Summary: Bucky is a baker in Y/N’s hometown and with her mother’s birthday right around the corner, he’s excited to see her again. Y/N however doesn’t plan on staying for too long and aims to return to the city life, a dirty little secret getting in the way of her love life.

A/N: My prompt was “cottage”. This fic is written for @soldatbarnes her writing challenge. If you want on the tag list, please send me an ask! I can’t keep track of all the comments.

Series masterlist can be found here

Parking the car outside the house, Bucky takes a couple more minutes to just look at you, cupping your cheek so you’re looking back at him, too. You don’t say anything, your lips don’t move and your mind stop reeling for just those few seconds. But it feels like an eternity, an eternity of Bucky.

“I promised myself I wouldn’t fall in love with you again,” Bucky whispers eventually, smiling sadly at the girl in front of him. “But I guess I never fell out of love with you in the first place.”

You would’ve slapped Bucky right there and then if your mother hadn’t rushed out of the house to welcome you back. You wanted to scream at him for dropping such a bomb of emotions on you. It’s okay for him to still have feelings for you, but you can see it in his eyes that everything you say and do gives him more hope that one day you’ll reconcile and get back together. And frankly, you don’t think that day will ever come, the struggle still too great.

Turning your body away from Bucky, ready to albeit jump out of the car as anger rolls off you in thick waves, you address him very coldly as to not get his hopes up even more. “Bucky… we have to talk. I – I can’t do this now, so I’ll come by the cottage before dinner, okay? Mom said she wanted to have a quiet family dinner before the first guests show up for dessert. We can walk back to the house together.”

There’s still a certain softness to your tone, because he’s still ‘your’ Bucky. And he knows that he might’ve overstepped by confessing his love for you, but he’s just not ready to let you go. So he nods softly, his lips forming a small, tentative smile. “Okay…”

“You’re part of the family after all, Buck,” you whisper kindly as you move out of the car, “Always have been, always will be.”

The reunion with your mother is nothing short of bittersweet. She immediately pushes you to invite Bucky in, the sparkle in her eyes betraying her true intentions. When you tell her off by saying Bucky’s got some things to take care of first, her voice drops an octave as she rushes you to your old room, informing you that she hasn’t changed a thing about it.

And sure enough, your wall is still fully occupied by pictures of you and Sharon, you and some other friends, and of course you and Bucky. You also notice that your dad’s old vinyl collection has found its way to the back of your room as well, next to the speakers you used on a daily basis to drown out the worries and the darker moments.

Your mother eventually leaves you to settle down, after explaining to you how she finally managed to convince your father to wear a tie for dinner. Nostalgia then overwhelms you as you open up your suitcase and take out the dress you’ve bought just for this occasion. It’s a pretty modest dress but it also matches the colour of your mother’s eyes.

With the volume on max, you dance across your room and shake your curves to some of the songs you used to worship in high school. As you’re finishing up on your plum lipstick, “Teenage Dirtbag” is blasting through the speakers, a familiar dark-haired woman makes an appearance at your bedroom door. Gracefully she leans against the frame of the door, watching you with a playful smile tugging the corners of her lips upwards.

“PEGGY!,” you exclaim at the top of your lungs as you rush towards your sister to give hear a big bear hug. The brunet laughs heartily at her little sister’s enthusiasm and pecks your temple tenderly. “I didn’t know you were going to make it! London is such a long way.”

She shakes her head, giving you a little squeeze before taking your hand in hers and sitting you both down on the bed. “I’m so happy to see you again, Y/N. I was hoping we could talk and catch up a bit before we head down for dinner.”

Biting your lower lip, you eye her apologetically. “I promise to go get Bucky before dinner. I’m sorry but we can always talk after?”

“Bucky, hm? Are you two warming up again?,” Peggy asks, glowing with happiness at the thought of a possible reunion.

But her glee is short-lived when you look away. “We just need to talk a couple things out, that’s all. We are not getting back together.”

Peggy hears the sheer determination in your voice and decides to drop the subject, instead shifting to another, important topic she wanted to cover with you before dinner. “Y/N, has dad talked to you already? About the house?”

You lock eyes gain, giving her a puzzled look. “No. What’s wrong with the house?”

