#Systems Booted And Ready: IC

[stllmnstr]

every fragile thing

pairing: park sunghoon x f reader

genre: enemies to lovers, figure skating au, college/university au

word count: 12.3k

warnings: alcohol consumption, jealousy, non graphic descriptions/depictions of injuries, use of the american (usa) university system, a kiss or five

soundtrack: get him back! / brutal / jealousy, jealousy / good 4 u / the grudge / bad idea right? / drivers license - olivia rodrigo

After an ankle injury lands you in mandated physical therapy sessions instead of on the ice where you should be training for nationals, you're absolutely certain you must be the most frustrated, emotionally volatile figure skater on the planet. Park Sunghoon proves you wrong.

or,

every fragile thing has one of two choices: become stronger or shatter into a million pieces.

note: hi hello yes this is me on a new blog with the same name. I deleted my old one and wasn't sure if I planned on remaking/reposting but here we are! if you've read this before, then I hope you enjoy just as much this time around. and if you haven't, I hope you love figure skater sunghoon just as much as I do! happy reading ♡

Silence. One word, two syllables. A fairly straightforward term with a meaning that can be easily deduced from a quick scan of its Merriam-Webster definition. 

But unlike many words, silence is one that’s typically learned through experience. Through stilted moments, pregnant pauses, dreamlike moments in the dead of night while the world around you is at a standstill. 

In the moments just before the music starts, when it feels as if the audience around you is holding their breath. And you stand at the center of it all, blades of your tightly laced skates against ice, chest rising and falling in time with your heartbeat, mind spinning with possibility. In those moments, your long trained muscles take over, following the memory of countless repetitions as your body prepares to do what it knows best. 

There’s a question in that silence. One that’s asked with baited breath. 

Will I land this skill? Will I go home with a medal around my neck, cold weight a familiar comfort against my skin? Will this be my best performance yet? Will they love it? Love me?

That, as you’ve come to learn, is your favorite kind of silence. The kind that’s filled with endless possibility, with the promise of something beautiful or disastrous or some odd mix of the two to come. 

The feeling of freedom, of flying as blade cuts through ice, as your body defies gravity with every jump, every spin. 

But that is very much not the kind of silence that greets you where Dr. Min eyes you warily over the top of his pristine clipboard, a crease forming between his dark eyebrows. Frowning, he glances at the paper once more before returning his gaze to you. 

“You’re sure you’ve been resting? No weight on the fracture at all?”

It takes a good chunk of your willpower not to roll your eyes. Mostly because you’re lying through your teeth, but who’s keeping track? 

“Yes, I’m sure.” Gesturing to the thick black boot the lower part of your left leg and foot have been imprisoned in for the better part of a month, you add, “This thing’s still coming off in two weeks, right?”

Two weeks is pushing it, but you’ve done more with less. Two weeks puts you exactly three months out from regionals, which gives you exactly ninety-one days to pull together the most jaw dropping program you or the judges have ever seen. One that’s certain to land you on the podium and secure a spot at nationals. 

Once again, you thank your lucky stars for Coach Lee. She’s been with you since you were still struggling to lace your own skates, and there’s no one else you’d trust to have you ready for regionals in such a short time frame. No one else you’d bet your fate on like this. 

“That was our original time frame, yes…” Dr. Min trails off, avoiding your gaze in a way that has your stomach dropping unpleasantly. 

“And we’ll be sticking to it, I’m sure.” You hate the way the end of your phrase turns up like a question. 

Dr. Min sighs. “Look, ___, our original time frame was ambitious to begin with, and I hate to tell you this, but your ankle is not healing as well as we’d hoped. Fractures don’t heal overnight, and the best thing for you right now is rest.” 

The argument is already forming on your tongue. “But—”

“I know it’s hard to believe, but I’m not trying to ruin your life, ___. Truly. I’m saying this to you as the parent of an athlete and a former athlete myself. Pushing yourself now will only lead to reinjury in the future and will also very likely shorten your career. Your ankle needs to heal before you skate on it again. It needs to heal before you so much as put weight on it. And you need to let it heal completely.” The sincerity in his voice is hard to stomach when he says, “Believe me when I tell you that you’ll regret it for the rest of life if you don’t.”

And logically, you know he’s right. Know that this will be nothing but a minor setback if you allow it to run its course. If you follow his advice to rest and heal. But skating has never been something you’ve done with the logical parts of yourself. And Dr. Min doesn’t get it. You tell him as much. “You don’t understand what you’re asking me to do. Regionals are in less than four months, and—”

“I hear you. Believe me, I do. But this is your third year of university, which means you have another shot at nationals next year. If you push it and try to skate before you’re ready, you may very well lose that chance too.”

“So I’m supposed to do what? Sit around and do nothing until my ankle decides to cooperate?” Even voicing the possibility has you suppressing a grimace. 

But Dr. Min has different thoughts. “Yes. That is exactly what you need to do.”

You don’t avert your gaze. Neither does he. Finally, after a moment, he sighs. “My recommendation at this point is still rest, but—”

“But?” Your excitement is impossible to contain fully. 

Dr. Min levels you with a cautionary look over his clipboard. “But, if you’re going to do anything, our athletics department does also run a physical therapy program, which I think could be beneficial. It would help to retain flexibility, mobility, and agility in the areas of your leg that support your ankle. It could help get you back on the ice faster and maintain the leg strength you’ve built. There’s a group session that runs on Tuesday afternoons—”

“Yes,” you nod, not bothering to hear the end of his statement. “Yes, I’ll do that.”

“I… okay.” As much as you want to hate him for it, Dr. Min has a point. And while you doubt physical therapy will be anywhere near as grueling as your usual workouts, it sounds a hell of a lot better than doing nothing. 

…

You’ve never liked hospitals. The odd juxtaposition of white, lifeless sterility and a culmination of some of life’s most painful moments has always left an unpleasant taste on your tongue. 

It’s one that has you double checking the address Dr. Min forwarded to you as you enter the oddly cheerful building that is apparently home to a renowned athletics physical therapy facility. Despite the medical purpose, there’s a distinct liveliness that envelops the space. 

The woman at reception informs you that this is indeed the right building and the session you’re attending has just begun in the room to your left. 

Pausing at the door, you’re struck with a sudden timidness. A physical therapy group for athletes will obviously be filled with, well, athletes. And although you can’t speak too harshly on that particular subsect of people, being one yourself, they can be intimidating. It must be the competitiveness, you think. The drive to push, succeed, win that gives off such a distinct aura.

Steeling yourself with one last breath, you remind yourself that’s why you’re here. To get back to that version of you that has everyone else feeling a little shier. That version of you that eats, breathes, and sleeps with ice skates laced on your feet and visions of the top of a podium driving your every decision. 

With determination straightening your brow, you push open the door. 

And immediately find yourself grateful for the mental preparation as three heads snap in your direction.  

Hitching your bag up an inch on your shoulder, you try not to melt under the sudden awkwardness. Thankfully, one of them is better at breaking ice than you.

“Hi,” the boy closest to you is the first to fill the silence. He’s all smiles where he gives you a friendly wave, moving a stray hair out of his eyes with a flick of his head as he tells you, “I’m Jungwon.”

You offer your name in return, trying on a smile to match his friendliness. You have a feeling it comes more naturally to him than it ever will to you, though. 

Regardless, he offers an equally cheerful, “Nice to meet you.” Glancing over to where the second boy is moving through a series of stretches, Jungwon makes eye contact, silently telling him he’s up next. 

Even mid-stretch, he acquiesces. “I’m Niki,” the second boy follows. 

“And I’m Jake.” The last boy doesn’t need any prompting from Jungwon. Nodding towards the walking boot that covers the bottom half of your left leg, he glances at a similar one that he wears on his own. “Looks like we’re twins. Tore up my achilles pretty bad in my last soccer match,” he explains. “What about you?”

“Fractured my ankle,” you return, a rueful smile dragging your lips up. “Figure skater.”

“Ah, man.” Jungwon winces. “That sucks.”

You shrug, forcing a nonchalance you don’t feel. “No worse than a busted achilles.” 

“That’s cool that you skate though,” Jake offers. “Kind of a funny coincidence, actually. There’s another—”

Whatever it is, he doesn’t get to finish the thought. At that moment, the door opens again, this time revealing a middle aged woman in a white physician’s coat. Her name tag reads Dr. Kim, and she introduces herself as such to you. 

“Looks like everyone’s here, including our new members.” She gives another cursory nod in your direction. “Welcome again.” Glancing around, the instructor pauses. “Oh, wait. Except for—”

“I’m here, I’m here.” For the second time in the span of a minute, the door behind you opens. You don’t miss the glance that passes between Niki and Jake. You turn to face the new arrival, but his back is to you as he sets his bag down and begins the process of switching his shoes. 

The way the new member enters with a dismissive wave of his hand and lack of proper greeting has you thinking tardiness is not an uncommon trait of his. Even from behind, you can feel the waves of arrogance he exudes. That seems to align more with your preconceived notions of athletes. 

Studying him for another second, a sinking feeling of dread begins to build in the pit of your stomach. Long, dark hair. Unnaturally graceful movements, even if all he’s doing is digging through his bag. Tall stature, broad shoulders, long legs. 

An athlete’s build through and through. Perfectly suited for the ice. 

“Great.” Despite the statement, Dr. Kim’s tone is flat. “Well, we were just getting started and introducing ourselves since we have someone new joining us today.”

“Hi,” he offers, still fixated on his bag, yet to offer as much as a glance in your direction. If anything, it only serves as a confirmation of his identity. “I’m—” You don’t even need to hear him say it. 

“Sunghoon?”

At that, he does finally look up. 

Gaze locking with yours, a moment of confusion is quickly replaced by a furrow in his brow, the slight downturn of his lips. He’s not thrilled to see you either. 

A beat passes. 

Two. 

Neither of you break eye contact. 

The silence extends to the point of discomfort for all four onlookers, each of them hesitant to break the tension that’s rising by the second. 

Finally, Dr. Kim takes a knife to the tension. “Do you two know each other?” 

Park Sunghoon. Renowned figure skater at your rival university. Someone with such a natural knack for carving lines through ice that whispers of prodigy have been shadowing his footsteps since the minute he put them on a rink. 

Someone with his head so far up his own ass you’re not sure how he can see half the time, much less keep his hair looking so perfect. 

Oh, you know him alright. 

“___?”

And it would seem he remembers you as well. 

It also answers Dr. Kim’s question well enough. 

“Ah, good.” It sounds like a question, like she’s hoping your acquaintance will be a positive thing instead of a disaster. You don’t have the heart to tell her otherwise. “The figure skating community is tight knit, I suppose.”

You suppress a scoff. That’s one word for it, you guess. 

You remember when it felt that way to you, too. Before tight knit became too small. Back before university, when it felt like it was you and Park Sunghoon against the world, instead of against each other. Back when the two of you didn’t skate for opposing teams but instead were members of the same club. A time when you took the ice together, skated as partners until he—

You force your thoughts to stop in their tracks. Your blood pressure has spiked enough in the last few days, and thinking back on long days spent with Park Sunghoon will only send it skyrocketing again. 

If anything, you’ll use this opportunity to practice perfecting your poker face for when you inevitably run into him at future competitions. 

And future competitions means you need a healed ankle, not a bruised ego. And certainly not an unpleasant trip down memory lane. 

Turning away from Sunghoon, you’re the first one to answer when Dr. Kim asks if you’re ready to get started. 

“Yes,” you tell her, determination written across your brow, in the set of your shoulders, and perhaps most noticeably, in the way you avoid Sunghoon’s wandering gaze for the next two hours. 

…

Without the rink, days are quick to meld into one another. It may be concerning, considering that you still have a set schedule of classes and homework to follow, but your life has revolved around training for so long that it’s hard to tell Mondays from Wednesdays without a set practice schedule. 

Thankfully, you do still make it back to the clinic at the right time on the right day, this time for another session with Dr. Kim and your fellow band of broken athletes. 

Including him. 

Aside from the glaringly obvious exception, you’re not as bothered at the thought of returning as you feared you might be. 

Jungwon, Niki, and Jake have proven themself pleasant enough company, and Dr. Kim seems to have built an understanding of how difficult it is to be forcibly removed from the sport you love. As such, she’s one of the least aggravating medical professionals you’ve spent time around. 

“Hey,” Niki greets when you arrive. “Did you have a good weekend?”

You shrug. “Good enough. Mostly just catching up on homework.” Setting your bag down and switching out your shoes, you join him on the mat, beginning the series of warm-up stretches Dr. Kim instructed you through last week. “What about you?”

“Not too bad. I got some good news from my doctor, actually.” He switches legs in his stretch, and you’re almost envious of his flexibility. He’s a dancer, and an exceedingly good one at that. One with an unfortunate knee injury at the moment. “My x-rays are looking a lot better. He thinks I might be able to start easing back into regular use by next month.” 

“That’s great,” you smile, even as a pang of jealousy stabs somewhere near your gut. “I’m really happy for you, Niki.” 

“A month still feels like forever, though, doesn’t it?” He sighs. “I can’t remember the last time I was out of the studio for this long.” 

Jungwon slides down onto the mat next to you, joining in on the stretch routine. “Consider yourself lucky, man. They told me at my last check-up that I probably won’t be able to do any jumping or kicks again for at least three months even though the fracture is already mostly healed.” He shakes his head. “No jumping or kicking,” he echoes, sarcasm dripping from every word. “You know, things that are super easy to avoid in taekwondo.”

“If it’s any consolation, I just got told that I’m gonna have to sit out of regionals this year. Which means I’ll have no way of qualifying for nationals.” You wonder how many times you’ll have to admit that particular reality to yourself before the sting starts to fade. 

“That sucks.” Jake agrees, coming down to the mat and occupying the spot next to Niki. “I’ll probably have to sit for this entire season, too. I love my team, but it’s so frustrating watching them play when I know I could be an asset on the field.”

“That’s true.” You’re struck by a sudden wave of sympathy. “At least skating is an individual sport, so the only person I have to disappoint is myself.” 

“Speaking of skating,” Jungwon sounds hesitant as he approaches the subject. “Do you and Sunghoon, uh…” he pauses for a moment in search of a neutral way of framing the unmistakable tension that surfaced the last time he saw the two of you together. “Do you two know each other?”

Grimacing internally, you suppose an explanation was bound to be solicited after your icy reunion. “We skate for rival universities.” Your gaze fixes on a spot on the ground. “And before college we used to, uh, we used to skate for the same club.”

The three boys share a glance. It’s hardly an explanation for the venom you said his name with but before they can press you further, the subject in question enters the room. 

Again, he takes his time setting his bag down, getting his things ready. This time, he also pulls out an obnoxiously big pair of headphones, secures them over his ears before he bothers to turn around. Despite the fact that all three boys offer him friendly smiles and waves, he returns the gesture only with a tight smile, making his way to the mat on the opposite side of the room before he begins his stretch routine.

It’s a message that rings loud and clear. A frown passes between Jake, Jungwon, and Niki. It’s obvious to you, then, that you’re the reason he chose to set himself up as far away as physically possible. 

So be it, you think, letting the slight roll right off of you. It’s not the first time he’s given you the cold shoulder for something he plays an equal part in, and you doubt it will be the last. 

Besides, it will only make your sessions pass by quicker, if the burden of avoiding gazes and minimizing interactions falls on his shoulders instead of yours.

With nothing but a shrug, you adjust slightly, ensuring that the only view he has of you is of your back. 

…

It’s a pattern that continues as physical therapy sessions start to become a regular routine in your week. Sunghoon, with his apparent disdain for anyone’s time but his own, is always the last to arrive. He also continues his habit of picking the spot in the room furthest away from you. 

Despite the fact that you’d like to chalk it up to his social ineptitude alone, that explanation doesn’t track. Although there’s still a certain aura of aloofness that follows where he goes, it’s too often that you see him smiling at a joke cracked by Jake or sharing easy conversations with Jungwon and Niki.  

Hell, he even interacts with Dr. Kim with a level of warmth you didn’t know was possible coming from him. If there’s any disdain in their conversations, he directs it all towards his right wrist. It’s why he’s here, you assume. Encased in a brace similar to the one you wear on your left ankle, his right forearm seems to be the reason for his attendance. 

It’s hard to not be envious. While a wrist injury is nothing to scoff at, it doesn’t necessarily keep you off the ice. Not in the same way a fractured ankle does. 

Refocusing your thoughts, you push the boy across the room firmly out of mind as Dr. Kim helps adjust you into the next stretch.

“How about now?” Dr. Kim pushes your spine a fraction of an inch further, pressure light but demanding. Before, this much flexibility would have been an easy request of your body, but lack of use has your muscles feeling tight. “Any tightness or pain?”

“No.” The bead of sweat on your brow begs to differ, as does the way the negation slipped through gritted teeth. 

But you’re frustrated. Annoyed at the progress you’ve lost, at the new limits of your body, at the way you feel like a stranger in your own skin. 

Across the room, you miss the flicker of annoyance that flits over Sunghoon’s features. Headphones on as always, you imagine you’re nothing more than a blip on his radar, a pesky intruder that’s easily ignored as long as he has his back to you. 

“Hm,” Dr. Kim muses. “You’ve retained more flexibility than I expected.” She offers you a smile. “That’s a good thing, a sign of a quick recovery.”

You suppress a grimace. It should be a good thing. You should be recovering quickly. If only you could get your stupid body to cooperate. 

Stealing another glance at the boy across the room, you can’t help the way a small burst of rage bubbles in your stomach. Prodigy. Why does he always get to be the anomaly, the exception to the rule? His injury is already less severe than yours, and he’s probably recovering quickly, too. Without even having to fake it.

