#dark swan hot chocolate

[classypauli]

Hi, could you write some fluff with Jenna and male reader? I love how you write

Kisses & Lattes

jenna ortega x male!reader

an: Hey! Thank you for request, I hope you´ll have fun reading it. For those who are uncomfortable feel free to imagine the gender you would like! I was just using it bc of the request. Thanks again! Take care!!

Sorry for mistakes!

Everything started with a coffee. Ever since you were a kid you were mesmerized by hot drinks like tea and chocolate or matchas but the one that mostly caught your attention was a coffee.

It was quite a paradox since you didn´t find your way to it when you were young. You could always smell it from your parent's breath or every morning when you woke up.

Your parents owned a coffee shop and sometimes you helped them clean or prepare. Maybe that´s how you started this way.

As you grew older and started spending more time in the shop, with a good book to read your hand also found a cup of dark beans with boiled water. That was your must-to-do in a day. Just sit on a cozy sofa in a corner with a book in one hand and coffee in the other.

That´s how you met your now long-term girlfriend. Jenna was a regular customer in your shop. It happened a lot of times you made her a latte or cappuccino even though she mostly came because of a hot tea.

In a country like Ireland where townsfolks often wore jumpers and hoodies, this type of drink was made for it.

„What´s on your mind?“

You were cut off by a gentle voice beside you as you stared out the big window. It was the week before Christmas and the weather outside started getting harder. When you walked outside you could feel the cold air hitting your nostrils and if you weren´t wearing a beanie you could be sure your ears wouldn´t like that.

It just started to snow when you were doing your last preparations for tomorrow's big day. You were finally opening your coffee shop after the long reconstruction. Your parents gave the shop to you despite your declines.

„Nothin´.“ You smiled down at her as you felt her hand reaching to yours squeezing it in her own.

Jenna knew you were getting worried. You were afraid nobody would show up. Yes, the weather

wasn´t helping but would the storm be the reason for it?

You were standing beside each other just looking as the snow started to get dense and the

Snowflakes are much bigger than before.  

„Come, I´ll make you something.“ You pulled her gently into you as you made your way to the

Coffee machine. Her big brown eyes were scanning your every move. How you melted the coffee and got it into the machine. You poured milk into a small teapot and slowly started to froth the milk. You grabbed the cup with the coffee and started pouring the milk into it.

Jenna enjoyed this. You were so calm doing it. Your arms were slowly but confidently circling the cup making some imagine in a coffee.

You stopped and grabbed the cup slowly giving in to Jenna. There was a big heart in it. She was amazed every time she saw it. Your drawing in coffee was perfect, sometimes you drew a swan, and through Halloween, you drew a pumpkin but what Jenna loved the most was the heart.

She gently grabbed the warm cup from your hands and slowly brought it under her nose to smell it. Slowly taking a sip while looking up at you as you smiled.

That´s how you spend the rest of the evening. The only light was the small lights by the bar and outside of the shop. Just enjoying each other's health as you cuddled up in one of your big sofas with a blanket around your legs and sweaters, thinking about what will tomorrow's day bring.

-

You sighed as your nerves were getting higher with each passing minute. Your coffee shop was already opened an hour but nobody showed. Not like you were getting high expectations but you were still a bit disappointed.

The room was decorated with Christmas ornaments. The soft music could be heard from the speakers around creating a cozy feeling. You could smell the hot cocoa and fresh spine.

Jenna was sitting by one of the small tables in your hoodie that was too big for her. Sometimes she would shoot you a look but each time her heart swelled at the sight of you.

She knew you were just being strong not showing how much you care about it but deep down she knew how much it affected you. The weather didn´t stop all night making it almost impossible to walk outside nor drive.

Jenna let out a sigh and stood up from the chair. „Y/N.“ She called after you looking at your back.

„Hm.“ You let out but didn´t turn around. You were focused on cutting something behind the bar.

„Y/N.“ She whispered as she came closer to you hugging you from behind with both of her arms around your torso.

„What´s wrong Jen.“ You turned around and looked down at her big eyes. The freckles were more visible as her cheeks and nose were a bit red from the cold. You swore this was your biggest weakness.

„Are you angry?“ she asked with her small voice searching for an answer in your eyes.

Her question shocked you as you blinked twice like you were trying to understand her question. „What? No, Jen. Why would I?“ you quickly pulled your arms around her.

„You were trying so hard these past months and when it´s finally here...“

You gently brushed the hair that was on her forehead, brushing it back behind her ear. „I´m not angry nor disappointed. I completely understand why it turned out like this.“ You said as you were looking into her eyes to make her sure. „It has to be like this I guess.“

Jenna leaned into your chest to hear your heartbeat with a sense of anticipation.

A couple of hours after, you and Jenna decided to close the coffee shop and get home. You didn´t want to do it but deep down you knew you wouldn´t have a customer today. You promised to make her dinner after spending so much time here. As you were getting your jacket you could hear bells by the door.

„Ow, man! This weather.“

You quickly turned around with wide eyes not believing what you saw.

„Finally! The road was awful!“

„I know right? We barely left the house and almost immediately got stuck!“

There were your friends with a wide smile across their faces. „Y/N!“ They went to you to hug you. „We´re so glad to finally see you! And look at this!“ one of your friends spun around with arms wide open. „It´s so beautiful in here!“

„W-What are you doing here?“

They laughed at your shocked face. „Look at him! He can´t believe we are here!“

„Well we heard that today is a day with a big D so we couldn´t let that slide.“

The realization hit you like a train and you spun around to look behind you. There was standing  Jenna with her small frame trying to hide her smile.

Slowly more people came, your friends, Jenna´s friends, and your parents. Everyone was talking to each other around the room you could only hear happiness. Your hands were full of work but it made you happy. You were feeling complete doing what you enjoy for the people you love.

„It was you. You called them.“ You whispered in Jenna´s ear as you hugged her from behind. She was sitting on your knees as you were sitting down on a sofa.

She turned to her side raising her eyebrows and looking around. „I don´t know what you are talking about.“

You squeezed her tighter in your arms as she let out a laugh. You kissed the side of her head as you leaned on her shoulder. The both of you were sitting there looking at your family feeling warm in your heart as you watched them talking and laughing loudly, enjoying the night.

[thereoncewasagirlnamedjane]

deck the halls.

‣ pairing — ransom drysdale x f!reader

‣ contents — oneshot, coarse language, fluff, xmas/holidays, mutual disdain but it’s actually just mutual not-so-secret shameful pining

‣ synopsis — for the first time, you think that working for linda drysdale the night before christmas might not be such a bad thing after all.

‣ word count — 3.4k

‣ notes — tbh i’m not very happy with how this turned out but whatever, i’ve been stressing about this for way too long because it’s my first ransom fic, and i’m just done lol. shout out to @intrepidacious though for chatting with me about this fic all winter while i struggled, doing her best to motivate me and letting me vent my writing frustrations through the entire process. ilysm nika 💕

✩ read on ao3 ✩ janie’s masterlist ✩ library blog

Christmastime is here Happiness and cheer Fun for all that children call Their favourite time of yea—

You angrily jam the pad of your finger against the speaker’s power button, cutting off the quaint holiday music and plummeting Linda Drysdale’s normally busy real estate office into silence.

For someone who consistently prides themselves on being so sensible and logical, you sure can be stupid sometimes.

Because you drag a free office chair towards you, anchoring it against the wall as best as you can before climbing on top of it. You teeter precariously, cursing under your breath as you strain to loop a gaudy red and green garland over the push pins above the office doorway.

Linda, however, is even stupider, asking you to put up these god awful decorations before going home, not even providing you with so much as a step stool to do so—even though you obviously aren’t tall enough to reach on your own, even though she said you didn’t have to work overtime today (why, thank you Linda, considering it’s Christmas Eve and all), even though it was already 4:45 when she asked.

One phone call would be all it took to have OSHA crawling up her ass, but because you were only ever a badass in your own head, long after the conversation was over and there was no longer anything you could do about it, you just nodded meekly at your boss instead of telling her exactly where you thought she could shove her precious decorations.

Besides, she’d probably walk away with nothing more than a slap on her wrist anyway—if that.

“A bit to the left, Cindy Lou Who,” comes a voice, the low dulcet baritones that are the bane of your existence, like a persistent under-the-skin itch you can’t ever seem to scratch. You take a deep stabilizing breath upon hearing the nickname, a heat flaring in your cheeks that has nothing to do with the whiskey-spiked hot chocolates you’ve been secretly sipping all day.

You shoot him a withered glare over your shoulder. Ransom, the devil-spawn of your she-devil boss, is lounging lazily in your chair, leaning back with his arms casually linked over his abdomen as he observes your efforts to stay balanced and graceful.

Trust the smug little brat to show up tonight of all nights, when your patience is already wearing thin. No doubt he’s just here to piss you off before swanning over to the posh holiday party happening at his mother’s place tonight—one you’ve never been invited to despite all your years working for Linda, by the way—while you trudge home to a dark and empty studio apartment, with not even so much as a goldfish to welcome you back.

Ransom just smirks back at you through a mouthful of white chocolate chips and macadamia nuts, his hand already rummaging for another cookie from the package he’s stolen right out of the bottom drawer of your desk.

You release a huff of frustration.

There he sits, without a care in the world in his perfectly tailored wool coat and immaculately styled hair that somehow remains untouched by the howling winter wind outside, looking like he’s just stepped out of an issue of GQ.

He doesn’t deserve it, you lament, his coat already starting to pill at the undersides of the sleeves and his sweater probably just a tug at one loose strand away from unravelling completely.

Whoops. You almost fall off the chair for the fifth time since you started this ridiculous endeavour, trying to shake off the mental image of a very shirtless Ransom, tangled in a web of soft white yarn.

What? You can hate someone down to their grimy little bones and still think they’re hot.

Besides, the devil wouldn’t be the devil if he weren’t tempting, would he?

