#so they pick X character and just go to town bashing them

[official-lucifers-child]

you know when everyone hates your blorbo so going through the fanfics are just “not blorbo friendly” “blorbo bashing” and you aren’t SUPER into your blorbo so you’re not sad or angry necessarily but you are just wondering what you missed that made 3/4 of the fandom abhor your blorbo

[albertasunrise]

Please do more hurt frankie fics like should of listened.

So much potential with the crash and/or the drugs but no one writes any without OCs or readers

Healing Hands - Oneshot

Masterlist

Summary: Andy Simmons was in love with Francisco Morales but he didn’t even know she existed. Yet one night changes everything.

Relationships: Frankie Morales x (OFC) Original Female Character

Notes: Takes place a few years before the movie. For purpose of the story. Will, Frankie and Santi are the same age. (I half assed proofreading this so soz in advance)

Andy had loved Frankie from afar for as long as she’d known what love was. He was kind, funny, smart and popular. He was her dream guy but he didn’t know she even existed. 

He was a year above her so there wasn’t any reason for their paths to cross but then shekd befriended Benny Miller and suddenly she was thrust into their world.

“Fella’s, I’d like you to meet Andy Simmons. Andy, this is my brother Will and his buddies Frankie and Santi.” He said as he presented her to them like some prized puppy “Andy here is gonna be tutoring me so I can pass science this year.” 

“Andy huh?” Santi probed and she gave him a shy shrug. 

“Short for Andressa.” 

This brought a small smile to Frankie’s face and Andy swore her ears erupted into flames. Benny couldn’t help but notice how shy she was around Frank and he smirked. Her secret was out. 

“I appreciate you helping this knucklehead.” Will pipped up, pulling And’s attention away from her crush and to him “We’re having a party this Friday… you should come!” 

“Graduation party?” She enquired and he shook his head. 

“Farewell party.” He stated and her brows drew together in confusion. 

“Farewell?” 

“These three enlisted!” Ben stated and her stomach dropped “They're leaving next week for training and our dad’s out of town so we thought one last bash before they sign their death warrants.”

“Don’t say shit like that.” Frankie scorned and Ben shrugged. 

“You’ll be joining next year and you know it.” Santi teased and Andy gave Ben a wide-eyed look “He follows his brother everywhere.” 

“Do not!” Ben argued and Will snorted “What? I don’t!”

“Yet you hang with us every lunch.” Will pointed out and Ben groaned. 

“You guys suck.” The younger Miller grumbled and Andy chuckled. 

The bell ringing had them all walking to class. Andy waved the guys off before slipping into class behind Ben. Sitting through class, she found herself distracted by the fact she was going to a party. That she was going to be spending a night with the guy she was pretty sure she was in love with. 

To say she was excited was an understatement.  

~

She’d picked out the nicest outfit she owned for the Miller’s party. Andy had promised her mum that she wouldn't get into trouble and when Ben had kindly offered for her to stay, telling her a little white lie about his uncle chaperoning, her mum had allowed it. Andy was pretty sure her mum was more excited at the idea of her being invited to a party. Andy wasn't lacking in the friend department. She wasn't ‘popular’ but she wasn't unpopular either. She’d just never really been one for going to parties. So when Ben had dropped Andy off and pleaded with her mum to let Andy come, he'd been a little surprised at how quickly she said yes. 

Andy quickly changed into her chosen outfit, a cute little black dress and her favourite combat boots. She put on a little make-up, checked out her look in the mirror and when she was happy, gave herself a small nod and went downstairs. Her mum was standing in the kitchen sipping at her coffee as she flitted through a magazine but she looked up when she heard Andressa enter. 

"You look pretty." She gushed as she took in her daughter's outfit "Could have picked some nicer shoes." 

"I like these shoes." Andy defended and her mum put her free hand up in mock surrender before taking another sip of her beverage "So is Benny your boyfriend?" 

Andy snorted at that before shaking her head. 

"Nah, he's just a friend. I'm tutoring him in Science but turns out we have a lot in common and kinda hit it off." 

"Sounds like a boyfriend." 

"He already has a girlfriend who's much prettier and a lot more popular than me." She chuckled before grabbing her coat and slinging it over her shoulder.

"Not all guys seek popularity." 

"They always seek looks." Andy scoffed and her mother's brows drew together.

"Andressa, eres Hermosa." (Andressa, you are beautiful) 

"Tienes que decir eso.) (You have to say that.) Andy scoffed "Eres mi Madre." (You're my mother.) 

Benny tooting his horn outside was the cue Andy needed to head out. Giving her mum a hug and a kiss, she sprinted to the door. 

"Stay out of trouble." She called out and Andy waved her off with a 'Yeah mum' before disappearing. 

Ben waved as Andy sprinted to his car, blushing when he whistled at her. 

"Damn Andy, you scrub up good." 

"Shut up and drive Miller." 

"Yes ma'am." 

Fifteen minutes later, Ben had parked up outside his house and they were weaving their way through pockets of people Andy had seen but never spoken to before. 

"Drink?" Ben asked as he motioned at the keg sat in his kitchen. 

"Please." Replied Andy, giving Ben a nod in thanks when he handed her the red cup he'd generously filled with beer. 

"You made it." Called out a familiar voice and she turned to see Will and Frankie making their way over "Glad you came." Said the older Miller as he pulled her into a friendly hug. 

"Thanks for inviting me." 

"You crashing?" Will asked and Ben nodded with her "Cool, so are Frank and Santi." Will stated and Andy felt her pulse quicken. 

"Santi's determined to kick everyone out by 1." Frankie piped up "Can't afford the cops coming over and kicking out asses just before we head off." 

"Definitely not." Will agreed before turning back to Andy "Enjoy the party." 

It wasn't a mad one like Andy had expected. It seemed that the Millers had invited a choice set of people for that very reason and Andy was glad of that. She found herself sitting by the pool later that evening, watching as Ben and Will played ball with some friends in the pool. 

"Didn't fancy playing?" Andy looked up to see Frankie coming over with a soda and a smile. 

"Not really." She replied as she thanked him for the drink and moved up so he could sit beside her. 

"Having a good time?" He asked and she turned her head to look at him, smiling sweetly as she nodded. 

"Yeah, I am." 

Frankie gave her a smile in return and it instantly went to her core. They gazed at each other for a while, static crackling between the two of them before Frank's hand cupped her cheek and he pulled her into the most incredible kiss she'd ever experienced. 

The boy's wolf-whistling stopped that kiss in its tracks and Frankie chuckled as he gave them the finger before pulling back to look at Andy. She was sure she was grinning like a lunatic but at that moment she didn't care. All she cared about was the fact that she'd just kissed Francisco Morales and it was everything she'd ever dreamed of. 

"Wanna go inside?" He asked and she nodded eagerly, ignoring the woos and whistles as Frankie took her hand and led her in. 

He took her upstairs and into what she assumed was a spare bedroom. His duffle sat beside a large oak dresser and what looked like the clothes he'd been wearing that day at school were neatly folded on top of it. 

"Is this okay?" He asked, pulling Andy's attention back to him "We can go back downstairs if you want. Just thought that maybe you'd like-" 

She shut him up with a kiss. She kissed him like it was the last time she ever would because, in reality, it probably was. The kiss became heated when hers and his hands started to roam. She unbuttoned his shirt and almost sobbed at what she revealed. Tanned skin and toned abs had her drooling like a hound. 

"We don't have to..."Trailed off Frankie when her hands went to unfasten his jeans but he got his answer when her hand slipped in and cupped his growing erection. 

"I want to." She whispered and that was all the invitation he needed. 

In a flash, the two of them were naked as the day they were born and Frank's head was between Andy's thighs. His tongue lavished her and Andy was glad of the music downstairs because she couldn't keep quiet if she tried. When Frankie pushed two long, thick fingers into her tight heat she shattered. Andy grabbed at him, desperate to pull him up to her level again and when he kissed her again, she moaned at her taste on his tongue. 

"Are you sure?" He asked one more time as he lined himself up with her entrance. 

"Fuck me, please." She pleaded and with one swift movement, he was seated deep inside of her. 

Now Andy was no virgin. She'd lost that to Sam Collins, her ex but he was tiny in comparison to Frank. She moaned loudly, grabbing the gloves of Frankie's ass and urging him to move. When he started with a languid pace, kissing her deeply as he worked out a rhythm. When he found her sweet spot though, he started to fuck her into the mattress. The sounds he pulled from her with bordering on pornographic and in no time at all she was there again. 

"Frankie... she whined as she threw her head back "Fuck Frankie, I'm cumming."

He focused his attention then, giving her every ounce of pleasure he could. She was squeezing him so tightly that he was sure he wouldn't last much longer but he was determined to make her cum once more time before he did. 

"One more Hermosa." He purred in her ear as his hand travelled down and his deft fingers started to rub her clit. 

The combination of him hitting her G-spot and his fingers giving her the stimulation she needed was all it took to have her gushing over his length. 

"Fuck." Frankie moaned as he sped up his thrusts, chasing his own high "Fuck baby I'm gonna cum." 

"Cum Frankie." Andy pleaded and he did. With one more deep thrust, he painted her walls with his spend and panted against her shoulder "Fuck, that was amazing." 

"I'm sure you've had better." Andy chuckled but Frankie pulled his head back and frowned at her. 

"No." He replied, shaking his head "No I haven't." 

The couple remained that way a little while longer before the two of them fell asleep in each other's arms. Andy knew that this was the one and only time she'd get to enjoy this so she made the most of it. Next week, Frankie would be gone. 

She'd be okay. 

She had to be...

Three years later...

Andy had been surprised when Ben had reached out. She hadn't heard high or tale from any of them in years. Ben had, sure enough, enlisted in the army the following year and that had been that. She'd written to Frankie for the first year he was gone but She had never received a reply. 

She had known from the start that it was a one-night thing but when something came to light two months later. She had been desperate to get hold of him. All of her attempts had come up empty her heart shattered. 

She'd meant nothing to him. 

She moved schools but kept in touch with her friends and kept her head down. Three years later she had managed to make something of herself. She'd opened a cafe in town that had proved popular among the locals and she was thriving. She hadn't needed Frankie or anyone for that matter. She'd made it on her own. 

Ben had arranged to meet her at her cafe on one of her days off. He'd sounded so excited to see her on the phone and she had tried to mirror that excitement but the truth was, they'd all gone radio silent for years and she had moved on. That time in her life was behind her.

Sort of. 

Ben was sitting in the nook when she arrived. He'd spotted Andy through the window and stood to greet her with a wide grin on his face but his expression changed the moment he saw the pram she pushed in front of her. 

"You're a mum." He stated dumbly, taking in the napping toddler before his eyes drifted to her. 

"Nice to see you too Ben." She snorted as she rolled her eyes at him. 

'I'm sorry it's just... Well, I wasn't expecting you to have a kid." He said as he pulled Andy into a friendly hug.

The child in question started to stir in her pram, brown eyes suddenly blinking up at the shocked man across from her. 

"Hi." She said sleepily as she gave him a small wave and he smiled and waved back. 

"Hi, there sweetie." He said as he crouched to her level "And what's your name?" 

"Juana." She replied and Ben grinned at her.

"What a pretty name." He gushed "And how old are you Juana?"

She held up two fingers, just like how her mum showed her and Andy couldn't help but chuckle.

"Two?" He stated and she nodded shyly "Wow, that's big." 

"No." She argued, pouting at the younger Miller "I'm little." 

"Yes, you are Mija." Andy said as she leaned down to pull the toddler out of her pram "Quieres una galleta?" (You want a cookie?) 

"Ce mama." She nodded and Andy smiled.

"Go pick one then." Andy said as she placed the toddler down and giggled as she tottled over to the till. 

"So you have a two-year-old?" Ben asked and Andy nodded. 

"Where's the dad?" He asked and Andy froze. 

After the radio silence from them all. She'd decided to keep Juana's existence to herself. She had never expected to see any of them again so now that she was standing with Ben, watching her daughter pick dance around with Anna her favourite barista. 

"He uh, well he kinda took what he wanted a left." She stated, trying to keep the details as vague as she could "Tried to reach out but he didn't want anything to do with me or her so..." 

"Shit Andy." Ben said as he pulled her into a warm embrace "Well she's cute as hell and clearly a great kid so clearly you didn't need him." 

"Thanks, Ben." 

The two of them sat down, Andy thanking Anna when the woman brought over her favourite coffee and her toddler who was munching on her cookie of choice. Juana decided to sit on Ben's lap whilst he told her about his time in the army. How he'd quickly moved his way up along with the rest of them and you found yourself proud of everything he'd achieved in two short years. 

"They all say hi by the way." Ben piped up as he downed the last of his coffee. 

"That's nice." Andy replied and Ben frowned at her response.

"You don't sound like it is." 

"It's just... I wrote to you... and Frankie, several times and I never got a response." 

"Well, when Will, Frankie and Santi arrived, they'd ended up getting shipped off to a different camp for basic training. Wasn't long after that that they were sent on their first tour so good chance he never got 'em." Ben stated plainly and you suddenly felt sick "As for me. I uh... I did get your letters and I did write back I just... Well, I could never bring myself to actually send them."

"Why?" She asked and Ben shrugged.

"I dunno. Wish I could give you a good reason but I can't." He replied "Just a shitty friend." 

"Bad word." Juana piped up and Ben chuckled. 

"You're right... Sorry sweetheart." 

"When you see Frankie... Will you uh, will you ask him if he got them?" Andy asked and he nodded. 

"Sure."

The two of them spent another two hours catching up before they had to part ways. Ben promised to keep in touch and so did Andy but they both knew that it was one likely to be broken. 

Life simply got in the way. 

Four years later... 

"Juana... You're going to be late!." Andy called up the stairs.

"Five minutes." Her daughter called down. 

Andy was secretly glad her daughter was taking her time. She couldn't believe that she was starting the 1st Grade. It felt like just yesterday she was handed to her screaming and furious in the hospital. A horn sounding outside alerted Andy to Juana's ride and suddenly the woman was practically pushed her six-year-old out the door. 

"Muuuum." Juana moaned and Andy chuckled. 

"Have a good day baby." She said sweetly as she kissed the crown of her daughter's head "Mummy loves you." 

She watched her daughter skip towards her ride and Andy felt her heart ache a little. Time was going so quickly. Next thing she'd know, Juana would be going off to college and she'd be alone. 

That thought scared her. 

Shaking her head, she hopped into her truck and drove to the cafe. Work was always a welcome distraction and when she arrived, she was happy to see her favourite regulars already sipping at their coffees and nibbling on the cake of the day. It was busy as always and soon morning faded into afternoon. Andy had just finished putting out some more cookies and cupcakes when the bell above the door rang alerting her to a new customer. 

"I'll be with you in a sec." She said in a musical tone as she twisted the plate so the price was facing forward then when she was done she stood up and gasped at who she saw. 

"Andy?" 

There, standing before her, plane as the day was Francisco Morales. He looked different. He was more filled out. The sleeves of his T-shirt stretched over strong biceps and for a moment she almost forgot that he'd completely blanked her for the last six years. 

"Frankie." She replied, giving him a small nod "What can I get you?" 

"Really?" He asked with a scoff and Andy frowned. 

"Really, what?" 

"We haven't seen each other in like seven years and that's what you say to me?" 

"What else should I say?" You snapped, anger bubbling under the surface.

"Oh, I don't know." Frank shrugged "How about, wow, it's been a long time. How are you?" 

"Okay." She said in a mocking tone "Hi Francisco. It's been a long time. How are you? Thanks for fucking me and then never speaking to me again." 

"I-" 

"Oh, on the subject of never speaking to me again. Did you get any of the dozen-odd letters I sent?" 

"You wrote me?" He asked, brows pulling together "I didn't get them," 

"Convenient." You scoffed "Did you want a coffee or?..." 

"Black... please." He said and Andy nodded before turning around to make his drink. 

Frankie watched her work. His heart aching from how poorly this reunion was going. Ben had mentioned that she had opened a cafe and so when Frankie had been discharged. He knew he had to see her. 

"I'm sorry I never got your letters." Frankie piped up but Andy didn't acknowledge she'd heard him "What did they say." 