Easing you out of the stretch, Dr. Kim jots down a quick note. “I’ll have Dr. Min run another x-ray at your next visit.” Nodding towards your ankle, she adds, “I think there’s a good chance that things are looking a lot better, and updated x-rays will help guide our next sessions.” She pauses for a minute. “I don’t want to get ahead of myself or get your hopes up, but I think we might be able to start putting some weight back on it soon. Start getting it stronger again.” 

You’re hesitant to let your excitement grow too much. But it would be a lie if you weren’t already counting the days until your next visit with Dr. Min in your head. “Thank you,” you tell her. “I’ll hope those x-rays come back looking good, then.”

“Me too,” she smiles. “I’ll see you next week, then. Hopefully with good news.”

You nod, returning her smile before heading to the door to gather your things. Jungwon catches you on your way out. 

“Hey, ___, hold on a sec.” When you turn back towards him, he tells you, “The rest of us are gonna grab lunch at a place nearby, if you want to join.”

Your uncertainty must write itself across your features, because he’s quick to add, “Don’t worry. Sunghoon won’t be there. He’s got a class right after this.”

Slightly embarrassed by the way he read you so easily, you nod. “Sure. Lunch sounds good.” Despite their friendliness with Sunghoon, you’ve come to like the three of them. And it’s been far too long since you broke up the monotony of class, homework, and medical appointments with something as simple as lunch with friends. 

And as long as he’s not there, you imagine it will be nothing but pleasant. 

It doesn’t take long for them to prove you wrong. 

Niki barely lets you get one bite in before he asks, “So, what exactly happened between you two?” Even without the name, the question is obvious. 

Still, after choking on the sip of water you’d been taking, you answer, “Who?”

Jake just gives you a look. 

You sigh. “Like I said, we used to skate for the same club. We, uh, never really got along, I guess.” Avoiding eye contact, you add, “And now we skate for rival schools. I suppose it’s only natural to not like each other.”

Niki doesn’t miss a beat. “Yeah, that sounds made up.”

Jungwon swallows his bite, parts his lips like he has something to say. Internally, you heave a sigh of relief. If any of the three of them spare you, you have a feeling it would be him. “I mean, it does seem like something else must have happened.”

Or not. 

“You don’t have to tell us,” he adds. “But it’s just… I mean, the two of you can’t even look at each other.”

Sighing, you suppose the circumstances do look odd from the outside. “There was… an incident. Back when we used to skate together.”

“What?” Jake asks. “Did he steal your skates right before a show or something?” 

“No, no.” You shake your head. “It happened on the ice, actually. During a program.”

“Wait,” Niki interrupts. “You said you used to skate together. Do you mean like, as partners?”

The guilt on your face says it all. 

“No way.” Jake says. 

Jungwon’s eyes grow bigger. “What did he do?”

“Yeah,” Niki turns to face you fully. “Wouldn’t being his partner be a good thing? At least on the ice, I mean. I know he can be a little insufferable, but isn’t he some sort of prodigy—”

“Prodigy, my ass.” You’re so sick of that goddamn word. “Wasn’t a prodigy when he dropped me in the middle of our program at junior nationals, was he?”

The way all three or their jaws drop in unison is almost worth the admission. 

But the thing is, he was. No accusatory fingers pointed in his direction after it happened. No one blamed prodigy Park Sunghoon for the mishap. 

No, it was decided fair and square by the jury of public opinion that the mistake was entirely your fault, your burden to bear. And it’s not like you were immune to the criticism. Whispers followed where you went. And you always, always managed to hear them. 

Maybe if you’d trained a little harder, completed the second rotation a little sooner, the skill would have gone off without a hitch, they mused. Hell, maybe if you’d stuck to your diet a little better, those last two pounds would have spelled the difference between a perfect landing and your ass on frozen ground, program music still crescendoing as onlookers watched with horrified fascination.

“Oh,” Jungwon grimaces. 

“That’s rough,” Niki agrees. 

And they don’t even know the worst of it. Don’t know that back then, at fifteen, you’d had a giant, soul crushing, earth shattering, massive crush on your skating partner. That you searched for his approval just as eagerly as you’d sought out your coach’s. 

That you’d squeezed in as many extra practice sessions as physically possible for five months leading up to the routine just to make sure you were as close to flawless as possible, just to make sure you were chosen to be his partner on the ice. 

That you giggled, giggled, when you saw the matching costumes the two of you would wear for the first time. 

That you followed where he went with long sighs and lovesick eyes. That you looked forward to the grueling hours you spent on the ice with him, turning perfection into something even greater. 

That your heart skipped a beat every time you ran through your program, every time he caught you with sure hands and a strong grip. 

That Park Sunghoon never made a mistake, never let you fall, not once. 

Not until a spotlight was spinning dreams into reality and you were already anticipating the secret smiles you’d share with matching gold medals around your necks. 

Not until it all shattered in a single moment. 

It was cold, as you laid there on the ice, sprawled out and unable to move from the sudden shock of it all. Luckily, you’d avoided any critical injuries. You had staggered off the ice with nothing but some bad bruising, the worst of it staining your ego and your heart. 

And after it all, no matter how many times you passed him on your way to the locker room, shared the ice with him, or searched for the gaze he pointedly avoided across the room, Park Sunghoon never uttered the two words that just might have made you forgive it all. 

Instead of an apology or even the decency of an explanation, you got a cold shoulder and a lost friendship you were too confused by to mourn. 

In the end, you’d decided to turn it all into a blessing in a very thorough disguise. From that moment onwards, all of your time on the ice was dedicated to you and you alone. Never would you let anything but the sheer strength of your own will, your own goals, motivate you to become better, faster, stronger. 

And you found that victory tasted even sweeter, when the full weight of it could rest on your shoulders alone. When no one could whisper behind their palms that the only reason you stood on the podium was a prodigy of a partner. 

So fine. Park Sunghoon didn’t owe you shit. Not an apology, an explanation, or even a second glance. 

And if he was a prodigy, an ice prince or whatever stupid title he’d earned alongside his medals, well, you’d just have to be even better.

But now, sitting across from new friends with a fractured ankle and a ruined shot at medalling this year, a quiet part of you admits for the first time that maybe, just maybe, part of that resolve is nothing but spite in disguise. Part of the anger you’ve clung to for so long isn’t directed at him, but at yourself. 

That it was embarrassing to fall in front of a crowd, yes, but it was also humiliating to know that he was hearing all those little comments about your inferiority too. To realize that his silence meant he probably agreed. That you were a liability of a partner, unequal in both skill and importance. That he could move on from the incident, from you, completely unscathed. 

That your little crush was entirely one-sided, just like the respect and admiration you’d once felt for him. 

You stare at the half-eaten lunch in front of you, appetite suddenly completely gone. 

“What a coincidence that the two of you ended up injured at the same time,” Jake muses. 

“And in the same physical therapy group.” Jungwon nods. 

“Yeah,” you echo hollowly. “What a coincidence.”

…

When Park Sunghoon speaks to you for the first time in five years, it’s completely by accident.

As the weeks have continued on, you’ve fallen into a perfect routine during your shared physical therapy sessions. A routine of avoidance, ignorance, and as much space between the two of you as physically possible. It’s become so easy that the two of you navigate it with the kind of grace only two elite figure skaters could ever manage. 

If anything, it’s more awkward for the other members of your session than it is for the two of you. Jungwon, Jake, Niki, and Dr. Kim are the ones suffering as they try to stay friendly with both of you without icing out the other. 

It must be why he doesn’t even bother to check who it is that’s standing right next to him as he reaches for his bag on the shelf near the front door at the end of another session. Must be why he says it in a voice so casual you don’t think it’s him at first. “How pissed do you think Dr. Kim will be if I’m late again next week?”

Even though the voice doesn’t quite fit, you half expect to see Jake standing next to you when you turn to the side. 

Sunghoon realizes his mistake at the exact same second you do. You watch as shock flickers across his features, quickly replaced by something guarded, unreadable. Just as completely closed off to you as always. 

It pisses you off, the way he’s so utterly and completely unaffected by you. The way he can brush you off as easily as a piece of dust. Insignificant. Unimportant. Unwanted. It has you freeing the reins on comments you should bite back instead. 

“Hard to say.” Ice and resentment drip from every syllable. “Then again, I’m surprised you care about what she thinks. Doesn’t seem like something that would bother you.”

That at least earns you some of his emotion. Another bout of shock crosses his face before it shifts to confusion and falls finally to anger. You can see it in the furrow of his brow, the set of his jaw. The flare of heat in his eyes. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

If he falls to anger, you’ll rise above it. At least on the outside. There’s no accounting for the way your gut twists in rage. Still, you offer him a smile that’s almost as fake as it is sickeningly sweet. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out if you spend enough time thinking about it.” It’s patronizing, and intentionally so. You hope it annoys him enough to keep him up tonight. 

Reaching for the front door, you take your exit first. The hallways of this building have become familiar over the weeks. Even with anger clouding your vision and a bad ankle, you trace a steady path to the parking lot. You’re halfway to your car when the sound of your name stops you in your tracks. 

You freeze for a moment, turning the sound of it over in your brain, stuck on the way it almost sounds like a plea, a prayer coming from his lips. The sound of footsteps draws nearer. They fall quickly, as if he’s running. Your indecision still renders you immobile. 

“Hold on a second. Did I… Did I do something to upset you?”

If you thought you were angry before, you’re surely seeing red now. How dare he. 

Spinning around, you only hope you sound as outraged as you feel. “Is that supposed to be some kind of joke?”

“What? No.” His brow furrows. “I mean, I know our schools are technically rivals and all, but we haven’t really seen each other in years.”

“Right, because you’ve been so sunny and welcoming since I joined the group.”

“I was giving you space. You practically bolted like a scared cat when you saw it was me.” He runs a hand through his hair. You hate the way it falls perfectly back into place. And you hate the way he looks so good doing it. “But clearly you’ve got something against me.”

The audacity, the sheer, utter audacity. There’s no trace of humor when you say, “You’re hilarious, really.” And there’s no room for debate when you turn away from him again, continuing to walk towards your car. 

“Wait,” he tries, but it falls on deaf ears. “God, ___, would you just hold on for a second, I—”

You turn. To do what, you’re not entirely sure. But before you can decide, the grip he has on his car keys loosens, the fingers of his right hand less dexterous than usual thanks to his arm brace. He still has his reflexes though. With his other hand, he manages to stop them from falling completely. 

“Better take care of that.” You jerk your chin to where he awkwardly fumbles with his keyring, trying to find a better grip. “Wouldn’t want to drop those too.”

His gaze snaps to you, eyes wide, mouth slightly slackened. The keys fall from his grasp, metal clinking delicately on the pavement. A million questions swim across his features, none of which you’ll give the grace of answering. 

Instead, you turn around once more. You make it all the way to your car, all the way out of the parking lot, all the way home. 

And he never says your name once. 

…

The following Tuesday, you are the last one of the group to arrive. And while you would usually never pass up the opportunity to best Sunghoon at anything, including being the latest arrival, competition is not the reason for your tardiness. 

It’s avoidance. That, and the fact that you had to spend eleven minutes giving yourself a pep talk in the car before you could work up the nerve to approach the front doors of the clinic. In the end, it’s a glance down at the boot on your left foot that does it. You’ve let Sunghoon ruin your chance at a gold medal once, and you’ll be damned if you let him do it again. 

Besides, your last visit with Dr. Min was a good one. Your ankle hasn’t healed quite as much as Dr. Kim suspected, but progress is progress, and you’re making plenty of it, according to your most recent x-rays. 

You enter the session with an apology for Dr. Kim and concentrated efforts to not let your gaze wander to the back corner of the room as you make your way over to where Jake and Jungwon sit. Starting your stretches, you assume Niki is over with Sunghoon, but you can’t work up the nerve to confirm that. 

Despite her initial annoyance at your tardiness, Dr. Kim is equally pleased at your latest x-ray results and gives you the green light to switch out the resistance bands you’ve been using for the next level up. Just as you’re reaching for the set of red bands on the shelf next to the treadmills, a set of obnoxiously smooth hands gets there first. 

Turning to Sunghoon with narrowed eyes, you grab the end of the band set he just snatched out from under you, eyes ablaze. 

The little fucker has the gall to roll his eyes. “What are you doing?”

You yank on the band. He doesn’t even flinch, grip steady. “I’m trying to follow Dr. Kim’s instructions,” you inform, tone flat. 

This time when you yank again, he yanks back. Much to your annoyance, he’s able to exert enough force to have you stumbling forward. “You’re trying to provoke me.”

“And it’s working,” Niki whispers to Jake and Jungwon in the back corner of the room. Dr. Kim just shakes her head. 

“Just take the green bands,” Sunghoon suggests. 

“They don’t have enough resistance. I need these ones,” you argue. “Why don’t you take the green ones?”

“Pretty sure if one of us takes the lighter bands, it should be you.” Sunghoon tightens his grip. “Or are you seriously trying to claim that you’re stronger than me right now?”

“I’m using them for my legs, you absolute jackass. Which are definitely stronger than your forearms.”

Sunghoon cocks a brow. “Should we put money on it?”

“You are such a dick. Dr. Kim literally—”

“Has another set of red bands,” the woman in question interrupts. She levels the two of you with an exasperated look as she holds them out in front of her. “There’s another set of every color on the equipment shelf next to the door.”

“Oh, right,” you nod, pulling back a little on your end of the band before you release it, just to hear the small cry Sunghoon lets out when it snaps against the skin of his good wrist. “Thanks.”

And the satisfaction that comes from completing your usual number of reps with a higher resistance is almost as gratifying as when you see Sunghoon rubbing at the still reddened skin on his left wrist as you pack up to leave for the day. 

“Those two are gonna kill each other,” Jungwon tells Jake and Niki as the three of them walk to their cars, brow creasing in concern. 

“Or something,” Jake agrees. 

Niki hoists his bag up on his shoulder. “My money’s on ___.”

A contemplative look passes between Jake and Jungwon before they nod in unison, “Yeah.”

…

You’re in the middle of passing a medicine ball back and forth with Jake the following week when he asks, “Are your school’s finals next week too?”

And although it’s hard to believe, first semester is already drawing to an end as the days get shorter and assignments get longer. 

“Yeah,” you nod. “I’m up to my ass in essays right now.”

“Same,” Jake agrees. “Sometimes it makes me wonder how I do it when I’m training, too.” Although you agree, a pang of jealousy is the only thing his words inspire. Of the skaters on your team that are preparing to compete as you speak. That have already choreographed their routines and selected their music and are spending every waking moment perfecting each and every detail of their program. 

It’s hard. It’s brutal. You’d be the first to admit that. But you miss it all the same, so much it hurts. 

A moment passes before he continues. “Well, anyway, Jungwon, Niki, and I were thinking that since none of us are training right now, we should celebrate the end of the semester like everyone else does.”

You arch a brow. “You’re gonna have to be more specific than that.”

“Right, sorry,” he apologizes. “Consider this your formal invitation to get absolutely shitfaced with us next Friday.”

The laugh that bubbles in your throat is so unexpected you can’t quite bite it back. While you have your fair share of good, old-fashioned fun, he’s right. Every other semester, you’ve celebrated the end of finals season with a cup of hot tea and an early night in bed. Traded one source of stress for another as you woke up bright and early the next day to hit the ice. 

You send him a smile, tossing the medicine ball back in his direction. “Count me in.”

…

The following Friday night finds you double-checking the address on your phone before tentatively knocking on the front door of what you hope is Jake’s apartment. In the middle of the university district across the city from your own, you can’t say you’re familiar with any of the buildings outside of the athletic complex, which you’ve only ever visited for a handful of competitions. It strikes you then that this is also the university Sunghoon attends. And, stomach dropping, that you never actually asked who all would be attending tonight.

Before you have the chance to spin on your heel and high-tail it down the stairs you just climbed, the door swings open. It’s not Jake. 

“Oh,” you mumble. The boy who opened the door is not Jake, but he is very much attractive. “Sorry. I’m looking for Jake Sim’s apartment.” Your voice turns up at the end like a question. 

“You’re in the right place,” he smiles, and it’s gorgeous. “I’m Heeseung, Jake’s roommate. You must be ___.” He opens the door wider, allowing you space. “Come on in.”

“That’s me.” You offer him a grateful smile as you enter, hanging your coat and sliding your shoes off. 

The interior is surprisingly sophisticated, for a college boy’s apartment. It’s clean, for starters, and as you follow Heeseung down the hallway towards the kitchen, you can’t help but be impressed by their choice in decor. 

“Help yourself to anything.” Heeseung gestures to the impressive spread of snacks on the table. “But first, can I get you something to drink?”

“Um…” Your lack of alcohol-related knowledge is apparent, and the uncertainty must be obvious, because Heeseung just smiles again. 

“I’ve got you.” There’s an undertone of something in his words. Something playful, something bordering on flirty. But it’s too subtle to tell for sure, and you’re not one to bet on losing odds. He reaches for a glass and a handful of ice cubes. “Do you like fruity flavors?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “That sounds good.” Besides, it’s been a minute since you’ve been well and truly flirted with at a college party by a boy that looks like he could spell trouble in his sleep. This could be fun, you think.  

Glancing towards the adjacent living room, you notice the usual familiar faces. Jake and Niki are sitting on the couch while Jungwon chats with a pair of boys you don’t recognize. Eyes tracing the perimeter, you feel your shoulders tense when they land on a familiar silhouette. Sunghoon has his back to you, but his identity is just as unmistakable as it was on your first day of physical therapy. Like Jungwon, he’s talking to another person you don’t know. 

Oh, well. It’s too late to back out now and too early to make an exit. If you and Sunghoon can coexist in a room once a week without starting too many fires, you’re sure you’ll manage to get through tonight just fine. 

Heeseung hands you a full glass. It’s cold where it meets your fingertips. 

“Should we join them?” He inclines his head toward the living room and you nod. 