Your big sister takes her time explaining the dilemma that’s been keeping your parents busy these past few months. “This house used to support two adults and three kids. But ever since we you, Wade and I moved out, this house is just too big for just mom and dad. So they’ve been thinking of putting it on the market…”

“But -,” you start but Peggy is quicker and places a tender hand on your knee.

“They’ve already got their eyes on a cottage like Bucky’s. Which also brings the question… Does Bucky wanna stay in the cottage? If so, mom and dad are willing to sell it to him for a soft price…” Her perfect red mouth forms a sad smile. “After all, he’s part of the family, too.”

“I’ll ask him what he wants to do,” you reply as you blink your eyes in surprise. “Where are mom and dad going to move to, Peggy?”

“Washington,” she answers after a heartbeat of silence. “With me in London, Wade in LA and you in New York,… There isn’t much left to keep them here… And lots of dad’s friends like Fury and Coulson live in Washington as well.”

Opening and closing your mouth again, you decide against reasoning with Peggy. You understand that this decision has been a long time coming. Nevertheless, it hurts to part ways with the house that’s been such a warm home and shelter to you for all these years. Your sister knows this and leaves you to collect your thoughts, caressing your cheek shortly before exiting your room.

There’s a single tear trickling down your face when you get up and grab your phone, sending a quick text to Bucky to let him know you’re coming. Putting on your sneakers and saving your high heels for when you come back, you step out of the door and head down the back towards Bucky’s cottage.

It’s been his place ever since his father kicked him out at 17 and you asked your parents if your brand new boyfriend could crash there for a couple days. Your parents didn’t use the cottage anyway, unless for storage, and agreed after you promised to pass your exams with honours. But those couple days turned into weeks and into months, until you and Bucky has been going steady for a year and the cottage became his permanent residence.

Bucky’s waiting for you on the porch, his arms crossed over his chest so his dress shirt seems a litter tighter. He’s flipping his phone between his fingers and cards a hand through his hair, unaware of your presence until you’re standing right in front of him.

“Hi, Buck,” you greet him softly, resting your hand on his to shake him from his thoughts and prompt him to look up at you with those ruthless baby blues. They still rip your heart apart after all these years, their Icelandic beauty as cold as a freezer yet as warm as a ray of sunshine when they fall on you.

“Y/N,” he chuckles, straightening his back and shoving his phone in his back pocket before hugging you. The gesture catches you off guard, and you awkwardly just stand there while Bucky’s arm wrap around you like a golden cage.

Soon he notices your discomfort and quickly takes a step back, leaning against the wooden frame of the cottage. “Sorry,” he apologises quickly, eyes cast towards the ground. “Couldn’t help it.”

“We need to talk, Bucky,” you say as you nudge his shoe with the tip of your sneakers and he shoots you a small smile as he notices you’re wearing trainers under your fancy dress.

“I’ve never seen you in a dress that colour,” he comments on your outfit.

You roll your eyes at his compliment. Bucky’s never seen you in a dress like this before, apart from your prom dress and the sundresses you’d wear when you were spending your summer afternoons at the lake. Not even on your first date, when you shared milkshake after milkshake at the local diner, you wore skinny jeans and a nice sweater.

The only time you do wear a dress is when Tony asks you to. Fortunately, Bucky isn’t around to see Tony parade around with you on his arm, clad in an expensive gown he purchased for you. “It’s a special occasion,” you shrug when your hands smooth over the velvety dress. “You wanna tag along?”

Bucky follows suit as you retrace your steps back to the house, both of you waiting for the other to speak first. You send him a couple sideway glances and he clears his throat. “Y/N… About what I said in the car...”

You stop in your tracks, gazing up at him with woeful eyes. “Bucky? You know why I left, don’t you?” The brunet remains basking in the silent light of the late afternoon, searching for something that isn’t there anymore. “It wasn’t because I didn’t love you. A part of me will always love you.”

“Then why did you break up with me?,” he questions carefully, hoping still.

“I – I broke up with you because we had different dreams. All you ever wanted is a wife, kids and a bakery. And there’s nothing wrong with that, but I’ve always felt like there’s something more, like there can be something more out there for me. I grew up here and I loved it here, until I came to a point where I’d seen it all. I wanted to explore, I wanted to see where life outside of this town would take me. I wanted to…”

“Find yourself?,” Bucky finishes your sentence with a scoff, thinking back to the day you said your goodbyes. “Because I’ve heard that bullshit before. You’ve told me that lie before.”