“A real piece of work… the both of you…” you mutter to yourself now, your colourful vocabulary back in full working order now that Linda is holed away in her office and well out of earshot. “She could cut me some slack, you know… Christmas, for crying out loud… and I haven’t eaten all day!”

The asshole nepo-baby just peers up at you past the phone he’s been holding up in front of his face, blinking lazily and not offering any kind of response or assistance—not that you’d expected him to.

“Right, I forgot who I was talking to,” you speak slowly and deliberately, like you’re explaining something rather complicated to a small child. “You see, us humans need to eat food regularly for sustenance.”

“Wow,” Ransom deadpans, his voice muffled through cookie crumbs.

“Yeah, it is terribly inconvenient,” you shrug exaggeratedly, “but not all of us can subsist on the shards of broken souls and children’s nightmares, can we?”

“Calling me the devil again?” He scoffs, rolling his eyes. “You’re so original; how about you get a new thing?”

“Don’t you have some place to be?” You sneer, your grip tightening on the garland, the plastic biting into your palms as you twist a string of fairy lights around the rest of it. “Why the fuck are you even here?”

It’s a perfectly valid question. Linda is always threatening to cut her son off, but that hasn’t prevented him from skipping out on work as much as possible and galavanting around the city, maxing out her credit cards every chance he gets.

But you know she’ll never actually follow through; He shows himself here just often enough to keep her from seriously considering it, doing his small part to show off a carefully crafted picture for the masses—showing the scions of Boston’s wealthiest family in a united front.

And if there’s one thing Ransom likes more than he hates his family or earning an honest wage, it’s the weight of green lining the deep but frayed pockets of his expensive designer pants.

That shiny Drysdale veneer is all that matters, after all, and you know very well that Ransom’s only real job is to keep it nice and polished. But you’ve been working long enough at this soul-sucking place to notice the telltale signs, to see the cracks beneath the varnish.

The way you swear you see a flicker of something that looks a lot like dread whenever Linda calls his name.

The way his signature smirk twitches with just a hint of irritation whenever some angry coworker, once again passed over for a long overdue promotion in favour of giving Ransom a hefty allowance bonus, calls him a talentless, hopeless, literal son of a bitch.

The way he cracks those self-deprecating jokes about how the only real ambition he has in life is finding new ways to disappoint his relatives, and squander as much of the family fortune as he possibly can.

It’s no surprise, really, that Ransom’s turned out the way he has. You’ve heard the way they all talk about him sometimes, his family seemingly oblivious to your working-class existence.

Never mind the fact that whenever you happen to glance over at him, Ransom’s eyes are almost always on you—watching and assessing with that same inscrutable expression on his face.

Not that you pay close attention or anything.

Not that you care, either.

And never will you admit that it unnerves the hell out of you, almost like he’s trying to see through you—right down to the restless person who hides beneath a false bravado, a sarcastic sense of humour, and mountains of paperwork piled up high on your desk.

The feeling of being seen, so terrible and stirring at the same time.

And yet, you shiver, there’s something about it that rivets you. Something electric, like a live wire running just beneath your skin. It’s the feeling you get when he looks at you with those icy blue eyes, his expression going from scathing to almost inquisitive within seconds, when the two of you are trading jabs and insults like his mother isn’t the one who signs your paycheques.

If you are carbon, then he’s the igniting flame.

But you know better, don’t you? Ransom is trouble, plain and simple—the kind with zero direction in life, the kind with a new girl on his arm every week, leaving them to wake up in the mornings to cold bed sheets and memories of promises he’d never intended to keep.

You will die a fiery death before you come another notch on his bedpost. Not that you even care whether he thinks of you that way at all, because even the idea of doing that with Ransom is—

Shit. You shiver again.

You’re playing with fire by even thinking about him at all, even though you feel the incredibly annoying pull of his presence like a magnet, even though you know you need to stay as far away from him as possible, and even though you are very keenly aware that there’s something here.

It looms large yet goes unacknowledged whenever your eyes lock, when he’s looking at you like he wants to bury you and devour you at the same time, when you’re itching with the knowledge that you’re only keeping him at as much of a distance as you can physically stand.

Why else haven’t you told him yet, in no uncertain terms, to fuck right off?

Because there’s a part of you that can’t help but wonder what it would be like to let yourself burn—to feel the heat of that passion you can see in his eyes that he never seems to give into, to feel whatever warmth he might muster from beneath the complicated layers of that thing beating in his chest, to feel him next to you as that terrible something you won’t ever name finally erupts and consumes everything in its path.

Ugh. You absolutely loathe yourself for it, and it makes you want to bash your forehead repeatedly against the wall.

“Someone’s going on the naughty list,” Ransom snickers, the sound infuriatingly close now. You do your best not to startle at the new proximity; he’s put his phone away, unfolded himself from your chair with that unexpectedly languid grace, crossing the room to toss your now empty package of cookies into the trash. “And is that any way to speak to a valued coworker?”

“You? Valued? Coworker?”

“Oh, don’t be jealous, Cindy Lou,” he chides, leaning against the edge of an empty desk barely a step away, crossing his arms over his broad chest, then lowering his voice to whisper conspiratorially, “I hear it’s a sin.”

“Jealous?” You laugh humourlessly, snorting in a way that is decidedly very unladylike. “Of what? The fact that you’ve never worked a day in your life and have the soft white hands of a geisha?”

“Oh yeah? Been thinking about my hands a lot, have you?” He smirks again, and you bite back an exasperated moan—er, groan.

“Namely,” you say sarcastically, turning away from him and reaching up for a particularly high spot. “Breaking all the feeble little bones in your tiny rat-like claws, preferably with a nice sturdy lump of coal.”

“I’m not the one who’s gone on a rampage,” Ransom gestures to the office, now adorned with shiny little baubles, bundles of sparkly tinsel, and rolls of satin ribbon, “and vandalized the office.”

“Vandal—it looks festive, you heartless ghoul!” You whip around to glare at him again, momentarily forgetting your unstable position. But instead of rolling away from the wall and taking you with it, the chair beneath you stays firmly in place. Confused, you glance down to see Ransom’s outstretched feet casually braced against the legs.

Your head snaps up so quickly you think you might get whiplash, eyes narrowing accusatorially only to see him looking away, feigning nonchalance despite the fact that his ears are turning red.

Blood rushes to your cheeks, a traitorous warmth spreading through them. You curse mentally for the umpteenth time, feeling the corners of your perfidious mouth threatening to curve up into a smile.

The bar really is in hell, isn’t it?

“You…” you squeak, clearing your throat a few times to get your voice back to normal. “It’s five. You should go get your mother now.”

“Why, am I distracting you?” Ransom replies, tucking his hands into his pockets and still not making eye contact. “And don’t rush me. I’d rather eat glass than sit through another one of Linda’s fuckin’ Christmas parties.”

“Right, because of your repellant personality?” You quip only half-sarcastically.

“So I’m told,” he drawls, but strangely he sounds more pleased than offended by your observation. “But then again, you’re no picnic either, are you Cindy?”

“Excuse me?” You finally climb off the chair, the last of the garland securely in place. You ignore those stupid feelings stirring inside you at the sight of him retracting his legs a second too slow, and only when both your feet are firmly on the floor.

“You can’t tell me you work so hard because you like your job,” he chortles, his smirk twisting into something just a tiny bit meaner this time. “Aw, sweetheart, do you not have any friends?”

You snort so loud it almost hurts, trying not to focus on just how much you and Ransom have in common—a fact he also seems content to leave unaddressed. “Oh, like you do?”

The mental image of Ransom sitting in his mother’s living room, laughing and sharing wine with a bunch of people in front of a roaring fire like he isn’t a raging sociopath makes you shudder.

“Although, I guess I am curious,” you relent with an inquisitive tilt of your head, ignoring the weight of his heavy gaze on your back as you rummage through the last of the decorations.

“Hm, do tell,” you hear him chuckle.

“About Christmas, you bumbling idiot,” you retort, rolling your eyes. “Can’t picture you and Linda decorating a tree or opening presents together.”

“Okay, that’s not even funny,” he grumbles, his expression twisting into something sour.

“Never? Not even when you were a kid?” You ask before you can stop yourself. Dangerous territory. You know too much about his personal life as it is, and this would only humanize him and that’s the very last thing you want.

“Sometimes,” he admits after a few seconds of agonizing silence, his voice uncharacteristically quiet, your eyes meeting, as always, when you look up at him. “Only ever at Harlan’s.”

You stare, unsure what to do with the underlying hint of something in his voice that doesn’t really belong. Harlan is the only person in his family you actually like, who exudes warmth and care even towards a spoiled and ungrateful grandson, and it takes you a moment to realize that the thing in Ransom’s voice might be affection.

It’s alien and unnerving, to say the least, but you still feel a traitorous tug at your heart strings.

“I can’t picture you as a kid,” you say, somehow managing to keep your voice from trembling as you quickly change the subject. Sweet Christmases with his adoring grandpa shouldn’t be something you associate with this overgrown man-child. And even if it is, it doesn’t change the fact that Ransom is a giant, gaping asshole. “I just see you, but… smaller.”

“And I bet you were just a naive little princess,” he smirks when you glare at him, “doting parents, thoughtful presents, cookies for Santa—spoiled in your own way.”

“Oh, don’t get it twisted,” you shake your head, putting up a defensive hand, “we aren’t sharing. That’s not what this is.”

“But you know what they say, Cindy,” he says as he leans in closer, stopping just inches away, so close you can smell the lingering scent of cinnamon and nutmeg on his breath, mingling with the saccharine aroma of peppermint and artificial pine clinging to his sweater. “Sharing is caring.”

His eyes blaze in an unspoken challenge, but before you can do anything else, like maybe start thinking that the bad idea that’s been plaguing you ever since you met this infernal man isn’t such a bad idea after all, the sound of Linda’s voice cuts through the air, as sharp as the diamonds she wears on her fingers.

“What are you two doing?”