"Mummy look what I did at school." Screamed Juana as she sprinted through the door of the cafe waving a painting above her head. 

Andy placed the coffee on the counter before opening her arms to accept the hug her daughter gave her. 

"Look, Mumma. It's us." She said as she shoved the picture into Andy's hands. 

"This is lovely, baby." She said as she placed a kiss on her daughter's brow "Let me just finish serving this customer then you can tell me all about your first day, okay?" 

"Is Anna here?" She asked and Andy nodded "In the back." 

Juana sprinted through the arch that led into the back, screaming Anna's name as she waved her painting again. Andy smiled at her daughter's retreating form before turning to find Frankie staring at the spot you'd been the moment before. 

"Frank?" 

"Is she mine?" He asked, taking Andy by surprise.

"What?" 

"She's what, six?" He asked and Andy nodded "So is she mine?" 

"Yes..." Andy whispered and that drew Frank's gaze. 

His eyes were brimming with tears as they flitted between the door and her. He had a six-year-old daughter. 

"Why didn't you tell me?" He choked and Andy lost it. 

"I did!! I wrote to you. Sent you sonogram pictures." She sobbed "I tried tracking you down but everyone I spoke to told me that they couldn't tell me where you were." 

"I-" 

"Besides." Andy interrupted "You didn't try and get hold of me. We had one incredible night together and then that was it. Radio silence for seven years. Shit, Francisco. I had to carry her and give birth to her without you. I had to move schools. My mum didn't want me to get bullied so instead I was sent to some private school where I was teased for being a pregnant seventeen-year-old." Andy was sobbing openly now, seven years of heartbreak pouring out of her "So don't act like the victim Frank because you aren't. I did everything I could to let you know about her." 

"Why didn't you tell Ben when you saw him last?" He asked and you shrugged. 

"Honestly?" He nodded and you sighed "I'd assumed you didn't care about me so I decided that she was better off without a dad. We've been fine without you Frank and we'll be good when you leave again." 

"I was discharged." Frankie piped up and And's brows rose in surprise "I'm out. For good."

"That's great." She scoffed "So what ?" 

"So, I want to know my daughter." He stated plainly "I missed out on six years. I don't want to miss another day." 

"You can't be serious?" Andy growled. 

"I'm her father... I have a right to know her." 

"You have zero rights, Francisco." She snapped "You're not on her birth certificate. She doesn't even know you exist." 

"Andy please." The man pleaded "Please." A thick silence hung over them both a moment before he spoke again "Can I just meet her at least?" 

Andy thought about his request a moment. He looked so heartbreakingly sad that she felt herself breaking. 

"I swear to you." He implored again "I didn't get your letters. If I had known about her then I wouldn't have stayed away." 

"I don't know Frankie, I-" 

"She doesn't need to know who I am." He pushed "I never stopped thinking about that night." This grabbed Andy's attention and she studied him as if trying to find the lie "It meant a lot to me. I'd never felt a connection like that before and I haven't since." 

"Sure Frank." You scoffed but that look he gave you that night returned. 

"I haven't." He assured her and Andy felt her defences fall "Please." 

"Okay." Andy stated, her eyes drifting to the back "Juana." She called out and Frankie's heart leapt at hearing his daughter's name "Can you come out here a sec." 

Not two minutes later, an excited six-year-old emerged with a wide smile on her face. 

"Yes, Mumma?" She said sweetly as she looked at her mum and then at Frankie. 

"I want you to meet someone." Andy said softly as she guided her daughter to stand in front of her "Juana, this is Frankie." 

"Hi." She said softly, giving the man a shy smile. 

"Hi to you too." Frankie said as he kneeled so he was eye-level with her "It's nice to meet you." 

"How do you know Mumma?" She asked, her head tilting to one side. 

"We went to school together." He replied, eyes drifting to Andy who was watching over the interaction. 

"Juana." Andy said softly as she kneeled so she too was at her daughter's level "Frankie is your daddy." 

This took Frank by surprise. He had been ready to just meet her as a stranger. 

"My daddy?" Juana asked and Andy nodded.

"Yeah, baby." 

"Where have you been?" She asked, her tone almost accusing and Frankie couldn't help but smirk.

"I've been away sweetie but I'm back now." He said softly as he pinched his daughter's cheek affectionately. 

"Forever?" She asked and he gave her a broad smile.

"Yeah." He said with a nod "Forever." 

"We need to go baby or we'll be late for Abulela." Andy piped up and Juana nodded before throwing her small arms around Frankie's shoulders and giving him a warm hug. 

"It was nice to meet you, daddy." She said before pulling away and running to grab her pack that she'd dropped when arriving. 

"Thank you." Frankie said as he stood up straight. 

"Don't make me regret it." She warned before informing Anna she was leaving "Don't break her heart." 

...

Andy's friendship with Ben had fallen back into place as easily as breathing. He'd been a little hurt at first when he'd learned that the sweet toddler he'd met all those years ago was basically his niece but he'd also understood why you hadn't told him. 

Things with Frankie hadn't been as easy. He was trying but Andy was struggling to trust him. He wasn't the same man she'd loved all those years ago. He was jumpy. Most loud noises triggered some sort of freak out and that, in turn, frightened Juana. She was weary of him but had warmed to Ben instantly. 

This had been hard for Frank to swallow. Leaving the army had been a struggle for him. He had resorted to desperate measures to try and calm to storm that raged in his head but nothing seemed to work. Not even the remedy that was currently burning a hole in his pocket. He wanted to do better. Not just for his daughter but for Andy. He just didn't know where to start. 

...

"How are things with Fish going?" Ben asked as he watched his brother-in-arms play with his daughter. 

"Okay, I guess." Andy replied with a shrug and that piqued Ben's interest. 

"You guess?" 

"He tried." She commended, letting out a long sigh "Lord knows he tries but everything seems to make him jump. He's been a lot better with Juana and I'm really glad they're bonding but I'm scared that one of these days he's going to flip. " 

"We saw some shit, Andy." Ben stated and she listened intently "He got us through some pretty messy situations. We all owe our lives to him." 

"Why was he discharged?" She asked and Ben scraped a hand over his mouth before he answered "Was shot in action. The bullet hit below his vest. Lost a kidney and was in a coma for two weeks." 

Andy gasped. 

"Was discharged with full honours." He stated plainly "Got a fucking medal and everything but that don't get rid of the nightmares." 

"What do you mean?" 

"He's got PTSD babe." Suddenly everything made sense. 

Andy and Ben shared a look that spoke a thousand words. Suddenly, her agitation was replaced with guilt. She'd been too caught up in her own issues to see his. 

"DADDY." Juana screamed, pulling Andy and Ben's attention to the child "Daddy, stop shaking... please daddy." She sobbed as she held his face in her small hands. 

Andy and Ben we at his side in a flash, Ben taking the sobbing child in his arms as Andy stroked Frank's face as the seizure eased. 

"Daddy." The child sobbed and Ben's heart broke for her. 

"Baby. I need you to get my phone and call 911 like I showed you okay?" Andy stated before she returned her attention to Frank. 

"Fish... Fish can you hear me." Frankie didn't answer. 

The man lay there, eyes rolling around in their sockets as he tried to breathe. Andy could feel his pulse was rapid but weak and she felt sick to the stomach. 

Joana's voice floated in the air as she ran back to them "My daddy started to shake and now he's breathing funny." She told the person on the other end as she held the phone to her face with both hands "Yes my mummy and uncle Benny are with him." She said, pausing again to let them speak "Okay." She said with a small nod before holding out the phone to her mum "They want to talk to you." 

Andy took the phone quickly and then listened to their instructions "Sit him up and let him lean against you." She said to Ben, waiting for him to finish before bending his knees "Does he have a heart condition?" Andy asked Ben and he shook his head. 

The next question they asked you made her stomach sink. 

Had he taken anything? 

She started to rummage around in his pockets only to come up empty but just when she was about to give up, she felt something. Pulling it out she choked back a sob at the bag of white powder she found. 

"What's that mummy." Juana asked and Andy sobbed. 

"It's nothing, baby." She said before giving her daughter a weak smile "I need you to go stand by the door and wait for the ambulance. Can you do that baby?"

"I wanna stay with Daddy." She sobbed and your heart broke just a little more.

"I know you do baby but daddy needs you to do this for him okay?" 

She nodded and Andy gave her a sweet smile before watching her sprint back towards the house. 

"Fish?" Called out Ben suddenly and Andy turned to look at the two men "No, come on Frank." He pleaded. 

Frankie's eyes were open wide as he tried and failed to breathe. 

"Come on Frankie, you need to breathe for us." Andy begged as fat tears slipped down her swollen cheeks. 

"OVER THERE," Joana called out and the duo looked up to see the paramedics sprinting towards them. 

They were quickly pulled to one side and Ben lifted Juana and held her close as the three of them watched the medics work. 

"What's his name?" They asked and Ben was quick to answer. 

"Frankie." He choked and the medics nodded 

"Age?" 

"27." 

"Has he taken anything?" 

"This?" Andy stated as she handed them the bag, her eyes pleading for them to be mindful of what they said. 

"He's seizing." Called out one medic and Andy sobbed harder as Frankie's body started to shake. 

"Daddy." shrieked Juana as her brown orbs leaked masses of tears "Daddy, stop shaking." 

"Please take her inside." Andy pleaded and Ben nodded, carrying the screaming child into the house. 

...

Three hours later, Andy was sat in a hospital waiting room with both the Millers. Will was holding Andy whilst Ben cuddled a sleeping Juana and time seemed to go at a snail's pace. Because of this, Andy was able to think about what she was going to do or say to Frankie if she ever saw him again. 

She was angry at him for his choice of coping mechanism but mostly she was angry at herself. She had been so caught up in her own hurt that she had failed to see that Frankie was hurting. The fact that she hadn't figured out for herself that he had PTSD made her hate herself even more. All the signs had been there. 

She'd just failed to see them. 

"Family of Francisco Morales?" Called out a doctor and they all looked up in unison. 

"Yes," Andy replied as she raised her hand a little and she gave the doctor a weak smile when he approached them. 

"How is he doc?" Asked Will and the doctor sighed. 

"He suffered a massive heart attack on the ambulance ride over." The man stated and they all sobbed "His heart is weak but there doesn't appear to be any permanent damage." That elicited a sigh of relief and Andy sobbed into Will's shirt "He's going to need therapy. We would recommend sending him to a facility for veterans with PTSD. There are programmes for people like him." 

"People like him?" Ben growled and the doctor threw his hands up. 

"I meant no offence." He replied "I just mean... He needs help. It's clear he's not coping well."

"We'll help him." Andy pipped up, knowing in her heart of hearts that it was the right thing to do "We'll take care of him." 

"Okay." The doctor replied, "A nurse will fetch you when he's ready for visitors." 

Half an hour later they were let to the ICU. Frankie's frail form was smothered in wires and tubes. The gown swallowed him and made him look so small despite his muscular build. Andy entered first, followed closely by Ben who was carrying a, very awake, Juana. 

"Daddy?" She called out but Frankie didn't even twitch. 

"Daddy's sleeping right now." Said Ben softly and the little girl nodded.

"Can I lay with him?" She asked and Ben shared a look with the nurse who gave him a small nod. 

"You can but you need to be careful okay baby?" Andy stated. 

"I will, I promise." 

Sure enough, she laid down beside her father, extra careful not to pull on any of the wires and tubes that were attached to him. Andy watched with fondness as Juana started to sing him the song she always sang when she was sick. Her small hand affectionately petted his brown curls as she leaned on the other one. 

"She's a great kid." Ben cooed and Andy smiled at him. 

"Yeah... she really is." 

An hour into their visit, Ben and Will went in search of decent coffee leaving Juana napping beside her father and Andy waiting patiently for Frankie to wake up. 

Frank groaned. His senses hit him all at once. Andy was at his side in a heartbeat, taking his hand in the hope it would ground him a little as he came around. 

"Frankie?" She called softly, careful not to wake Juana "You with me?"

Frankie nodded weakly before motioning to his mouth, unable to speak just yet. Andy grabbed the bowl of ice chips beside his bed and popped a few in his mouth. When he'd had enough, she placed the bowl down and resumed her seat beside him. Silence blanketed them for a while before she decided to break it. 

"Why Frankie?" She asked, "Why did you think coke was going to make things better." 

Frankie's eyes drifted to his dosing daughter and his guilt consumed him. The truth of the matter was he didn't know why he'd resorted to such a lousy coping mechanism. It didn't help him. It just made him more paranoid and yet he'd found that he'd not been able to function without it. Now as he lay in that hospital bed, stroking his daughter's curls he realised how much he had to lose. 

"Please don't take her away from me." He said, his voice loud enough for Andy to hear him "I'm so sorry. Please... please don't take her away from me." 

"Oh, Frankie." Andy sobbed "I will never ever take her away from you." She promised and it was Frankies turn to cry "We'll get through this." She assured him "Together." 

"Daddy?" Said Juana as she rubbed her tired eyes. 

"Hi, baby." He said sweetly as he gave her a warm smile. 

"You better?" She asked and he gave her a small nod. 

"I am thanks to you." 

5 years later... 

Andy jumped when she felt two arms wrap around her middle but then she hummed when she felt a warm kiss press against her neck. 

"Good morning wife." Frankie cooed as he buried his face in her neck. 

"Mmmm, morning husband." 

"And how are my girls this morning?" As his gaze drifted to the baby that was sleeping soundly against Andy's chest. 

"We are perfect." She replied as she turned her head to kiss him, smiling when she heard Juana enter. 

"Ewww... get a room would you." The eleven-year-old moaned as she grabbed her backpack from the side.

"Technically, we're in one." Frank countered, sticking his tongue out at his daughter when she did the same to him. 

"Where's your brother?" Frankie asked as he looked around for the toddler. 

"HERE!" Mateo screeched as he waddled into the room, clutching his favourite bear. 

"You want breakfast Mijo?" Andy asked as she carefully handed the newborn to her father. 

"Ce, mama." Mateo replied as he nodded eagerly. 

"Ana?" 

"I'm good thanks." She replied before grabbing the last of her books and shoving them into her pack. 

"See you later." She called out before dashing to the door. 

"When did she start hating breakfast time?" Frankie asked as he placed a soft kiss on his daughter's brow as her face started to scrunch. 

"Right around the time she discovered boys." Andy chuckled.

"She better not have." Frank grumbled and Andy laughed loudly, Mateo mimicking his mum "You'll never like boys... will you Mija?" He asked as he bounced his tiny daughter in his arms. 

Looking at his wife, he thought back to five years ago when she'd promised him that they'd get through it together. He had gone to rehab. Gotten clean and proposed a year later. It wasn't long after that, that they learned she was pregnant with Mateo. He had been just the blessing they had needed. The final piece of the puzzle and then three years later... Mariana was born. His perfect little angel. 

One last little blessing. 

His life was exactly as he had dreamed it would be one day. Andy and him and the beautiful children they had created together. Life was perfect and he vowed that he would never do a thing to jeopardise it again. 

Fate had other ideas. 

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[reidyoulikeabook]

Sometimes You Just Don’t Know the Answer

4 times you don’t know the answer, and the 1 time you do

This is the 2nd part to Personal Google! (You don’t have to read it to understand this, but it exists if you want to).

Ship: BAU!reader x Spencer Reid

Summary: You’d call yourself a pretty educated individual, and most people wouldn’t argue with that, given that you’re a member of the BAU at Quantico. There’s just something about your best friend Spencer Reid that gets you all tongue tied.

Warnings: Mentions of cases and case-typical violence, mentions of alcohol, Spencer and Reader being idiots again.

Word count: 3k

A/N: The feedback (in asks and the tag reblogs) for Personal Google was so lovely and encouraging and I am very grateful for it! I only made this account a few days ago and I’m already so glad I did :) I hope this is a satisfactory second part and, requests are open!

(This is the Reid I’m imagining here)

“What is up with you and Reid?” Emily’s volume is unmoderated at the best of times but right now it’s like she’s trying to alert the entirety of Virginia to your dating woes.

Dating woes might be a stretch, actually. Somehow, just her implication that something is happening between you and Spencer (even though it isn’t, unless you count two exhausted idiots falling asleep on each other and being too bashful to ever mention it again), is enough to get you feeling uncharacteristically shy.