Following in his footsteps, you wave a quick greeting to Jake before taking a seat next to Heeseung, enough space between you and Sunghoon for you to relax slightly.

“How do you and Jake know each other?” You ask, searching for something to fill the silence, to keep the conversation flowing. “Do you play soccer together?”

Heeseung shakes his head. “No, we’ve been friends since elementary school. But I am on the basketball team, which helps. I feel like student athletes just kind of get each other, you know?”

You do know, and you tell him as much. The crazy schedule, the unwavering commitment. It’s much easier to explain to someone that’s living through the exact same thing. 

“Speaking of which, you’re a figure skater, right? For the university across town.”

You arch a brow. “I’m surprised Jake told you so much about you.”

“Not nearly enough,” he flirts, and this time it’s blatant. 

You take another sip of your drink with upturned lips, weighing a response on your tongue. Before you can decide how many cards you’d like to show, you make eye contact across the room with the one person you were hoping to avoid. 

Sunghoon looks equally—scratch that—even more displeased to see you. Jawline so taught you could cut your finger on it and lips drawn in a straight line, he’s pissed where he locks eyes with you from his seat. Sunghoon is the one to avert his eyes first. Throwing back whatever’s in his cup, he slices through the moment of tension with a knife. 

If Heeseung notices the way your breath splutters, he doesn’t comment. Thankfully, Jungwon chooses the next moment to say his hellos and introduce you to the boys you hadn’t recognized earlier. 

“Sunoo,” he nods towards the boy he’d been sitting with earlier, who offers a friendly greeting. “And that’s Jay, over by Sunghoon. And you’ve already met Heeseung.”

“And you all go to school here?”

“Yeah,” Jungwon nods. “Jay and I live together, and Sunoo is Niki’s roommate.”

“You’re deep in enemy territory,” Heeseung elbows you lightly, teasing. “What are we gonna do with you?”

You lift your now empty glass towards him, grinning. “Get me another drink, hopefully.”

Sending you a wink, he takes the glass from your outstretched hand before standing from the couch. “On it.” You watch his back retreat into the kitchen, oblivious of the second one that follows it a handful of moments later. 

Jay, as it turns out, is not an athlete, but does play guitar for a local  band your friend has been raving to you about for ages. He’s already promising you two sets of complimentary tickets to every one of their upcoming shows by the time you realize Heeseung’s been gone for a while. Too long. 

Excusing yourself, you head toward the kitchen. And it’s just your luck that you find the person you’ve spent the evening avoiding, instead of the one you’re searching for. Even with the buzz of your first drink fading rapidly, your inhibitions are feeling low. 

Sunghoon barely has the chance to register your presence before you’re laying out accusations. 

“I know you don’t like me, but do you really have to spend the whole night glaring at me like that? In front of everyone?”

Sunghoon’s shoulders tense, a confirmation that he hears you, but he says nothing. Instead, he just swallows the remainder of his drink in one large gulp. His eyes are still flaring, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think you did something to piss him off. 

But it’s just like him, to avoid conversations he doesn’t want to have with the end of another drink. To treat you like someone not even worthy of a response. You don’t know why you expected anything different. Scoffing, you notice the full drink sitting on the counter. Heeseung must have had the chance to refill it before disappearing. 

You move to step around Sunghoon and reach for it when he finally says, “I’m not glaring at you.”

The gaze you level him with is incredulous. “Do you think I’m stupid? I have eyes—”

“For all I know you are stupid!” Sunghoon sighs, drags an open palm down the length of his face. “I mean, are you really gonna let some guy you just met pour your drinks all night?”

“Heeseung?” You’re confused why all of his rage seems to be directed towards something so insignificant. “He’s Jake’s roommate”

“And a complete stranger to you.”

It’s infuriating, the way he assumes his opinion should hold any weight in your life. The way he thinks he has any say in your decisions. “So should I avoid all the food now too?” You’re being petty now for the sake of it. “I mean, since you’ve been in here unsupervised for quite a while now.” You take another step towards your drink and he moves, blocking your path with his body. 

When you look up, you find his eyes already trained on you, and there’s no ice in them now. Just pure, unadulterated heat. Fire. Flames that lick the base of your spine. “You’re so fucking agitating, you know that?”

“I’m agitating?” You take another step forward, hoping the proximity will force him away. It doesn’t. If anything, he leans into it. Into you. 

You reach for the drink again. This time, he stops you himself. Fingers of his unrestricted hand wrapping around your wrist.

“Yeah.” His words are low, voice a caress even as it drips venom. You feel his breath ghost across your cheekbone. “Real fucking agitating.”

Your eyes are still locked on his, and you search them for a hint of something coherent, something that makes sense. Every bone in your body drawn taught, it’s as if muscle memory reverts you to the last moment you were like this, the last moment he held you this close, body entwined with his own in a familiar embrace. Your wrist slackens in his grasp. 

Last time, he dropped you. Sent you scattering across ice until the only thing you could taste was the bitterness of defeat and the sharp sting of humiliation. 

Last time, he let you fall. 

You have no idea what he’ll do now. 

In the end, it’s the sound of approaching footsteps that has the two of you springing apart, your wrist falling from his grip. In the scramble, you remember your original target. 

Despite the long melted ice, this drink feels even cooler in your grip, a stark contrast to the simmering heat just beneath your skin. 

When Heeseung enters, he’s tucking his phone into his pocket with an apologetic look. “Sorry, I had to take a call. My brother gets chatty at the worst times.” Nodding to your hand, he smiles, “You found your drink.” 

“Yeah, I did.” You take a step closer to the living room, closer to Heeseung. Further from Sunghoon. 

Glancing between the two of you, there’s a hint of uncertainty when Heeseung asks if you want to rejoin the others in the living room. 

You put his worries to ease and your questions to rest when you agree easily, not even bothering to give Sunghoon a second thought. 

You do seek his gaze one last time, though, before you follow Heeseung back to the party. Looking directly at him, you raise your glass in a mock toast. Without breaking eye contact, you bring the cup to your lips, swallowing half the drink in one long sip. When you do finally turn away, it’s to find the empty seat next to Heeseung. 

The rest of the evening passes in a pleasant blur, trading stories and laughs with the people around you while Heeseung keeps the seat at your side warm. Sunghoon does you the favor of disappearing from sight after your stand off in the kitchen.

It’s easy to relax into the company of everyone else, so much so that you don’t see Sunoo until you’re running right into him, the contents of his cup saturating the front of your shirt. 

It’s a problem Heeseung is quick to solve, and the gray hoodie he offers you is cozier than any of your own with a scent that’s almost addicting. 

He’s sweet, you think. Sweet and charming and forward in all of the right ways. It’s solidified when he offers to join you on the porch when you tell him you’re stepping outside for some fresh air. It’s cemented when he accepts your refusal with nothing but a smile and the request that you “come back quick.”

Stepping outside, it takes you a moment to realize that you’re not alone. It would appear that your earlier assumption that Sunghoon must have gone back to his place was wrong. There’s no drink in his hand, but the way he sways with the gentle midnight breeze makes you think he’s still working through everything he downed earlier. 

Silently, you glance up at the cloudless night sky, at the way the stars seem to wrap around you. Gaze returning to Sunghoon’s back, you suppose the simplest course of action would be to leave before he realizes you’re here. You turn to do just that, to make good on your promise to Heesung, when the sound of your name stops you in your tracks. 

Or at least, you think that’s what he says. It’s hard to tell, with the way his syllables and sounds slur together. Turning back towards him, you find him already looking at you. He repeats your name, and this time around, it’s a bit clearer. 

His eyes trace a downward line from your face to your change in clothes. Something in his face crumples, withers. 

“‘M sorry,” he slurs, words not lining up quite right through the inebriation. 

“What?”

“That day.” The sudden onset of sincerity in his tone makes him seem more sober than he is. “I should have caught you.”

The stars in the sky suddenly don’t seem so far away. You must have heard him wrong. A crease forms between your eyebrows, eyes scanning over his features. They’re laid open in their honesty, no trace of deception. 

“I wanted to catch you. I tried to.” He sighs. “Was my fault.”

“I…” You search for words, for the vindication you’d always imagined you’d feel at his admission. In its absence, you find only confusion and an odd pang of regret. “What?”

“I’m sorry,” he repeats. 

“Sorry for what? Why are you bringing that up?”

He just shakes his head, eyes falling to his feet. 

“I’m sorry,” he says again. Like a broken record. His pain is wrapped up in there too, trapped in a loop time has never quite let it escape. 

When you return to the party, it’s with a jumbled excuse of needing to check on a pet cat you don’t have. 

In the haste of it all, you forget to so much as exchange numbers with Heeseung. But you do find the time to pull Jake aside on your way out the door, to make sure that he helps Sunghoon get home safe. 

…

The next morning greets you with a pounding headache and an unfamiliar hoodie draped over the back of your desk chair. It takes a moment of searching through hazy memories before recollection of that particular string of events finds you. 

With a sigh, you head out in search of water and Advil, sending Jake a quick message that you’ll stop by his apartment later to return Heeseung’s hoodie. 

Even a handful of hours later, you can’t decide if you hope Heeseung is home or not. It’s a Saturday afternoon after a long night, so you figure the odds are high. But you still can’t pinpoint whether that feeling in your gut is excitement or dread. 

In an effort to delay the inevitable, you take a detour before visiting Jake’s apartment again. Your rival university’s sports complex is just as nice as you remember it, large, pristine buildings that hold everything an athletics department could dream of. Fondly, you remember the first time you skated in this stadium, back in middle school. It had felt so big, then, so special, to be skating for such a large crowd. 

It felt even more special to be sharing the ice with someone who put dreams in your head and butterflies in your stomach. Still fairly new to pair skating, the two of you had put on a program with a less than favorable amount of deduction. 

But still. It was yours. It was special. It was shared. 

You wonder if he knew then, that one day he would be the reigning king of this very same rink. 

Probably, you think. Park Sunghoon never had the habit of letting things feel impossible. 

Looking down at the boot on your foot, you miss it, all of it, all at once. The late nights. The early mornings. The bruises and cuts and aching muscles. The determination after defeat. The elation after glory. The feeling of flying every time blade touches ice. 

The sign posted next to the stadium is an advertisement, a reminder, of the upcoming regional championships. There’s a pang of loss, a moment of grief, for your program that will have to wait for next year. 

But your x-rays are coming back better every time, and Dr. Kim is sure you’ll be back on the ice by the time spring comes. 

For the first time in a long time, you think it’ll be okay. You know you’ll be okay.  

In front of you, the stadium door opens, and you realize you’re standing right in front of the exit. 

“Sorry,” you mutter, quickly moving to get out of the way, but then you take a closer look. “Coach Kang?” you ask, just as she says your name with the same air of disbelief. 

It’s an odd feeling of synchronicity, to stumble into your childhood skating coach just as you’re reminiscing on the past. 

“It’s been so long,” she beams, pulling you in for a warm hug. “What are you doing here?”

“Just visiting a friend. What about you?”

“Coaches’ meeting,” she explains. “Trying to see if I can get some of my junior skaters in to watch a few practices before regionals.” Nudging you with her shoulder, she adds, “speaking of which, how’s your program coming along? Are you getting excited?”

You shake your head. “I’m actually off the ice for this one.” Glancing down, you lift your booted foot in explanation. “Ankle fracture has me out for the rest of the season.”

“Oh, no.” Coach Kang places a consolatory hand on your shoulder. “I’m sorry. That has to be so hard.”

“It’s okay, actually.” You don’t know who’s more surprised, her at your admission, or you at the fact that you actually mean it. “Everything is healing up nicely, so I’m looking forward to an even better program next year.” 

“Well look at you, all grown up.” She smiles. “I can say that thirteen-year-old you would not have had such a good attitude about it. Honestly, I’m surprised a fracture was enough to stop you. You were always so stubborn about things. You and Sunghoon.” She lets out a short laugh as your shoulders tense at the mention of him. “I was just thinking about you two the other day, actually. We had a skater fracture his tailbone and argue until he was blue in the face that he still wanted to compete.” Shaking her head, she adds, “It reminded me of that time Sunghoon insisted on skating even though he’d just sprained his wrist.” She shakes her head again, releases a small laugh. “Never could keep you two off the ice.”

It all checks out, the stubbornness, the determination even when it was stupid. But you’re hung up on one detail. You’re sure you could list every one of Sunghoon’s skating injuries just as thoroughly as he could. But before the current one, you can’t recall any wrist injuries. “What? When did he sprain his wrist?” 

Coach Kang waves her hand flippantly, like the sinking feeling in your gut isn’t intensifying with every passing moment, like she isn’t about to confirm a realization you’re already dreading. “Oh, you remember. It was just a few days before nationals that one year.”

That one year. She skirts around it, for your sake probably. But you know exactly what she means, when she’s referring to. 

And suddenly, you’re falling through air again, plummeting towards ice as a hand makes a desperate attempt to catch you. As sheer will alone is no match for injury weakened bones and ligaments and muscles. As you’re sliding across frozen ground and he’s gripping his wrist with pain on his face and terror in his eyes. 

As your head spins, spots clouding your vision from the force of the impact. Before the world goes black, your eyes search for him. 

And in those last few moments of consciousness, you watch as his mouth moves to form words you can’t hear. 

“I’m sorry.”

…

Raising your fist, you pound at the door again. One, two, three times. At this rate, your knuckles will be bloody before you get a response. 

But before you can start your assault on the wood in front of you again, the door swings open slowly, revealing a familiar frame. 

“You absolute idiot.”

“Well hello to you too.” Rubbing at his eyes, you appear to have just woken him from a nap. If his head is feeling anything like yours was this morning, you almost feel sorry. 

But there are more pressing matters at hand. “Were you ever going to tell me?”

“That I’m an idiot? Probably not.”

“That you sprained your wrist three days before nationals? That you skated anyway? That you attempted to catch a person quite literally spinning through the air with a wrist injury?”

A beat of silence passes. 

And then another. 

Sunghoon suddenly looks wide awake. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. What the hell were you thinking?” There’s fire in your eyes, an anger that’s directed towards him but not in the ways he’s used to. 

He pauses for a moment, eyes searching your features for another beat. Finally, he sighs. “Would you have let me skate if I did?”

It’s not the answer you expect. And it’s just like him, to answer a question with one of his own. “I… what?”

“You heard me.” His eyes don’t leave yours. “Would you have let me get on the ice if you knew I was hurt?”

And what is it, him and his habit of asking ridiculous questions like they don’t have obvious answers. “What kind of question is that? Of course not. No one in their right mind would have let you do that program with a wrist sprain, much less your partner. And I love Coach Kang, but I’m about to file a negligence suit against her, because what the hell kind of—”

“Stop talking.”

“Excuse me?”

“Sorry,” he grimaces, and you’re still getting used to the way apologies sound on his lips. “That came out wrong. What I was trying to say was that you… Well, I… I mean…” He trails off for the third time, casts a tentative look at the way your eyebrows only raise higher and higher every time he stops a train of thought in its tracks. His gaze falls down, somewhere between your nose and chin. An exhale passes through parted lips. Something in his resolve slips. “Oh, fuck it.”

And then he’s kissing you. 

Lips against lips and hands in your hair. It’s messy and awkward, and you can’t quite get the timing right. 

Sunghoon pulls back a fraction of an inch, catching his breath and letting you do the same. 

“What are you doing?”

There’s heat in his eyes and fondness too, a soft sort of expression that only melts further every time he looks at you. But now there’s anxiety in the mix, a crippling fear that he’s misjudged everything entirely, done something horribly wrong. 

“I’m sorry.” Before today, you could count his apologies on one hand. Now, you’re running out of fingers. “Did you not want—”

This time, it’s you that pulls him down, hands lacing around the nape of his neck, exhaling a soft sigh against parted lips that sends his mind spinning. 

And it’s only the second time, but it’s already better. Already a natural rhythm that the two of you seem to fall into with a little more grace. 

The expanse of his door is cold against your back when Sunghoon pulls you into his apartment with his good hand, and he’s a quick study. Attempt number three is an even greater improvement as hands search for new skin to discover and things start to fall into place, one at a time. 

Reaching for Heeseung’s forgotten hoodie, Sunghoon breaks the kiss only to toss it somewhere outside your current plane of existence. In this moment, you exist only within the space the two of you occupy, everything else an afterthought. 

And you have the feeling attempt number four will be your best yet. 

…

epilogue

“Are you ever gonna join me or do I just have to stay out here looking stupid forever?”

You don’t even take a moment to consider. “The second one.”

“Come on,” Sunghoon pleads, skating back towards you where you remain planted firmly to the bench on the perimeter of the rink. He moves towards you with a grace that used to inspire a raging, stomping green monster of envy. Now, you just admire the way he cuts across the ice with the agility of a dancer. “It’s fun out here, I promise.”

Avoiding his gaze, you let your eyes fall to your feet instead. They’re already laced up in your favorite pair of skates, black boot all but forgotten since you had it removed at your last visit to Dr. Min’s office. Since he gave you the green light to return to the thing you love most. 

You had been ecstatic then. Brimming with so much extra energy Sunghoon had to physically intervene to prevent you from accidentally knocking over an elderly lady on your way out of the hospital. But now, with the opportunity you’ve been dreaming of for long, hard months at your fingertips, something in you hesitates. 

Sunghoon says your name, and suddenly he’s serious. “This is all you’ve been talking about for months.” Sliding down onto his knees in front of you, you’re suddenly at eye level. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” He casts a doubtful glance. “Really, I just…” It’s hard, to speak your fears into existence, to let them take flight. Even if the boy in front of you makes it a little easier. “What if it’s not what I imagined?”

It’s a million little worries wrapped up in one. What if your ankle isn’t the same? What if it’s never the same? What if you’re not as good as you were? What if you’re not good enough? 