The spell is broken, and Ransom looks away with that same infuriating smile that makes you both want to punch and ki—

“Hello, Mother,” Ransom all but sneers.

You step away with considerable effort, wringing your hands in front of you. Linda narrows her eyes in thinly-veiled suspicion, but doesn’t say anything as she begins walking towards you.

Ransom steps in front of you, shoving his hands into his pockets and jingling his keys, “We’d better get going. Your chariot awaits.”

“Have a nice evening, Mrs. Drysdale,” you pipe up, watching nervously as her eyes sweep across the office and your carefully placed decorations with cool indifference. She nods slightly and you breathe a sigh of relief; that’s as close to a thank you as you’ll ever get.

“Ransom, be a dear and go start the car,” Linda says, urging him towards the door with a sweep of her hand. Her son hesitates for only a millisecond, not even looking back as he turns on his heels and leaves.

Only you notice that his hands are clenched at his sides.

“Merry Christmas, dear,” she smiles tightly as she hands you an envelope likely containing your holiday bonus, and you snap back to attention. You take it from her with a quiet thank you, but then her smile quickly turns into a stern frown. “But don’t make a habit of having food delivered here.”

“Food?” You repeat, your brows coming together in confusion. Linda puts on her fur coat, pointing a single gloved finger at the doors. There is a delivery person standing on the other side of the glass, lifting and pointing at a plastic bag heavy with takeout containers.

“Air the place out before you leave,” Linda says as she breezes past him, not even turning back while she lifts a hand in dismissal.

Confused, you follow in her tracks, staring after her as she makes a dissatisfied face at Ransom’s car pulled right up next to the curb. You see him roll his eyes, leaning over to unlock and push the door open for her. Linda doesn’t look too thrilled, but steps in anyway. They drive away, a hint of a smile on Ransom’s face even though it looks like Linda’s already started in on him with her usual longwinded lectures.

You tell the delivery boy you didn’t order anything, but he looks just as puzzled. He checks the receipt and says your name, the office address, which you confirm are correct. He then recites the order: scallion pancakes, rice noodle rolls, steamed crystal dumplings, and a small black sesame latte—your standing order from your favourite restaurant in Chinatown, reserved for nights when you were working late.

“It’s already paid for,” he says, “you might as well take it.”

You do, locking the doors once he leaves and set the bag down onto a nearby desk. Before you’ve even untied it and opened the containers to check their contents, the grin that’s been brewing all night finally breaks free.

Because there’s only a handful of people in the world who know you’re here at the moment, but only one who knows you haven’t eaten yet today, and who knows that despite having permission to leave for the night, you’ll probably settle in for another few hours of tedious paperwork.

Still, you finish every last crumb of your dinner feeling lighter than you have all week.

Maybe you’ll ask him next time, despite all the reasons you probably shouldn’t, whatever happened to sharing is caring?—even if it sounds like an invitation.

And maybe you feel cheeky enough to send him a quick email before logging off, cackling to yourself when he finally fires back a scathing reply a few hours later, likely still sitting in a room full of people just like his mother, trying not to be absolutely miserable.

From: “El Diablo” <rdrysdale@drysdaleproperties.com> To: Reception <reception@drysdaleproperties.com> Subject: RE: Merry Christmas Oh fuck off, I don’t know what you’re talking about. ——————— From: Reception <reception@drysdaleproperties.com> To: “El Diablo” <rdrysdale@drysdaleproperties.com> Subject: Merry Christmas …and thanks for dinner, Drysdale.

And if, when you’re finally home long after the midnight hour, you’re tucked into bed feeling full and warm with the temptation to raise your lips into a smile as you drift off to sleep?

Well.

That’s really nobody’s business but your own, is it? 

fin.

[swan2swan]

me rn:

...hold on, I wanna try something.

[themilkshanghai]

Mia and Marta's Profile

" When human Mia meets witch Marta, The story of them is began… "

Mia Wynn

Identity Name : Mia Wynn Date of Birth : August 8, 1997 Gender : Female Blood Type : O Blood Status : Muggle-Born Myer Briggs Personality Type : ISTP Ethnicity : American-Thai Nationality : American

Appearance Height : 175 cm Weight : 56 kg Hair : Dark gray, Shoulder length Eyes : Light green Skin : Tan, Scar on the waist

At Hogwarts Hogwarts House : Ravenclaw Wand : Hazel wood, Dragon heartstrings, 12 inches, Flexibility Quidditch : Beater Animagus : Gray Fox Patronus : Whale Boggart : Parents's body Riddikulus : Paper doll Flower : Red Poppy

Misc

Food/Dessert/Beverage : Candy, Chocolate cake, Omelet, Ramen, Donut, Ice cream, Black tea, Hot & Iced cocoa

Hobby : Sports, Singing & Playing music, Photography, Gaming, Traveling

Color : Gray, Black, White, Dark blue, Green, Red, Purple-Violet

Subject : Charms, Transfiguration, DADA, Flying, Astronomy

Mia is Muggle-Born who has talented and live an ordinary life. But when she was 7 years old, there was a fire at her house (America), her parents died in the fire and she was admitted to the hospital for several months. Mia's aunt heard the news and then took her to move to England for new life.

After months later something happened to Mia. The mysterious voices, sounds, Magic?! She felt shocked-excited and interesting that made wanted to learning about Magic.

Marta Waltsher

Identity Name : Marta Waltsher Date of Birth : January 10, 1997 Gender : Female Blood Type : A Blood Status : Half-Blood Myer Briggs Personality Type : INTP Ethnicity : English-Thai Nationality : English

Appearance Height : 170 cm Weight : 50 kg Hair : Black, Long-Straight Eyes : White Skin : Light

At Hogwarts Hogwarts House : Slytherin Wand : Cedar wood, Dragon heartstrings, 10 inches, Pliable Quidditch : Keeper Animagus : White Swan Patronus : Raven Boggart : Thorny Vines Riddikulus : Flower Vines Flower : Poison Hemlock

Misc

Food/Dessert/Beverage : Herbal tea, Cookie, Salad, Vegetable soup, Beef Stew, Hot chocolate, Honey toast

Hobby : Cooking-Baking, Reading, Gardening, Dancing & Playing music

Color : White, Green, Black, Blue, Silver, Pastel

Subject : Charms, Potions, Herbology, Flying, Ancient Runes

Marta is Half-Blood witch who comes from a wealthy and strict rules family. Her mother disappeared after she was born for some reason, she heard that her father's relatives thinks she lured him with black magic to married.

Now she lives with her father and nursemaid (Younger sister of her mother) in mansion near the cemetery in the valley. Her father taught her about magic until able to use magic without a wand.

[sivyera]

hot chocolate

twilight new moon isabella marie swan x fem!reader

a/n: it can be a bit sad from the start but it will be really fluffy on the end

༺☆༻

Bella slowly opened her eyes as she heard a slight noise of opening door. As her vision cleared she saw you, quietly as possible opening the door with two hot chocolates in your hands.

Just as quietly as you opened the door you too closed them. Then you went next to your bed, where Bella was now laying and put those two hot chocolates on a nightstand that was right next to your bed.

She was so glad to see you, her childhood best friend. Jacob was only her childhood friend, you were her childhood best friend, you were special.

She was way closer to you then with Jacob, she thought it was like this because you were the same gender.

But as time passed she realized that there was something more in that then just this, but then she thought she lost you forever and you will be forever just a childhood memory, then she moved back to Forks and the chaos with Edward came, and then you appeared in Forks all of the sudden, then Jacob with his werewolf thing, then the break up with Edward, it was just to much on her. To much chaos.

Her head was filled with thoughts and her feelings weren't under control. So her attempt of suicide was stupid but understadable.

All she remembers was seeing you above her, white light behind you and you were like smoke and you were also blurred. Then it was all dark until now.

As you sat down on your chair that you had in your room, you saw Bella blinking her eyes. You also noticed that her lips were more pink then few hours ago. When you pulled her out of that freezing water her lips were purple, white and blue, when you arrived to your house they were just blue and now they were more pink like her normal colour. That made you stood up immediately and went to sit next to her on the corner of your bed.

"Bella, how are you feelin'?" You asked with worried voice as you were looking at her face for any signs of discomfort or pain. Now as her eyes were fully opened she could see how worried you really were. How you care about her...

"I'm fine, wha- what happened?" Bella asked with still shaking voice as she tried to sit up but you gently pushed her down and shook your head as a sign that it's not a good idea to sit right now.

"Well I assume that before I pulled you out of that water you jumped off a cliff, when I pulled you out of that water and gave you first aid; you started breathing and blinking your eyes so I took you to my car and there you fell asleep, then I just moved you inside my house." You said calmly as you touched her forehead to check if she doesn't have high temperature.

Bella nods her head slowly as she looked down a bit embarrassed. "I-I'm sorry." She apologized. She felt like a complete trash. After Edward broke up with her, her depression started... it was over 3 months and now she embarrassed herself in front of you.

It was just too much at her, she wanted to cry but she tried her best not too. "Don't apologize Bells, you are fine now." You said calmy in a soothing voice to calm her down.

Bella smiled back at you while feeling that fuzzy, warm, safe feeling inside her, that one she haven't felt in 3 moths, that one she missed so much.

As she was looking at your loving face; all of the memories from your childhood came to her mind. The memories she felt this feeling in, the best ones, the special ones, the ones why you were more then Jacob, more then Edward...

Bella was still staring at your face as you grabbed the hot chocolate that you placed on your nightstand few minutes ago.

"Here, drink." You said calmly with a warm smile and the hot chocolate in your right hand, with your left hand you were trying to help her sit up.

Bella moved her gaze from your.. beautiful face to that tempting hot chocolate you made. On top of that hot chocolate was whipped cream perfectly made, on top of that whipped cream was sprinkled with cinnamon.

She took the hot chocolate from your hand and as your fingers touched, she swore she felt electricity flowing. "Thank you." She thanked as she took a sip from that hot chocolate you made.