“Nothing,” you shrug, “Well. I don’t know, honestly, nothing I guess? We haven’t spoken about that night.”

Emily’s eyes rake over you, and you can tell she’s waiting for you to continue.

“There’s nothing!” you object, “We just, it was accidental, we fell asleep because we were watching a documentary and we were tired and neither of us fell asleep on purpose.”

She laughs, dry and amused, “At this rate, you’ll be lucky to have sorted things out before you’re 50.”

You scowl, but it’s only because you know she’s right.

***

You don’t have much time to think about your situation with Spencer for a few weeks, considering the rate at which the cases come rolling in. This newest one arrives within about two days of the last one you’d just wrapped up. It’s actually kind of rude, you’ve decided, that the serial killers of America have decided to deny you two weekends in a row.

You’re briefed on the case quickly: four women have gone missing over the past 7 months from a small town in Ohio. There’s no distinct pattern that can be discerned among the victims, the oldest is 60 and white, the youngest is 23 and Asian-American. However, the first three have been found dead in the past two weeks, all within a mile of each other and all killed with the same MO: ligature strangulation.

“So we have no idea how he’s choosing them,” you say.

“No,” Hotch replies, with a sigh.

Meaning that this is probably going to take a while. Spencer senses the way you tense up a little as you absorb that fact. So he goes out of his way to sit next to you on the plane. Once the discussion about the case is done, he nudges you gently, “Did you bring a book?”

You shake your head, “I finished the one in my go-bag. Didn’t have a chance to replace it.”

“Would you like to read this with me?”

You place your hand on his wrist, gently turning it so you can see the cover, “Spencer this is written in Greek.”

“I can translate,” he says.

You move closer to him then, your head resting just against his plane seat and your chin almost jutting against his shoulder.

“Is this okay?”

He nods. The remaining 45 minutes of the flight are spent with him reading to you softly, adding in his own thoughts as he translates and sometimes going off on little tangents. By the time you land you’ve entirely forgotten about your ire with the case. You’re focused only on the characters he introduces you to, who are clearly in love even if they’re too stupid to see it, and the way his nose crinkles a little when he reaches a word with no direct English translation.

Whhat you don’t realise, is that you end up folding into him: head pressed against his chest. Somehow, neither of you notice how you naturally gravitate towards each other. Some pair of profilers.

--

Hotch sends you in different cars to the precinct, and you’re soon reminded of your frustration as you’re caught up in the hub-a-bub of the case. It’s not until you’re leaving the station, after a long and relatively fruitless briefing with the medical examiners and local PD, that you even have time to acknowledge Spencer properly again.

And even then, it’s only when Hotch says.

"You'll be sharing a room with Reid, alright?"

He’s only really asking as a formality. Nobody questions Hotch’s assignments for them. So why, then, do you feel yourself flush a little.

Why then, do you feel so embarassed replying, “Alright.”

***

There was nothing much to be nervous about with sharing a room, as it so happened. The past day and a half had been a whirlwind since the unsub had snatched a fifth victim. You’d been sleeping in shifts, making sure that some of you were awake at all times to keep working.

You were working on the geographical profile with Spencer, and had taken to driving around to look for landmarks at night, when there was nothing much else to do. There were maps but sometimes it helped just to get things embedded in your brain. And now, at 4am, you’re bursting into the conference room occupied by Spencer and Rossi, because you might just have got something.

"I have an idea,” you say, and before anybody can even respond you’re scribbling hurriedly on the whiteboard.

“Slow down kiddo,” Rossi laughs.

“Sorry I’m just,” you cut yourself off, slightly flustered and tapping your foot with frustration as you try to put the last pieces of it together, “Diana Matthews.”

“Yeah?” Spencer responds.

“She was the one who lived on Lakefield right?” Rossi asks.

Annoyingly, you can’t remember off rote. Spencer sees the pinch of frustration in your brow. He senses that you’re heading for the case file.

So, he answers, “Yeah 38 Lakefield Drive.”

Smiling gratefully at him, you breathe a sigh of relief, “There’s three different stores in the area for this local electronic repair company, Gladston Digital, in this area. Two of them aren’t accounted for on the maps because these are from last year, and one of the ones on Google is pinned to the wrong street, there are two Minister Avenues and one’s on the complete opposite side of town.”

Denoting the map with annotations as you go, you continue, “All of the victims had residences within a mile of one of the three stores. And we interviewed the area manager, Paul something, he manages all three stores. He came to speak to me and Hotch while we were scoping the area.”

“Inserting himself into the investigation,” Rossi notes, “Fits the profile. A stalker like that would want to remain an illusion of control.”

“I just need to get Garcia on the phone to see if it checks out.”

Spencer just watches, slightly in awe, as you make the phone call to Garcia. She manages to cross-reference bank statements and emails, showing that all five of the victims had taken something of theirs in for repair sometime in the year before their disappearance. And he feels something in his gut. Pride? Maybe. That’s certainly a part of it.

But there’s something else in there too. Your eyes meet his, with a flicker of recognition. He realises what it is then: marvel. Your brain works so fast, and that’s not novel to him, he knows you’re intelligent but there’s just something about how fast you manage to put it all together. You conjure something out of nothing, a link that he’d missed. And he’s reminded, again, that he has to try and keep up with you sometimes. He wonders if you know that.

Probably not, he thinks. You’re rambling down the phone and gesturing with your hands, in a way you may or may not have picked up from him, and all he can think is how you look so in your element. And beautiful.

He’s a little embarassed about how normal it feels for that last observation to pop into his head.

***

“To _____!” Prentiss cheers.

8pm has rolled around. Since your revelation 16 hours earlier, you managed to confirm your thinking, apprehend Paul Bader, and save the fifth victim. All in all, a pretty good days work. It’s not just down to you, but everyone’s singing your praises so loudly it’s making you a little embarassed.

Even Hotch sets a drink down in front of you, squeezing your shoulder, “Really good work today ____.”

Fair to say you’ve probably peaked there.

Spencer is sat to your left, sipping at a Mai Tai that you know is going to have him giggly in about an hours time.

“I wasn’t trying to keep you out before,” you tell him, “I was going to come and wake you up when I got back but you were in the conference room.”

He smiles, “I know. It was my shift to sleep.”

“Bet you’re paying for that now.”

“A little,” he chuckles, “It’s worth it.”

"I just didn’t want you to think I was hanging you out to dry. You know, to make myself look good,” you decide to press further: mostly just because the team has sung your praises and that kind of attention makes you shirk at the best of times. Let alone when you’re sat with the guy responsible for creating half the damn profile.

His eyebrows furrow. You worry for a minute about what he’s going to say, but then, “I would never think that about you. We’re a team.”

He squeezes your hand. Maybe that’s your favourite thing about Spencer, really. More than the fact he remembers to get your caffeine just how you like it, more than how gentle he is with just about everybody he encounters, more than his relentless enthusiasm for your questions about whatever pops into your mind. No, it’s his modesty. The way he doesn’t even think for a moment to be prideful or arrogant about his intelligence. He genuinely roots for you in every moment, you think.

“Are you okay?” he asks, “You seem a little..quiet.”

It wasn’t until he mentioned it that you realise you’d let your thoughts run away with you, “No. I’m good. Just thinking about how good of a teacher you are.”

“You think so?”

“Of course I think so. You’ve taught me. I didn’t know the first thing about geographical profiling when I got here two years ago. I could barely read a map,” you laugh, keeping your tone sincere, “You’re a really good teacher Spence. I feel like I learn so much from just being around you.”

“I often don’t give you much choice.”

You smile, “I wouldn’t want you to. Really. I’m always interested in everything you have to say. I think you know that. But I wanted to tell you anyway. So you’re sure.”

He’s incredibly grateful you get pulled into a conversation by Morgan, giving him a moment to process.

A lifetime of being insecure. Of feeling like nobody was interested in what he had to say but not being able to really control whether he said it anyway. All this time being insecure in himself, and you liked it. Complimented him on it, even. Considered him a teacher. He doesn’t think he could articulate, in any of the languages he speaks, the sense of peace that brings him.

-----

The Mai Tai’s do make him sleepy. Buzzed, but sleepy. After being bought rounds by Hotch, Morgan, and Spencer, you’re feeling exactly the same. It’s only 10:30pm by the time you decide to make your departure for the night. This is much to the chagrin of Emily, who lolls against Rossi’s side demanding that you stay.

“Some of us have been up since 4 this morning, breaking their backs to keep this country safe,” You tease, putting on a melodramatic air just for affect, “Besides, you’re going to regret this when you have to be up and back on the jet in the morning.”

“You will, especially since you still owe me that report,” Hotch teases, with a smile.

Emily rolls her eyes, “You two are no fun.”

She’s joking, goading you, but unfortunately for her you have a sleepy Spencer nuzzling against you which is a far more pressing matter to deal with.

“Come on Spence, let’s get you to bed,” You say, gently wiggling out from under him and offering him your hand.

He pouts at the momentary loss of contact. It’s subtle. You catch it though. He links his fingers through your own, holding your hand properly, and you try not to read into it too much. He’s tipsy. He’s tired.

Ignoring the deliberately obvious eyebrow-wiggling from Morgan, you make for the lift.

“You didn’t have to come to bed just for me,” Spencer says, “I feel bad for taking you away from the others. I’m not that drunk, I could get myself to bed.”

You shake your head, “I wanted to go to bed with you.”

His eyes snap to you, a grin playing on his lips.

“I mean, I wanted to go to bed. And we’re sharing a room. So I’m going to bed with you. As in we’re going to the place where bed is, together.”

He’s just enough tipsy to be confident enough to jest, “Sure.”

You roll your eyes, “You sound like Morgan.”

“What did Morgan say?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know exactly what Morgan always says whenever anybody goes off together.”

“That they’re having sex,” He giggles, tipsiness shining through again.

“Yes, Spence, that they’re having sex.”

“But we’re not.”

The elevator dings as you arrive at your floor, saving your brain from delving into the implications of what he’s just said. And whether that was a disappointed or netural tone.

He hasn’t let go of your hand. He walks to the door with you, still keeping your hand in his. It’s hard not to let yourself read into it now. How holding hands with him could be such a casual thing. Hard not to imagine walking through bookshops with him, one hand in yours and the other picking books off the shelf he thought you’d like. The domesticity of it sickens you.

Then he lets go to cross to the bed.

“Aren’t you gonna put your pyjama’s on?” You ask.

“I wasn’t gonna sleep yet,” he says, “I was gonna...”

He looks bashful, suddenly, self-consciously licking his lower lip, “I was gonna ask if maybe you wanted to watch something with me. You can pick. I always pick.”

“This an excuse to get me in bed with you again, Spence?” You tease, just past tipsy enough not to care that this is the first time you’ve even acknowledged that night.

"Yeah, the Pearl Harbour ruse doesn’t work twice,” he jokes.

You wish you could find the courage to tease him more. Unfortunately, the liquid courage seems to have run out, and the topic somehow feels too delicate to touch.. Instead, you change quickly into your pyjama’s. Together, you pick something to watch, settling down. You’re suddenly thankful for the single bed, the necessity to be cozied up against him as you watch. To feel his chest, every beat of his heart. You swear it’s beating fast. Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking.

***

Just like last time, you wake up huddled against Spencer. Unlike last time, there’s no Emily banging the door down to drag you to the police station. No, it’s quiet.

You can’t see what time it is because there’s a Spencer between you and the clock. Your phone is in your back pocket but it’s hard to find any motivation whatsoever to move when you’re like this: face pressed into his chest, his head resting atop of yours so a single curl of his hair tickles your nose, his hand on your hip holding you against him.  

His eyelashes flutter, “Are you awake?”

“Yeah. I just woke up.”

He smiles, “Me too.”

“Looks like we did it again.”

“Looks like we did,” his voice is quiet.

“Do you want me to move? If I’m...I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

His free hand comes up to your chin, tipping it so you’re looking him directly in the eyes. His pupils are dilated. In the dim light it’s hard to place the look on his face exactly. But it’s soft.

"C-Can I kiss you?” the question spills quickly from his lips, like he’s afraid he’ll change his mind if he doesn’t get it out fast, “I just. I don’t know if that’s what you want too, I’ve just really-”

"Kiss me, Spence. Please kiss me.”

The smile on his face would have made you fall in love with him, if you weren’t already. And then he kisses you. Barely. Your lips are just grazing against one anothers. You tilt yourself upwards, towards him, giving him a better angle. Then he really kisses you, capturing your lips in his. It’s sweet, it’s soft, it’s...it’s everything. It’s everything, how his hands tangle themselves tentatively in your hair, how he kisses you so deeply, drinking you in.

His hand cups your cheek, then he’s pulling back, just a tiny bit, to mumble against your lips, “I’ve wanted to do this for so long.”

The only appropriate way you can think to verbalise your agreement, is closing the gap between your lips again. There’s an urgency to it this time. Your lips move quickly, passionately. He swipes his tongue across your lower lip and you let him in, your tongues delicately dancing together. He’s good. He’s good and you don’t even notice the morning breath or faint taste of rum, it’s just Spencer.

When you finally come apart, you’re out of breath.

“I didn’t think you’d ever do that,” you say, “I was worried I was reading this whole thing wrong.”

He frowns then, that little nose crinkle appearing again, “I thought I was too obvious.”

“So did I. Maybe it’s best if we don’t tell Hotch how bad we are at profiling each other. He might rethink his decision to take us on.”

He laughs, “Not being able to profile when somebody’s in love with you might be a cause for concern. There are several obvious phyical signs of love, including dilation of pupils when looking at the object of your affection, heart rate synchronisation.”

“How am I supposed to know if our heart rates have synchronised?”

He smiles. Pressing a finger to your lips, he dips his head in the small chasm between your two chests. In the silence, in the early morning quiet, in the absence of all distraction you can hear it. The steady thrum of your hearts, pounding away at identical paces. The sound that told you that some part of you had always known.

--------------

Tagslist: @takeyourleap-of-faith​​ @sassiest-politician​​ (let me know if you’d like to be added/removed from this list)

[karahalloway]

(Un)Common Attraction: Chapter 37 - Full Circle

Series: TRR (following the events of Book 1, with some changes)

Pairing: Drake Walker x OC (Harper Gale)

Rights belong to Pixelberry, most characters and some dialogue belong to them.

Book Synopsis: Harper Gale is a small-town girl working as a waitress at a seedy New York dive bar. After a chance encounter with nobility sees her jetting halfway around the world to compete for the hand of the Prince of Cordonia, her dream of seeing the world starts to come true sooner than she expected. But as the completion heats up, Harper quickly learns that life at court is a lot more than just pretty dresses and fancy balls, and that the polished aristocratic smiles often hide deceit. Does she have what it takes to rise above the gossip and intrigue of the social season, and beat the nobles at their own games? And, more importantly, does she actually want to become the queen of a small European country? Or will her heart have other ideas?

Masterlist: (Un)Common Attraction

Chapter Summary: It’s the eve of the Coronation Ball and Harper has a packed schedule... and a massive sense of déjà vu.

Word Count: 5,800

Rating/Warnings: M (swearing)

Please read: Author’s Note

Also available on Wattpad.

Chapter 36 - Full Circle

"Harper!"

"Huh?"

"Harper, have you heard a word of what I have just said?"

"Umm..."

"That's a 'no' then..." surmises Bertrand with a baleful glare.

"Sorry," I mutter.

I rearrange myself so that I am facing Bertrand, instead of staring whimsically out of the window of our customary limo, replaying in my mind the steamy kiss that I had shared with Drake on the balcony a few nights ago at the Beaumont Bash... and his decision to tell Christian about us.

"You have my full and undivided attention, Your Grace," I say with added emphasis on the last two words, hoping that a show of deference will help forestall a massive lecture.

Bertrand blinks in surprise. "Erm, yes. As I was saying, while we had managed – despite all the setback – to pull off a show-stopping Bash, we are not in the clear yet. There are any number of things that can go wrong tonight at the Coronation Ball, and we cannot allow ourselves to let our guard down this close to the finish line."

"Did you find out who was behind the mysterious power cut?" I ask.