Sunghoon hears them all, and puts them to rest with a smile, a gentle touch as he rests his forehead against yours. “You and that big brain. Always worrying about the wrong things.”

“Hey! I—”

“It won’t be what you imagined.” He draws back a few inches, and your eyes have nowhere to land but on his own. “It will be different. It will feel weird, and your legs will feel wobbly, your muscles will feel weak, and your ankle might give out.”

Your lips flatten into a thin line. “If you’re trying to make me feel better, you’re doing a terrible job.”

Sunghoon just pinches your cheeks together, forcing your lips to purse. “So you’ll show up. Over and over again. Every day until your skates start to feel like a second pair of feet and the ice starts to feel like home again. Until your ankle and your muscles and your stamina are all built back up, in a way that’s different from before but will feel familiar before you know it.” He presses a single, delicate kiss to the tip of your nose. “Until I’m dragging you off the ice instead of onto it, because your boyfriend needs attention and is feeling a little jealous of all the time you’re spending here instead of with him.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re so needy. It’s gross.”

Sunghoon only smiles. “Only for you.”

This time, when he gets back on his feet and extends a hand, you take it. You follow him onto the ice and headfirst towards your insecurities feeling a little bit like a newborn deer, a bike without its training wheels. 

He laughs when you stumble and brushes hair out of your face when you pout. 

After an hour, you’re already feeling more solid than before. After two, that feeling of flying is starting to return. 

It’s somewhere just before hour three when Sunghoon says, “Remember how I told you earlier that you’re worrying about the wrong things?”

“Yeah.” You drag the word out slowly, not liking the hint of deviousness in his sudden grin. 

“This is what I was talking about. Instead of worrying about getting back on the ice, you should be worrying about how long it will take you to be able to beat me on a lap around the rink.”

“You absolute asshole. I fractured my ankle!”

Already halfway around the rink, Sunghoon just laughs. 

…

outtake—five years ago. 

Sunghoon’s vision is blurry. It’s a terrible combination of things—the exhilaration of the spotlight, the pain in his wrist, the grief of an egregious error. The sudden onset of tears that sting in the corners of his eyes and fall without his permission. 

Despite all of it, he finds his way back to his dressing room. Choking back a sob, he reaches for the glass of water he’d left out earlier. It tastes acidic on his tongue, burns like regret on the way down. 

Stupid, he was so stupid. His hands tangle in his hair. He wants to pull it out. Wants to scream until his throat is raw and he can’t anymore. 

It was a terrible enough decision to gamble his own fate on an unhealed injury, but as the reality of the situation comes crashing down around him, he realizes he’s done something much worse. 

Eyes open, eyes closed. It doesn’t matter. All he can see is you, sprawled out on ice, limbs bent unnaturally, eyes dazed at the impact. 

The unexpected impact. Because you trusted him. You trusted him so much that of course you’d never considered what you would do if his hands failed, if his wrist gave out. If he decided to risk your program, your fate, you, all on a whim, on an inflated sense of self-importance and a lack of regard for the injury he was so certain he could power through. 

He couldn’t imagine it, three days ago. Telling you that he was injured, that he couldn’t skate the program. He couldn’t imagine watching as the features he bashfully considered so, painfully pretty twisted into disappointment. Into anger. 

So he turned his shame into resolve, into determination. One that allowed him to catch you with a fractured wrist in every practice run, every time, except for the time that mattered. Biting back grimaces and cries of pain all for the fool’s hope of seeing you smile in a few days’ time, a gold medal around your neck. 

Instead, he got to see you spinning through the air, slipping through his fingers, landing with a sickening thud. He wants to ask what hospital they took you to, wants to ignore the pain in his wrist a little longer and run there himself, just to make sure that you’re okay.

But then he imagines the way you’ll look at him when you see him. The way all that disappointment and anger he’d wanted to avoid so desperately will surely be all you have to offer him. 

He understands. He does. He wouldn’t want to see him either. 

Turning away from the mirror, he tucks away his shame for the future. But that only leaves his gaze landing on the bouquet of flowers sitting on the table. The one he’d spent nearly an hour agonizing over, the one his mother had assured him a dozen times you would love. The one he made sure had all of your favorite colors. 

He snuck his own favorite in there too, in hopes of what exactly he can’t be sure, but he knows he likes the way they look together—your favorite color and the deep blue irises that represent his own. 

It seems to stupid now. After everything, after this, he can’t imagine you want his flowers, and even less his favorite color. He can’t imagine that you want anything to do with him. 

So he doesn’t seek you out. Not in the hospital that day, not when you’re cleared to practice and back on the ice again, not when chance has the two of you colliding five years later. 

Not until he watches you walk away from him with all that anger and resentment and disappointment he’s been so avoiding for so long. Not until it strikes him in the face and he realizes that he can’t live with it, can’t let bygones be bygones and hope time and the absence of him in your life have healed you for the better when it still hurts to even look at you. 

On a dressing room table, five years in the past, a bouquet of flowers wilts. 

And Sunghoon learns that with love and patience and a little bit of sunlight, beautiful things, even the fragile ones, bloom when you water them.

.....

note: thank you for reading! as always, comments, reblogs, and asks are very much appreciated :D

[corroded-hellfire]

Hii I love your work I was wondering I have a request for a AYW blurb/side story. I'm inspired by the hockey game I just went to

So let's say luke is in college or in high-school and he has hid first game and reader gets mildly anxious that he gets hurt and eddie reassures her everything going to be okay and he wins and they all go out to dinner.

Idk just something fluffy.

Thank you

Hockey?! Now you're speaking my language. I can't believe I never thought of Luke playing hockey before. Thank you for putting this in my brain!

Words: 2.5k

[As You Wish masterlist]

Magenta painted toes curl inside your thick, fluffy socks. The little girl who applied the shiny polish the other day stands on the metal bleacher, between you and your husband. Her little knees bend and straighten as she bounces up and down, two curly pigtails bobbing along with the motion below the soft pink beanie on her head. 

“Let’s go, Luke!” Eliza cheers. Small brown boots stamp on the metal surface below her as she claps her mitten-clad hands.

Eddie chuckles from the other side of her, one arm hovering around her small frame in case she loses her balance. The hockey game hasn’t even started yet and Eliza is ready to hand her big brother the MVP award. 

The chill from the ice rink soaks into your skin even through the layers of your long-sleeved tee and jacket. Your gloves seem to do nothing to keep your fingers from turning into icicles, so you tuck your hands between your thighs, hoping the body warmth can thaw them out. 

“You okay, babe?” Eddie asks, leaning back to look at you around your four-year-old. 

The nod you give isn’t convincing, even to yourself. You couldn’t be prouder of Luke for making the Hawkins High School hockey team as a freshman, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t worried about him getting hurt. The fresh batch of pregnancy hormones coursing through your system isn’t helping matters either. 

An obnoxious buzzer blares from the speakers on the wall as the scoreboard sets itself down to all zeroes. The crowd full of families and friends starts cheering as the two teams pour out onto the ice. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Eliza become airborne and you look to see Eddie lifting her over his lap so she’s standing in between him and Ryan instead of him and you. A steady arm wraps around you, and you gladly lean into your husband’s embrace.

“He’s going to be fine,” Eddie tells you.

“I know.”

“Yeah? Because you look like you’re about to storm onto the ice and drag Luke home by the collar of his jersey.”

You release a deep sigh and try to get your tense shoulders to relax. 

“He’s played sports before,” you say, sounding more like you’re convincing yourself than the man next to you. “Baseball, basketball. But this is different.”

“Why’s that?” Eddie knows exactly what’s different–it’s your usual protective Mama Bear energy enhanced tenfold due to your fluctuating hormone levels. But he isn’t dumb enough to come out and say that—again.

“Because,” you huff. “Now there are blades and sticks and boards he could be slammed into or ice he can fall down on.”

Eddie rubs his hand up and down your shoulder. It helps both comfort you and warm you up. 

“There are sticks in baseball,” he points out. “They’re just called ‘bats.’ And he’s fallen and skinned his knees both running the bases and on the basketball court. As for being slammed into the boards?” Eddie lets out a breathy chuckle. “That would be nothing compared to having little She-Hulk over here as a sister.”

You let out a small giggle, peeking around your husband to see Eliza enthusiastically shaking Ryan’s shoulder, pointing to where number 86 is out on the ice, warming up.

“I guess that goes for any hockey fights, too,” you say.

“See? Now you’re getting it.” Eddie smiles fondly at you and places a kiss against your temple.

A referee blows a whistle and both you and Eddie watch as the two teams take their places for the first face-off of the game. 

Luke’s best friend Sean skates up to the blue line, right in the center and ready to battle for the puck. Next to his number 19 jersey is Luke to his side as the right winger. The referee drops the puck and the game begins. 

Both your and Eddie’s eyes are glued to your son as play moves around the ice. Your gazes follow him up the ice and back down before he hops onto the bench for a shift change. Without her brother now to focus on, Eliza comes up with a new way to entertain herself: a cheer.

“Let’s go, Tigers!” Clap, clap, clap, clap, clap.

It only takes two turns of her cheering before the home crowd joins in, leaving the little girl beaming, proud to have started the trend. She’s no stranger to different cheers for the team; whenever Luke plays basketball, Eliza only cares to focus on the cheerleaders doing their routines on the sidelines. Ryan tends to pay a lot of attention to them too, but for different reasons. By now, Eliza could probably mimic most of Hawkins High’s cheerleading repertoire. 

A few minutes later, Luke hops back on the ice and you feel the nerves flutter in your stomach. It’s a very different, and distinctly more unpleasant, feeling than the fluttering of having a baby in there. 

“He’s okay,” Eddie murmurs to you, just loud enough to be heard over the din of the rink. 

You nod, but slip your hand into his for reassurance, nonetheless. 

“Mama?” Eliza crawls over her father’s lap, clearly not paying attention to where her bony little limbs are jabbing him, and reaches out to you. “I gotta go potty.”

A battle of emotions collide in your head as you nod and offer your hand to her. One part of you is thankful to get a small distraction from the game, your eyes able to relax instead of seeking out Luke’s constant presence. The other part of you is worried that something will happen while you’re not there, though. As if him getting a hard cross check from an opposing player wouldn’t have occurred if you were still in your seat. 

The ladies’ room is mildly warmer than the rest of the rink, and you lean on the outside of the stall door that Eliza goes into.

“You okay by yourself in there?” you ask.

“Mhmm! Wait. Can you hold my mittens?”

Once the stall door is relocked, you slip the pink mittens into your jacket pocket and listen as Eliza begins to hum a tune to herself. It’s difficult to tell at first, but you’re able to identify the song as I’ll Make a Man Out of You from Mulan. 

After Eliza finishes up, washes her hands, and slips her mittens back on, the two of you step out of the restroom. Before you’re able to take two steps in the direction of your seats, a horn blares, signaling a goal.

Eliza gasps and quickly tugs on the hem of your jacket because she’s too small to see what’s going on over the wall. You scoop her up and the two of you stand at the glass, near the net that was just scored upon. Both of you cheer when you see that it was the Tigers who got the first goal. Luke is sitting on the bench on the other side of the ice though, so you know he wasn’t the one who scored it. 

When the two of you get back to your seats, the first period is coming to an end. Eliza settles comfortably in her father’s lap and tilts her head to look up at him.

“What we miss?”

“Uh, Luke knocked a guy down against the wall over there.”

“Luke hit a guy into the boards,” Ryan translates into proper hockey terminology, smirking at his dad as he does so. 

“That’s what I said,” Eddie says. “And, uh, there was a penalty called on Sean for sticking a guy, so he went to sit out.”

Ryan snorts. “Sean’s stick got caught in another guy’s skates, so he got a penalty for tripping and was in the penalty box.”

“Time out!” Eliza declares. 

“Am I speaking Japanese?” Eddie asks, making Eliza giggle and curl into his lap.

“Of course not,” you assure your husband with a pat to his chest. “Just not speaking hockey either.” You giggle when he shoots a playful glare your way. But you manage to make it better by pressing a few kisses along his stubbled cheek. 

During both the first and second intermissions, Eliza entertains herself by looking for friends of Ryan’s or Luke’s in the stands and begging her oldest brother to take her to them. At one point, Eliza spots Ryan’s more-than-friend-not-quite-girlfriend-yet, Hannah, a few rows back and quickly makes her way up to her. Ryan’s face blooms scarlet as he follows behind his little sister, who has made herself comfortable in Hannah’s lap.

“Did you see Lukey?” Eliza asks the teenage girl. 

“I did!” Hannah says, smiling at Ryan as he takes a seat next to her.

Eddie leans in, his breath tickling your ear. “Do you think Eliza will ask Hannah to go out with Ryan before he gets around to it?”

You agree with a soft giggle and nod. 

“Oh, absolutely. Ryan’s so nervous and Eliza doesn’t have the patience for that,” you say. “God help any boy who is slow to ask her out in high school.”

Strong hands grab your sides, thick fingers digging into your ribs as your husband tickles you. A small yelp escapes your lips before you turn and burrow your head into Eddie’s neck.

“Hush your mouth,” Eddie murmurs. “Eliza isn’t going to date until she’s thirty.”

“Good luck with that.” You laugh and playfully shove his hands away from you.

Just as the third period is about to begin, Eliza and Ryan make their way back towards the two of you on the bleachers. Ryan has a lovesick smile on his face and the sight makes you smile in return.

“Have fun with the big kids?” Eddie asks as Eliza plops down next to him.

“Mhmm,” she nods, brown eyes scanning the ice for where Luke is. “Hannah say she likes my hat. And Juan said Mama is really cute.”

“What?” Eddie asks, arm immediately encircling you. “Who?”

“Ryan’s friend.” Eliza waves a dismissive hand in the boy’s direction, her focus still on the ice.

Eddie goes to look over his shoulder but you quickly grip his chin between your thumb and forefinger and bring his gaze back to meet yours.

“Really?” you ask him quietly. It’s impossible to suppress the amused smile on your lips. “Are you going to stare down a sixteen-year-old boy?”

“I don’t need a younger man hitting on my wife,” he says.

You laugh, shaking your head at his ever-present jealousy. 

“I don’t know if you noticed,” you say, “but I like older men. And no one is hitting on me.”

“Yet,” Eddie says, raising his eyebrows at you.

“Shoot it, Luke!”

Ryan’s shout refocuses your and Eddie’s attention back on the game in front of you. Luke stick handles the puck past a defenseman and skates closer to the opposing team’s net. You hold your breath as you watch Luke wind back his stick and slap the puck to the five-hole, between the goalie’s pads. Time moves in slow motion as you watch the black rubber disc travel over the goal line.

The siren blares and you stand up, raising your arms in the air as you cheer for your son.

“That’s my boy!” Eddie shouts, cupping his hands around his mouth.

“That’s my brotherrrrrr!” Eliza mimics.

Ryan hoots and hollers as you clap enthusiastically, a huge smile on your face. 

The other Tigers hockey players on the ice skate over to Luke, either tapping him on the leg or ass with their stick or knocking their helmet against his. 

The PA system overhead crackles to life before a student announcer says, “Goal scored by number eighty-six, Luke Munson!”

The crowd cheers, punctuated by a certain little girl’s shrill “Yay!” 

“Assisted by number nineteen, Sean Lowery, and number four, Alex Duffy!”

“Yay, Sean!” Eliza yells.

Luke’s goal ends up being the game-winning goal, which causes his team to pile on top of him once the game is over. 

“They’re going to hurt him,” you mumble as you stand up from the bleachers.

Eddie rolls his eyes, not unkindly, from his seat—he knows you won’t be able to see him since you’re standing. Your husband rises to his feet and presses a kiss to your temple.

“He’s fine, princess.”

He is, of course, and you’re glad to see it for yourself when he comes out of the locker room. A beaming smile adorns his face as he bounds towards the four of you, his curls soaked with sweat and his heavy gear bag thrown over his shoulder. 

“Did you see it?” he asks excitedly.

“See it?” Eddie repeats, eyebrows raising. “Didn’t you hear us?”

“I heard someone,” Luke teases, tugging Eliza’s pink beanie down over her eyes.

She huffs and quickly pushes it back up, giving her big brother one of her signature unamused glares. 

“I’m so proud of you!” You take Luke’s face, flushed from all the exertion, between your hands and press kisses over his sticky-with-dried-sweat face.

“Gross,” Ryan mumbles.

Misinterpreting why Ryan thinks the display of emotion is gross, Eliza turns to her oldest brother with her hands on her hips.

“Kisses not gross!” She hops up and down, making fish lips, like she’s trying to jump up to his level to give him kisses.

“Um, some kisses are gross,” Luke says once you’ve finished. When Eliza looks over at him, Luke’s eyes dart back and forth between you and Eddie. 

“Prepare to be disgusted then,” Eddie says, slipping one arm around your back and pulling your front flush up against his. He grins at you before lowering his head to slot his lips over yours.

“Ugh!” “Ew!” “Stooooop!”

You laugh against Eddie’s mouth, and the two of you break apart, sharing an amused look.

“Alright, goblins,” Eddie says, throwing his arm around your shoulders. “Let’s get going.”

The five of you start moving toward the exit when you tap Luke on the shoulder.

“Where do you want to go to dinner?” you ask him.

“Why does he get to pick?” Eliza whines.

“You can pick when you get a game-winning goal,” Ryan tells her, tugging on a single curly pigtail. Eliza pouts, looking suspiciously identical to her father, and crosses her arms over her chest. 

“Uhh…” Luke muses as your family steps out into the chilly October night. “I want Chinese food. Let’s get Eliza a pu pu platter.”

“Blech!” Your daughter sticks her tongue out and shakes her head. 

“Oh God, she’s going to steal everyone’s noodles again,” Ryan sighs. 

Eliza lets out the evilest giggle you’ve ever heard come from her as you reach the car. 