“It’s not bullshit, Buck, and neither is it a lie,” you defend yourself, pulling up those walls you have been trying to break down for so long. “I regret leaving you, I regret breaking your heart. Believe me, I regret that you’re not a constant figure in my life anymore. But I would’ve regretted it more if I had stayed, if I had stayed here, forever wondering what could’ve been…”

“Y/N, I would’ve followed you anywhere! I would’ve waited for you! But instead you just dumped me like a piece of garbage. You didn’t even tell me you were leaving until an hour before the last train!”

His voice grows softer, as do his eyes as he grabs your hands in his and squeezes them gently. “You complete me, Y/N. I will never want nor love anyone else but you. You complete me, so wh1y can’t I complete you? Just tell me what I have to do to complete you.”

Tearing your hands away from his, you just stand there, seething and confused. “I don’t need anyone to complete me, I don’t need a guy to complete me. I needed to complete myself first before I could even think about settling down and having kids and doing all those things you were talking about. I just wasn’t ready. I needed to love and complete myself first.”

You can tell how much it pains Bucky to be completely honest with him, his shoulders slumped as his face falls in a morose expression. “I will never forgive you,” he mumbles under his breath, shying away from your penitent gaze.

His voice is steadier when he speaks to you directly, eyes stern and challenging. “I forgave you for leaving, because I love you. But I will never forgive you for this, because now I just…” A shuddering sigh falls past Bucky’s lips and you know it’s over. “Now you just mean nothing to me, like I seem to mean nothing to you.”

Wanting to refute his words, you cast aside the longing to run away and make a bold move instead, crossing Bucky’s path as he moves away from you and pushing hard against his chest. “Don’t you get it?!”, you scream at him with all that you have in you, not even caring if they hear you from miles away.

“I was suffocating, long before I fell in love with you!” Another shove to his torso and Bucky bounces back on the heels of his feet, astonished by the power you set behind your movements, noticing the tears streaming down your face.

“I was miserable. My brother and sister were out there living their own lives and I didn’t have anybody. Dad was a workaholic and my mother only had attention for me when she wasn’t writing on her next novel. I was fucking miserable and when I told Sharon about it, all she could say was that she’ll hook me up with some nice guy that would take my mind off things straightaway.”

Furiously you wipe away the wetness gathering in your eyes. “She’s a good friend but she didn’t understand. Even though I had friends, I felt so alone. And then Sharon introduced me to you and it seemed as if there was a silver lining for me after all.”

Bucky’s ears don’t know how to handle your confession. He didn’t know you were feeling this way, he didn’t know how deep the roots of your pain went. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. But if you just would’ve told me, I could’ve -” he whispers sadly, your hands moving of their own volition and striking him with your palm right in the face.

“Don’t feel sorry for me,” you cry out, sobbing loudly and aching for the relief of his warmth and comfort. “There is absolutely nothing you could’ve done! I messed things up! I needed to get out, I just needed to get out…”

He’s slightly taken aback by your sudden outburst, his cheek burning in the aftermath. But he doesn’t let this bring him off balance, yet he throws his arms around you and cradles your face on his chest. “I wanna go back to New York,” you sob eventually, looking up at him with teary eyes. “But I don’t want to spoil mom’s birthday party.”

Tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear, he smiles down at you. “I know. I know, Y/N. I’ll take you back first thing tomorrow morning, okay?”

You agree and stay enveloped in Bucky’s arms for a minute longer, until you can hear the happy cries of your parents when your brother Wade arrives. Slowly detangling yourself from Bucky, you press a tentative yet tender kiss to his cheek, apologising profusely. He of course says it’s nothing to worry about.

Before you go back inside, he laces one arm around your waist again to make sure you’re not bolting again. Holding you securely tucked into his side, you walk up together down the road and to the front where Wade, Peggy and your parents are waiting for you.

“I didn’t mean it,” Bucky whispers as he pecks the crown of your hair. “I still love you. You still mean the world to me. But now I understand that I have to let you go.”