"No," huffs Bertrand in annoyance. "The King's Guard informed me that someone had thrown the master circuit breaker, so luckily, it was a simple matter to turn the power back on. But, it could've been anyone."

"It must've been Madeleine... or someone working for her."

"We have no proof of that," he points out. "But that is why we must keep our eyes and ears open for anything and anyone that could trip you up tonight. If Mr Walker is correct and there is someone out there who does not want you to become queen, then we will need to be especially cautious, since you are very likely to be chosen by the Prince tonight."

Actually, I wasn't, given that I had told Christian back at Applewood that I had no desire to become queen. But I had no idea how to tell Bertrand that without landing him in the ER with cardiac arrest. Plus, he was actually in a good mood for once, following the success of the Beaumont Bash, and I didn't really want to take this small moment of triumph away from him. Therefore, I had decided that the best course of action was to just play along and pretend that I was still very much in the running, and then act surprised and slightly disappointed when Christian picked Olivia.

So, I simply nod dutifully.

"To that end," continues Bertrand, "I hope you have prepared a suitable coronation gift for the Prince?"

My eyes widen. “A what...?"

"Maxwell!"

"Oh, yes," smiles Maxwell sheepishly. "Did I mention that you will need to present a suitable coronation gift to Christian?"

"No," I reply, crossing my arms over my chest. "You did not."

I see Maxwell gulp visibly. "Not to worry! I'm sure the two of us can throw something together real quick..."

"Other houses spend months curating the perfect gift!" snarls Bertrand. "You can't just throw something together at the last minute!"

"We still have time before the Coronation Ball," I say quickly, before Bertrand goes into full meltdown mode. "I could have a browse around the shops in the capital when we get there."

"There will be no time for that!" exclaims Bertrand. "When we arrive, we are heading straight to Cordonia's most upscale beauty salon to rough you into shape for tonight's ball before rushing to the other side of the city to make your appointment with the country's top designer to get you fitted for your dress. And from there, it's straight to the Palace for the start of the Coronation Ball. We have a very tight schedule to maintain, one that simply does not allow for slippages or deviations!"

"But I can't just turn up emptyhanded!"

"No, you cannot," he concedes, pinching the bridge of his nose. "It would be unspeakably uncouth, not to mention utterly unforgiveable."

"You could always write him a poem," suggest Maxwell. "Or perform an interpretive dance."

I arch a brow at him.

"I'll keep brainstorming," he offers hastily, seeing the look on Bertrand's face.

"I suppose I could visit an art dealer and find a suitable vase or painting..." muses Bertrand.

"No," I say. "He told me that the Palace is already bursting with more works of art than most national museums. If we're going to get him anything, it needs to be something that's unique and meaningful."

"What do you have in mind?" asks Maxwell.

"I don't know yet," I admit. "But when I think of something, I'll let you know."

"Well, don't think too long," warns Bertrand. "All the shops will be closing early tonight so the entire country can watch the Coronation Ball live on television."

"We-we're going to be on TV?" I gasp.

"Of course," replies Bertrand. "A coronation is a once-in-a lifetime event for most folk. And Prince Christian is extremely popular with the people, so naturally, the entire country is waiting with baited-breath to see who he will pick as his bride and queen."

"So...no pressure then?" I quip nervously. Being interviewed and having my picture taken was one thing, but being filmed live for the viewing pleasure of millions of people was a whole different ball game!

"Oh, there has never been more pressure!" declares Bertrand imperiously. "All eyes will be on you – quite literally – so if there was ever a time for you to put everything that we have taught you to use, it's going to be tonight."

"Great..." I mutter, sinking back into my seat.

I was going to be SO glad when this was all over...

* * *

"Bonjour, Demoiselle 'arper!" greets a thin woman dressed in a form-fitting sheath dress and 6-inch heels as I step into the high-end fashion boutique.

I had just arrived for my dress fitting after getting my hair, nails and make-up done – not to mention getting waxed to within an inch of my life! – at the poshest salon I had ever set foot in.

"Erm, bonjour," I reply, casting my eyes around the minimalist and very monochrome interior of the shop, wondering where all the dresses were supposed to be.

"Zis way, s'il vous plait," she gestures, ushering me deeper into the store.

Drawing back a heavy black brocade curtain at the back, she leads me into a large, well-lit room that was dominated by massive, gilded mirrors and a raised platform on top of which stood Olivia, in the process of delivering a vicious tongue-lashing to a terrified-looking seamstress.

"Are you colour-blind?" she snaps, thrusting a glittering gown out like a weapon. "I asked for blood red. Does this look like the colour of blood to you? It's a dark scarlet at best!"

"Hi, Harper," whispers Hana, appearing next to me as I watch the scene unfold, feeling sorry for the poor girl.

"Hi," I reply quietly. "Olivia's on a roll, isn't she?"

It seemed that it wasn't only Bertrand who had booked a slot with Cordonia's most sought-after designer before tonight's ball.

"What seems to be the problem here?" queries a nasally voice.

Craning my neck, I spot an anorexic-looking man with bleached white hair and the most comically ostentatious get-up I had ever seen outside of The Fifth Element.

"Oh, Pierre," gushes Olivia, changing from vicious viper to cuddly kitten in the blink of an eye. "I'm so glad you're here. You must help sort out this mess!"

"Of course, mon chérie," replies Pierre, planting a kiss on the back of Olivia's hand.

Rolling my eyes, I turn back to Hana. "So, I'm guessing you're here to be fitted for your dress as well?"

"Yes," she confirms. "The seamstress should be back any— Oh, here she is!"

An assistant appears, carrying a truly exquisite-looking dress in her arms like a precious child. Hanging it carefully up on a hook in front of a smaller raised platform in the corner, she beckons to Hana.

"Enjoy," I tell Hana as she makes her way over to try on her gown.

"Demoiselle 'arper," greets yet another girl with a heavy accent. Seemed like Pierre liked all his employees to be young, female and French, and as thin as stick insects. "My name is Colette and I vill be assisting you today."

"Hi," I respond.

Colette indicates that I should follow to another fitting area. Stepping onto the raised platform, she pulls a measuring tape from around her neck and proceeds to size me up.

"Un instant, please," she murmurs, disappearing off to one side, no doubt to bring through some dress options.

"Ah, Lady Harper!" chimes a voice from behind me. "I'm surprised to see you here..."

Taking a deep breath to calm myself, I turn around to face Madeleine. "And why is that?"

"Oh, it's just that I heard a nasty rumour that apparently the Beaumonts' finances aren't in as good of a shape as they would like everyone to think. But if they are able to splurge on a one-of-a-kind dress for you for the Coronation Ball, then I guess those rumours must be false."

"Yes," I reply evenly. "They are."

Even though I was not going to be Christian's pick tonight, there was no way that I was going to ruin what was left of my sponsor's reputation by confirming rumours of their financial situation... least of all to the likes of Madeleine.

Because the fact that they hadn't been completely honest with me about all the particulars of this competition, and both of them had made me want to tear my hair out on more than one occasion — not to mention the fact that one or both of them may have tried to sell out Christian — over the past two months I had actually developed a kind of kinship with the brothers (especially Maxwell). And while Bertrand may put me to sleep with his etiquette lectures and Maxwell was more forgetful than a concussed goldfish, I would not have made it through even one day of the social season without their help. So, at the very least, I owed it to them to have their backs.

"Mes excuses, demoiselles," announces Colette, reappearing with an armful of dress options, which she proceeds to hang on the hooks in front of the mirrors.

I survey the selection as Madeleine sashays away with one last smirk. All three dresses that Colette had picked looked gorgeous. But one was calling to me in particular.

"I'll try the second one," I tell Colette.

It was a floor-length dress with a gauzy white skirt the fell in pleated layers to the ground, topped by a gold, open-backed bodice that would give the impression of autumn leaves falling over my body.

"Bien sûr," she nods, looking at me expectantly.

I stare back her uncomprehendingly until I feel the hot flush of realisation colour my cheeks.

She was waiting for me to undress... in the middle of the room with all these people about.

"Erm... right."

Taking a deep breath, I kick my flats off and undo the button of my jeans before shimmying out of them. Pulling my t-shirt carefully over my head, so as not to mess up my twisted chignon updo, or my expertly applied make-up, I drop it onto the floor as well, before reaching behind my back to unclasp my bra with one hand, holding my other arm around my chest to keep myself covered.

Looking up, I can see Colette was holding the dress open, so I could step into it. Lifting my legs over the material one at a time, Colette quickly pulls the bodice up to my chest before securing the hidden clips and zips to hold it in place.

"Marvellous!"

Glancing over my shoulder, I can see Pierre appraising me from behind.

"Thanks," I reply, twisting around to take in the open-back of the dress and admiring the way that the tastefully placed leaves of material just covered all the important bits, while leaving very little to the imagination.

I feel myself grin, knowing that Drake was going to hate me for wearing such a revealing number.

"Colette!" barks Pierre. "Apportez-moi des épingles!"

Stepping up to me, Pierre gets to work pinning the dress in various strategic locations to mould it to my body like a second skin. When he's done, he gestures to Colette to extract it off me.

Once I'm free of my dress, I quickly throw my t-shirt and jeans back on, not bothering with the bra and shoes, knowing that I'll probably have at least one more fitting ahead of me. While I wait for Colette to return, I wander over to where Hana was trying on her dress.

"Hana!" I exclaim. "You look stunning!"

She was dressed in a pale pink creation with a square neckline and a poofy tulle skirt decorated with floral lace and looked every inch like a modern princess.

"As though what she wears even matters at this point," snips Olivia haughtily.

Glancing into the mirror, I see her stood behind us in a jaw-dropping one-shoulder crimson dress. It sported a waist-high slit up a skirt that shimmered with what look like hundreds of miniscule diamantes sown into the fabric.

I roll my eyes. Did she really have nothing better to do than fling barbed comments at everyone all the time?

"Seriously, Olivia," I sigh. "Can't you just—"

"It's alright, Harper," interjects Hana, turning around. "I've got this."

Olivia snorts derisively. "Oh, how sweet... Has little Hana finally learned to talk like a big girl, instead of bursting into tears anytime someone says something mean?"

Hana narrows her eyes. "Olivia. I've been nothing but nice to you since we met and all you've done is deride and ridicule me. And you know what? I don't deserve to be treated like that."

"Did Harper tell you to say that?" asks Olivia snidely. "I know you're not bold enough to come up with it on your own."

"No. She did not," replies Hana. "This is my opinion. I know you had a tough childhood, but that doesn't give you license to treat everyone around you like dirt. Because if this is how you're planning on acting if Prince Christian chooses you tonight, then you really don't deserve him."

"Ugh, do you honestly, think—?"

"Sod off, Olivia," declares Hana flippantly, turning back to the mirror. "If you have nothing constructive to say, then I'm not interested in hearing it."

My jaw drops to the floor.

Glancing at Olivia, I can see that her face is white with shock as well. Pulling herself together, she throws her nose up into the air and stomps off, but not before I catch a glimmer of respect in her eyes.

"Oh. My. God," I breathe. "Hana! That was amazing!"

"I wasn't too harsh, was I?" she asks with a delicate blush.

"Hell no!" I reply with a grin. "She deserved all of that and more. But where did that come from?"

"I have been thinking a lot about what you said after I had that call with my mother at the Jamboree. And I realised that I have been letting myself get pushed around, not just by my parents, but by pretty much everyone else in my life. So, it was time to not only stand up for myself, but to let people like Olivia know that I was not going to put up with such treatment."

"Well, I am incredibly proud of you!" I gush, drawing her into a hug.

"Thank you, Harper," replies Hana with a smile. "You have been an amazing friend to me. I've changed so much since I met you. You helped me make friends where I expected to find only enemies and competitors, and you've convinced me to do things I never thought I was capable of doing. And no matter what happens tonight, please know that you will always be able to count on me if you need help with anything. Because you've helped me so much these past few months."

"Aww, Hana..." I say, feeling tears spring into my eyes. "You're gonna make me cry..."

"Oh, don't do that!" she admonishes with glistening eyes. "Because then you'll make me cry as well, and then we'll both ruin our make-up!"

"Demoiselle 'arper?"

Turning around, I can see that Colette has returned with my dress.

"Gotta go," I tell Hana.

"Harper?"

"Yeah?"

"I was wondering... Did you want to ride with me to the Palace tonight?"

"Of course!" I reply. "I'd pick your company over Bertrand's any day of the week!"

"Great!" confirms Hana with a grin. "I'll see you out front then."

About an hour later, after Colette and Pierre have finished fiddling with my dress, I step outside the boutique to find Hana already waiting for me, and my jaw drops in surprise for the second time that day.

"Is that...?"

"Yes," nods Hana. "My parents thought one last display of wealth would help the family name."

"That...that would do it..." I agree dazedly.

Standing in front of us was a dainty white carriage pulled by two matching snow white horses that looked like something Cinderella's fairy godmother would've fashioned from a pumpkin.

"After you," indicates Hana.

Stepping up to the carriage, the driver opens the door and helps me navigate up the narrow, wrought iron steps. Carefully arranging my skirts so they don't get rumpled, I sit down into the lush red velvet seat as Hana climbs in opposite me.

The driver closes the door with a click. Hopping nimbly up onto the raised seat behind the horses, he picks up the reins, and with a flick of his long whip, urges the horses onto the road and into a trot.

As we make our way across the city, people stop to wave, snap photos, and even honk their horns. I can't help but smile as I wave back.

Every girl dreams — at least once in their life — of being a princess, and here I was, dressed in a gorgeous ballgown, riding to a fancy ball at an actual palace in a horse-drawn carriage to dance the night away. And while my happily ever after was not going to be with a prince, I was still floating on cloud nine knowing that in just a few days' time, Drake and I would no longer need to sneak around stealing moments with each other... and for me, that was more than fairytale perfect.

After winding our way relatively briskly through the narrow streets of the capital and up the hill, our pace slows as we reach the long drive that leads to the front steps of the Palace.

"Sure is busy," I remark, as I take in the long queue of limos, hyper-cars and Bentleys that wait eagerly to deposit their fancy guests at the Coronation Ball. Things are not helped by the fact that a veritable army of reporters were thronging the Palace entrance, determined to photograph and interview all the attendees as they tried to make their way inside.

"Don't worry," soothes Hana. "We have plenty of time before the Ball starts."

"Yeah, I know," I reply. "But I was hoping to run to my room beforehand."

"Did you forget something?"

"No. I just need to grab my coronation present for Christian."

While I was being fitted for my dress, I had had plenty of time to mull over possible gift options, and had finally settled upon something that I had actually had all along, but I knew that Christian would appreciate.

We finally arrive at the steps of the Palace, and after answering the inevitable questions from the press and posing for photos, we manage to battle our way inside... only to find ourselves in yet another queue.

"Seriously?" I gripe, craning my neck to try and see the front of the tailback. But the human conga line seemed to wind on indefinitely.

"A lot of people are here tonight to congratulate Prince Christian," observes Hana.

"No kidding..." I mutter. "Hey, do you think you could hold my place? I'm just going to sneak up to my room real quick."

"Of course," replies Hana with a smile.

Stepping out of the line, I pick up my skirts and quickly make my way to the bedroom wing. Opening my door, I can see that the ever-industrious valets had already deposited my bags, as well as the clothes I had left at the boutique, so at least I'd have something to change into once the Ball was over.

I make my way over to my small wheely suitcase and unzipping the front pocket, plunge my hand in. My fingers locate the familiar feel of the item that I was searching for. Pulling it out, I smile, knowing that it was the perfect gift for Christian.

I hasten back to the receiving line and continue to shuffle along with Hana until we eventually reach the throne room. Christian is stood on top of a red velvet-covered dais decked out in full royal regalia, complete with honorific medals and a deep purple sash across his chest, looking every inch the prince that he was. The King and Queen are stood slightly off to one side, exchange polite words with the guests as they file past.

"What is Christian going to do with all this stuff?" I wonder out loud, surveying the groaning table next to him that was already piled high with gifts.

"Put it to good use, I'm sure," replies Hana tactfully, as always.

"Because every prince needs an extra set of diamond cufflinks" I quip, catching sight of gift that Madeline had just presented. "I wonder what Olivia got him."

"Some kind of plant, by the looks of it," observes Hana. "Maybe a cactus?"