“I want all the noo-noos!” she declares as she yanks the back door open. 

“I’m ordering rice then,” Luke says as he climbs in behind her.

“Boo!” Eliza calls. 

“These kids are crazy,” Ryan says with a shake of his head.

Eddie laughs and musses up Ryan’s hair. It’s harder now that Ryan is almost as tall as him. 

“Okay, let’s get this hockey celebration on the road,” Eddie says, tapping the roof of the car as he walks around to the driver’s side. 

“Burn rubber, Gretsky,” you say as you slip into the passenger’s seat.

Eddie glances at you before turning the key in the ignition.

“Who?”

“Jesus, Dad,” Ryan sighs.

[fkinkindagauche]

So Jealous

For @steddiesmuttyseptember week 3 prompts - rough, lingerie, and aftercare.

Rating: Explicit | WC: 2,077 | CW: BDSM (heavy-ish), jealousy play, third party doesn’t realize jealousy play is happening but they are in it for a very short amount of time and nothing actually happens with them aside from some dancing, consensual slut shaming | Tags: deep throating, anal sex, rough sex, BDSM, sub Steve Harrington, mean Dom Eddie Munson, aftercare, coming untouched, come marking, subspace, slapping, hair pulling, jealousy kink, spitting, established relationship

Author's Note: Steve and Eddie have previously agreed upon the scene that happens in this fic. Everything that happens has been discussed beforehand, even if they are pretending to be surprised/upset by things.

“You ready?” Eddie asked after they pulled into a parking space, reaching over to grab Steve’s hand and give it a squeeze. 

Steve nodded. “Absolutely.”

“You’ll tell me if it’s too much? Traffic light system?” 

“You know I will, baby.” Steve pulled their clasped hands up to his mouth and kissed the back of Eddie’s hand. “You, too. This was all my idea, don’t let me push you too far.”

Eddie nodded, giving Steve’s hand a final squeeze and getting out of the car. 

They walked a few blocks from the parking garage to the club, hands held together swinging between them. Steve, dressed much skimpier than usual, shivered in the cold October air. He was wearing a pair of obscenely short shorts with fishnet stockings underneath and a bright pink crop top with the word “SLUT” bedazzled on the front in all caps. He’d put on makeup - glittery eye shadow and mascara, blush, and bright red lipstick. Eddie was wearing his usual outfit of ripped, tight black jeans, combat boots, and a faded band t-shirt. 

They only had to wait a few minutes before being let into the club, a perk of arriving earlier in the evening. They split up as soon as they got inside, Steve heading to the bar as Eddie disappeared into the crowd on the dance floor. Steve wasn’t worried; he knew Eddie would be watching him the whole time. 

As predicted, it took less than a minute for Steve to be approached at the bar. Steve looked up, seeing a preppy looking businessman type approach. That wouldn’t work. Eddie wouldn’t be jealous of a business bro. Steve shook his head apologetically, and the man backed off. 

The next candidate looked like a better option - tall and burly, dressed all in black, with a definite mean edge to him. Very obviously a Dom. Steve gave him an inviting smile as he approached, leaning toward him. 

“Can I buy you a drink, beautiful?” the man asked. 

Steve nodded. “Yes, please,” he said, batting his eyelashes for maximum effect.

“What’s your name?” the man asked, flagging down the bartender. 

Steve panicked slightly. He didn’t want to give this guy his real name, a reaction he hadn’t been expecting, so he hadn’t come up with an alias. “Bud,” he blurted out as his eyes fell on a bottle of Bud Light. 

The man smirked. “Well, Bud, you can call me Pal.” 

Steve let out a breathy laugh, reaching for the man’s meaty upper arm and leaning into him. ‘Pal’ ordered a Long Island Iced Tea for Steve (very classy, trying to get him drunk as fast as possible). Steve took a few sips, then pulled the man toward the dance floor.

He started to dance, arms above his head and hips swaying. The man came up behind him, pressing his pelvis against Steve’s ass, hands coming to rest on the front of Steve’s hips. They danced for a few minutes, the man’s hands trailing all over Steve, who was honestly a little shocked at how long Eddie was holding out.

Finally, when Steve started to feel a hand trying to worm its way into the waistband of his shorts, he felt someone else grab his wrist and yank him away from the groping hands of Pal. It was Eddie, of course, and he looked incredibly pissed off. 

“You little slut,” he hissed at Steve. “I walk away to the bathroom for one second and you’re already letting someone get his hands all over you.” 

“Whoa, sorry, man,” Pal said, raising his hands up and backing away.

“We’re leaving,” Eddie said, tugging Steve toward the door. “I don’t have to put up with this.”

Steve let Eddie drag him toward the door, walking back to the car at a pace way too fast for the heels Steve had on, which Eddie was well aware of. Steve’s calves were burning by the time Eddie shoved him into the passenger seat of the car. 

He wouldn’t speak to Steve on the ten-minute drive home, meeting all of Steve’s attempts to explain with silence. After he pulled into the garage, he finally turned to Steve. “Go to the bedroom and wait for me,” he said, voice low and dangerous. “Leave on your clothes.”  

Steve shivered in anticipation and got out of the car, hurrying into the house and to the bedroom. He could hear Eddie follow him into the house, but he stopped in the kitchen. Steve left all of his clothes on, including the heels, and knelt at the foot of the bed, waiting for Eddie.

Eddie left him like that for at least five minutes, Steve’s knees starting to hurt, before he heard his footsteps approaching the bedroom. Eddie was still fully dressed as well, boots and all, which Steve found insanely arousing.

Eddie walked toward Steve, stopping with his crotch directly in front of Steve’s face. He reached toward Steve’s mouth, shoving two fingers inside. “Who does this mouth belong to?” Eddie asked. When Steve tried to answer around Eddie’s fingers he shoved them deeper, making Steve gag. 

“I didn’t catch that,” Eddie said, fucking his fingers in and out of Steve’s mouth, making it impossible for him to talk. Finally he took them out.

Steve gasped and said, “You, Sir, my mouth belongs to you!” Eddie slapped him across the face, hard. 

“Why do I feel like you don’t really believe that? I saw you letting that man put his hands all over you. Would you have let him put his cock in your mouth, too?” Eddie held Steve by his chin, pinching his cheeks to open Steve’s mouth.

“No, Sir, I wouldn’t,” Steve pleaded. 

Eddie leaned forward, and Steve thought he might be about to get a kiss, which was unexpected, but then Eddie spat directly into Steve’s mouth as he continued to hold it open. Steve moaned, hips bucking wildly, as Eddie hastily undid his own belt and pulled his cock out of his pants, shoving it into Steve’s open mouth, grabbing a handful of Steve’s hair to pull his face in until his nose was buried in Eddie’s pubes.

Eddie set a fast rhythm with his thrusts and Steve had to work hard at swallowing to keep himself from gagging. He wasn’t entirely successful, gagging on several of Eddie’s thrusts, but Eddie kept going, fucking deep into his throat. Steve could feel drool leaking out of his mouth, down his cheeks and onto his neck, and tears dripping down his cheeks. There was precum already leaking into his panties, his body reacting with arousal to being used by Eddie. He felt his mind start to drift, shifting slowly into subspace. 

Eddie pulled him off for a moment, yanking at Steve’s hair until Steve yelped. “Oh, does that hurt, baby?” Eddie asked with mock sympathy.

Steve nodded, tears falling down his face, and Eddie pulled harder. Steve thought he was going to come just from this, and Eddie must have seen it on his face because he picked up his foot and pressed it down hard on Steve’s cock. 

“Fuck!” Steve yelled, trying to squirm out from under Eddie and failing miserably, pinned between his foot on his cock and his hand fisted in his hair. Eddie let go with his hand at the same time he lifted his foot up, and Steve crumpled to the floor. Eddie nudged him with a booted foot.

“Get up,” Eddie demanded, and Steve scrambled to get up. “On the bed, hands and knees.” 

Steve went, briefly catching sight of himself in the mirror. His eyes had that glassy look they got when he was in subspace, his hair was a mess, and his face was bright red, lipstick smudged everywhere and mascara running down his cheeks. Eddie pulled Steve’s shorts and fishnets down, exposing a very small pair of red lace panties. 

Eddie ran his hands over Steve’s ass cheeks, barely covered at all by the lace. Steve was lulled into a false sense of security by the gentle stroking, only to be pulled directly back out by a sharp smack on his right ass cheek. 

“Ow!” he yelled as Eddie pulled his hand back and slapped the left cheek, just as hard. 

“If you didn’t want this, you shouldn’t have let that guy touch you,” Eddie growled into his ear. He pulled the panties to the side, exposing Steve’s asshole and the base of the plug nestled there. Eddie ran his finger over the plug. 

“What about this hole? Who owns this hole?” Eddie asked, pulling out the plug. 

“You do, Sir,” Steve said, arching his back to give Eddie the best view possible. He heard Eddie open a bottle of lube and slick up his cock, but Steve didn't need any prep after having the plug holding him open all night. Eddie shoved into Steve without any fanfare and set a brutal pace. His pants were still almost fully on, and the zipper and belt dug against Steve’s ass with every thrust, giving him a delightful zing of pain.

Eddie reached one hand up to grab a handful of Steve’s hair, the other keeping a firm grip on Steve’s hips, hard enough to leave bruises. He used the hand in his hair to pull Steve back onto his cock over and over. It hurt so bad it was bringing tears to Steve’s eyes again, at the same time as it was bringing him close to coming. 

Eddie wasn’t even hitting his prostate at this angle, which was no doubt deliberate, thrusting into Steve with so much force he thought he might break. 

“You're mine, my slut. No one else gets to have this,” Eddie said, panting between thrusts. 

“Yours, I’m yours,” Steve agreed, feeling his orgasm creeping up on him. Eddie pulled his hair harder, thrusting even deeper, and Steve was gone, coming without touching himself, screaming Eddie’s name. Eddie shoved Steve's face into the bed and fucked him through his orgasm, past the point of oversensitivity. Steve started to whine, trying to squirm away from Eddie, but Eddie held him tight by his hips. Finally, just when Steve thought he wasn't going to be able to take anymore, Eddie pulled out. He flipped Steve over and pulled up his shirt, coming all over Steve’s lace-covered cock, belly, and chest. 

He collapsed on top of Steve for a moment, breathing heavily. “Holy shit. Fuck. Give me a second,” Eddie said, catching his breath. Steve was happily floating, and didn’t mind the weight at all. After a few moments Eddie pushed himself up a little, enough that he could kiss Steve. He kissed him slow and sweet, moving from his mouth to his neck, murmuring nonsense to Steve about what a good boy he was between kisses, stroking his hands through his hair. 

Eddie eventually pushed himself up and off of Steve. Steve grabbed at him as he tried to walk away, and Eddie laughed. “Just gimme a sec, baby, I need to get something to clean you up.” He went into the en suite, shedding his clothes on the way, pausing only to bend and take off his boots. He was naked by the time he got back to the bed with a wet washcloth.

He moved Steve around, helping him take off his shirt and shimmy out of the panties, then wiped all of the cum he could find off of his body. Finally, he got into bed, pulling the covers up so Steve could get in beside him. Steve tangled all of his limbs with Eddie’s, resting his entire body on top of him.

Eddie stroked his hands up and down Steve’s sides and pressed a soft kiss to his hair. “How was that, baby? Was it what you wanted?” he asked. 

“It was perfect,” Steve replied. “Everything I wanted and more. You take such good care of me.” 

Eddie squeezed him. 

“Did you enjoy it?” Steve asked. “Not too much?” When they’d first started exploring kink, they had both thought that as the submissive and the masochist Steve was the one more at risk of having his boundaries crossed, but they’d realized quickly that wasn’t true. 

“Not too much,” Eddie confirmed, kissing him again. “I loved it.” 

Steve looked up at him and smiled. “Oh, good. Next time maybe you can fuck me in the club bathroom.” 

Eddie’s eyes went wide and he made a strangled sound. “You're an insatiable kink demon.”

[breakfastteatime]

Today's Fallen Order request is "That looks broken" for @blueflowertea

The sun shines outside, flowers bloom, Greez has freshly baked bread cooling in the galley and all is calm and quiet aboard the ship. The others have ventured into a nearby market, leaving Greez with the whole ship to himself. He’s set the navicomp to run maintenance routines, the deck is sparking from his intense scrubbing, he baked the aforementioned bread (mostly to get rid of the odour of whatever the heck Cal tracked in from their last stop on an honest-to-great-grandma swamp planet), and the refresher hasn’t been that tidy since the day the ship left the production line.

All in all, Greez has had a very productive day while the others go gallivanting, with their ‘the Force is calling me’ and ‘I wish to see a new world’ and scanning, always scanning. It’s the first time in too long Greez has been able to play his own music on the sound system too. Apparently Latero lounge funk is nauseating for Humans. And Greez means that literally – both Cere and Cal get all woozy and pale if he tries playing it. It makes Merrin giggle uncontrollably in a genuinely dangerous to her health kind of way.

Greez makes himself a cup of caf and prepares to sit down, maybe catch a pod race, when he hears familiar voices approaching. He switches off his music and watches BD lead the way. That’s unusual. He rarely puts his own feet on the ground unless…

Greez looks up. Cal is on his feet, conscious and limping. Cere and Merrin follow, Merrin looking extremely pleased with herself while Cere looks like she’s ready to catch Cal at a moment’s notice.

“What happened?” Greez asks.

“Cal did not look where he was going,” Merrin says. “He tripped over a market stall.”

“And did such a great job putting it back together the stall owner wasn’t even mad at me!” Cal flops down onto the couch. Good thing Greez didn’t get around to cleaning that off today. He’s covered in soil. “And I was looking where I was going. I just got distracted. Totally different problem.”

“Yes, you see something shiny, and all other thoughts fall out of your head,” Merrin says.

“Nah, that’s BD, right, buddy?”

BD cackles and dashes off to scan the terrarium.

“Take your boot off,” Cere says.

“I twisted it, Cere, it’s nothing.”

“Take your boot off. Greez, grab me the medscanner.”

Greez never, ever, messes with Cere when she’s using this tone of voice. Cal, on the other hand, is not that wise.

“I twisted my ankle. Some ice, a few stretches, it’ll be fine.”

“And how are you going to apply the ice with the boot on? Take it off. Now.”

Merrin snorts. Cal levels a glare at her. She heads off into her and Cere’s cabin. Greez hands over the scanner to Cere. He gives Cal a nudge. “There’s no need to turn this into a fight,” he whispers.

It isn’t much of a flashpoint, but it’s one nonetheless and despite all this time together, no one has managed to iron out Cal’s ‘I’ll work through anything’ mentality. On top of that, he’s a young man who clearly wants to spread his wings. Greez gets it, he really does, but sometimes Cal needs a reminder he isn’t immortal. No, it’s simpler than that. Sometimes, he needs reminders that he doesn’t need to be in pain constantly.

With much eye-rolling and amateur dramatics, Cal reaches for his boot. He pulls, and Greez watches him literally go several shades paler. A funny gasp emerges from him, and he grabs the couch cushions, knuckles bleaching white. Greez hears Cere take a breath, ready to lecture, and reaches over to whack her on the arm. The woman really needs to know when to push and when to shut up.

It’s slow and painful (literally for Cal, based on how much he’s sweating), but the boot comes off.

Greez can’t help himself. “That looks broken.”

Cal is silent as Cere scans the obvious problem. Greez grabs an icepack, ready to put on the injury the moment they have confirmation.

“Yes,” Cere says. “Broken. It’s a hairline fracture, so a bone knitter and a few days of rest will fix it right up.” She reaches into the medkit once more and pulls out said knitter. Definitely an essential purchase, one they’d made not long after meeting Cal.

Head shaking, Cal tries to pull away. “I don’t need to rest it, I can manage.”

Certain he knows why Cal thinks he can ‘manage’, Greez slaps the icepack down just hard enough to catch Cal, who hisses and levels a glare at him. “You are resting it. Consider the rest of us at your beck and call.”

Cal pauses, turning the thought around. “Everyone?”

Greez nods. “Merrin!” Cal bellows at the top of his lungs. “You’re at my beck and call! Grab me a drink, please!”

[ralfmaximus]

McDonald’s is ditching its drive-through AI ordering system after too many customers wound up with hilarious, wonky orders from the artificial intelligence tech. The fast food giant, which had been testing voice-automated ordering systems at about 100 restaurant drive-throughs since 2021, is now booting it from the menu. It seems to be because AI, at least when it comes to taking orders as people shout them from their car windows, turns out not to be a very good listener.

Gee, who coulda predicted this?

LLM making stupid mistakes as they do their word prediction magic on busy consumers yelling at drive thru menus. Remember when we were threatened with AI taking away everyone's jobs if we raised the minimum wage? Huh. Guess it's not ready yet.

Also, this gem buried in the article:

Wendy’s has begun using AI to adapt their menu, too, by implementing AI menu changes and suggestive selling based on things like the weather. Not only will it suggest items based on the weather, but the AI-driven menu could also change prices of more in-demand items—like boosting the price of ice cream on a hot day.

Drinks too, I imagine. Fuck you, Wendy's. Just fuck you.

We are moments away from an AI scanning your vehicle and deciding what a Baconator costs based on your credit report.

[jeridandridge]

Hey sweetheart! Can I request a oneshot where Melissa comes home from work and finds out that Sophia had a bad day (someone yelled at her or something like that) and Mel takes care of her and makes sure she is loved?

Im so happy people like Sophia 🥲 this is a quick little thing, trying to dip my toes back into fanfic.

A Long Day

Sophia is ready to go home. The ice machine had broken, the security system had a software malfunction, she sliced her palm open, and now one of the creepy regulars that can’t take a hint is bothering her. She’s happy there’s camera and her cousin is in the kitchen at least.