It was delicious, the best hot chocolate she ever had. She hummed loudly as she swallowed the chocolate.

You just laughed at her reaction, happy that she likes it, happy that she had a smile on her face. As you two were laughing and smiling and looking at each other, Bella realized that Edward never made her feel like this. He did the opposite, he just brought chaos into her.

Jacob did the same, only pure chaos. The only one except you who actually helped her was probably Alice.

It fascinated her, how big effect you had on her.

"I feel much better now." Bella said as she drank the whole hot chocolate and put the empty cup back on your nightstand.

You smiled and put your empty cup on your nightstand as well. You moved and went to lay next to her on your bed. As you got under your blanket you answered to her. "I'm glad to hear that."

Bella raised her eyebrows as you got under the blanket with her, it surprised her but after all you two were childhood best friends, there wasn't anything suspicious, right?

When you made yourself comfortable under the blanket, Bella's body naturaly moved closer to you which made you put your arm under her head so she could use your hand as a pillow. Your other hand went around her shoulders while she wrapped her hands around your waist.

Again the fuzzy, warm, safe feeling was spreading through Bella's veins as you two cuddled like this.

Maybe all she ever wanted was right in front of her the whole time. Maybe all she ever needed in a man was in you the whole time.

As she noticed that you fell asleep, she couldn't help herself but give in to the temptation and kiss you on your lips. As her lips touched yours she felt the electricity that she never felt with Edward, the chaotic feeling was replaced by calmness.

Maybe in the future, when she gains enough confidence, she'll ask you to be her girlfriend.

And look what a simple hot chocolate did.

[lanaevyssmoved]

OC + Random Associations

tagged by @cetra , @sleepsvessel & @bootheminiaturegiantspacehamster thank you ^_^

Animal

Afhiri sea slugs, isopods (dairy cow and zebra), geckos and other various reptiles, cats, small birds, musteloids (particularly raccoons and red pandas), viverrids, japanese raccoon dogs, opossums Candor lions, various eagles (wedge-tailed, golden, crowned), hawks, swans and geese, bighorn rams, crocodillians, sea turtles, elephants, animals that use sun compass orientation Cirok corvids (raven, crow), dogs (rottweiler, doberman, pinscher, greyhound), venomous black snakes, scorpions, spiders (particularly trapdoor spiders and sicarius), bats, black caiman, sharks

Colors

Afhiri pastels! pink, yellow, orange, green, blue, white, black Candor changes depending on form but in general purple, blue, red, yellow, orange, gold, brown, white, black Cirok black, grey, white - absolutely no Colour (thanks to booboo i now think of like toxic waste green when i think of cirok too)

Month

Afhiri September Candor August Cirok November

Songs

Afhiri tapi tapi - tempura kidz fear. moe shop and fun - sir sly. sir sly's vibe is way off for afhiri but the lyrics were written for her Candor a sun coloured shaker - yndi halda and (spring) this was your place - sunlight ascending Cirok jouska - evenS (probably favourite song of all time btw) and i come with knives - IAMX

Number

Afhiri two/2 Candor three/3 Cirok four/4

Plants

Afhiri celandine, sunflower, pink tulip, daisy Candor bay tree, gladiolus, heliotrope, rose Cirok chives, anemone, begonia, deadly nightshade

Scents

Afhiri fresh morning, grass, dirt, cotton candy, bubblegum Candor cedar, musk, sandalwood, the ocean, burning  Cirok decay, death, rot, overwhelmingly of resin

Gemstone

Afhiri tugtupite Candor meliphanite Cirok magnetite

Time of day

Afhiri sunrise Candor midday Cirok night

Season

Afhiri summer Candor summer Cirok winter

Places

Afhiri taverns, meadows, by rivers and lakes Candor monasteries, temples, places of worship Cirok the dank, cold and forgotten, the forbidden

Food

Afhiri sweet things, nothing good for you Candor warm meals Cirok raw meat

Drinks

Afhiri sugary sweet drinks, energy drinks Candor various teas (green, oolong, herbal, black) Cirok piping hot black coffee

Element

Afhiri air Candor fire Cirok water

Seasonings

Afhiri garlic, ginger, cinnamon Candor paprika, turmeric, bay leaves Cirok dried chives, cloves, saffron

Sky

Afhiri the most beautiful sunny cloudless summer sky Candor a colourful golden orange, red, and purple with light cloud cover Cirok stratus clouds, grey, calm and quiet

Weather

Afhiri warm day with lots of sun and a gentle breeze Candor blazing hot summers day with minimal to no wind Cirok cold winters day with fog and light snow

Magical power

Afhiri manipulative magic that makes someone act against their own will, anything that makes them laugh or dance. also the magical power of Insults Candor holy smites, blinding lights and divine energy Cirok phasing into the realm of the dead to walk partly as a ghost

Weapons

Afhiri shortsword and dagger combo, dual hand crossbows Candor mace and shield, longbow, floating/flying greatsword Cirok dual daggers, throwing knives, poisons and venoms

Candy/Sweets

Afhiri cotton candy, bubblegum, and i designed her with fruit salad in mind! Candor spicy roasted pecans, maple roasted sweet potatoes, sea salt dark chocolate Cirok liquorice, black jack, toxic waste

Method of long distance travel

Afhiri roadtrip in a classic volkswagen camper van Candor flying Cirok underground trains

Artstyle

Afhiri impressionism, abstract expressionism, street art, dadaism, CoBrA and fauvism Candor baroque and classicism Cirok optical art and minimalism

Fear

Afhiri of the self, of emotional pain, of returning home Candor of imperfection, of failure, of not being worthy Cirok of being seen, of death, of vulnerability

Mythological creature

Afhiri azeban, mujina, nymph Candor chalkydri, phoenix, psychopomp Cirok tsuchigumo, black dog, gargoyle

Piece of stationery

Afhiri a childs box of crayons, dairy Candor fountain pen, ruler Cirok ink, letter opener

Three Emojis

Afhiri 🤡🍀🪈 Candor ☄️🎇🪽 Cirok 🕷️♟️🔪

Celestial body

Afhiri the moon Candor the sun Cirok black dwarf

THIS TOOK ME FOREVER GUYS... TWO DAYS. I WORKED ON IT FOR HOURS. i hope........ its worth it <3

tagging @cetra @dekariosgale @courierseis @euryalex @hibernationsuit @jerichoes @vanoefucks @captaintiny @gwynbleidd @arduath @rcpunzel @avallachs @fuckitwebhaal @hexdruid @sovereign-spaw @galesgrandad @thefathersbride @dandeyrain @doggybone @swanfey @voerman @full---ofstarlight @chaos-storm @covenscribe @raphaelsboudoir @simtalics @kymal @graynstairs @neonbutchery @hungryblackbird @moxley @thlix @isayashai @darlinghowl @astarionsfordf150 @moon-jun @lovaboy @ratscrap @picklepals @crazy-lazy-elder-sims @rigaudon @neosunbrella @sternenstaub28 @centipisde @kirkwall @lusus--naturae

[florida3exclamationpoints]

You would THINK that Princess Savior Emma Charming Swan becoming The Dark One would make all the High Horse Masters Of Empathy Most Kind And Compassionate And Loving And Forgiving people in the world think "hm maybe being the dark one is a horrible curse that severely damages your psyche and 'resisting the darkness' is not as simple as it sounds and the world is not all black and white and it's very difficult to be the loved ones of the dark one and a person can be helped out of extreme darkness and even when someone is doing something bad they still deserve compassion and there can still be a good person inside of them and we can choose to forgive some very horrific things for the sake of helping someone we care about because we know that deep down this is not the person they really are and these 'dark' actions might be indicative of a much larger issue that we cannot comprehend from the outside" but no. No they said "actually she is an angel goddess and she could crush multiple hearts in front of our eyes and we would say 'awe babygirl would you like some hot chocolate?' But Rumplestiltskin is the scum of the earth and we hate his stupid face. There is no need to take any measures to protect his life because we actually don't think he counts as A Person bc we hate him so much. Ew."

[merrywaanderer]

a rainy night on whickber street

aziraphale + crowley

synopsis: a soft little drabble, inspired by neil's admission that aziraphale doesn't know that crowley now lives in his car

warnings: n/a

word count: 2k

a/n: i've written a happy little fic to heal your hearts (and mine...), so hopefully, this has its intended effect. set during s2, but entirely spoiler free, as far as i can tell :')

⭒

It was raining on Whickber Street. 

Aziraphale was a self-proclaimed enjoyer of rain, finding that some things were simply sweeter against the backdrop of a grey sky, with a soft musical pitter patter for soundtrack — lamps with their warm yellow glow, hot chocolate and reading, listening to Shostakovich records. That sort of thing.

Maybe kisses, too, if Crowley was to be believed. Aziraphale still believed most in dancing at balls. 

Night had fallen earlier as the summer days had dawdled away, and in the dim light of the bookshop, Aziraphale yawned, the gentle notes of ‘The Swan’ from Saint-Saën’s Carnival of the Animals drifting from the gramophone, lulling him to sleep at too early an hour. 

Only a moment later, he yawned again. 

Maybe not so early, then, Aziraphale mused silently, and glanced up at the clock which sat upon his desk. 

His eyes widened behind his spectacles. 

So that was the time! High time to be going to bed, one should think. 

With a soft sigh, he rose from his chair and folded up his glasses, closing the book he had been examining, and settling the spectacles neatly atop the cover, ready for the new day. 

Humming to himself, he tidied the few things he always did before going to bed, switching off a few lamps here and there, all but enough to light his way upstairs, and then went about drawing the blinds for the night. 

He was just closing the last of them, when a strange sight beyond the rain-speckled window caused him to look twice. 

It was Crowley’s Bentley — well now, who else’s would it be? — parked at the kerb, as it often was in the day. But clearly, it was not day, and Crowley’s Bentley should have been parked by his flat. So where was Crowley, if the Bentley was here? It was hardly like him to let his beloved Bentley out of his sight. 