I snort in amusement. "No doubt to serve as a reminder of her prickly personality!"

We finally reach the front of the line. Hana presents her gift, which is a red envelope containing some kind of rare Chinese gold coin, which is supposed to symbolise prosperity and good fortune. And suddenly it's my turn to present my humble token.

"Lady Harper," greets Christian, planting a kiss on the back of my hand as he takes in my dress.

"Prince Christian," I reply with a strange feeling of déjà vu as I sink into a curtsey. "How are you holding up?"

Christian chuckles. "You know, you asked me that exact same question on your first night in Cordonia."

"And has your answer changed?"

"Truthfully? No. I'm still feeling the same mixture of nervousness and excitement as I did on the night of the Masquerade. Maybe even more so, now that we are at the end of the social season and I am about to be crowned king. After tomorrow, everything is going to change."

"Hopefully not everything," I reply. "You'll still be you, after all. Just with a more impressive title... and your own country to rule."

Christian shakes his head. "You always put things into perspective, Harper. But, you are right, of course. Many things will change, but some things will hopefully stay the same."

"I hope so too," I say with a smile, handing him his gift.

Christian's eyes widen. "Where did you get this?"

"Off my keychain."

His eyes snap up to mine. "This is yours?"

"It was something I picked up the first week I moved to New York. But I know how much the Statue of Liberty means to you, so I thought it would not only be a little memento of the time that we spent together, but also a reminder that you do not always need to be a prince or a king... you can have moments when you are just you."

"Harper..." he breathes. "I... I don't know what to say..."

"That's a first," I grin.

"I will treasure this. Always," he says, placing the keychain into the inner breast pocket of his jacket. "Thank you."

"You're more than welcome," I say softly, giving his hand a quick squeeze.

He brushes his thumb over my knuckles. "Will you save a dance for me?"

"I'll see what I can do," I reply with a wink, echoing my words to him from the Masquerade.

"Of course," confirms Christian with a grin as he drops a parting kiss on the back of my hand.

"Your Majesties," I say, dipping into another curtsey in front of the King and Queen after parting from Christian.

"Good evening, Lady Harper," greets the King. "It's a pleasure to see you again."

"The pleasure is all mine," I reply demurely. "I can honestly say that I had never expected that I would attend an event as grand as the Coronation Ball."

"Yes, you have certainly come a long way," says the Queen. "Though you aren't as well-established as Lady Madeleine or Lady Olivia, during your short time here, you have certainly become a real fixture at court, Lady Harper."

"Thank you, ma'am," I say, inclining my head. "It has certainly been... an experience."

"And who knows?" adds the King. "If the rumours are true, you could very well become a permanent fixture."

"You make her sound like a painting," admonishes the Queen.

"Well, she is certainly looking lovely enough to be in one," winks the King.

"Thank you, sir," I reply with a smile, dipping into a final curtsey. "Ma'am..."

Making my way out of the throne room, I am led through various reception rooms and corridors into a vast dining room. The majority of the guests are already here, sitting at their assigned tables or chatting amongst themselves with crystal flutes in their hands. A footman escorts me to a table near the middle of the room, where I find Hana and the rest of the suitors engaged in conversation.

"...even though I know he's not going to choose me, I'm still so nervous," says Penelope, twisting a napkin around her fingers anxiously.

"One never knows, ma chérie," replies Kiara. "There's still a chance."

"Ha!" snorts Olivia. "You're delusional if you think that!"

"I could not agree more," replies Madeleine, taking a complacent sip of her champagne.

"Oh, look who decided to grace us with her presence," says Olivia as she catches sight of me. "Are you ever going to be on time, Harper?"

"Dinner hasn't started yet," I reply, sinking down into my seat.

"Lady Harper, your dress looks very... expensive," says Penelope, taking in Pierre's creation with an awed expression.

"Thank you," I smile. "You look very nice as well."

"Oh. Thank you," she replies, a blush rising up her neck.

"Oh, please!" snorts Olivia. "As if that dowdy frock would impress anyone... Though at least you were all smart enough to stay away from my colour."

"Your colour?" asks Madeleine with an arched brow.

"Yes," affirms Olivia. "Red is my colour."

"Oh, dear Olivia..." says Madeleine sweetly. "What would you have done if one of us had worn red? Stamped your foot and thrown a fit in the middle of the ball?"

"No," snaps Olivia, eyes flashing. "I would've thought of something. Ugh, I hope tonight is the last time we ever have to interact."

"You know that's unlikely," responds Madeleine. "We'll be summoned back for the engagement tour and the wedding. We'll all be called upon to show our support for whoever the Prince chooses."

I snap my head up. "We will?"

This was news for me!

"Of course," nods Madeleine. “I'm sure we can put our petty differences aside to support the stability of Cordonia, no matter who the winner is. Even you must appreciate that, Olivia."

"I do," declares Olivia smugly. "Because you will all be supporting me after tonight."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," murmurs Madeleine as the servers arrive with the first course. "The night is not over yet, and anything could happen between now and the end of the Ball."

"Now where have I heard that one before...?" I mutter, glaring meaningfully at Madeleine who simply smiles like an angel.

"What if he doesn't choose anyone at all?" asks Kiara. "What happens then?"

"He'll pick someone," Madeleine declares confidently. "It's his duty to do so. By law, Cordonian kings must be engaged or married at the time of their Coronation."

"Still think it's a bit of a stupid law..." I mutter. "I mean, this entire competition has been so contrived..."

"It is not 'stupid'," bristles Madeleine. "The law was put in place to ensure the stability of Cordonia's future by securing an heir. Or at least the means by which to make one. I can't believe you, of all people, don't understand that concept."

"I understand just fine..." I grit, spearing a forkful of salad. "And I'm so glad to see that Cordonia has embraced the women's liberation movement."

"Women's what?" asks Penelope, puzzled.

"Women's liberation," I expound surlily. "The idea that women are more than just wives and baby-making machines. It's only been around as a concept for the past 100 years."

"As progressive as that idea may be for the average women," says Madeline, "a queen has a duty to her king and country to produce an heir at the earliest possibility to secure the future of the Rys dynasty. Otherwise, the entire monarchy could collapse."

"Surely not," I scoff.

"Oh, yes," affirms Madeline. "If the king were to die without a named heir, the entire country would descend into chaos with all the noble houses vying to secure the throne. Not to mention the very real possibly that the neighbouring kingdoms would try to seize the opportunity created by the power vacuum to subsume Cordonia into their sphere of influence... perhaps even annex it completely."

"But this is the 21st century!" I protest. "Not the Middle Ages. You're can't just take over a country."

"Isn't that exactly what the United States did in Iraq?" points out Kiara.

I open my mouth to protest before closing it in annoyance, knowing that Kiara had a point. "That doesn't make it right."

"No, it doesn't," agrees Madeleine. "But very few things in politics and diplomacy are done for selfless reasons. Which is exactly why it is so important that Prince Christian chooses his queen tonight, before his coronation."

"Excuse me," a footman says suddenly, appearing at our table. "I have a message for Lady Hana Lee."

"That's me," says Hana, quickly dabbing her face with a napkin.

The footman hands off the message and after a quick bow, disappears again.

"What is it?" I ask.

"I don't know," Hana admits, opening the letter with a clean knife. As she reads the contents, I see her face fall.

"What's wrong?" I whisper.

"Oh, it's nothing," she replies quickly, folding the letter back up and stuffing it into the envelope. "Just instructions from my parents on what to do with the carriage at the end of the night."

"They...couldn't send you a text?"

"My parents can be a bit old-fashioned sometimes..." mutters Hana, picking up her fork again, but I could see that she was miles away.

I frown, knowing that she was not telling me the whole truth, but I didn't want to press her in front of the other suitors.

The rest of the dinner passes uneventfully, with Hana continuing to sit in silence while Olivia and Madeleine battle it out in some kind of mutual contest of wills to determine who could fling the snidest comment while smiling prettily.

As the waitstaff clear away the last course, Hana pushes her chair back abruptly and with muttered apologies, dashes out of the dining room, letter in hand.

"What's gotten into her?" asks Olivia with a raised brow.

"The fish course didn't agree with her," I snap as I rise from my own seat.

"Oh, I hope it's nothing serious," gasps Penelope. "The Ball will be starting shortly."

"Don't worry," I reply. "We'll be there."

Leaving the other ladies at the table, I hurry after Hana and manage to catch up with her in one of the corridors.

"Hana!"

"Harper?" gasps Hanna, spinning around. "What are you doing here? You should be on your way to the ballroom."

"So should you," I reply. "But whatever was in that letter has obviously made you upset, so I wanted to check that you were okay."

"That... that's very kind of you, Harper," mutters Hana. "But the letter... it's not important."

"Are you sure?" I ask meaningfully. "The last time I saw you this upset was when Olivia brought up your failed engagement at the Masquerade Ball. So, whatever was in that letter was definitely more than instructions on what to do with the carriage."

Hana glances up at me with a tight look on her face. "I... I don't want to bother you with it."

"Hana," I say firmly, taking her hands in mine. "If something is wrong, of course I want you to bother me with it! That's what friends are for! And even if I may not be able to help, at least I can give you a hug, or a shoulder to cry on, if that's what you need."

She twists her hands around the envelope before handing it over. "Here. Read it for yourself."

Taking the heavy parchment paper from her, I open up the envelope and extract the letter. I quickly scan the contents. "So, basically, your parents are asking you to go back home."

"More like ordering me," sighs Hana, taking the letter back from me. "They were paying for me to win the Prince's hand. The competition ends tonight and I won't be the winner. So they see no reason for me to stay."

"You could just ignore them," I shrug. "I mean, what are they going to do? They're in Shanghai, aren't they?"

"Yes. But they're rich, they're powerful and... they're my parents. I can't disobey them. They think I'm getting too headstrong out here... If I don't go back, they'll send someone to get me."

"But..."

"Harper, it's alright," interjects Hana, smiling despite the tears in her eyes. "I know you want to help me, but you can't. Not with this. I know you want me to stand up to my parents and become more independent, but they're still my parents and I care about them, even though I disagree with what they want. So, I can't just ignore their wishes."

I search Hana's eyes and see that she is serious. "Alright then," I concede with a sigh. "If this is going to be your last night here, then let's make it a night to remember!"

The story continues in Chapter 38 - And In The End...

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[bts-hyperfixation]

Soulmates

JJK X Reader soulmate AU

Warnings: Minor character death(car crash, only mentioned nothing graphic), Drinking

I don’t know if this is what you (the requester) were going for? this is somehow where I ended up

Everyone in this world has a soulmate. Someone that is meant to complete them and make them feel whole.

Your other half can be identified by the matching birthmark hidden somewhere on their body. There are also a lot of people whose marks are so close to matching that it almost feels like the real thing… almost. Sadly, many don’t ever get to experience the love of their true soulmate, so they settle for the closest they can get.

Jungkook was convinced he was one of the lucky few. Looking at her made his heart feel like it was going to burst. Every time he saw her the world got brighter, the birds started singing a little louder, and his stress nearly melted away entirely … nearly. But at 17 no one is going to pay attention to nearly.

Their birthmark’s matched so closely, each sporting a small puzzle piece on opposite wrists. You wouldn’t even bat an eyelid at the loved-up pair as they walked together hand in hand. And he loved her so completely, and her him, that they never thought to question it. Madly in love until the day she died.

Jungkook spent weeks almost comatose when the news of her car crash reached him. Couldn’t move, eat, sleep. To lose your soulmate so young was said to be a fate worse than never finding them at all. Even after coming through the other side people could tell he wasn’t the same carefree young boy he had been, most likely never would be again. His eyes’ looked far older than his years now, his soft features much more angular.

Three months after her death he resolve to never fall in love again, happy in the knowledge that he got to know her even for such a short amount of time.

….

You met Jungkook at a party. Someone from Uni decided that 24 was the right age for a big birthday bash. They hired out an entire club and set up a series of activities for people to enjoy. A mechanical ball on the main floor, a ball pit to the side, a BBQ in the smoking area, and a bouncy castle in the downstairs 90’s themed area. It really was an amazing event. You however spent most of your time watching the quiet Korean boy in the corner, every time his eyes met yours you felt compelled to move to him, talk to him, dance with him, anything that would get his attention on you. At the time you put it down to the alcohol. It took you exactly 3 and a half drinks to pick up the courage and interrupt his current conversation.

He was very sweet, really sweet considering he clearly didn’t want to be talking to you. It was evident in the way his eyes shifted and the nervous playing with his sleeves, still you persevered. Something about him wouldn’t let you give up, not yet at least. Your saving grace came when your favourite band came blaring over the speakers. “PRETTYMUCH” aren’t an underrated band per say but it’s difficult to find someone who knows them in your circle, so when Jungkook’s face lit up at the same time as yours you knew you had your in. So with the Phases remix blaring through the club you took your opportunity.

“I love this song!” You took his hand and pulled him on to the dance floor before you really realised that’s what you are doing. To start with he was frozen, a little shocked by your boldness, but as you gave it your all he joined in, loosening up for the first time that entire night. After that it was a lot easier to talk to him, you actually went into the smoking area to talk more about shared music interests.

After you went to get a drink you got caught up with some others and he came to find you. It felt like an electric shock when he’d grabbed your hand to get your attention, but there were a lot of balloons around so that would explain the residual electricity. By the time the party was over, and the club was closing, you didn’t want to leave him, not just now but ever. You found yourselves wandering around aimlessly, talking about nothing until the sun came up. Looking back it was then you decided Jungkook was it for you. You had never really believed in the soulmate tradition until you met him.

Weeks go by of you texting back and forth. You found out the reason he was so into music was because he was a musician himself, he even promised to perform for you sometime. A lot of promises were made in those messages.

‘There’s this amazing Restaurant in the city’ you claimed promising to take him with you next time.

‘I really want to see this movie’ he said promising to pay for tickets when it came out.

‘We should go see this band together’ The number one promise between the two of you, quickly racking up a lot of different acts to see together.

So when one of those bands turned up on the roster for the local you’d bought tickets immediately sending him the confirmation. Your stomach had fluttered thinking about seeing him in person again. And so you counted down the days as they passed. Picked and repicked your outfit. Talked yourself in and out of going. Eventually the day arrived. The doorbell signalling his arrival was deafening, ringing out through your small studio apartment. You took a few deep breaths before opening the door.

He was flawless, your tipsy memory hadn’t done him justice. A broad chest draped in a white long sleeve tee, ripped skinnies straining against his thighs, his hair swept into a James Dean quiff. You might’ve laughed at the way your outfits had accidently matched (a black crop with white skinnies) had you been capable of making a noise.

“Ready to go?” He asked nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. You’d nodded, blushing when you realised you had been staring.

It was a short bus ride into the town centre. Spent in relatively comfortable silence arms brushing against one another in the limited space on the crowded vehicle. The club was packed wall to wall when you got inside, no hope of getting to the front of the crowd, or so you’d thought. Jungkook grabbed your hand winked at you and began heading in the opposite direction of the stage. He led you up some back stairs and on to a balcony you hadn’t ever noticed before.

“I’ve played here before, almost no one knows this is here, but it will give us the perfect view.” He dropped your hand in favour of leaning over the railing. You couldn’t help but feel cold at the loss. The performance was great, you found yourselves screaming lyrics back and forth at one another. Some people had cottoned on to your little hiding spot and soon it became as packed as the rest of the club. Whether he was trying to protect you from the others or he was pushed there you will never know, but Jungkook ended up caging you to the railing, head resting on your shoulder.

After the show you’d decided it was time to ask him how he felt. The club was still busy, but the two of you had been in a quiet corner on your own nursing drinks and chatting aimlessly.

“Do you believe in soulmates?” You asked, broaching the topic carefully. You watched closely for his reaction, but he gave nothing away. Instead he just shrugged.

“I did once.” It was too blunt, you knew you should’ve stopped but you couldn’t, now you’d decided to tell him it was like verbal diarrhoea.

“I didn’t think I did, I mean I’ve never seen any ‘matching birthmarks’ and every couple I know is perfectly happy… but then I met you and I keep thinking about it, and you, and how I feel about you.” You watched as his face goes from pensive to a deer caught in the headlights.