“Cmon, Sophie. You’ll give in eventually.” The slime ball smirks from across the counter door. He was an annoying guy that would come in and bother her every so often, ending with her uncle Eduardo kicking him out. Now that he’s gone the man doesn’t care.

Sophia rests her arms on the counter giving him a smile that dares him to try something.

“In your dreams. Now get outta here before I give my girlfriend a call.” She grins knowing that’ll get him to leave. Sure enough, the smirk on his face drops and he lets out a sigh. “You’ll say yes one day, De Luca.”

After dropping a bowl of cake icing not even ten minutes later, Sophia lets out a growl. “That’s it! I’m going home. Tony, lock up!” She tells her younger cousin as she throws her apron on the counter storming to the back office to get her things.

Unlocking the front door Melissa comes in with a smile setting her bags down after a long day at Abbott.

“Soph, are you awake?”

Kicking her boots off she flicks on the kitchen light knowing Sophia’s home from work by now. Her car is in the driveway, but the usual sounds of the record player going or the tv playing are no where to be heard.

Going up the stairs Melissa moves quietly through the hall opening the bedroom door. Seeing her girlfriend curled up underneath the fuzzy blanket she smiles softly moving to sit on the edge of the bed.

Sophia looks distressed even asleep, her brows crinkled and her lips in a pout. Melissa carefully lifts her bandaged hand growing concerned.

“Amore,” she hums running her fingers through brown curls. gently stroking her cheek with her thumb she leans in kissing her forehead.

Sophia stirs with a grumble, smiling when she realizes her girlfriend is home.

“Nice nap, amore?” Melissa chuckles.

“I needed it. I had a day from hell.”

“I guessed that,” she nods carefully running her finger over the bandage. “What happened?”

“Oh that? That’s the least of my issues from today.” Sophia huffs sitting up revealing one of Melissa’s Abbott sweatshirts.

“After the water ice machine broke and the security system called the emergency service for the company, I broke a plate. Me being me I picked up the shards instead of sweeping.”

“You gotta be careful, hon. You’re always movin too fast in there.” Melissa hums.

“I didn’t even tell you what made me leave early.” She smiles, “but you gotta promise you’re not gonna leave me and commit a crime.”

Melissa quirks a brow. “Depends what it is.”

“Jackass came in again but I scared him pretty good.”

“That guy came in again?” Melissa fumes sitting up straighter. Melissa had the unfortunate pleasure of meeting the man Sophia dubbed as jackass, early on in their relationship he decided to come in one day while Melissa was picking up an order. It took everything Sophia had to hold Mel back.

“I told him I’d call you up there. Pretty sure he peed a little.” She jokes.

Melissa rolls her eyes reaching up to cup her cheek. “I’m sorry you had such a bad day, Tesoro. I’ll make us some dinner and we can relax.”

“That’s sounds nice, gimme a kiss first.” She beams pulling the redhead in closer. When their lips meet in a sweet kiss she lets out a content sigh as Melissas fingers move through her hair.

Reluctantly pulling back Melissa pecks her lips once more with a smile.

“Cmon, sweatshirt thief.”

[hana-bobo-finch]

Russ’s dialogue on base:

It’s a common accident. You’re throwing Pikmin with wild abandon…and then accidentally chuck a bomb out there too. It’s a terrible tragedy, but it’s commuted repeatedly by amateurs who haven’t yet mastered the art of a calm composure.

The rapid and reliable accumulation of sparklium is a task that Collin and the captain constantly pester me about. So I’m adding a sensor to the Treasure Gauge that amplifies the smallest of signal spikes. That should keep them at bay!

Throwing a Pikpik Carrot will often distract a creature. If they eat it, they’ll be paralyzed temporarily! If I were in your space boots and encountered a new creature, I’d toss them a carrot before engaging or rushing them.

Wandering around aimlessly while exploring an unfamiliar landscape is not intelligent behavior. It’s the opposite of that. Thanks to a new lens that has a wider field of vision, the Survey Drone is now ready for practical use in the field!

Pikmin are known to use collective behavior as a survival strategy. The success of the group benefits them all. The Charging Horn mak3s use of this habit, stimulating the reward systems in the Pikmin’e brains using sound waves!

Ah, the Emergency Kit. This was the first item I prototyped after joining the Rescue Corps. Such fond memories…The original request was to make it easy enough for even Dingo to use. After MANY adjustments, I’ve finally done it!

Science is limitless! But you can’t build something out of nothing. When I’m out of raw materials, I rely on components. But those run out too! I usefully replenish my stock by poking around the ship’s cargo. Then I’m back at it in the Lab!

There are two elements to considering when designing a tool that increases physical impact—strength and number! The Triple Threat focuses on the latter in its design concept. That is to say, more hands equals more punches! Kee-hee!

When it comes to tracking, it’s imperative to think of your target first and foremost as a source of heat. The Trackonator is designed to do the same. The mechanics it employs to detect a target heat source are top-notch!

The element of time is key to consider when throwing a Mine or Trackonator and waiting for it to explode. Once you have a firm grasp of the timing differentials, it’s easier to aim for and defeat ONLY your target creatures.

When an electric current passes through an organism, it contacts uncontrollably. This is also called being electrocuted. The ingenious trick of the Lightning Shock is how it lowers the electrical resistance of a target an instant before it attacks!

For Pikmin, and really all living things, there’s not much that can be done to increase resistance to certain attacks. An Ice Blast will freeze any Pikmin that’s not an Ice Pikmin, and a Lightning a Shock will electrocute all but Yellow Pikmin. So, when using a bomb, always be aware of the various Pikmin types that are in your surroundings before taking action!

Not everyone possesses the unlimited stamina of Dingo, and increasing one’s speed is often hindered by the body itself. Rush Boots increase stamina limits by redirecting the kinetic energy generated into a form that resupplies stamina levels,

When a life-form’s alive, it’s fundamentally impossible to completely inhibit the minute vibrations it continuously emits. The Mine is a device that uses this fact to its advantage. It detects an organism’s nano-level vibrations, then explodes!

Our knowledge of Pikmin ecology is still rudimentary, but they’ve been observed in two fundamental states: active and idle. The Idler’s Alert is a sound-wave induction device that can activate Pikmin in their lazy— I mean…idle state!

As Rescue Officers, our bodies are in a constant state of stress due to our exposure to harsh external environments. Of course,the additional physical training can help, but the artificial enhancement the Tuff Stuff provides us also essential!

The latent heat released when changing a state of matter can, when properly applied, lower temperatures in an instant. The principal behind the Ice Blast is essentially this: removing heat equals freezing. It’s so simple, isn’t it?!

[masterwords]

First time Hotch and Morgan say 'I love you'

Your wish is my command. Here is 5600 words leading up to that moment...why so many, you ask? I don't know. But I asked for soft Hotchgan requests and I got so many good ones...we're going to end 2022 on a soft note with all of these. Starting here with a power outage and a whole bunch of slightly awkward love.

**** Perspective ****

Pitch black.

They were sitting on the couch beside the fire, Hotch with his feet kicked up on Derek's legs reading. He wasn't deeply engaged in the book, not enough that he didn't glance up every so often to admire Derek's profile, the way he sat with his headphones on bobbing his head only slightly along with the beat. He could sit and listen to music for hours, and not just listen but feel it. In much the same way, Hotch devoured silence.

And almost like all the oxygen was sucked from the room through a vacuum, the lights went out. What he thought had been silence became actual eerie silence, no more humming from the refrigerator and the furnace, no more water heater, just dead quiet until his hearing adjusted and he was drawn back to the crackle and pop of their small fire.

“Did the power just go out?” Derek asked, stunned. Hotch smiled at the absurdity of the question.

“Looks like it.”

Immediately, as if on cue, Hotch's phone began ringing. He stared at it in disbelief, wishing that for one blissful minute he could simply deal with his own life before having to handle whatever catastrophe was happening at Quantico.

“Garcia?”

“Sir, I'm sorry to bother you, but Strauss wants us to get down to Quantico ASAP to monitor the systems for any potential security breaches before the generators kicked on. She says it's routine but she sounded concerned.”

“I'm a little further away than usual, it may take me some time to get there.”

She was silent, and he could hear her sharp intake of breath. It was pointed, the way she realized what he said without saying it aloud. “Yes...yes sir. I'll get started without you.”

Derek's headphones were around his neck now and in the dim orange light of the fire Hotch could see his wicked smile. “She knows.”

“I gathered that...when did you tell her?”

“Right away. I can't keep secrets from her. If I tell her up front she'll feel special and she'll keep her yap shut. If I try to keep it from her and she finds out, who knows what she's liable to do...it was a safety precaution.”

Hotch let out a nervous chuckle. “Well, she and I have to spend the evening at Quantico making sure nothing happened to the systems. Don't wait up.”

Derek had no intention of waiting up. The sky was already darkening at an alarming rate, and he expected to merely get the house ready to be shuttered against whatever storm was still brewing and then lie in bed with his music until he fell asleep. All he needed to do was make sure there was enough fire wood inside, get out the blankets and the other emergency supplies, and get himself cozy. He'd set out some pajamas for Hotch, if he even made it back in time to sleep, but that would be the extent of it.

Hotch, still in his khakis and sweater, pulled on his hiking boots and laced them up tight. “Take my car,” Derek said, tossing him the keys from the kitchen counter. “It gets around better in this shit than yours.”

Eyeing the keys suspiciously, Hotch wondered how many people would be in the building. Whether the security officers would see his plates and be surprised to find the wrong person driving. And he also realized he simply didn't care. What difference did it really make in the end?

“Thank you.”

He slipped on the ice twice in spite of wearing his best boots for the job. There wasn't much one could do versus a skating rink parading as the unassuming ground. The first time he slipped in the driveway as he scraped the windshield, unable to wait for it to defrost on its own. He managed to catch himself that time against the hood of the vehicle and thank his lucky stars. The second time was on the sidewalk approaching Quantico, and there was nothing but his own backside to catch his fall. That it did, hard, and he stifled a string of curse words that would make a sailor blush. Words that didn't often make their way over his lips. He wasn't much for swearing, but getting up he knew he'd tweaked his back and it was going to be sore the rest of the night. That was enough to excuse more than a few of the offensive words.

“Sir!” Garcia exclaimed as he entered, pushing through the glass doors and walking slowly, gingerly toward the stairs. They could do what they needed from his office where they could close the door and stay warm with his dusty old space heater. The generator would be kicking out just enough juice to keep the place running and that didn't include more heat than just enough to keep the pipes from freezing. The pipes and Hotch had very different freezing temperatures. Plus he had the snacks. Garcia didn't keep anything in her office, the equipment was too sensitive and she worried...she kept things in the break room and in Hotch's bottom left cabinet where there should have been binders full of mind-numbing information. He'd managed to sort his office well enough that one whole cabinet was empty, left available to the team's most treasured snacks. Ones that they feared would be stolen in the wild west that was the break room.

“How was your drive in Garcia?” he asked, leaning a little heavily against the railing as he heaved himself up the stairs on hips that felt rusty and stiff after his untimely meeting with the icy pavement. She noticed the hitch in his gait but said nothing.

“Slippery and scary, sir. Yours? I know the um, the roads in that neighborhood don't get plowed very quickly...”

He stopped and eyed her for just a moment before unlocking his office door and holding it open to her. “It was fine.”

She set her laptop on his desk and opened it up before pulling a chair over. Every move was formal and calculated, slow so she wouldn't scare him off. She wanted to share this with him so desperately. “You made good time.”

“Garcia,” he said quietly, easing himself down into his chair while trying to maintain as neutral a look as he could. It barely worked. She could see the discomfort but she wasn't concerned with that, thankfully, she was poking and prodding for the other thing. For confirmation from the second party that what Derek said had a grain of truth to it. She wanted to hear him admit he'd come from Derek's house. If only she'd seen him pull in driving Derek's car. “I'm aware that you're privy to some information regarding my private life, and while I have no issue with you knowing, I also don't think now is the time to discuss it. Have you had a chance to get into the system to see if anything was damaged or breached?”

“It all looks ship-shape, sir. We just need to comb through a few things and do some hard saves just in case we're without power for a while. If anything happens to the generator we're sunk. I have a list of things we'll need to print, consults that we'll need to manually deliver...”

“Good. Would you excuse me?” His phone was ringing once again, and this time it was Haley. While he would have liked to send it to voicemail, he was busy enough to do it, something told him to pick up. “Yes, Haley?”

“Are you okay?” She sounded worried, her voice had that high pitch tone to it that set him on edge.

“Yes...why wouldn't I be?”

“Aaron. The power is out, the roads are a sheet of ice, there's a big storm coming.”

“I'm aware of all of that. Haley I'm working right now, did you need something?” She rolled her eyes and he thought he could feel it through the phone. Working, always working. Of course he was there.

“Jack and I have no heat, and the power company says it could be a day or two before they even figure out where the problem is. Our neighborhood isn't a priority.”

“Have you called Jess?”

“She's out too. And before you ask, yes I've called my parents and yes they still have their wood stove but there are down trees and live power lines on all the roads heading out that way.”

“Okay. Let me call you back in a minute.”

He hung up the phone and poked his head back in the door, tapping at the wall to get Garcia's attention. “I'll need another moment, Garcia. I apologize.”

“Not a problem sir. Take all the time you need.” In truth, Garcia was happy to be there. Her apartment was without heat or any way to get it, so this was a drastic improvement on home. Even if she was pulling icky information from databases designed to hold things she didn't want to think about.

He slipped back out to the catwalk and walked, a move that briefly made stiff back feel better. Slightly. Up and down the catwalk he paced until he managed to get hold of Derek.

“I have a big ask,” Hotch began, noting the way Derek's breathing was heavy. Hotch knew he was hauling wood inside and immediately felt guilty for even asking him for something, let alone something like this. He should just leave. Tell Garcia to go home, leave himself, and let tomorrow's problems belong to tomorrow. Just once he wished he was that kind of person.

“Shoot,” Derek grunted, huffing as he threw more logs onto the pile. He would stack them neatly and clean up the debris later, for now he just needed to get the stuff inside before he got frostbite.

“Haley and Jack are also without power, the outage looks pretty widespread. They don't have a fireplace or any secondary heating sources. I know it's a lot to ask, but would it be alright if they came to your house?”

Silence fell over the line, a long drawn out thing that made Hotch's stomach twist. Finally he heard the sound of logs crashing against other logs and rolling to the wood floor without so much as a word being spoken in the meantime. Going back over what he'd asked, he couldn't fault Derek for his silence. Would you mind hosting my ex-wife and my child during a winter storm? I know we haven't been together long but I'm sure it'll be fine.

“Derek?”

“Yeah, sorry, I thought there was more. You said you had a big ask.”

“Derek, that is a big ask.”

“It's your family. It's fine.” He was lying, at least a little, which hurt them both in different ways. Derek hated to lie, it made him feel filthy, but this lie felt like the right kind. And Hotch, he could hear it, the way Derek longed to say are you kidding me with this? Asking me to babysit your family while you're working when you really should be home like the rest of the people in this area? A nail in the coffin. In the end, though, both of them felt somewhat justified in their responses.

“I'll make this as fast as I can.”

“We both know you have no control over how that goes.”

Hotch rolled his eyes. “Okay. I owe you.”

“Big time.”

Hotch hung up with a smile and called Haley back. He'd paced up and down the catwalk, around the round table, up and down again over and over. “You remember where Derek lives?”

“....yes...” He was really in it now. He hadn't told her yet. Now was as good a time as any, really, but it felt all wrong. He'd had this plan, silly as it sounded, to unveil things slowly to her. Jack knew but he was little and he had no real gauge of what he was seeing. They held hands in front of him and were affectionate, never over the top but just enough to make sure that he could get comfortable with it. Truthfully, he didn't seem to care. He would follow Derek around like a puppy and watch him with complete fascination – if Derek brushed his teeth, so did Jack, and he copied it as closely as he could. If Derek was making toast, Jack wanted a slice too and he wanted it exactly the same. Derek thought it was a little odd and felt more than a little self-conscious about the things he did, worrying that he might do something wrong or bad right in front of the kid, but Hotch thought it was sweet.

“Bring Jack and any of his belongings that you think he'll need for a few days. Derek has plenty of food and a fireplace.”

“Aaron...”

“You can ask me anything you like later, but I don't have time to discuss my private life right now, Haley, I'm sorry. Penelope and I are in the weeds and will be for a few hours. Derek knows you're coming.”

“Your private life...” she whispered to herself, and it almost sounded like she was smiling but he couldn't be sure and wasn't about to ask. The pacing had gone from making his back feel better to making it feel worse. He just wanted to sit down and get to work. “Okay. Thank you Aaron. We'll see you tonight though? You'll be there?”

“Yes. I'll be home as soon as I can.”

“Home...” she copied, quietly again. He probably hadn't even realized that slip, but she snatched it and held it close for examination. “Jack will be so excited to see you.”

Going back into the office, he was sure that he was in deep now. An act of God, a giant winter storm blowing in and knocking out power was all it took to completely undo his quiet little bit of privacy. He supposed he was never owed even the amount of time he had, and had no right to expect it. The thing was...it was just nice. He hadn't been this happy in years and he just wanted to keep the world away from it for a little longer.

“Where were we?”

“Well, sir, I was searching through data files...you...”

“Haven't even begun. Right.”

(x)

Haley wasted no time at all loading Jack into the car and heading toward Derek's house. The roads were slippery but not too bad, not yet, and she was a good driver. A great driver, really, no matter what Hotch and Jessica told her. So she'd been in a few fender benders, none of them had been her fault. Not a single one. And never any on ice.

“Are you excited to see daddy?” she called back to Jack who was kicking around in his car seat happily playing with two of his trucks. A monster truck with a dragon on the side and a fire truck. Crashing them into one another, head on after head on. The noise was driving her a little crazy but turning on music would distract her too much from the task of getting them safely to Derek's so she settled on the sounds Jack made.