Aziraphale frowned. He resolved to investigate. 

He strode across the bookshop floor, and carefully — hesitantly, in case this was some fiendish trap of Hell’s making — twisted the doorknob and pushed. 

It was raining less now, only sprinkling, but the door creaked as though it were as hesitant as the angel himself to leave the warmth and light of the bookshop. But Aziraphale stepped out onto the pavement, peering into the night toward the Bentley.

He was still holding onto the door when a dash of colour caught his gaze. Red, like a flame behind the light from the bookshop, glinting off the windows of the car.

He frowned again, and let go of the door. He walked slowly toward the Bentley, now surer of himself, though still puzzled by the sight before him. 

But when he reached the car, he was certain of what he saw, albeit not why it was that he was seeing it.

Because there was Crowley, slumped in the passenger’s seat of the Bentley, head tipped forward so that his chin nearly touched his chest, dark glasses nowhere to be seen. 

His mouth hung open just a little, lower lip sticking out in a fashion which might have been pouty, had Crowley not been asleep, all the usual tension gone from between his eyes.

Something clenched in Aziraphale’s chest.

With a little shiver, Azirphale pushed aside whatever had just come over him, and knocked on the window, first quietly, then more insistently, when the latter proved ineffective. 

“Crowley,” he said. “Crowley!”

At last, Crowley started, head hitting the ceiling of the car as Aziraphale winced, before those pretty yellow eyes flicked at last to his angel.

The rigidity which had abruptly pinched Crowley’s shoulders left just as quickly when the demon’s gaze settled on Aziraphale, and he began to roll down the window. 

Aziraphale, knees bent, leant his arms on the windowsill, so as to match Crowley’s present height. 

“Angel,” said Crowley softly, before Aziraphale could speak. “What… mmm. What are you doing here?”

Aziraphale frowned for the third time in a very short span of minutes. “I could ask you the same thing, my dear boy.”

“‘S no crime to sit in one’s car, ‘sit?” Crowley mumbled groggily. 

“But it’s nighttime,” Aziraphale intoned. “You should be at home. Asleep.”

“I am at home,” said Crowley.

Aziraphale felt a warm laugh bubble up to his lips. “No, you’re not, silly. You’re in your car.”

Crowley didn’t laugh. He sighed. “Car’s where I live, now.”

The angel blinked, bemused. “What do you mean? What about your flat?”

Crowley shrugged. “‘S not mine anymore. Shax’s. Part of Hell’s consequences after our little escaping act.”

A sudden hurt gripped Aziraphale again, and his expression softened further, if that was even possible. “Oh, Crowley. Why didn’t you just tell me?”

Crowley didn’t look at him, only uttering a quiet, unintelligible noise which was in no way a word. But his meaning was conveyed all the same — he did not know what to say at this moment, nor, possibly, did he ever. 

“You’re always here,” Aziraphale murmured. “Why not just stay?”

In the silence, Aziraphale heard only his own breath, and the short stutter of Crowley’s, coming in waves. Crowley still would not look at him. 

“I, uh — didn’tknowthatyou’dwantmetostay.”

The confusion resettled on Aziraphale’s brow. “Come again?”

Crowley coughed. “I…” Again. “I didn’t know that you’d, um. Want me to stay.”

The last of his words had once more come out a tangled mess, but Aziraphale caught them all the same.

“Crowley…” Aziraphale reached a hand through the car window, and in the dim lighting of the street, his palm met Crowley’s solid chest sooner than he had anticipated. 

Crowley breathed in sharply, and Aziraphale nearly drew back at his misstep, but whether it was the lateness of the night or his desire to convey to Crowley what he meant, something stayed his hand, and he did not move. But it was at that precise moment that Crowley finally met his gaze, and Aziraphale felt his own breath hitch at their closeness, though a car door separated them still. 

The warmth which had been in his laughter now spread through his chest, and all throughout him, though the warmest part of him was his hand, where it lay on Crowley’s chest. 

“I always want you to stay,” he said softly. 

Crowley’s mouth dropped open again, and unwittingly, Aziraphale’s eyes strayed there.

Crowley, however, did notice. 

“Well. I, um,” Crowley felt the need to clear his throat again, “I’d like to.”

With a small smile, Aziraphale nodded once, decisively. He rose from where he had crouched, and opened Crowley’s door. “Then it is done.”

He stepped back as Crowley left the car to join him on the pavement, then shut the car door once more. 

He began to walk back to the bookshop’s entrance, aware of Crowley following along behind him, when a telltale scuff of shoes indicated that Crowley had stopped. Aziraphale turned. 

“Come along, Crowley. It’s raining, after all.”

Crowley pointed over his shoulder, “It’s just, uh, I forgot my glasses.”

Aziraphale shook his head. “You don’t need them here, darling.”

Crowley’s lips pursed, then fell slack once more. He nodded. 

They made it to the door, and Aziraphale held it open for his oldest friend, slipping inside and locking the thing securely once the two were safely indoors. 

He padded over to the blind he had neglected to close, and swept it shut, faintly aware of Crowley standing awkwardly, unusually silent, in the middle of the room. 

Aziraphale returned to him. “There’s the sofa,” he said meaninglessly, because he had only just now thought of it. “But it always gets so cold down here at night. Why don’t you just come upstairs?”

Before Crowley could say that he didn’t really feel the cold, it occurred to him that here was a better option. 

“After all, why not,” he murmured, and Aziraphale offered him a nod of approval. 

He trailed after his angel switching off the last of the lamps, picking up a single candle, lit in its holder. Aziraphale took the first of the many steps up the spiral staircase, then turned and extended his hand to Crowley, that small, familiar smile lighting his face more than any candle could have dreamt to replicate. 

Crowley slipped his hand into Azriaphale’s, his long, cold fingers softening in the surrounding warmth of the angel’s hand. 

And thus they made their ascent of the stairs, Crowley fighting the appearance of his own tiny smile. But there was no reason to fight, and so he let it be, let it take him over. Who was he, after all, to deny himself so small a taste of paradise?

At the top of the stairs they soon came to the room in which Aziraphale sometimes slept. Crowley himself found his desire for sleep infrequent, preferring to roam about the silent Earth in the quiet night hours. But this night, for whatever reason, was set apart from the others, and had been from the start. 

Aziraphale’s hand fell from Crowley’s as he went to set the candle upon his bedside table. Crowley, suddenly drawn by an insatiable curiosity to the bookshelves that prevailed even in Aziraphale’s bedroom, strode toward the books, running his fingers along the spines. These books seemed unlike the ones Aziraphale kept downstairs at the heart of the shop. On the contrary, it seemed that these books were where Aziraphale kept his heart; the spines of these volumes were decorated in his neat, tightly-lettered script, proclaiming dates to those who cared to read them. Though, Crowley supposed (or maybe hoped), no one but him had been brought here to see them. 

He tipped one carefully down from the shelf, and it opened in his hands, the spine oddly worn as though the book had been opened — read, again and again — many times. 

He was surprised to find his name, amongst all the words, more often than anything else. 

“You keep diaries — ” he began, at the same moment as Aziraphale said, 

“Don’t —”

He turned, shutting the book abruptly, and found Aziraphale by the bed, now in a long, white cotton shirt which was more of a gown, looking more angelic than ever. He looked ever so much as he had done the day Crowley had met him, with all the stars of creation in those eyes of his.

“Oh,” was all Crowley managed. Aziraphale, for some reason, blushed. 

Yet he seemed to recover quickly enough. “Come to bed, Crowley.”

Crowley all but forgot the book he had been holding, and only just caught and replaced it on the shelf before it fell to the floor. 

He approached Aziraphale slowly, as one does a frightened animal, though there was nothing of that sort in Aziraphale’s soft face. The rain pattered softly against the windows.

Crowley took off his jacket, and hung it over the low bedpost. With a brief glance at Aziraphale across the bed, he sat, and removed his shoes, and the thin silver scarf which was always around his neck. He discarded his trousers in the same pile, and turned to find Aziraphale with his legs already tucked under the covers, cradling the candle with a patient expression. 

Crowley mirrored Aziraphale’s attitude, and Aziraphale, seeing this, blew out the candle, and set it aside. 

In the darkness, Crowley lay down, and by the rustling of the sheets, heard Aziraphale do the same. He turned in his direction. 

“So,” he said quietly, “what now?” 

He thought Aziraphale shuffled closer. 

“Same as always,” said the angel. “We stay together.”

Then, to Crowley’s surprise, Aziraphale nestled his cheek against Crowley’s chest, and wrapped his lovely arms around Crowley’s waist. 

Another soft Oh fell from Crowley’s mouth, and Aziraphale sighed against his chest. Crowley’s arms, of their own accord, as if they knew nothing more natural, came up to draw Aziraphale closer, and Aziraphale’s warmth bled into his skin, and became his own. He felt suddenly overwhelmed by a feeling of great honour, because Aziraphale had chosen him, of all creatures, to hold in his arms.

“Good night, Crowley,” mumbled, already half asleep. 

“Good night, angel,” sighed — smitten, blissful, besotted. 

The rain continued to fall over Whickber Street, though angel and demon, wrapped up in one another, heeded it not.