“I… I have to leave now.” He got up and ran into the crowd before you even had a chance to reach for him. He dipped through a back entrance of the club and into the night before you could even push through the first layer of people.

The ride home had seemed a lot longer. Holding back tears had proved extremely difficult. Of all the reactions he could’ve given you that might’ve been the worst one. Somehow you found yourself thinking even him laughing in your face might’ve been better. You left the lights in your studio switched off that night. Made a beeline for your bed and passed out face down.

It would’ve felt like a bad dream when you woke up… if it hadn’t been for the crusty mascara tracking down your cheeks. You’d picked up your phone from where it lay abandoned next to you. Battery on 12%. You’d decided then it’d be best to run damage control, at least save the friendship.

Y/N: I’m sorry about last night…

You hadn’t expected his reply to be quick, so it’d surprised you when the typing bubbles appeared immediately; and furthered your sadness when they disappeared moments later without a message.

For days you spiralled. Going over the moment again and again in your head. Each replay turning the memory into something worse than the original.

Eventually you plucked yourself out of bed, deciding to face the problem head on and talk to the friend that invited you both to their birthday in the first place.

She met you at a café downtown during her lunch break. It was obvious by your red rimed eyes and sniffling nose that you had been crying but she was nice enough to ignore it for the most part. You caught up on her life for a little while until you physically couldn’t hold back anymore.

You told her exactly what had happened between you and JK, watching as her expression got both more understanding and pitying as you got closer to the end. Whatever you thought she was going to tell you was no where close to the story you got. You sat mouth wide open as she told you about the accident, and the way it affected Jungkook. It made you want to cry all over again. You didn’t know what to say once she had finished, stewing in your own thoughts for a while. The main thought that kept coming to the front of your mind was one that made you feel so evil. But you had to get it out

“What if she wasn’t really his soulmate. What if he was never meant for her” Its barely above a whisper but your friend heard it.

“He truly believes that she was” She replied squinting at you. Her break ended shortly after that leaving you alone with your thoughts.

…

It’s almost a month later when you see Jungkook again. Hadn’t heard a single thing from him since the concert but at least you knew why.

This time it was someone pool party. You honestly hadn’t been expecting to see him there. Didn’t even know you had mutual friends past that one girl. You didn’t think twice about your birthmark when you stripped down to your two piece. Why would you? Everyone has one. You were lay out on a sun-lounger with a drink when you spotted him. Tucked away in a corner once again, the only difference this time was his attention was already on you. He looked as good as ever, hair damp and slicked back, Long-sleeved neoprene shit covering his torso but trunks showing off his amazing thighs. You’d forced yourself to look away form him but could still feel the intensity of his gaze on you.

Eventually you couldn’t take it anymore, too hot under the sun and his stare you decided to change out of your swimsuit into a sundress for the evening. Heading inside you found your way into someone’s bedroom to get changed. Perhaps you should’ve checked to see if the door the locked though, because just as you had wiggled out of the bikini top Jungkook burst into the room.

“Ah shit… Sorry… I um.” His hand had flown in front of his eyes as he’d slammed the door shut behind him and you’d immediately reached for the flimsy dress pulling it over you torso so he could reopen his eyes.

“What in the actual fuck Jungkook?” you whisper screamed not wanting to draw attention to the two of you hidden away.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I didn’t think… I just needed to see…”

“See what?! My boobs? I think you managed that one perv. You haven’t spoken to me in weeks and now all of a sudden you can’t wait long enough to knock.” You came across a lot meaner than you had meant, you just hadn’t been prepared for him to want to speak to you again.

“No I’m sorry I’ll go, this was a bad idea, I was probably seeing things anyway.” He mumbled looking sheepishly at the floor/

“No wait it’s okay, I really want to apologise don’t leave.” You took a deep breath and waited for his eyes to meet yours properly. When they did you could see the shock behind them.

“Why do you need to apologise? I’m the one that ran off, I never even told you why and I fucked up and I’m sorry I just…” You reached for him then, wanting nothing more than to comfort him and then realised it wasn’t your place, arm dropping heavily back to your side. “I felt so guilty with you, not because of you, because of me.” You nodded in understanding.

“I found about your soulmate after I confessed to you. I’m so sorry I didn’t know. I never would’ve brought it up if I had known you had already found yours.” You’d broken eye contact with him then unable to watch the sadness in his eyes and not be able to do anything about it.

“That’s why I felt so guilty though because the way I feel about you is so similar to the way I felt about her, how I still feel about her deep down. I was so confused because you’re only supposed to get one soulmate, and if I could feel the same way about you in such a short time… it just feels like I’m betraying her by loving you.” He stepped forward reaching for your chin and forced you to meet his gaze. “The today when I saw your birthmark on your thigh I could’ve cried.” He uses his free hand to unzip the shirt he’d been wearing. He pulled his left arm from the sleeve exposing his birthmark to you. A puzzle piece to fit perfectly into your own.

You’d gasped at the revelation you were right. He was meant to be yours. And yet it didn’t feel right. The anguish on his face was clear, the internal fight he had obviously been having with himself ever since the concert.

“Letting yourself love me now doesn’t mean you loved her any less” you whispered, allowing yourself to move even closer to him, wrapping him in your arms. He’d nuzzled into your neck allowing tears to stream down his cheeks and onto your shoulder. You’d felt every bit of stress leave his body as he cried. Emotions he hadn’t even know he had been holding onto, finally letting himself really breath since he had lost her all those years ago.

You’d lost track of the time, just stood with him, holding him until the final few sniffles came. His cheeks had been puffy by and red when he pulled away, wiping his face on the sleeve still on his right arm.

“Do you want to leave? We can go back to mine” You’d asked carefully, not willing to let him go home alone after feeling like that. He’d nodded weakly, sliding his arm back into the shirt before taking your hand in his. You’d headed for the door only to be brought back by the hand he had on yours. He’d pulled you so close you could see the flecks of gold in his irises, watched your reaction before leaning in and kissing you. It was salty with left over tears, but you wouldn’t change you first kiss for the world. Everything felt like it clicked into place in that moment, the world tilted on its axis. The exchange was short lived, a chaste peck followed by a few smaller pecks before he let you lead him all the way home.

Masterlist

[theyreonlynoodlesmike]

Melting Wax, Crawling Vines: Part 10 (Vincent Sinclair x Fem!Reader)

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Warnings: major character death, mental breakdowns, graphic descriptions of blood/gore/violence, canon-typical violence, manipulation, suicide/self harm mention but not actually done

Word Count: 2626

Neither Bo nor Vincent knew what you were going to do. How this was going to play out. But it was a test that both of them needed to see. Would you fall prey to him? Let him draw you back in? Or would you defy him? Choose them? Yourself? 

They needed to see it with their own eyes, so they'd both stepped back. Letting him bait you and letting him get close, even if Vincent was gripping his knives at the thought of your ex lashing out. Even if some of his words made him want Bo to step in. Or want to step in himself.

But both of the twins knew that, until it was completely necessary, neither of them could step in. They wouldn't be able to explain away murdering him right in front of you, and they hadn't had much of a plan when Vincent had refused to leave you alone at the house. Bo knew they'd needed to do something before you were able to get to a phone, and he was silently relieved that your ex was up and about. Whatever move was made, your ex had to go first. Or so they thought.

Vincent could hardly stand the way he was taunting you. He drew out his knife, even when Bo shot him a glare. Bo was supposed to be the impulsive one out of the two of them. But Vincent could help the way his grip tightened when he talked to you, correctly guessed that you were with him. Sort of.

The pair of you had just had your first kiss, but it wasn't like you were together like Vincent wanted you to be. He pushed those thoughts away, thinking that it wasn't the time to be debating about where you would stand after everything. Even if how you would react to the town was a constant presence in the front of his mind.

Part of him thought you would never understand. That you'd never accept Ambrose when you found out what really went on in there. What he and his brothers did. But that changed when he saw you step forward.

***

You hadn't even realized how close he'd gotten to you. It only took you a few steps for you to be within swinging distance, and you knocked him right back on his ass.

"Don't talk about her!" You shrieked, and you were swinging again just as the words left his mouth,

"Wait, look-" You felt almost outside your body, out of your own control as you hit him over the head with the bat. You were crying, you could feel the warmth down your cheeks. Or maybe that was the splatters of his blood when you hit him again.

"You don't get to talk about her! You killed her!" You screamed, repeating those last three words over and over like a mantra. You hit him again and again and again. Until his face no longer resembled the one he'd had before. Until his confident smile was gone. Until he'd never be able to say her name again, never be able to say yours again. Until the only thing staring up at you was a mess of blood and broken flesh. "She was gonna go back to school! She was going to make something of herself, you asshole ." You didn't stop until the bat broke, snapping from the force of your blow and the blunt contact with his skull. 

Part of you hadn't even realized what you'd been doing. It was too easy. A few swings, a repeated motion. That was all it took. You thought it would be harder, would be some moral instinct that would stop you. You were panting, and your arms ached. You stared at the unrecognizable face of your ex. You took deep breaths as you stared, watching the blood pool behind his head. It hit you then as you watched him lay there. Silent and unmoving. You'd killed him .

You dropped the broken bat, letting it clatter to the floor. Your stomach lurched at the smell, at the sight. You slapped a hand over your mouth, trying to swallow down the urge to vomit as you forced yourself to look away. The images of blood, of a broken, battered body brought up images you wished you could forget. Your own sister lifeless and limp. 

You nearly fell to your knees, but someone was grabbing you from behind. Holding you. You knew it was Vincent before you even looked, and you turned to wrap your arms around his shoulders. He was lifting you up with ease, pulling you up so you wrapped your legs around him and carrying you away from the body. He set you down on the stairs, and sat next to you as he pulled your face into his hands.

You were crying. You were shaking. You hadn't meant to do it, even if you'd carried through on every swing. You'd just been so angry . You'd wanted him gone, wanted to stop being afraid. You hadn't realized that you'd been babbling, telling him all of this. You were begging him to believe you, but Vincent didn't speak. He didn't even sign. He simply tried to wipe the tears from your face and calm you down. You were hyperventilating, and you'd end up passing out if he didn't get you to breathe. You hadn't even noticed how your ex had been pointing towards the broken body of one of Vincent's wax figures, his finger unmoving as it pointed at the arm he'd broken off of it. The arm that had blood and bone inside of it.

You held Vincent's mask, before your arms were wrapping tight around his shoulders. You hugged him, crying into his neck as he did his best attempt to soothe you. His hands ran over your back, but it couldn't change anything. It couldn't change what you'd done. And it couldn't change that, despite everything, it wasn't him that you felt bad for. You were scared and shocked of what you'd done, by the fact that you'd taken another human life. By the fact that you didn't feel an ounce of regret, and, rather, felt a heaviness lift off your shoulders. You were crying because you would probably go for jail for this, crying for the life you'd had ahead of you. Crying over what you were going to lose. 

"What are we-" You hiccuped, pulling back slightly. "What are we gonna do?" You asked. You were scared of the answer you'd receive. But Bo was the one that answered, and you watched as he kicked your ex's foot. Just to make sure.

"Don't worry, darlin', we'll take care of it." He said, and you sniffled as you stared at him as confusion took your focus.

***

You stared at the wall, hugging Vincent's pillow to your chest. It had been three days. You knew that the boys had gotten rid of the body. You knew that Lester had been the one to dump it. And you knew what happened inside the town. 

They'd told you after you'd stopped crying, when Vincent had finally gotten you to calm down completely and had been petting your hair while you leaned against him on the stairs. With the twins on either side of you, Bo told you what their plan for the town was. You stared at him, realizing that he was just as insane as your ex. If not more. But you didn't say anything as he continued,

"So, we won't tell. Don't worry about that at all." He said, reaching out to play with the ends of your hair. You'd leaned away, and masked it by nuzzling further into Vincent. You looked up at him, eyes wide as you hoped he would realize just how insane this sounded. Turning people into wax to fulfill a wish of their dead mother's? It was cracked, plain and simple. But, Bo didn't stop there. He let out a little laugh. "Too bad you bashed his face in. Vincent could've made something real nice outta him." And you froze. You stared at him, his one blue eye staring back. You hadn't connected the dots, at least not completely. 

Vincent killed just like Bo did. Worse. He made art out of their corpses. Suddenly, you could feel the urge to vomit come back. You'd touched the wax figures. Examined them. How had you never noticed? You looked away from Vincent, and tried to focus on something that wasn't the body in the center of the room. 

"Honestly, didn't think you were gonna do something like that. Didn't think you had it in you. Bet it felt good, huh?" And you didn't want to admit that it did. That, if anything, you were relieved. But, after glancing at him, you knew he would wait for your response. There was a pause before you finally gave him a nod. 

You reached for Vincent's hand, holding it tight. Even if you knew what he'd done, that the very hands you were holding sculpted people . That those people were dead and frozen in wax all over town. But, you needed something to ground you. Something to build a foundation on. And Bo was too unstable of a choice.

"Now, don't get any ideas. Vincent's sweet on you, so we won't do nothing, but," He paused, a small grin on his face. "Don't forget, sweetheart. In the eyes of the law, you're just as guilty as we are."

In the eyes of the law, you're just as guilty as we are. You'd frozen at those words. They'd been stuck in your mind for days, and they were the ones that were stuck inside your head as you stared at the pipes that ran under the Sinclair house. You hadn't talked to any of them much, with Vincent checking in and bringing you breakfast. You left the dirty dishes on his bedside table, but you found that you hadn't been picking at your food much. Lester came down every so often, usually when he was done work. You could tell that he wasn't used to being in Vincent's workshop, but it was just to say hello, ask how you were. You gave him the same answers, even if they felt hollow on your tongue.

You'd asked him once if he knew what his brothers did, and he'd hesitated to reply. It'd told you all you needed to know, but you waited for him to admit it. He did, and you'd looked away. A town full of murderers and accomplices , you thought numbly to yourself. Well, it wasn't like the town was that full anyways , you added. You almost smiled at that thought, but immediately felt bad for making jokes about it. 

It explained a lot. Why Bo and Vincent hadn't wanted you to explore. Why they hadn't wanted to go to the police. Hell, part of you wondered what had happened if you had found out. Would you be a wax figure stuck somewhere? Forever frozen in whatever position Vincent put you in?

But what could you say? What could you do? You hadn't killed your ex out of self defense. Sure, he'd been antagonizing you, but that didn't mean he deserved to get murdered . And the Sinclair's killed anyone that came to their town. Well, almost everyone. If you went to the police, one thing was for sure. All of you would end up behind bars.

It didn't help that your knife had disappeared, the one you always carried inside your boot. You'd fallen asleep and it was gone, and you didn't truly care to ask. You knew what had happened to it, or you could imagine. They didn't want you to do anything rash, whether that involved yourself or them. Vincent didn't leave you alone either. He was at your beck and call, barely a few steps away for the entirety of the day. You appreciated it to some degree, but that didn't mean you would listen to him when he tried to coax you out of bed. You knew what they thought would happen. Leave you alone for too long and you might make a run for it. Or end it all. For awhile, those had seemed like the only two options.

You brought the blanket up closer to your face. It was a difficult situation. You weren't truly a prisoner here. It was moreso that you didn't really have the option to leave anymore. They weren't denying you it, it just wasn't a choice at all. Where could you go? Who could you talk to? You were sure if you went outside Ambrose, the confession would just spill out of your mouth. And, as much as you hated to admit it, the only people who understood were the Sinclair's. They were probably the only three people in the world that wouldn't judge you for what you'd done. And you couldn't kill yourself. You wouldn't give your ex the satisfaction. So, for three days, you'd pondered what else you could do. 

You sighed. You couldn't stare at the pipes anymore. If you did, you were sure you'd go insane. And, just like always, Vincent ended up always being your perfect distraction.

He was working on something you knew was for you. It was something to add to your collection up at the house, but you had only been up there a few times since what had happened in the House of Wax. Hell, you'd barely left the basement. You laid in Vincent's bed, trying to hold onto whatever string of sanity was left. You couldn't stand to be alone with Bo, at least now that you knew just how psychotic he really was. Vincent- Well, you knew he wasn't much better. But, you liked to imagine he was. It was the only way you could justify your continued attraction to him. 