A part of you is glad that Bucky didn’t cast you aside like he said he would, but another part of you feels a pang of guilt. It erupts in your chest like a bomb and it makes you feel like a wounded soldier, shell shocked and ready to accept their untimely fate. You didn’t know it would feel this way, you didn’t know that it would feel so ambiguous. You didn’t know that Bucky would still have such an effect on you.

“There she is,” your brother Wade exclaims as he launches himself at you, albeit tearing you away from Bucky and twirling you around in his arms. “My baby sister!”

The whole family bursts into hearty laughter and somewhere you find it in yourself to share in their laughter. Nevertheless, as your eyes lock with Bucky’s again, there’s a tension between you two that’s holding you back. And not just holding you back from going forward with your plan and rushing back to New York, where Tony is waiting for his princess to spoil rotten. But also holding you back from closing this chapter in your life completely.

Wade lets you ride on his back for old times’ sake and when everybody has found their designated seat at the table, yours next to Bucky as per your mother’s request, your father gives a heartfelt toast. Nobody seems to question your tears, deeming them as happy tears, as your mother and sister are moved by your father’s beautiful words as well.

But you’re not crying because of your father’s ode to your mother. You’re not crying because it’s your mother’s birthday and everybody made it back home. No, you’re crying because this will be the last time, the last time you’ll get the share a meal together with your family and Bucky. You’re crying because you’re now definitely breaking with the past and it isn’t a clean break like you’d aspired.

And even though Bucky is putting up a strong front and a straight face, too, he is slowly accepting that he’s better off without you, that he can now move on with his life. It’s a thought that over time will fill him with joy, or so you hope. You hope that every single soul at this table will find happiness in their hearts. You hope that everybody is happy.

Everybody is happy, yet you’re not.

Tagging: @avengerofyourheart @a-little-hell-to-raise @marvelingatthewonder @mrshopkirk @hardcorehippos @knittingknerdy @winterboobaer @italwaysendsinafightt @viollettes @hymnofthevalkyrie @feelmyroarrrr @justareader @austinamelio @volklana @howlingbarnes @themcuhasruinedme @theoneandonlysaucymo @caplansteverogers @amrita31199 @emilyevanston @minervaem @howlingbarnes @buchananbarnestrash @youandb @you-and-bucky @fvckingsteverogers @thatawkwardtinyperson @barnes-heaven @that-sokovian-bastard @abovethesmokestacks @marvelrevival @marvel-fanfiction @justanotherbuckydevotee @barnes-heaven @heartmade-writingbucky @buckyywiththegoodhair @captnbarnesrogers @its-not-a-phase-hux @melconnor2007 @ivvitm1109 @toofuckinfabulous @ailynalonso15 @hollycornish @delicatecapnerd @camigt1999 @learisa @curlyexpat @palaiasaurus64 @fanndas-snow-goddess @crisssivonne @yourenotrogers @tomhollandzs @beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep @aletheladyinred @bhuckys @xbergiex @reniescarlett @promarvelfangirl @capbuckybuchanan @lovemarvelousfics @yknott81 @rrwilson66 @pegasusdragontiger @salty-holographic-stickers @sammyissassy @sebstanchrisevanchickforever19 @kudosia @bellejeunefillesansmerci @lumelgy @mizzzpink @southernbellestatues @daringtodreamawake @neurotic-narwhal @cokamarie24 @blue1928 @movingonto-betterthings @breezy1415 @isnt-the-blog-youre-looking-for @jesspfly @weenie-butt @debzybrazy @fuckingchaotic @always-an-evans-addict @petersunderroos @thegreentgirl @nedthegay @eve1978 @yourtropegirl @4theluvofall @lostinthoughtsandfeelings @pineapplebooboo @curvybihufflepuff @thefridgeismybestie @supernatural508 @supernaturaldean67

Series tag list: @buckyappreciationsociety @alexaduke @incoherentsmiles @iamthemaskhewears @booksb4boys69

Strikethrough means Tumblr wouldn’t let me tag you!

#soldatbarneswritingchallenge #nothing under 7 inches part 3 #nothing under 7 inches #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fan fiction #sebastian stan #marvel #fan fiction #marvel fan fiction #avengers #james buchanan barnes #james barnes #james bucky barnes #peggy carter

257 notes · View notes