⭒

good omens taglist: @killerqueen-ofwillowgreen

send me an ask to be added to my taglist! and please let me know what fandoms you’d like to be tagged for <3

[stardust-swan]

Coquette Christmas

🎀 to wear: pale pinks, baby blue, icy white, leg warmers, uggs with bows, sweaters with skirts, cable knit cardigans, cashmere scarves, earmuffs, mittens, pearl bobby pins, velvet scrunchies and bows, berets with pearls, sparkly earrings, pretty brooches on your winter coat, glossier birthday balm, becca pearl highlighter

🎀 bake heart shaped stained glass sugar cookies or gingerbread people with bows piped on <3

🎀 enjoy peppermint white hot chocolate with mini marshmallows while cuddled up under a blanket

🎀 read hans christian andersen fairytales

🎀 see a ballet like swan lake, the nutcracker, or gisele

🎀 visit the swans! in the northern hemisphere swans migraine during christmas so go to a canal or lake to watch then glide by

🎀 make your skincare routine different! skin tends to get drier in winter so use a richer moisturiser, do sheet masks (love lapcos sheet masks), use vaseline or a lip mask overnight (klavuu does a great one), put some glycerin or lotion on your feet and hands before putting on your socks and gloves, and remember to still wear spf! carry a good handcream and lip balm (fresh rose lip treatment is soo good) in case you feel dry while out. and obviously drink lots of water

🎀 ice-skate holding hands with someone special <3

🎀 light lots of candles! there are some great wintery scented one like gingerbread, frankincense, winter berry and mulled wine. I also like yankee's rainbow cookie in winter even though it's not strictly a winter scent. vanilla is always a good idea too

🎀 eat lots of marzipan, sugared rose petals, crystallised fruit, nougat, turkish delight, and caramelised nuts

🎀 practice self care with a warm bubble bath, a face mask, and a rich body lotion afterwards. put on silk pyjamas and fluffy socks that have been wrapped around a hot water bottle so they're already warm and cozy afterwards

🎀 to smell christmassy: layer scent by using a peppermint shower gel followed by a vanilla body lotion

🎀 decorate your space with figurines of swans, shepherdesses, angels, nutcrackers, and holiday barbies. and put bows on your xmas tree

🎀 watch: love actually, anastasia, little women, classic disney movies, white christmas, ice princess, harry potter and the sorcerer's stone, bridget jone's diary, barbie in the nutcracker, the chronicles of narnia, dead poets society, and any hallmark movie

🎀 write christmas cards in glitter pen and decorate with angel stickers and a spritz of vanilla perfume

🎀 to feel luxurious at night, spritz on some body spray, wear a flowing nightgown and do yourself in a clara style (half up with satin ribbon)

🎀 make snow angels!

🎀 make an emergency kit for those days when you come home miserable because of the cold and dark and have no energy, plans, and need some alone time. include things like a candle, a small box of good chocolates, some sheet masks, a perfume, your favourite tea, a book that comforts you, fluffy socks, a cozy blanket, paper and a pen to journal your thoughts, a photo album of your favourite people, old love letters, or anything else that you can easily keep at hand that will comfort you

🎀 listen to a pretty wintery playlist with genres like classical, jazz, and celtic/nordic traditional (mine is below <3)

[atrirose]

what do your moots remind you of!!

omg i have done this before for a event it was so much fun OMG LOVE U FOR ASKING ME THIS MWAH

@odxrilove : peachy pink colour, miffy, long voice notes, hamsters, lilies, bows, hoshi, purple skies, foam on coffee, perfumes, doves, perfect outfits, soft hums, moon, bonfires.

@hoonvrs : the colour black, cats, pretty eyes, poetry, khol, watches, milk bread, candid pictures, musk, sunghoon, honey, vinyls, silver lines.

@boyfhee : blue, coffee dates, long and deep conversation, lipgloss, early sunrise view, cute stationery, jay, lily of the valley.

@lilacnini : baby blue, refreshing water, iced coffee, long walks, thrift shopping, daisies, nayeon, raspberries, line art, starry nights, muji pens.

@isoobie : dark red, yunjin, smoothies, curls, jasmines, cherries, chai lattes, heeseung, chocolate chips, evening strolls, autum air, silk robes.

@okwonyo : reddish pink, pilates princess, dupe lip glow, matcha latte, highlighters, wonyoung, pink orchids, sugar, vanilla, laces

@bywons : beige, brownies, coffee beans, late night calls, stars, jungwon, ysl, apple bloom, music notes, leopard, jhumaks, love letters.

@wonryllis : black swans, jungkook, cyber punk, watermelons, jellies, mini skirts, blueberry muffins, handwritten notes, anklets, oreo.

@goldenhypen : light blue and beige combination, golden retrievers, jake, hot chocolate, messy keys, milk tea, high ponytails, fireflies, magnolia, a flower crown, hallway crushes.

@jangwonie : sage green, fairies, hydrangeas, matcha, italy, pistachio ice cream, garden walks, sunoo (esp blonde), sun kissed, glitter, california, sundress, sticky notes.

@junityy : pink, peonies, miss dior, nostalgia, glowing stream of water, green smoothies, dainty jewelry, pocky, scented candles, jake, fresh flowers, pretty mugs, cozy days, gossip girls.

[expatesque]

Monthly Recap - Dec

Slightly delayed, under the cut

Read

The Left Hand of Darkness, Ursula K. Le Guin - So so good, strongly recommend.

Tokyo Express, Seicho Matsumoto - A very good murder mystery, intricately plotted and intensely twisty. A nice, quick read

Watched

Deep Christmas here, so watched like, so many Christmas movies. Highlights were: A Biltmore Christmas (Hallmark movie that was way better than it had any right to be), Our Little Secret (Lindsay's best Christmas movie yet), the Chad Michael Murray stripper one (obviously), and Holiday (a Cary Grant / Katherine Hepburn film that, while not really about Christmas, takes place entirely over the holiday period).

The whole of A Gentleman in Moscow on the planes to and from Chicago. This was good, but the book was better and I think they could have done a better job. They leaned into the darkness in the book whereas I think learning into the more Wes Anderson elements would have been better.

Shrinking - Only a few episodes into this but really liking it.

Star Trek 2009 - First time watching this in years and it's still so good. Has kicked off a bit more of a Star Trek binge, can't wait for the new season of Strange New Worlds.

Did

Attended: Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit at the Hammersmith Apollo (he's so great, but wow never seen a quieter more sedate crowd in my life) and Natasha, Pierre, and the Great Commet of 1812 (soooo good, it's turned into a full blow obsession and has got me reading War and Peace.

Had my birthday party! Was so nervous about this but actually it was amazing, so much fun.

Learned about: skin care. As I approached 30 a line appeared on my forehead that no amount of moisturizer would help, and I promptly freaked out. The result of my deep dive: I had my cousin prescribe me some tretinoin when I was in the States and I'm now using that (starting off very slowly using the moisturizer sandwich method, don't worry).

Hosted Christmas Eve dinner which went okay, timing was off but food was good and desert in particular was really good.

Last Month’s Goals

☑️Use all class pass classes: Knew I wasn't going to use them all this month, only did two classes, both in Chicago - Ritual Hot Yoga (the best, bougiest experience) and then a HIIT class around the corner from my parents' place (nice, but not great).

☑️Read a book: see Read section above.

☑️New Recipes x2: (1) British style roast potatoes (yum, but take way longer than I was expecting) (2) Chocolate mousse (this recipe, very easy and nice) with a raspberry/blackberry sauce.

☑️Go to a new museum: The Driehaus Museum in Chicago, a completely crazy Gilded Age mansion. Truly insane interiors, too much in many places but lots of gorgeous moments.

❌Go to an Exhibition: Fail on this, but I'm giving myself a pass because I was only in the UK for brief period.

☑️Go to a show: check, see above.

❌Crochet: Was really crap this month, gotta get back to it!

❌Write More: Knew this wasn't going to happen this month, and lo.

❌Lay morning foundation: Yeah this was never going to happen over the holidays. For Jan!

☑️Budget: Barely, so ready to be employed again.

❌Memorize a poem: RIP, no.

🟧Russian flashcards: I took like half month off 😂

❌Screen time: Worse than last month, traveling and being home did me in. Gotta get back to good habits!

❌Job prep: This is priority #1 for Jan.

☑️ Quality Time: check! Did well, saw everyone I should have and spent good time with them all.

Next Month’s

Carrying Over

Use all class pass passes

Four new recipes

Read a book (actually I'm reading War and Peace at the moment so unlikely to finish that, but will be happy with good progress)

Visit a new musuem

Go to an exhibition

Go to a show (have The Importance of Being Earnest scheduled and will likely also see Matthew Bourne's Swan Lake)

Crochet

Interview Prep

Write more

Morning foundation

Budget

Memorize a poem

Russian flashcards

Screentime

New

Read World of Inferiors (really behind on these!)

[princess-and-the-swan]

CS Fic Recs: Omegaverse AU

It's been a while! So sorry I haven't been active lately, life's just gotten so crazy! Anyways, as consolation, I offer a masterlist of some excellent Omegaverse fics I've found! If there are any omegaverse fics I've missed that you would like to share, feel free to leave a comment or send me a message! Happy reading everyone!

Heat by @doodlelolly0910

Emma Swan is a successful single Omega who's been doing just fine on her own. When she runs out of her suppressants early and is unexpectedly thrown into a heat, she has a little trouble coping. Luckily(?) her attractive Alpha co-worker and best friend, Killian Jones, has stopped by her apartment today. What could go wrong? What could go right?

Yours by @doodlelolly0910

Sequel to Heat. When Killian Jones walked into Emma Swan's apartment and found her in the worst heat of her life, he never expected things to end up the way they did. Six months later, they are happily in a relationship, but he hasn't claimed her yet. He loves her, he knows she loves him, but this was forever they were talking about here. Now his rut has hit and it's all he can think about. Is Emma ready for something like that? Is he?

Give/Take by @artistic-writer, @doodlelolly0910

Third part of Heat. When Killian goes away on business and his rut appears early, Emma's little pick me up causes a little heat between them, prompting her to find her Alpha and sate both their needs.

Something More by @artistic-writer, @doodlelolly0910

Fourth part of Heat.

The Contract by @artistic-writer

Emma had never wanted much in her life, despite being married to one of the richest men in the world. For ten years she has felt like a prisoner in her own marriage, denied the one thing she wants the most, but her husband cannot help but bargain her want like a cheap business deal. Enter Killian Jones, the Alpha her husband has hired to make sure she gets what she wants. And then some.

Orchid Island by grimmswan

A tropical get away for Alphas and Omegas provide Emma and Killian a chance to get to know one another, and bond.