Smash.

“Jack?”

“We see uncle Derek?!” he asked excitedly. Crash.

“Yeah. Uncle Derek. Does daddy kiss uncle Derek?” She felt a little like a monster, asking her toddler such a personal question, but there was something in Hotch's voice when she'd spoken to him that made her feel a little giddy. This wasn't the best avenue to take, however, it was one possible route.

Jack just giggled. “Yeah! Daddy kisses!” The kid was little, he loved to parrot, and she couldn't tell if he was being serious or not. He might just keep copying her and bashing his trucks together, so she asked again to make sure.

“Daddy and uncle Derek kiss each other?”

“Yep!”

“Like mommy and daddy used to kiss?”

“Yep!”

She smiled to herself. CRASH. It made her happy that Hotch had moved on, and even happier somehow that it was someone like Derek. She'd always liked him. The other girls, when the BAU and their partners would go out, always called him a dog but she didn't see it that way. Neither did Penelope. He was always so sweet to the women he danced with. He would hold out his hand, he would buy them drinks, he would lead gently. Haley had danced with him on more than one occasion and felt butterflies herself.

But those were women, and Haley had always wondered at how close he'd gotten with her husband in a way that men who exclusively liked women didn't do. She'd known Hotch liked boys as much as girls all the way back in school, though he was never so bold as to follow those urges. Not with the father he had. But there were glances, and there were hidden secret kisses a small number of times with the right boys, she knew. He'd never kept that from her.

“Does daddy stay at uncle Derek's a lot?”

“Yep!” SMASH. He dropped one of the trucks and burst into tears, unable to lean forward in his seat to grab it. Haley smiled and turned up the music, refocusing on the road.

(x)

Derek opened the door to his darkened house and beckoned them in. Haley was shocked at how warm it was, the way it almost took her breath away. Without saying a word, she knew it was because of Hotch...he liked things a little too warm. Derek would keep it the way he liked it without complaint.

“Thank you for letting us barge in on you,” she said, opening her arms wide for a hug. Derek wrapped her tight and smiled. It came a lot easier than he'd imagined.

“Of course. Can't have you guys freezing to death huh? Jessica's coming too.”

“Yeah I just got her text. Did she call Aaron?”

“I assume so. He's probably going to turn off his phone if we keep buggin' him.”

“I don't doubt that.”

They entered the house cautiously, it was light enough to see with lanterns and candles flickering, but still dark. Moody and somber and so warm. Derek had moved furniture around, surrounding the fireplace with chairs and the love seat and couch from the other room. Everyone could stay beside the fire.

“Where's daddy?!” Jack exclaimed, rushing toward Clooney and the couch excitedly. Derek glanced up at the clock and shrugged.

“At work. He should be home soon.”

Soon wasn't nearly soon enough. Every single car he heard driving down the road made him peek out the window, hoping to see one pull into his driveway. It wasn't that things were bad, they were fine. When Jessica arrived she brought with her three bottles of wine and bags of food Derek didn't need. “It'll go bad if I don't bring it...” she said, but most of it wasn't in need of refrigeration she just wanted to make their night a party. If they had to be without power, at least they could have some fun.

“Sis!” Haley exclaimed, rushing through the darkened room to wrap her sister in a hug. Derek took the food and wine to the kitchen and left it on the counter, figuring he could deal with it later. His first priority was popping the cork out of one bottle of wine and pouring two glasses, just enough for Haley and her sister, handing them off happily. That would keep them content and stop the inquisition he could feel bubbling right beneath the surface.

Haley had asked a few sly questions, but it wasn't her that Derek worried about...it was Jessica. She wouldn't even try to hide behind formality. The look in her eye said she was just looking for an opportunity to get Derek alone, to corner him, and to poke him full of holes until he soaked her in information. Details. He was avoiding her like the plague.

“Hey Jack, come help me with the fire,” he said, waving the kid over to him. “You gotta learn the art of moving the logs around, it's very important.” The art of moving the logs around, the man special as his mother used to call it with a roll of her eyes. Passed down generation to generation. He loved to shift them, using the poker to stack and separate and stack again, always creating optimum air flow. You couldn't simply leave a fire to tend to itself, it needed constant supervision. Like a child.

He grabbed the poker and indicated one log that needed shifting, it was nearly fallen and stifling the flow around it so off it went from the pile, and then he scooted it up beside a much less invasive piece. Soon he had a newly formed pyramid with gorgeous ventilation and he was pleased...Jack looked pleased too. Behind them, Haley and Jessica whispered and giggled. “What do you think they're talking about over there, huh?” Derek asked and Jack shrugged, his dark eyes lit up by the flames.

“Daddy.”

“Ah yeah. Probably right.”

(x)

“Garcia, can I give you a ride home?” Hotch asked, closing his laptop with some finality. She glanced up at him over the rim of her glasses and smiled. They'd been at it for hours in chilly quiet, only the sound of the little space heater and the eerie hum of the generator for company. They'd hardly said a word to one another.

“Yes, please, thank you. I don't think my car is meant for this weather. She's no Sonja Henie.”

Hotch stared at her a moment, a look of total bewilderment on his features. It was a look Garcia hadn't seen many times and it was a little unnerving. He was usually so sharp and his intense knowledge of random things often eclipsed everyone else. “You know, three time Olympic gold medalist turned actress...” she stopped herself and sighed as his features pinched further in thought. “Nevermind.”

“I know who she is, I'm sorry. It's been a long day.” The real problem was simply that he was distracted. Haley and Jessica and Jack had been at Derek's house for hours now, and while they hadn't sent one SOS text and not a single phone call...he was worried. Afraid of what he'd find, what stories they might tell Derek to scare him off. Afraid they'd asked too many questions and he wouldn't know where to begin walking into that mess.

He and Garcia walked out of the building together, and headed right for Derek's car. She let out a small gasp, unable to contain herself, before she covered her mouth and regained her composure. Hotch glanced at her as he wrestled the fob out of his pocket and unlocked the car, just hoping that she wouldn't point out the obvious. They both knew whose car he was driving. Before she could reach the door, Hotch leaned forward and pulled it open for her. It tweaked his sore back and he held his breath until the sharp spike of pain passed.

“Bestill my little heart,” she whispered, slipping into the car. He shook his head, unable to process just about anything she was saying at this point.

As he waited for the car to warm up, he sat with his hands on the steering wheel contemplating just about every life decision he'd ever made that led him to this point.

“Penelope,” he began quietly. “I asked Derek to open his door to Haley, Jessica and Jack tonight. They've been there for hours. What do you think I'm walking into?”

He was, momentarily, wide open. Uncharacteristically so. He simply couldn't keep it inside a moment longer or he'd combust, and Garcia was easy enough to talk to. She only let out a small laugh. “I'm sure everything is fine. They're probably just sitting around talking.”

He sighed. “That's what I'm afraid of.” He paused, shaking it off. He had no control over the hours that had passed without him and he couldn't dwell on them. Whatever happened, happened, and he'd just have to suck it up and roll with it. “I'm sorry I've been so distracted tonight. I wasn't much help.”

“You did more than I did, sir.”

“That's hardly true, but thank you for being so understanding.”

“I'm gonna say something right now that you're probably not going to like, but I think it's pretty clear that you need to hear it. Derek is crazy about you. You know that right? His face lights up when he talks about you, I've never seen that before. Well, I presume he lights up when he talks about me too but...that's beside the point.”

He had nothing to say to that. It sounded absurd. Too absurd to be believed. “That's bound to change after tonight.”

They drove in silence for a few minutes, no radio, just the sound of the ice beneath the wheels. Hotch was driving as well as he could but the car slipped more than once as he took corners and it made him nervous. Much too nervous to talk for a long time. “Penelope, do you have heat?” He couldn't believe he'd forgotten to ask her about her own place until he began approaching her apartment building, the street pitch black and ominous.

“No, but I've got plenty of blankets.”

“Nonsense. Come stay with us.”

It was easy to rack them up, he was on a roll. He'd have Derek's house packed to the gills before the night was through. It was shocking to him how few people they knew who had a fireplace, though it shouldn't have been...he didn't have one either. His apartment would be sitting dark and cold, floors still littered with boxes full of things he hadn't bothered to unpack. He was almost never there, that place definitely wasn't home. “Sir,” she said as they slid past the turn he wanted and had to go around one extra block. The roads had gotten worse since they'd been out and the temperature was dropping fast. “Have you told him how you feel?”

“He knows.”

“Oh, yeah, of course. I'm sure he does know. But if you said it...I think he'd just about flip his lid.”

He chewed on that the rest of the ride, all the way until he pulled into Derek's driveway and saw the flicker of candlelight behind the curtains. It made his heart hurt. His entire family was in there, all under one roof, and he'd been at work the whole time assuming the worst. That there would be tension and interrogations and he'd walk in on a scene of unrest and discomfort. But that candlelight in the window and the pillowy blanket of snow over the yard told him that he was mistaken. They'd been busy being a family in those walls and he'd been toiling over nothing on the outside.

The door opened and out stepped Derek in his puffy coat and sweats with a wool blanket draped over his arm, waving, not looking even the least bit angry. “See?” Penelope asked, poking her gloved finger at the window. “He lights up.”

“Baby girl!” Derek called, watching her get out of the car with her go bag draped over her arm. “What're you doing here?”

“Joining the refugee camp here at the Morgan house. I've come to enjoy your heat.”

“The more the merrier. Jessica brought wine!”

Hotch stayed beside the car a little apprehensively, not eager to break the spell cast over the house. It felt peaceful and happy, so he just stood there with his hands on the car so he didn't add to the list of times he'd slipped on ice that day. Derek's approach was quiet and sure, his feet planting one after the other in the snow so he could avoid the ice entirely.

With expectation written plainly over his face, Derek leaned in and waited for Hotch to make the first move. After the night he'd had, finally being cornered by Jessica who asked him question after question, each one laced with something akin to a threat, he wasn't about to be the first one to cross the line in front of everyone. Not one to disappoint, Hotch slipped his arms around Derek's waist, pushed himself happily inside the warmth of that puffy coat and kissed him. He kissed slow and hard, there was no hesitation. And that was when he was struck by how very very fortunate he was. His whole family was here, and Derek had probably not had the greatest night...would have been more than a little nervous...but he did it, he pulled it off. He took care of everyone Hotch cared about. Because Hotch's people were his people.

“I love you,” Hotch said, breathless and airy. It came out so easily. He didn't know what made him wait so long, that first time was always so hard but not this time. He was overcome by it, powerless to stop himself saying it, and not even a little worried it wouldn't be reciprocated. Derek had already proven that much, and the grin that spread wide and sparkling over his features sealed the deal.

“You do?”

“I do.”

“Good.”

There was silence between them, nothing but the sound of ice popping in the trees above them and darkness surrounding them. No ambient light, nothing but stars in the sky and the glowing silvery moon for company. He slipped his hand to the sore place on his lower back and pressed into it with his fingertips, massaging the distressed muscles. All he could think about was getting into a pair of sweatpants and big wool socks and snuggling up under the blanket with Derek. And maybe Jack, though he hoped that the kid was already asleep. It was awfully late.

“I love you too, you know.”

“I know.” He did. He had no question, but something in the tone of Garcia's voice told him that maybe Derek had needed to hear it. Like maybe he wasn't quite sure, and tonight, being with Haley it might have made him more than a little concerned. He had no idea what Haley might have said or done, whether she would approve of Hotch and Derek's relationship. Jack was well aware but he'd kept it from others...not because he was ashamed, never that. Only that he didn't know how to say it.

He never knew how to say it. How to offer that sort of thing up. Everything seemed to come so much easier to Derek, he wore his heart on his sleeve. Sure he kept his secrets, but he knew what was a secret and what was not. To Hotch, almost anything could be a secret...he had a hard time deciphering what people should know, what they needed to know, what they would want to know. So he kept it all guarded.

“Get inside you two! You're going to freeze to death!” It was Jessica hollering on the front porch, her voice ringing out through the quiet neighborhood. She was so bossy. “Derek, the fire needs tending. The ventilation looks a little sketchy.”

“Damn. That's my cue.”

Hotch slipped his hand inside of Derek's and walked slowly beside him, eager to get inside, to get to the fire and resume what he'd been doing hours before. Just lounging on the couch with Derek, in his favorite quiet place. Whatever anyone else wanted to do, he would be more than fine with, he only wanted to lie there and fall asleep to the sound of the fire.

And he did. He lay back against Derek, curled up on the floor beneath a pile of blankets while Haley and Jack took the couch and Jessica and Penelope each took a chair. Derek and Hotch managed to stoke the fire to the point that it might never fully die, and with Clooney curled up at their feet, the whole house slept.

Until the power came on in the middle of the night, bathing the house in white noise and bright lights. Hotch crawled to his feet and shushed everyone else back to sleep. “I'll get it,” he whispered, his hand on his back while he hunched and shuffled through the house to turn off the lights that didn't need to be on. Peeking outside, he smiled at the sight of the neighborhood lit up, knowing that there were other miserable saps just like himself shuffling sleepy through their homes to turn off lights they'd forgotten were left on. The furnace clicked on and he contemplated offering beds to everyone but it might be more trouble than it was worth for the next few hours. Instead, he crept back to his spot on the floor even though it was killing his already sore back and curled up his place there beside Derek.

“Power's back on?” Derek asked in his honey voice through sleepy slow lips and Hotch smiled as he closed his eyes.

“Looks like it.”

[thatfinewine]

It took a moment before a look of realization trickled down over Rick’s face, followed quickly by a sudden rush of horror. His eyes widened and his mouth parted but no words came out.

As his arm tensed to slam the door, a booted foot planted itself in the way and stopped it with little effort. Rick’s other arm swung, hand aiming for the panic button next to the doorframe, encased in glass to keep Jerry from accidentally pressing it — as if glass had ever stopped Jerry before — but the newcomer’s hand shot out into his way and knocked him off course. Prime, looking exactly the same as the last day Rick had seen him, leaned forward through the doorway and let himself in, forcing Rick back one step, then two. His presence made him feel so much taller than he already was, like he’d grown half a foot since his absence, and fear that Rick hadn’t known in quite a long while gripped his heart like an ice-cold, metal vice.

The sound of glass shattering was Rick’s only warning before his perfectly crafted metal exoskeleton enclosed the house, locking them all inside with the intruder that the damn thing was built to keep out. Prime let his fist fall away from the panic button back to his side, and he took another two steps in, cowing Rick back even farther. He shut the door behind him with a dramatic slowness that looked fitting of a Hollywood set.

Everything happened in less than five seconds, from the moment Rick’s hand had touched the doorknob to now, but it felt damn near like ten agonizing minutes.

“C-137,” he said with a small, lopsided grin. His tone was casual but it had an underlying thread of tension that only otherwise showed through in his eyes. “It’s been a while.”

Rick had always fantasized that if they’d get another chance to meet face to face, that he’d be quick-thinking and ready, smart-mouthed and slick as he drew his weapon and incapacitated the other man.

Turned out thirty years of playing out scenes in your head just didn’t actually count for practice. Rick’s tongue felt glued to the floor of his mouth, and his head was pathetically empty of a single word to say, rehearsed or candid. It was like he’d forgotten every language he’d ever learned, like he’d never attempted to speak aloud before in his goddamn life.

“Rick?!” Came Morty’s voice, rightfully worried, as he rushed to the entryway. “Rick, who— wh-who was at the door? Why’d the se-security system—”

Rick watched as Prime’s eyes broke contact with his own and glanced just past his ear, and he knew, he just knew, that they were locking with Morty’s.

“—engage…” Morty’s words fell flat, no longer a question.

Just like the day he’d lost them, Rick felt like time had just… stopped. Like he was trapped in a hellish freeze-frame, tortured with being fully conscious the entire time but unable to move a finger on his own.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - ✂

idk I started writing an AU and I just really like dramatic tension, lmao eventually Prime and C-137 were gonna smooch. = 3=

been kinda MIA on here, oops

blame any and all prickcest on @potetosaradas, my eyes have been opened and can never be closed again

[marcholasmoth]

OSRR: 3102

this is 1034 times 3.

i got up early today, got ready early, and brought joel in to work this morning. then i stopped at starbucks and went to work, where i sat in the parking lot on the phone with discover student loans getting my loans put on forbearance again because i simply do not make enough money. good news is we were successful and i got that all done before going inside. i was in at work by 9am.

basically right away i started helping people, even before i was supposed to be on the clock. but i figured screw it, might as well help since i'm here. so i did. and then i didn't have people leave my table until 3:45pm. nonstop for six and a half hours. i eventually was able to eat some tuna so o could get some protein in my system, so that was good, but i also ate a bunch of chocolate.

i made plans with some coworkers for tomorrow or thursday and then next tuesday, so i'm excited for those.

i also managed to catch up on filling out reports, which was good. i intend to be better at filing reports this year. so far so good.

after work, i got joel and we came back to the house. i learned friday is gonna be in the negatives, so the big bottles of water were brought in to keep them from freezing. in the meantime i went and took a nap because i was exhausted and 90% overstimulated and needed a goddamn break.

when my alarm went off i hit stop. joel came in shortly thereafter to ask about food. what i didn't realize that "shortly thereafter" wasn't shortly. it was an hour later. i have been so tired lately that i've been basically hallucinating things.

the other day i woke up at like 7:50am because i heard my mom calling me from downstairs. she called me twice, but my voice was sleep-weakened so i texted her instead. i stayed conscious enough to make sure that her phone received my texts and then i rolled over again and passed back out.

i later learned that my texts woke my mom up in the other room. and my texts didn't say what i thought they did. they were, more or less, incomprehensible.

i MEANT to say, "you called me? im still 90% asleep"

and then it was supposed to me "im still sleepy"

and when i realized nothing was right, i went "whatever" and put "zzzzzz" because Z's mean sleeping, right?

mom had no idea what i meant. which makes sense.

so me dreaming something happens and it not happening has gotten more frequent because of my exhaustion.

rip.

after my nap, i woke up and went to find something to eat. i decided on frosted flakes, because that shit slaps, but when i went in search of a spoon, i couldn't find one. the dishwasher was running and there were no spoons in either the drawer or the sink, so i walked around the kitchen in search of a suitable replacement. my consternation at not finding one was palpable.

and then, just when i was ready to give up,

i was blessed by the soup gods, the cereal gods, and the spoon gods alike.

there was a single spoon on the corner of the counter that had not been there moments before.

i looked at it, picked it up, and determined it was dirty, so i washed it so i could use it happily. i sat at the table and ate my cereal and it was really, really nice.

i was still hungry maybe an hour after eating it, though, and j pondered getting mcdonald's. but i made no move, because i was comfortable and i was finally writing again.

and then joel came upstairs around 10 to take a shower and said he hadn't eaten, so i offered to get mcdonald's. he pointed to where his wallet was and said i could use his debit card, so i grabbed my socks and my sweatshirt and my boots and i went to mcdonald's. came back 20 minutes later and we enjoyed hot fresh fries and ice cream and i went back to writing. it's now midnight 41 and we've happily eaten, i've written about a thousand or so words, and joel is sound asleep beside me.

it's been a long and busy and exhausting day, but it's been good.