You watched him for a moment, watching how he moved. His actions were sure and precise, practiced. He knew his craft and he knew how to make whatever he imagined inside his head. His hands were gentle too. They'd been treating you like you were made out of glass. And Vincent himself was patient. He didn't rush you or try to force you to be happy, tell you to cheer up like Bo did. He didn't expect you to put on a smile and be fine. He let you be upset, and let you take the time you needed. As you continued to stare, you realized a third option. You supposed it should've been obvious to you before.

You could stay.

No matter how crazy the Sinclair's were or how utterly insane what they did was, was there really a better option? You couldn't think of one. So, you lifted yourself to sit up, calling to the man that was sitting in front of his work table with sculpting tools in hand,

"Vincent?" You asked. Your voice was rough from underuse, and you cleared it when he looked over at you. He paused, holding the tool as he stared over at you. You motioned for him to come closer, and he was quick to abandon whatever he'd been working on. He crept over, stopping at the side of the bed until you motioned again. He climbed into the bed with you, curling up with you and letting you rest your head on his chest. You wrapped your arms around him, burying into his warmth. Finally, after a minute, you could feel yourself breaking. It became harder and harder to keep the pieces of yourself glued together, and when Vincent started petting your head you completely let go. Leaving your pieces for Vincent to fix.

[mistabullets]

i also want alucard to rail me ! could i perhaps suggest,,, alucard with a chubby s/o,,, as wholesome or nasty as you desire

A Taste of You

Characters: Alucard | Adrian Tepes x Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Summary: Alucard decides to show his love for you.

Content Warning: n/s/f/w, afab reader but neutral pronouns, chubby reader, virgin reader, reader is a witch, vaginal finger, slight blood drinking (he just accidentally nip your lips), slight virginity and corruption kink (???), and post season 3 but it’s quite fluffy so don’t worry

Note: There wasn’t any railing involved but you gave me a reason to write some indulgent smut with Alucard and for that, I appreciate you. 

Not SFW under cut ; 

You let out a quiet gasp when the dhampir’s careful lips meet the warm skin from the column of your neck, tensing slightly as it sends tingles down your spine. He laughs at your small reaction, finding it adorable; a lithe hand running down your side to ease the fluttering anxiety and reel you into his ghost kisses. “Relax, my dear… I just want to make you feel good.”

Considerate as always, you think, despite the growing erection brushing up against one of your thick thighs. He must feel uncomfortable to a degree since he is still in his trousers.

How odd it is, that fate led you to him.

You were a mere witch, hopping from town to town but never staying too long in fear that some close-minded individual would suspect your magical ability and report you to the church officials. However, the last particular town found out too soon of your sorcery. Before anyone could act and drag you to a stake to be tied up and burned, you packed your belongings and ran into the forests. You heard from the townsfolk how dangerous it was to roam those woods, especially at nighttime, that a particular vampire lived within the heart of it. However, you reasoned it must be some myth to scare the children or just something to make this dreadful town more interesting and have something to talk about.

Yet deeper into the greenwoods, the lingering smell of decaying death met your nostril. Again, you rationalized - this was the territory of wildlife. Perhaps it was a deer carcass nearby. Who knows? Now wasn’t the time to fret, as you heard voices bounce and echo from the trees, too far away but you could certainly pick up some words: witch, find, and a few curses. Without properly analyzing your surroundings, you picked up the pace, not considering directions and ignoring the fact the putrid scent grew stronger the further you went.

You were stopped in your tracks by a blur of red and a thunk to your head. Before the waves of unconsciousness dazed you, you caught a brief glimpse of golden locks and a pale figure. Perhaps the villagers had gotten you; perhaps this was your angel to guide you toward heaven. But can a witch such as yourself go to heaven, especially if you dabbled in the dark arts?

Well, considering where you are, beneath a beautiful man who carried a merciful soul that you did not deserve… this is the closest to any celestial afterlife you’ll ever be. It took months, perhaps even a year, to mend the wounds of his heart. You recall the first couple months here, living behind the closed doors of Castlevania. Alucard, who happened to be dhampir son of the late Dracula, wasn’t too enthusiastic about allowing another soul to inhabit, especially after being alone for nearly half a year. While you were polite to never ask questions, you eventually put two and two together upon catching a glimpse of the scar, from recent times, forever ingrained into his porcelain skin. No wonder he longed for some privacy. For they were a reminder of loss and betrayal, the day when he saw humanity’s corruption.

And while he’ll never fully forget the sin they committed, he came to realize his lapse of judgment. It stemmed from the unmerited tribulation - he was quick to close off his heart, not properly allowing himself grief, to process the trauma he’s been through.

But seeing how you still forgive the humans and long to aid them, despite them killing your coven, gradually made him realize how foolish he has been. He was reminded of his mother’s wisdom; how she was willing to be scrutinized by the church if it meant she could help others and spread her nurturing knowledge. You were willing to help those in need, despite the hardships humanity has gifted you. While it certainly took time, he was beginning to open his heart to you… and in return, you were showing him your vulnerability, culminating into this moment: you and Alucard, glowing under the moonlight, exploring each other’s bodies like new lands.

He kisses your plush lips again, mindful of his incisors. His hands find your plump breasts, giving them an experimental squeeze, relishing in the breathless gasp your voice elicits. Adrian withdraws himself from your mouth, savoring the taste of your lips; he wants to smother them, hear the symphony he can pull from you, but he wants to drink in your blushing form and the plush curves of your flesh against his muscled figure. The dhampir sees you as a goddess undeserving of him yet here you are, sprawled out and waiting for his next move. You find yourself more flustered than before, small and fragile beneath his resplendent eyes. His visage softens, noticing the doubt casting your lovely face. Adrian leans back down, resting his head against the middle of your breasts, the blood rushing through your veins sounding delicious. But oh, while your blood may be sweet, he wants to try the appetizers first.

“God, you are the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen,” he declares, lips peppering kisses on one of your breasts before finding a nipple to feast on. A shaky moan leaves your lips, your hands find themselves in his hair. Alucard makes sure to give each of your pert buds attention; suckling them in between his lips and gently pinching the sensitive skin with his lithe fingers. Your mind is swirling - how painful the virginal heat is between your legs, how merciful yet ruthless his touch is, how patient this angelic man is despite his own carnal desire, and how you love it and you love him. He allows your breasts to rest from the overstimulation; kisses explore your collarbone and neck while a curious hand searches for the heat radiating at the apex of your thighs. You whimper please at the feel of his hand against your now damp undergarment and your lover can’t help but chuckle at your eagerness. “Patience, my love.”

He rewards you a kiss, brushing strands of your hair away from your forehead. Your face is burning from how intently the dhampir observes each time your visage twists in newfound pleasure. A finger rubs up against your clothed slit, wishing to draw out more of your juices and lewd noises. “A-Adrian, please… t-touch me, please.”

“I am, my treasure,” he teases with amusement.

You whine, exasperated, and Alucard gives a playful grin. He understands what you mean but it’s fun to tease. Looking into your blown-out pupils, he asks for silent permission and you already know what he wants. You awkwardly lift up your hips so he can pull down your undergarments with ease. Once off, his fingers make contact with your naked mound, collecting the slick pooling from your heart and down your thighs. You’re eager to spread your legs further apart, allowing him access to more. He sighs, pride swelling how he is able to make you fall apart so quickly. After some painful slow strokes of your exposed slit, Alucard’s finger experimentally rubs your bundle of nerves, relishing in the moan of his name and how desperate yet demure it rings. Finding the entrance to your maidenhood with ease, he easily slips his index finger and god, that wail sounds ethereal. The dhampir sees how your entire form is quivering, from the tension and nerves, and he’s quick to litter your body with kisses and lovebites to distract your melting brain. You giggle a bit when a strand of his golden locks brushes against a ticklish spot and he’s glad to know you’re easing into his touch.

Adrian tentatively curls his finger in a come here motion - and after a few strokes, he finds that spot that makes your toes curl and makes you moan even louder. Your mind is foggy but you’re feeling confident, enjoying the way your lover is making you come undone - you plead for more. And so he adds another digit to your tight heat and repeats the same motion and experimenting more; scissoring your insides, burying his digits to the knuckle, and alternating these motions. You’re almost at the peak, he sees - with how your moans grow in volume, you’re bucking into his touch, and your e/c eyes swim in lust and adoration. His fingers pick up the pace, drinking in your divine image: soft and thick thighs spreading out more, lightning shape stretch marks adorning your cute belly and hips, and your chubby face contorting in the madness of pleasure as you imagine what his cock would feel like inside of you.

Wishing to relinquish you of this torture, he presses his thumb up against your clit and you’re seeing stars speckle your vision as strange pressure builds higher and higher to the cliff of your undoing. “A-Adrian, i-it’s too much! I-I’m going to, a-ahh--!”

Alucard rubs faster and harsher and thrust his fingers deeper - like he wants to feel every inch of the textured insides of your pussy. His forehead comes to rest on yours to admire your hungry eyes. Before you tumble from your peak, his lips crash against yours to consume the lovely noises, desperate and needy, and he accidentally bites your lips; but god, is your blood even sweeter in the glow of your climax. You didn’t even realize he’s grinding his groin against the mattress, too caught up the new sensation of Adrian’s fingers fucking your womanhood. If you could read minds, could you handle the extent of his ardor for you, a bashful witch? After seeing you wonderfully fall from your summit, Adrian truly believes he would die if he didn’t have more of you, if he couldn’t hear more of those needy keens, if he couldn’t pound you into oblivion, if he couldn’t--

His focus shifts from his lewd imagination to your glowing visage. From the dazed glisten of your eyes and the soft smile plastering your blood-smeared lips, Adrian could wait. Carefully, he pulls his fingers out of your sopping core, curiously bringing them up to his lips and lapping up the juices (much to your embarrassment), Alucard can’t help but laugh at your burning red face, planting his lips against yours and drinking up the remaining blood (the metallic taste of it combined with your juices made for a good combo).

“Do you need a break before we get to the main course, my beloved?”

He smiles at your cute face, steam particularly coming out of your ears.

But he smiles wider when you say no.

[luxekook]

chapter one.

⇥ pairing: jungkook x reader; eventual bts/ot7 x reader

⇥ genre: college au with fluff, smut & angst

⇥ summary: a series in which the reader meets (and falls for) seven members of the Beta Tau Sigma (BTS) fraternity

⇥ word count: 2.3k

⇥ warnings: 18+, cursing, dirty talk, kissing, hickies, drinking, tatted jungkook, nipple piercings

© luxekook. please do not repost, modify, edit or translate.

characters | prologue | one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine

Chapter One

Fall of Junior Year – 8:57am

I curse every single decision that has brought me to this very moment as I power-walk across campus, sweating under the already blistering sun. Campus in August could easily be compared to a swamp given the amount of unearthly humidity, and I'm pretty sure I currently qualified as the local swamp thing.

The only positive feature in my morning has been the table of free coffee and doughnuts staffed by Student Government. The first day of the fall semester always seems to be accompanied by frantically wide-eyed freshmen and celebratory freebies. However, air conditioning is the only thing I would be celebrating today as I finally reach Tyson Hall – the destination of my 9:00am class.

As I rush to my classroom with one minute to spare, I slump into a seat in the far corner – my preferred location for people-watching out of the large windows and for getting away with doing homework for other classes.

Familiar faces surround me, an unsurprising observation given that this is our mandatory research seminar as psychology majors. I notice my friend Jenni sitting in the opposite corner, eyes glued to her phone screen.

Opening my laptop, I shoot her a text to come sit with me. Her head whips up, black braids moving every which way as she immediately piles up her things and hustles over, “(y/n), I forgot you were in this seminar! I just switched over from quantitative research because I couldn’t take any more statistics – or Dr. Harding.”

Dr. Harding is the dean of the psychology department and has been teaching here for ages. Feared by most psychology students for his tough grading and intimidating persona, he’s actually a huge softie – something I discovered by going to his office hours and seeing all 85 pictures of his grandchildren hanging throughout the room.

“He’s not that bad, Jen.”

She scoffs, “You would say that because you got an A in statistics like some sort of wizard. Besides, Dr. Newman is so much nicer.”

Jenni has an excellent point. Dr. Newman is the main reason I chose this seminar. As one of the most respected researchers at our university, she’s known for her qualitative studies on gender across cultures. I consider Dr. Newman to be a real badass woman and I lowkey stan her.

I turn to reply, but Dr. Newman begins taking attendance and class begins.

Fifty minutes later, Jenni practically drags me out of the classroom, “I cannot believe she kept us the whole 50 minutes. Is she aware that it’s syllabus week? It’s practically law to just read over the syllabus and then dismiss class. This is outrageous– (y/n), are you even listening?”

“Hmm?” I totally had tuned her out, focusing on the number of students flooding the quad. I had missed this – the rush of students heading to class, the yells of people greeting each other from entirely too far away, the buzz of excitement over potential parties…

“Unbelievable. How did I forget you have this whole weird-ass feminist crush on her?” Jenni forges forth, “It doesn’t matter. What are you doing tonight? You’re going out with us, right? Luna and I want to go to Hannigan’s.”

Since the three of us had all turned 21 over the summer, we finally could legally go to the bars in town. Hannigan’s currently holds the top spot on the list of bars that most of the upperclassman frequent. It’s a popular Irish pub downtown known for its cheap beer and mixed drinks.

It’s also BTS’s unofficial hangout – a fact that makes me slightly uneasy. After learning who the higher-ups are in BTS, I have taken to avoiding them like the plague. It was a relatively easy thing to do since the spring semester tended to be less focused on rushing and recruiting for fraternities and sororities.

But now it’s rush season, and I’m pretty much fucked. There will be no avoiding seeing BTS’s president Kim Namjoon out recruiting with his vice president Min Yoongi and his social chair Jung Hoseok. There will also be no avoiding pledge master Taehyung leading around new BTS pledges like a mother duckling. And don’t even get me started on how Kim Seokjin, Park Jimin and Jeon Jungkook will be popping up everywhere to advertise the latest BTS bash.

Sighing, I figure that the chances of actually bumping into them at the bar will be slim, given that it will most likely be super crowded and I can easily blend in.

I turn to Jenni as we keep walking towards our next classes, “Yeah, I’ll go to Hannigan’s. Are you going to come over to get ready at our place?”

Luna and I had moved into a cute little off-campus apartment over the summer. As it turned out, it’s cheaper to live off-campus than on-campus if you look hard enough. We also had it pretty good location-wise being just a few short blocks from both campus and downtown.

“Yes!” Jenni replies, slowing to a stop out front of the science building, “I’ll be over around 8 with tequila. I’ll text you later. I’ve got to go to neuro-psych lab now,” she rolls her eyes, “Hopefully we won’t be kept the whole time.”

Waving, we part ways, and I shake my head.

Tequila never leads to anything good.

Hannigan’s – 10:54pm

Fate seems to be on my side for once in my life. As soon as Luna, Jenni and I walk into Hannigan’s, my eyes are drawn to the back table where the BTS usually sits. It’s empty.

It’s practically an unspoken rule that no one else can sit there, and even though the bar is packed with all other tables accounted for, that one remains vacant – and for good reason.

Greek life essentially has a cult following around here. The Greeks provide status for those who are into that whole exclusivity thing. They also provide the best parties because of the size of their houses and because the university will never complain about one of their best sources of revenue.

I didn’t to rush a sorority way back in freshman year because I couldn’t feasibly afford it. The dues were way out of my price range, considering I was already paying for my education on my own. Luna, on the other hand, is in Epsilon Xi Delta (EXID) and consistently makes me and Jenni tag along to different Greek parties with her.

"Come on, bitches! Let's get some drinks," Jenni drags me and Luna through the packed room towards the bar that is already encircled by a crowd of thirsty students.

Tonight’s plan is simple – stick together, have fun, scope out cute seniors. Having already taken some shots before we left (saving that coin), we’re definitely feeling ourselves, flaunting our outfits like we didn’t spend a good hour picking them out earlier.

I had settled on a black t-shirt dress with a checkered flannel tied around the waist and some black Doc Martens. Luna and Jenni had tried to convince me to wear heels with them, but I knew syllabus week was a marathon – not a sprint. My feet would thank me later, and theirs would be crying.