An Offer She Can’t Refuse by bdevereaux

Omegaverse + University/College AU

Crimson Crystals and Mating Stones by @hollyethecurious

Once a year, unclaimed omegas of age were brought before unmated Alphas in the hopes mate bonds would form, thus furthering the species. Unclaimed omegas were carted from village to village until either their mate bond emerged or they were declared defective and released to fend for themselves. This was the fifth and final village Emma had been brought to, and she was about to face the fourth and final rotation of alphas. Just one more round and then, with any luck, she’d be free.

i would stop the world for you by @shardminds

Scratching an itch is what she’d called it, over breakfast with a barely-there smile and a smear of whipped cream from her hot chocolate on her bottom lip. It. This. Them. He’d known that it would be easy to fall for her. He’s been trying not to ever since.

Walk Me Through The Dark by @sailawaytoafarawayland

There are no guarantees that life will be easy or happy, but Emma had finally found all that and more in the form of Killian Jones, her best friend, her alpha and mate. She’d forgotten what it was to fear, to run, to have the hope knocked from her body, but she’s about to remember, and so is he. TW: Attempted Rape, Non-Con, Sexual Assault

Rites of Spring by bdevereaux

Modern CS AU. The gang attends Storybrooke University's Annual Beltane Festival, where spring fever’s in the air, Killian’s keeping a big secret, and it all might change Emma’s life forever…

Where the Horizon Ends by @sailawaytoafarawayland

There's an end to her parent's patience, and with the threat of an arranged mating looming, Princess Emma decides to take her fate into her own hands - come what may.

Domestic Bliss by grimmswan

A short fluffy and smutty story featuring Alpha Killian and Omega Emma mated and sharing loving domestic moments.

A Dream of Home by ZaharaDessert

Life with the Gold Pack has never been smooth sailing for Emma Swan, and things are getting worse now the pack leader's son has decided he wants her for his mate. Nothing she says or does seems to deter him, or deter his parents from encouraging the match. Emma's only hope is a promise someone made her seventeen years ago; a promise she's forgotten about in all but the deepest recesses of her dreams.

[toasnearlynakedghost]

Court of Darkness consorts and Squishmallows

Guy and Baiden the red dragon or Luxmen the dragon or Aniela the coffee pot

Lynt and Fuyuki the green squirrel 

Fenn and Katta the Fennec fox or Pauletta the fox or Lemora the fox 

Toa and Farice the ferret or Anneli the blue ferret or Paulton the chocolate bar

Roy and Pandora the Pegasus or Rhoda the yellow rose or Walsh the red rose

Rio and Omar the bear or Baron the grizzly bear or Stokely the bear or Greta the bear 

Jasper and Valerie the raven or Aldron the plague doctor 

Tino and Rocky the raccoon or Galci the raccoon or Marshina the hot cocoa 

Knight and Nathan the tabby cat or Melly the milk carton

Grayson and Caden the royal blue horse 

Lance and Willy the wolf

Dia and Malcolm the mushroom or Hammie the mushroom or Amalie the snake 

Lou and Alyssa the swan or Serena the swan 

I tagged this as AU because they don’t have Squishmallows in the Magical Realm of Saligia but what if they did? Or what if they visited Earth and were introduced to Squishmallow plush toys?

[natromanovs]

2, 9 & 11

thank you kinga!

2. 3 movies you have rewatched many times

black swan

atonement

never let me go

9. 3 things you like doing on a rainy day

drawing

reading

drinking hot chocolate

11. 3 books that you would recommend everyone to read

sharp objects

dark places

carmilla

‘3 things....’ asks!

[k-vanity]

Wanderlust Festival: A K-Vanity Event

Welcome to the Wanderlust Festival, the biggest autumn carnival of the year. We have many attractions that'll give you a sense of adventure and foods that will take you out of this world! Pick up your map and get to exploring this limited time experience!

(thank you to @papermatisse for making the map) In this event, you will either write a fic or create a visual based off of the prompts we have listed below. Writers You will pick a ride (or more than one if you choose) based off of the genres and tropes listed below. It must be included in your work.

genres/rides

fluff: merry-go-round, (swan) pedal boats

angst: hot air balloon ride, carousel waltzer

smut: ferris wheel, log ride

comedy: tilt-a-whirl, fun slide

horror: boat ride, sling shot

slice of life: mirror maze

thriller: hay ride, haunted house

Fantasy: tea cups, swing ride

sci-fi: pirate swing, bumper cars

tropes/events:

petting zoo: established relationship, protagonist is a suspect 

apple bobbing: strangers to lovers, body switching 

concerts: friends with benefits, discovering special powers 

fireworks: forbidden love, dual timeline

pumpkin patch: friends to lovers, set in a small town

face painting: fake relationship, dark family secret

vendor activities : incapable of love, cursed items

bean sack race: soulmate, the double-cross

hot dog contest: enemies to lovers, unlikely allies 

tug-a-war: exes to lovers, the power of teamwork

water shows: best friend’s brother/sister, childhood memories

dunk tank: love triangle, unreliable narrator

parade: royalty, heir to the throne

Visual Artists You will create a edit (gif, moodboard, gfx, fanart, etc) based off of the prompts listed below. You can choose more than one if you like but it must be included in your work. You also have the choice to gif any kpop content that is carnival related.

cotton candy: fairycore

lemonade: vsco

fried pickles: country

chocolate covered bananas: baddie

deep fried oreos: soft

elephant ears: cottagecore

pretzels: light academia

witches' brew: dark academia

caramel/candy apples: pastel goth

kettle corn: cozy sweater

cidar drink: witchcore

corn dogs: artist

funnel cakes: old money

slushies: kawaii

meat: goblincore

loaded fries: grunge

nachos: ePerson

churros : ethereal

pizza: Y2K

hot dogs: indie

ice cream: vintage

Rules:

You must be a member of the network to participate.

For writers, the content must be at least 500 words.

For visual artists, the prompt must be included in your work (where it's in the caption or in the gif/gfx/edit itself).

No sign ups. Just use the tag #kwanderlust along with the net tag #kvanity when posting your work.

Regular rules and regulations from the net apply to this event.

Event Timeline:

Posting Period: Sept 23rd-Nov 18th

Masterlist will be posted Nov 25th

If you have any questions please reach out to the K-Vanity team!

[corner-stories]

the point of which everything stems

Jean Kirschtein. Mikasa Ackerman. Ice Dance. Hot Chocolate. Kids Being Kids. Figure Skating AU 2934 words. (ao3.)

They technically meet when they’re nine. It’s only for a moment. In the midst of his classes Jean looks across the rink and expects to see a bunch of kids playing hockey, but instead he sees her — dark hair and red scarf flowing behind her as she skates. 

He can already tell that she can move with the grace of a thousand swans, that she’s good enough to be privately coached, and that he’s far too chicken to say anything to her. Even when they pass each other by the concourse or conveniently sit on the same bench to adjust their skates, he’s either too shy to look her way or clings to his mother in fear. 

Perhaps it would all be for naught. She hangs out with two other kids most of the time — a skater with a head of messy, dark brown hair and blond with the brightest pair of eyes he has ever seen. Their closeness is impermeable, like a wall that could never be breached. 

They meet for real when they’re ten, when he’s been receiving private instruction from Coach Kiyomi for six months and she encourages Jean to consider ice dance. She’s been searching for a partner to skate with her niece and thinks he would be a good fit. She invites him to the rink for a try-out and he accepts. 

Jean discovers that the girl he’s been crushing on for a year is named Mikasa. He’s never heard that name before, but he thinks it’s pretty. 

When they first meet, Mikasa stays by her Auntie’s side and doesn’t make eye contact with him. Around her neck is that same red scarf and the air around her is saddled with a kind of dreariness, a heavy sensation only emphasized by the dull gaze on her pretty face. 

Jean can’t help but wonder if he’s the cause of her bleakness. Yet he doesn’t back away when Kiyomi guides them to the rink. 

Everything changes when they actually get to the ice. To Jean’s surprise, Mikasa unhesitatingly takes his hand just before they glide on. He looks at her in shock and still notes that she’s avoiding his gaze. In a way he’s relieved, as she can’t see the blush on his face as Kiyomi trails behind them. 

Everything seems to fade away on the ice. 

Kiyomi helps them through very simple elements — step sequences, basic ballroom positions, and some baby twizzles. Mikasa moves with a kind of balletic grace, her limbs tensed into straight lines as she glides on glass. When she twists and turns, all he can do is hold onto her hand or waist. Immediately he can tell that he needs to become the base that she anchors herself to, the point of which everything stems. There are moments where he has to guide her over the ice, but he swears that she’s the one leading them both. 

He fears that he cannot dance as well as her, as he’s merely some skater who was too slow to keep up with the hockey kids. Even when he joined the figure skaters, he fell more often than he’d like. Yet when Mikasa is by his side he feels like a part of her, like each connection they make can lead to something beautiful — his hand on her hip, her fingers caressing his shoulder. 

It’s only when they dance that Mikasa finally looks him in the eye. Jean notes that hers are dark and gray, like the clouds of a storm just before day turns to night. Her sullen expression has softened slightly, resembling much more in tune with the elements and choreography.

Once they finish every move asked of them, a small smile is already forming on Kiyomi’s face. 

…

…

…

To Jean’s surprise, his mother gets a call the following night. Kiyomi confirms that Mikasa wants to skate with him and asks if he would like to as well. Jean says yes, but is still confused about the whole ordeal. Mikasa had stopped making eye contact with him the second they got off the ice, choosing to stick by her Auntie’s side like a lost puppy while Jean goofed off with the other Rink Brats. 

He does want to pursue ice dance though, as the shows and competitions held at their very rink play on repeat in his head. He still remembers when his mother brought him to Nationals — he was only seven at the time and a gust of wind had brushed against his head as two skaters twizzled by him in the midst of their compulsory dance. The way the man lifted the woman over his head while spinning and put her down almost effortlessly has remained with him to this day. 