[alpinefitco]

Surviving Alaska: Winter Hikes

Difficulty level: hard to extreme

Hiking in summer is easy: hiking shoes, shorts, shirt, water and a snack. Hiking in winter is never that easy. Conditions on the ground and in the air dominate your plans, often changing how you thought the day was going to go. Add in the Alaska factor with big distances, limited support, and harsher conditions and you might think twice on your ambitions. Pack carefully and always pack a little extra just in case because the consequences otherwise are misery and frustration. The most important factors are your layers and your footwear; if you nail these 2, the rest is more like a normal hike. The experienced Alaskan will monitor weather before and during the hike, monitor speed and exhaustion levels, and pack a good lunch.

In favorable conditions you might get away with running shoes, something with big lugs and a closed toe. Throw on some gaiters and away you go. However, if this is a hike (and not just a run) plan to bring some micro spikes just in case; as you gain altitude, the snow will often thin and expose some ice which is no fun without sharp metal. When it’s colder out, trade in your shoes for some hiking boots. Some are big enough that you might need to size up on the micro spikes. Or if it’s really bad just put on your crampons; I like the ones that don't collect snow. For the really intrepid explorers venturing off the trail or in very fresh pow, bring some snow shoes. Yes they are slow and cumbersome, but traveling across a deep snow field without them is impossible.

Have this footwear available: 

Hiking shoes with lugs and a closed toe

Microspikes

Hiking boots

Gaiters

Campons

Snowshoes

Layering for winter weather has been covered elsewhere. Suffice to say, expect a wide variation in body temperatures. You might start out cold and then find you don’t need gloves at all when your hands warm up. The trick is a modular layering system that will allow for the temperatures swings that occur as you transition from freezing at the car just getting started, to overheating as you move up the mountain, to cold again at the top eating lunch. Take the time to stop a couple times on the way up to strip off unnecessary equipment. Try not to sweat in your down layers which will reduce their loft and insulation. Bring warm mittens and a thinner pair of gloves. Remember, the faster you move, the more you sweat, the wider the temperature fluctuation. Expect to go slower than you thought you would.

I recommend having these layers at the ready:

Alpine Fit base layer top and bottom

Soft shell jacket

Water proof/resistant pants

Snow jacket

Insulated layer

Warm hat

Goggles

Thin gloves and thick mitts

Neck gaiter

Check the local forecast. Check the avalanche report. High winds? Re-evaluate your plans. New deep snow? Make sure you aren’t in avalanche terrain and are prepared to slog it out. More than other seasons, the rapidly changing conditions in winter often cancel plans or cause serious adjustments to location, gear, and ambitions. Really important is to assess the competence of your campions and consider who is going to lose interest first and at what point in the hike.

Last but not least, pack a good snack. A thermos of hot chocolate, tea or broth. A sandwich or bagel and a fig bar. My experience is that fruit might freeze, as does nut bars which become as hard as concrete. Unless conditions are favorable, lunch is often brief, limited by dropping body temperature. Pack enough to keep you going and a little extra for your friends. Too much and it’ll weigh you down and with all your extra gear you don’t need that.

Have fun out there! Send us some pictures :)

[theorionconstellation]

This is a really wild takeaway and a really blatant misrepresentation and/or a fundamental misunderstanding of why people are upset.

When I signed up for Watcher, do you know what email I got in response? A thanks for signing up email, and in that email, it says, "Otherwise, stay tuned as we continue to update the streamer with subtitles, episode descriptions, and all-new content!" Which is already a slap in the face. You're telling me that when you made this announcement, the website wasn't already 100% ready to go, and on top of that, it's inaccessible to boot?

The fanbase is not as lucky as I am to have this disposable income to even sign up (tho make no mistake, I immediately unsubscribed upon reading that this content isn't accessible to me as a Deaf fan) most people are still college students, actual children, or young adults struggling to find work and housing and struggling to afford groceries. 6 dollars USD (because it is NOT 6 dollars in local currency, it is 6 USD. Brazilian fans are paying 32 reals a month for this service) is a LOT to ask when you produce one season at a time and upload weekly, and it's an even steeper ask when we are told directly that the next show in progress is Worth It- wherein Steven Lim, famous Tesla owner who has publicly debated buying ANOTHER Tesla, goes around with his friends and eat food that costs more than what I make in a single day. To put it so bluntly: eating artisan ice cream covered in gold flakes, waygu beef with caviar on top, and saffron-truffle oil french fries is funny on Buzzfeed's dollar, but it is not funny or enjoyable content when behind a paywall that people already struggling financially have to pay for. It's tone deaf and out of touch. If you're telling me the only way for this company is to survive is by having me pay you 6 dollars a month, then the CEO better not be driving a car that is worth, at the CHEAPEST, more than the median yearly salary for my state.

No one is saying the employees don't deserve a livable wage (but again the CEO saying publicly that he wants to buy another tesla cheapens this argument- if Steven can afford a 2nd tesla, how come your employees aren't being paid a livable wage? Let's start there). That never once has been the argument. The argument instead has been, "why didn't you promote the patreon more, why didn't you do a poll to ask how we felt about the mid-reel ads because none of us would have minded more ads, why are you removing the exclusive content on patreon, why didn't you do youtube memberships" because to act as if this is the ONLY way left to make more money is... absurd and disingenuous. Insult to injury is added when you learn that Shane told people to share passwords and it turns out that you CAN'T password share because each account limited to 3 devices only.

And I'm sure that this business model was based on Dropout, especially since they use the same website to host it, so let me be clear: Dropout produces new episodes for a different show every single weekday, they launched the site with a whole bunch of brand new content that they had in the vault, and their stuff was accessible from the get go, they have a tiered pricing system, and more shows that they work on actively at the same time. I am not JUST getting Game Changer. I am getting Game Changer, and Dimension 20, and Very Important People, and Dirty Laundry, and so on. For 5 dollars? That is a steal. That's an insane amount of content. Paying 6 dollars to only get Ghost Files or Mystery Files or Worth It is not (no pun intended) worth it.

Also, Dropout's streaming service WAS their Hail Mary, in the same way Watcher was BFU's Hail Mary. CollegeHumor was going out of business because their parent company shut them down, and this was their last ditch effort to avoid closing down since they couldn't find anyone else to sign them or host them.

We’re Leaving YouTube

[linuxgamenews]

Discover the World of Medieval Rodents in Tails of Iron 2: Whiskers of Winter

Tails of Iron 2: Whiskers of Winter sequel for the action RPG game is releasing this Winter to Linux, Mac, and Windows PC. Thanks to the brilliant work by Odd Bug Studio. All due to make its way onto Steam. Big news at gamescom – United Label just confirmed that the sequel, Tails of Iron 2: Whiskers of Winter action RPG is coming out in February 2025 for Linux. If you like the first title, get ready to dive back into the world of medieval rodents, but this time with even more epic action. In the Tails of Iron 2: Whiskers of Winter sequel, you’ll step into the boots of Arlo, the son of the Warden of the North. The story picks up after the southern war from the first game. Since Arlo on a mission to take down some seriously ancient evil lurking in the frozen wastelands up north. It’s a chilly, tough journey through harsh lands. But Arlo also has what it takes to face whatever comes his way. This sequel cranks everything up a notch. Remember the intense battles from the first title? Tails of Iron 2: Whiskers of Winter is upping the ante with all-new monster hunting gameplay in the sequel. You’ll be up against gigantic beasts of the North, and trust me, these aren’t your run of the mill enemies. Arlo’s combat skills have also leveled up. Offering new elemental effects like fire, ice, electricity, and poison added to his weapons. So, whether you’re freezing your enemies or shocking them into submission, there’s a lot of fun to be had in how you take down the bad guys.

Tails of Iron 2: Whiskers of Winter sequel | Release Date Trailer

And let’s not forget about the voice acting. Doug Cockle, the award-winning voice behind Geralt in The Witcher 3, is back to narrate Arlo’s bloody quest for revenge. His gritty voice adds that extra layer of badassery to the game. Due to make every victory feel that much sweeter. If you’re at gamescom, you can get an early taste of what’s coming with a demo available to play at the Indie Arena Booth. It’s a great chance to warm up for the brutal battles you’ll face in the action RPG this February. The Tails of Iron 2: Whiskers of Winter sequel isn’t just about fighting, though. There’s a new base-building feature where you’ll rebuild the shattered settlement of Winter’s Edge. As you upgrade, you’ll unlock better items, tastier meals, and even craft powerful traps. Due to keep those pesky enemies at bay. Plus, the new day and night system means different foes will show up depending on the time of day. So you’ll need to stay on your toes as you explore. With six biomes to explore, new animal factions to meet, and a ton of challenging beasts to take down, Tails of Iron 2: Whiskers of Winter is shaping up to be one epic sequel. February 2025 can’t release soon enough. So be sure to Wishlist it on Steam. Plus it's due to make its way onto Linux, Mac, and Windows PC.

[blogbridgekethy]

7 Best Ways to Prepare for Record Snow Total in Allentown PA  

New England's weather is as unpredictable as a coin toss. Particularly in Allentown, where winter can mean anything from mild chills to record-breaking snow total Allentown PA has seen. Given this unpredictability, it's paramount for residents and winter enthusiasts alike to stay one step ahead. Preparation is not just about survival; it's about maintaining a quality of life regardless of the snow depth outside your door. This guide, brought to you by Certified Snowfall Totals, will walk you through the essential preparations for bracing yourself against potential record snow totals in Allentown, PA.

Understanding the Importance of Preparation

Preparation can transform a potentially hazardous situation into a manageable, even enjoyable, winter experience. Remember, it's not just about shoveling snow; it's about creating a safe, comfortable, and resilient environment for you and your loved ones. These seven tips will help you stay on top of the record snow totals in Allentown, PA.

1. Stock Up On Winter Supplies

It's no secret that winter weather can be harsh and unforgiving. So before the first flakes hit the ground, make sure to stock up on essential supplies like shovels, ice scrapers, salt, and sand for your driveway and walkways. It's also a good time to check if you have enough warm clothing, including gloves, hats, and boots.

2. Be Aware of Your Local Snow Removal Regulations

In Allentown, PA, it is the responsibility of property owners to clear snow from their driveways and sidewalks within three hours after the snowfall has ended. Failure to comply with this regulation can result in fines and even legal action. Make sure to familiarize yourself with your local snow removal regulations so that you're not caught off guard.

3. Prepare Your Home

Heavy snowfall can put a significant strain on your home's infrastructure, so it's crucial to make necessary preparations before the winter season arrives. This includes insulating pipes to prevent them from freezing, trimming any tree branches that could potentially fall and cause damage, and ensuring your heating system is in good working condition.

4. Have a Snow Removal Plan

Having a snow removal plan in place before the first snowfall can save you time, money, and stress. Consider hiring a professional snow removal service to ensure your property is cleared efficiently and safely. Alternatively, if you plan on removing snow yourself, make sure to have all the necessary equipment ready beforehand.

5. Stay Informed

Keeping informed about weather forecasts and potential record snow totals can help you stay ahead of the game. Make it a habit to check the news or download a reliable weather app so that you know when to expect snow and can plan accordingly.

6. Prepare for Power Outages

Heavy snowfall can sometimes lead to power outages, so it's essential to be prepared. Have a backup generator on hand or stock up on non-perishable food items and extra blankets in case of an extended power outage.

7. Stay Safe on the Roads

Driving in snowy conditions can be challenging and dangerous, so it's best to avoid unnecessary trips during a snowstorm. If you must drive, make sure to have winter tires installed, keep an emergency kit in your car, and give yourself extra time to reach your destination.

7 Strategies to Prepare for Extreme Snow in Allentown, PA

Stock Up on Essentials

Step by Step: Compile a list of essentials, including food, water, medications, and pet supplies. Ensure you have enough to last a couple of weeks to avoid unnecessary trips during severe conditions.

Invest in Quality Winter Gear

Rationale: High-quality winter gear can make a significant difference in comfort and safety when you need to venture outside.

Maintain Your Heating System

Step by Step: Schedule an inspection of your heating system before the winter hits full force. Make sure your home is insulated to keep the warmth in and the cold out.

Plan for Snow Removal

Rationale: Timely snow removal is crucial to prevent accidents and ensure accessibility. Invest in a reliable snow blower or arrange for a professional snow removal service like Certified Snowfall Totals to handle heavy snowfalls.

Create an Emergency Plan

Step by Step: Establish a clear plan in case of power outages or medical emergencies. Make sure everyone in the family is aware of what to do and who to call.

Protect Your Pipes

Rationale: Frozen pipes can burst and cause significant damage. Insulate your pipes and know how to shut off your water supply if necessary.

Stay Informed

Step by Step: Keep track of the snow total in Allentown, PA by following reliable sources and updates from Certified Snowfall Totals. Knowledge is power when facing extreme weather.

Staying Safe and Positive

Amidst the coldest and snowiest days, a positive outlook can light up the darkest winters. Equip yourself with not just the physical tools but also the mental resilience to face whatever comes your way. Stay safe, stay informed, and stay positive – winter will be over before you know it. And when the snow finally melts, Allentown’s beauty will shine through once again. So instead of dreading record-breaking snow totals, embrace the season and enjoy all that Allentown has to offer.

The Value of Being Prepared

Being prepared for a record snow total Allentown PA could experience means more than just bracing yourself against the cold. It's about ensuring that life can go on as normally as possible, finding joy in the snow-covered landscapes, and fostering a sense of community. Certified Snowfall Totals is here to support you, providing accurate updates and helping clear the way for whatever winter throws at us.

Remember, when winter comes with all its might, being prepared allows us to stand strong, together.

[sgpnow-us]

Winterization Wonders: Making Your Vacation Rental Guest-Friendly for Winter Retreats

As winter approaches, vacation rental owners have a unique opportunity to cater to a different set of guests – those seeking a cozy winter getaway. To ensure a warm and welcoming experience for your winter visitors, it's essential to winterize your vacation rental effectively. In this article, we'll explore guest-friendly ideas to make your rental property a desirable destination during the cold months.

1. Heating Systems

One of the most crucial aspects of winterizing your vacation rental is ensuring efficient heating. Whether you have a fireplace, central heating, or space heaters, make sure they are in good working condition and ready for use. Consider providing extra blankets and throws for added coziness.

2. Winter Decor

Embrace the winter theme by incorporating seasonal decor in your rental. Think about adding soft, fluffy pillows, warm-colored throws, and even a few tasteful winter decorations like wreaths, candles, or holiday lights. Creating a welcoming ambiance can make your rental feel more inviting during the colder months.

3. Well-Stocked Kitchen

Guests staying in winter often prefer to cook warm meals indoors. Ensure your kitchen is well-equipped with appliances, cookware, and utensils for preparing winter comfort foods. Consider providing a selection of teas, hot chocolate, and coffee to help guests stay toasty.

4. Weather-Appropriate Amenities

Offer winter-specific amenities such as a boot tray, a sturdy umbrella stand, and a coat rack for guests to store their winter gear. These thoughtful additions will keep your rental organized and provide a convenient space for guests to dry and store their winter coats and boots.

5. Outdoor Activities

Don't forget to cater to outdoor enthusiasts. If your rental is in an area known for winter sports, consider offering equipment storage or a designated space for winter gear. Provide information about local winter activities like skiing, ice skating, or snowshoeing to help guests plan their stay.

6. Maintenance

Regular maintenance is key to ensuring a seamless winter stay for your guests. This includes clearing snow and ice from walkways and driveways, maintaining a well-lit exterior, and promptly addressing any heating or plumbing issues. A comfortable, hassle-free experience will encourage guests to return.

7. Clear Communication

Lastly, provide clear instructions for using heating systems, fireplaces, and any other winter-specific features. Be readily available to address guest concerns and emergencies, ensuring that your rental is not only well-prepared but also well-supported.

In summary, property Winterization is essential to maintain a guest- friendly vacation rental during the winter months. By focusing on these guest-friendly ideas, you can create a warm, inviting atmosphere that encourages visitors to enjoy their winter getaway to the fullest.

SGPNow

Safeguard Properties, LLC.

7887 Hub Pkwy

Valley View, OH 44125

216-282-6221

[shoesonsaleshop]

Get Winter-Ready with Storm by Cougar's Stylish Snow Boots

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Experience the Unbeatable Performance of Storm by Cougar Snow Boots

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