When Jean goes to sleep that night a part of him dreams of the curve and rotational lifts written into his memories, but another part of him wonders if someone here is making a mistake. 

…

…

…

They start having practices four times a week — twice after school on weekdays, once in the early morning, and once on the weekends. It helps that Jean’s mother works in the rink offices, meaning that he has a reason to be there irregardless. 

Kiyomi helps them out with things like twizzles, step sequences, and the most basic of lifts. Jean has as much strength as the next ten year old, but he’s already getting used to the feeling of Mikasa’s weight as she swings from his shoulder or supports herself on his leg during a besti squat. 

He’s determined to make lifting Mikasa feel effortless. He feels like she chose to skate with him for a reason — and while he may never find out why he doesn’t want to disappoint her. The thought of dropping her terrifies him, so when he feels the slightest wobble in the midst of a lift he makes sure to put her down first, then inevitably he’ll stumble onto the ice on his own. 

A few weeks of training pass and Kiyomi is already helping them create their competition routines — for the rhythm dance she wants them to tango and for the free she finds them a waltz. One of the songs she selects is from a musical based on the Cinderella fairytale, Jean is surprised to see that she doesn’t mean the animated movie featuring talking mice and is disappointed to not get to dress up like one.  

Kiyomi has spoken high and low of the importance of storytelling in any performance, and thus tells Jean to think of himself as the Prince with Mikasa as the Princess. She says to imagine the feeling of wonder he would have felt seeing her at the ball, standing at the top of a staircase and not being able to look away.

Jean does what he’s told, but cannot ignore the burning sensation in his cheeks when his coach first explains it. Looking at Mikasa becomes simultaneously easier and more difficult during practice. 

Some training days are spent primarily in the dance studio, where Kiyomi either has them at the bar or moving hand in hand across the floor. The ballroom element of ice dance is getting more familiar to him, as well as the feeling of Mikasa’s hand in his. 

Nowadays, Mikasa is looking him in the eye slightly more. When she greets him for their afternoon ice session, she says hello in a shy, almost timid tone. When she sees him sitting in the main office of the rink as his mother works, she gives him a wave. They usually don’t talk once practice is over, as Mikasa is usually quick to begin hiding by her Auntie’s side, but Jean sees it as progress. He fears that being too forward might scare her, and suddenly both their desires to dance across the ice will be ruined. 

…

…

…

One day in winter the world outside the rink becomes dark as the two finish off their coaching session. Kiyomi has them go through their routines, specifically hoping to work on the step sequences for their waltz or the lift where Mikasa has to secure her arm around Jean’s shoulder before he raises her off the ice. They’re both getting stronger every day.

By the time it’s over, Kiyomi has moved onto her next client and the two ice dancers are left to their own devices. Jean rests at the bleachers of the rink, watching the various other skaters use the area to their heart’s content. 

While Kiyomi does what coaches do best, he can see Mikasa getting onto a rink for the second time. Her friends are here, the brunette and the blond. Over the last few weeks he’s learned who is who, that the one brown hair is Eren while the other is Armin, but that’s about it. From what he can tell they don’t seem to skate the same disciplines, as he’s seen the boys being coached individually and never together. 

Jean can’t help but watch as Mikasa skates around with her actual friends. She looks content as they move around the area, something Jean doesn’t always see when he’s skating with her. She even laughs when Eren attempts an axel but ends up falling on his rear end. 

A part of him is happy for her, as in the time they’ve worked together he’s rarely seen her smile, even if the song of the story requires it. But another part of him grows green with envy. 

Sometimes he wonders why he even gives a damn, or if he’s just wasting his time until the guys Mikasa actually wants to skate with are available. 

A few minutes pass before Mikasa, Armin, and Eren step off the ice. There’s an old man and a not-so-old woman greeting them. Judging by the similarities, Jean guesses that the two are relatives to Armin and Eren, but not Mikasa. 

The old man takes a smiling Armin away as Eren walks off with who is presumably his mother. Jean expects Mikasa to follow them, but instead she remains in the rink and notices her partner sitting at the stands. She walks up to him and asks — 

“Have you seen Auntie?” 

Jean points to the far end of the bleachers, where Kiyomi is speaking to one of her adult clients. 

“She looks busy,” he tells his partner, and to that Mikasa sighs. It seems that her habit of sticking by her Auntie’s side is never a guarantee. 

Sensing the somber look in her eyes, Jean speaks up. 

“Do you want to get hot chocolate?” He rummages in his pocket and pulls out a handful of coins. “I get a discount at the snack stand because my mom works here.” 

Mikasa rubs her hands together as she thinks. Jean can see that she’s not wearing gloves. She wasn’t wearing them at practice. Does she even have any on her? 

After a few moments, Mikasa looks Jean in the eye and nods her head. 

…

…

…

Hannes is nice to the two as he gives the kids their hot chocolates. He happily accepts Jean’s pocket change as payment and even quips about having to appease the local Rink Brat. Being the son of the place’s main bookkeeper certainly has its perks. 

The two remain in the concourse with their hot chocolates. They find a bench to sit at as Mikasa blows on the top of her drink to cool it off. 

Jean notices her clinging to the cup like it’s her lifeforce. Her fingers look near white and tremble ever so slightly. 

“Are you still cold?” Jean asks, then puts his hot chocolate down. He removes his knitted mittens and hands them to her. “You can wear my gloves. I don’t need them right now.”

Mikasa seems unconvinced as he looks into his eyes. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, they’re red!” Jean exclaims, nodding. “They match your scarf!” 

Whether it is because of his enthusiasm or because of the gesture, Mikasa agrees. She too puts down her drink to take Jean’s mittens, gently sliding them onto her shivering hands. 

Jean can’t tell if the garments are actually making any difference, but he does notice the dreary look in her eyes starting to soften. Practice by practice she seems to be warming up to him and today feels like no exception. 

Taking in a breath, Jean runs a hand through his unkempt hair. Mikasa sits beside him as he watches her take her first sip of hot chocolate.

“Can I ask you something?” he says before he can stop himself. 

Mikasa looks his way and nods her head. At least talking with her has become easier. 

“Why do you want me to be your partner?” he asks. Jean’s never been one to mince his words, even at the tender age of ten. “You’re friends with that Eren kid and that Armin guy, why not skate with them?”

Mikasa answers a lot more quickly than he expects. 

“I did ask them,” she explains, then looks down. “They don’t want to do ice dance.” 

“Why do you then?” Jean asks, popping the first question that comes to mind. 

In his head all he can think about is the smile on her face when she’s skating with them, something he’s rarely seen when working with her. He’s sure that she’d be much happier skating with one of her actual friends than the local Rink Brat. 

“I’m sure you could do pairs with them,” he adds. “Then you can all be together.”

There is a beat while Mikasa seems to be thinking. Her eyes are affixed to his, then she puts down her drink.

For a second Jean worries that he offended her, then without warning she gets off the bench. 

But instead of walking away, Mikasa simply grabs Jean’s hand and begins towing him behind her. She moves so fast that he can’t even bring his hot chocolate with them. 

She says nothing as she leads him through the concourse. He expects her to take him back to the rink and throw him on the ice for running his stupid mouth, but instead she takes him to the front door. 

Even with his gloves Mikasa keeps a firm grip on Jean, ignoring how he nearly trips in favor of moving forward. 

She finally brings him near the entrance, in front of the case of trophies locked away behind glass. Jean’s seen it a thousand times before, knowing well that multiple acclaimed skaters had gotten their start at this little rink. From the Grand Prix Final to Worlds, from Four Continents to the Olympics, a variety of talent had been nurtured on the nearby ice. 

Mikasa points to a photo hidden by trophies, medals, and miniature flags from a multitude of countries. Jean leans in to get a closer look. 

In the photo is a woman standing on a rink with a gold medal hanging from her neck, her hair is as dark and beautiful as Mikasa’s and she even smiles the same way. The woman is linking arms with a man about a head taller than her, one with lighter hair and an even prouder expression on his face. 

Jean reads the caption printed under the photo. 

Makoto Azumabito & Asher Ackerman — World Championships 1992

Suddenly, a lot more things begin to make sense. Taken aback, Jean looks to Mikasa. 

“That’s my mom…” she says, looking wistfully at the smiling woman in the photograph. She then points to the man. “...and that’s my dad. This was their last competition before they retired. I want to be like them.” 

Nervously, Jean asks — “Where are they?” Then for a moment he wants to beat himself up for opening his dumb mouth again. 

But Mikasa’s face remains as stoic as it usually is. She gives herself a few seconds, then takes a breath before saying — 

“They’re gone.” 

Even more things start making sense. The reason why Kiyomi seems to be Mikasa’s guardian comes to light, or why she clings to her Auntie’s leg when in the presence of people she doesn’t know. It’s been him and his mom for most of his life, so he knows that feeling of wanting to be close to the only family you have. He’s enough of a Mama’s Boy to be unable to envision a life without her. 

Suddenly more things become clear — why Mikasa chooses to dance with someone she’s only known for a year, or why she skates with someone she doesn’t know off-ice because at least the magic on-ice is there. 

Jean manages to catch himself before saying something stupid again. He’s only ten yet he wishes that he were decades older and wiser. He takes a breath and decides to say — 

“I’m sorry.”

Mikasa doesn’t reply. She looks down, her eyes obscured by her hair. 

“Will you still be my partner?” she asks in a voice that sounds frail, quiet, and small. 

Jean’s never heard her speak like this before. He swears that he can see a tear beginning to roll down her cheek. 

But he doesn’t need to think twice. Jean reaches over and catches the droplet on her face with his finger. She’s still cold, but once his warm hand grazes her she looks over in surprise. 

“I will,” he tells her and it’s a vow to the heavens. “I promise.” 

Mikasa looks at him again and he notes just how pretty her eyes are. Come what may — early morning practices, twizzles across the ice, and rotational lifts that make him dizzy — Jean tells himself that he’ll be there. 

He takes Mikasa's hand in his and adds to his promise. 

“Until the end.”