As the bartender slides us our beers, the opening beats of Cocky AF by our badass queen Megan Thee Stallion blast through the speakers dispersed throughout the bar. Turning immediately to each other, we clink our beers together, take a sip, and head to the makeshift dance floor.

We squeeze and push our way through the masses until we reach a spot towards the back where the crowd has thinned out a little more. Within seconds, we’re in motion, hips swaying in time to Megan saying ‘bitch, I look good and you know that’.

Shaking out my hair, I get in the zone and lose count of how many songs we dance to. Eventually, our beers empty and Luna turns to me, “Another?" She accompanies her shouted question with an unnecessary charade of shot-gunning a beer in case I couldn’t hear her. I roll my eyes, laughing while I nod in response.

“Save our spot!” Jenni yells and disappears into the crowd of dancers with Luna towards the bar.

I continue dancing on my own. Swaying my hips, I decide to put my hair up to try to cool off a little in the sweltering bar. The music shifts into a new song, this one slower, more seductive, a favorite of mine – Lost in the Fire featuring The Weeknd.

As Abel’s angelic voice flows over me, a pair of hands slide over my hips from behind me. I start to pull away, but then I notice – the hands are tattooed. And for some reason, that hot little fact makes me relax into the large body behind me.

Those tattooed hands tug me back even more, bringing me flush against him as he falls into time with my movements. God, this guy can dance – a rarity these days.

His body is all hard muscle and heated skin. His mouth is hot against my neck, alternating between kissing, sucking, and biting. My skin buzzes. Fuck, I haven’t felt this way since–

Turning my head slightly, I can make out the vague outline him and it confirms my sinking suspicion... He’s a BTS boy.

"Hey, noona," he murmurs in my ear, his lips brushing over it as he speaks.

Fuck my life, I think as I shiver involuntarily in response. Spinning to face one of Satan’s henchmen, I toss my ponytail over my shoulder and jut a hip out in both defiance and defense. But really nothing could have prepared me for the sight of Jeon fucking Jungkook, the golden boy of BTS.

He somehow looks like he’s gotten even bigger since the last I saw him playing pong against Taehyung at that party – information that I cannot even comprehend. His left arm is completely tattooed, along with a few smaller ones dotting his hands. I glare at them, blaming those hands for throwing me off.

“Like them?” Jungkook waves his fingers in front of my narrowed eyes, “I got them this summer.” Smirking lazily, Jungkook makes his own perusal of me – taking extra time along the way.

His jaw flexes as his eyes turn molten, “You’re killing me, noona. Tae didn’t mention…” He trails off, swallowing hard.

I follow his gaze. Oh fuck. I had forgotten I decided to forego a regular bra tonight because I wanted to show off my piercings. Just having a thin bralette under my dress, my pierced nipples are definitely noticeable under Jungkook’s heavy stare.

Refusing to give into him, I square my shoulders, “Yeah, I got them this summer, too. But, I don’t see how that’s either your or Taehyung’s business.”

At my words, Jungkook rips his eyes away from my tits to finally meet my own eyes again, “Oh, but it really is our business. Tae said we’d like you and I agree.”

His voice is low and rough, and I swear I can feel it washing over my body, making all of my synapses fire in response.

“We?” I choked out. In full panic mode, I spin and try to leave, but I barely make it a foot away before getting stopped by a now-familiar tattooed hand wrapped around my wrist.

Luckily, a crashing sound echoes from the back table where the other BTS boys must be, and Jungkook lets out a string of curses, “Fucking hell, listen I have to go make sure no one’s hurt, or Joon will kill me. Stay here, okay? I’m not done with you, (y/n).”

His hand rushes up to the nape of my neck, pulling me into him. Our lips fuse together in a brutally hot kiss, his tongue slipping against my bottom lip for a fraction of a second.

And then he’s gone – disappearing rapidly through the fray to manage whatever trouble his frat has gotten into.

I stand there, shaking fingers on my lips wondering what the actual fuck just happened.

“Hey, sorry we took so long! This bitch cut in front of us and I swear she ordered for the entire fucking population of North America—”

Luna smacks Jenni’s arm, cutting her off, “You okay, (y/n)?” Luna peers closer at me, “Holy shit, is that a hickey?  We were only gone for 10 minutes!”

My hand flies to my neck as both Jenni and Luna grab me, dragging me to the slightly quieter back alley of the bar. As they conduct the second Spanish Inquisition, I spill the details on what happened.

After a moment of silence following my explanation, they both start talking at once:

→ Jenni: “Hell yes, girl, go off! Jeon Jungkook is fine as fuck…” → Luna: “(y/f/n) (y/m/n) (y/l/n), have you lost your damn mind…”

→ Jenni: “…I’d hit that in a heartbeat. I’m so proud!” → Luna: “…Do you not remember last semester? Are you high? Oh my GOD, did he drug you?!”

“Stop!” I slap a hand over each of their mouths, “Jesus, Mary and Joseph, you guys are impossible. I am not ‘hitting’ anything, and, no, he did not fucking drug me.”

Sighing, I continue, “It was a lapse in judgement, okay? I remember last semester more than anyone, but he’s just so powerful and I don’t seem to have any common sense around BTS.”

I take my hands away from their mouths and immediately Jenni asks, “Wait, what happened last semester?”

Luna slings an arm around my shoulder, “Come on, let’s go get pizza and a six-pack from Ralph’s. We can go out another night this week.”

“Take-out from Ralph’s?” Jenni’s eyes widen comically, “This must be major tea. Let’s go.”

Instinctively, we clink our beers together for the second time that night and chug the remainder of our bottles in true broke bitch fashion (never leave paid-for beer behind).

With that, we trek back through the door and out of the bar. We finish our night filling in Jenni with our less than savory experience with the infamous BTS fraternity last semester.

But, as I lay in bed for the night, I can’t help but wonder if Jungkook had looked for me that night after I left… Or if he told Taehyung...

taglist (message me to be added):

@catsandstrawberries​ @h5naaa​

[secreteddsworldblog]

Can I Buy You A Drink?

Eduardo x M!reader

You really don't know how you thought going to a bar to drink Diet Cola all alone was a good idea. Though you're not really in the right set of mind to make reasonable choices.

 You've recently had a mutual break up from a long term relationship. Years, not petty months, walked out the door. Regardless if you were the one who brought up the conversation when confronting your Ex about the change of mannerism towards you it still hurt. You still felt like the Dumpy. 

Even a month now since the night it ended you still felt an overwhelming sense of loss. You're no stranger to the feeling though. You've actually had worse relationships you rather not think about unless you want to go into a fit of sobs between Cola sips. 

"Another diet cola please," you had already gone through a few cans but didn't want to stop. It's your favorite drink. Why not indulge in things to make yourself better? You're actually really picky with what you drink. Nothing makes it past your lips unless its water, milk, and Cola. 

"You've had enough, sir!" The bartender was in the middle of drying a wet drinking glass with a yellowed white rag. 

How dare he deny you, you're a paying customer, and in pain, "I know when to stop!"

From just the right distance away to hear the exchange sat Eduardo who was had been deep in thought about his own moarning. He always considered himself a tough man, the definition of machismo, someone who can't be knocked down. 

Many would say he has no right to feel the way he does after how he behaved before the life changing event he had to go through. But sometimes it takes a rude awakening to trigger a well needed over due self reflection and change in character. 

Eduardo's head perked up the moment he heard a man ask for another diet cola. Who orders diet cola at a bar? Besides him that is. If someone can enjoy a diet cola enough to drink it everywhere then obviously it's someone with good taste like him.

Temporarily getting out of his own head he got up and reached the counter, " Bartender, I DEMAND you bring a pair of diet colas for my friend and I!" 

"FINE, Mr Eduardo," the bartender slammed the glass he was working on down and went to get the cold refreshments firmly holding them out, "But this is all either of you is getting tonight."

"Whatever," Eduardo passed one of the cans over to you, "Cheers!"

You'd be lying if you said you didn't feel a little bit of second AND first hand embaressment. It's not everyday a cute rando just comes up and makes somewhat of a scene for you. You have a feeling he's the kind of guy who calls out underpaid fast food joint employees when they put pickles in his friends bugers when they asked for none. 

With the sound of a 'Tink' from cans tapping you lightened up a little. It would do you some good to know new people. Not in a thottie way. You've had to move  homes for a fresh start, staying in that house with the memories were only going to make things harder for you to recover from, so you're actually in unknown territory.  

"So what's a guy like you doing drinking cola all alone?" Eduardo glaced at you from the corner of his eyes still letting the diet cola can hover next to his lips after the first sip. You didn't know what he meant by 'a guy like you'. Though you weren't the most traditionally masculine looking bloke at the bar compared to him. You wouldn't go as far as calling yourself an E-boy but you're definetly decked out in more of a casual alternative attire. Some would call you a pretty boy, like your Ex before he stopped-

"Probably for the same reason you are?" It was strange to see someone else drinking the same thing alone- Unless this is normal for a guy like him. He didn't look like a traditional loner but weirdos come in all sorts of flavors. You knew that fairly well. 

Other broken souls in the bar are getting properly drunk and a man out with the boys would only drink non-alcoholic beverages if he's the designated driver.

"I see... You come here often?" He lowered his drink to have his other arm reach over to scratch the back of his head. Eyes avoiding yours. 

"No. I'm fairly new 'round these parts," You paused for a second deciding to say something risky, "Do you want me to come here often?" A little flirting never hurt anyone. It might be too soon to get back on the sattle but you weren't looking for anything serious any time soon nor were you planning to go far while you're still healing. You just miss being who you used to be before devoting yourself to you Ex. Your confidence wasn't always real but you'd love to go back to being the cocky flirts you used to be. Seeing just how many people call fall for you knowing you can have absolutely anyone. 

Eduardo seemed to almost spit his drink seeing his subtle attempt at hitting on you be returned. "A-Are you serious?" His eyes widened a little looking at you. He must have been on the market and unsuccesful for quite some time hm? He hadn't been seen in a serious relationship since the one with his own Ex, Laurel. 

"Why wouldn't I be?" You flex your classic side smirl and eyebrow raise. You might be a little rusty and you could use some practice in the mirror before trying that on anyone else.

Eduardo seem to have trouble thinking of what to say next only to be saved by his phone ringing, "S'cuse me, I have to take this-". On his phone Mark's icon and name popped up. 

Mark had it together and seemed to have taken the loss a lot better than Eduardo. He was the more mature one of the trio and because of that he took it upon himself to look after eduardo  remaining roommates with him. 

As Eduardo went to a less crowded corner of the bar you checked your own phone. 

You had roommates of your own. Some pals who ARE locals of this town. One of them even owns a music shop a few blocks form the bar. You couldn't trust yourself to exist alone after the break up so they were nice enough to let you move in as long as you helped around the store and did you part of house chores. 

You scoffed at the text from Kasey the other roommate who has an online business and likes to call himself an 'influencer.' 

[Kasey]: Are you still being a lil bitch baby? Where are you? Bill and I are going to lock you out of the house if you stay out late again.

With a roll of your eyes you respond back saying you'll be home in a bit. Even though they were nice enough to take you in the dynamic between the three could be considered playfully rude but tipping too close over the line into toxic. Kasey could say 'Fuck you' and you could say 'Eat my ass' then go out for a movie. 

"Sorry about that. My roommate was checking up on me". Eduardo sat back down looking at your face wondering why you looked peeved. 

Rent must be terrible in this town. It seemed everyone had a roommate. "That's fine. So were mine. I have to split actually-" You got up slyly putting your coat jacket on waiting to see if the man really was interested in you enough to say anything about seeing you again.

"O-Oh wait. How often are you thinking of coming by this spot?" Eduardo didn't have many people to see when he left home. Aside from a stiff friendship with Tom. Since the incident they've bonded over their hatred for Tord. They took turns doing each other's interests like watching a sporting event when it's Eduardo's turn to pick the activity or going to a concert when it was Tom's night. It would usually end in some fight over bashing each others choices but they always silently made up and made plans for another night. 

"Mmmm. I don't know really," it was the truth. Even if you were to say what days you'd potentially show up it wasn't for sure. You'd play hard to get but this could become a good friendship. Someone who isn't calling you slurs, reclaimable between you and your roommates among themselves of course, and someone who might actually like you. "Here, let me save my number in you phone-" You reach out placing you hand on his forarm that held the phone testing to see if he'd flinch or push you away from the gentle touch. 

Eduardo felt goosebumps from around you touch. You could have sworn you saw a hint of green blush on his face. No one really touches him besides Mark when he pats Eduardo on the back when he things he needs it. "S-sure". 

You glided your hand from where it was to his hands sliding the phone out from his grasp. Your brain did a buffer effect when seeing the person that was his lock screen. A guy with small eyes, light brown hair, and blue button up. Who was this? This better not be some unnamed boyfriend. You didn't take him for a cheater. You still saved your number on his phone but took a mental note not to flirt as much until you know for sure the guy was single. Even if it's just casual the last thing you want to be is a homewrecker. 

You handed the phone over back to him, "See ya." Okay, you can spare a wink before walking away from him. 

Eduardo sat there confused. That really happened. He really got someone's phone number. He took one last sip from his diet cola before setting down the money to pay for their drinks. 

Authors note:

What's up fellow LGBTs. I didn't see any xM!Reader content much less for Eddsworld charas so I took it upon myself to actually provide for any of the other losers who simp for Eduardo. Might do a love triangle down the line tho- 

[gorochanfanclub]

Little Things

Nishiki x Unanmed Female Character

Summary: Request from @kippkapp​ -  

Hi there! Could I request a fic (or HCs, either is fine) where Nishiki's s/o enjoys to pamper him love and affection?

Sometimes a small gesture can brighten a long, tiring, day. 

Contains: Fluff, a bit of angst, a singular curse word

A/N: Thank you all SO MUCH for 100 followers. It really means a lot to me that I’ve gained that much in just a short amount of time. Numbers really aren’t that important but the kindness and nice words I’ve received from other writers has meant the world to me! I hope you all enjoy this fic and the ones to come! Thank you @kippkapp​ for the suggestion and thank you all for following me!!

The rain had started to pick up halfway through his walk home. What started as a small pitter patter on the black pavement, barely felt on his skin, had turned into a steady fall of water, beginning to soak through the shoulder of his white suit and weigh him down. 

Hair sticking to his cheeks as he trudged through the streets, Nishiki kept wishing for the day to finally be over. Another long day of trying to keep his family together, worrying to death about Kiryu in prison, and living in fear someone would find out about what he had done had finally built up so much inside him, it took all of his power to not just collapse in the street, waiting for the rain to wash him away. 

Looking up to the second floor of his apartment complex, he sees a small, gold light shining through the window of the place he called home. A slight, tired, smile tugs at the edge of his lips, a small bit of pressure lifting off him, despite the rain making his clothes heavier by the minute. 

With weary legs, he climbs up the steps, feeling like he was climbing Mount Fuji in its entirety. Every step felt like it would be his last and he almost worried he didn’t have enough energy to finish his ascent. 

Finally and triumphantly making it to the top, he sighs, running a cold, wet, hand through his equally cold, wet, hair. Luckily, up here, on the balcony outside his apartment, there was some refuge from the rain. 

Walking up to his door, he rummages in his pockets, looking for his keys. He didn’t forget them back at the office did he? Are you fucking kidding me? He thinks as he huffs, silently berating himself for being so careless. 

Suddenly, before he even has the chance to knock, the door swings open violently. The wind it created caused his wet hair to sway slightly, his head darting up to see the smiling face in front of him. 

“Akira-chan,” she beams, “You’re finally home!” Pulling him in by the black cuff of his shirt, she shuts the door behind him, “I was getting worried you wouldn’t be home before the rain really picked up. You left your umbrella here again.” 

As Nishiki slips his shoes off, placing them gently next to hers, she notices the damp spots on his shoulders, darkening his white blazer to a dull gray. “Akria!” she worries, eyes wide. 

He looks up, eyes heavy with fatigue. A neat, black, eyebrow raises in response, “Yeah, hun?” She rushes behind him, slipping his suit coat off before he can protest, “Look at you, you’re soaked already.” Laying the wet fabric on her arm and walking out of the room she mutters to herself, “I know I should have made you take the umbrella.” 

Looking around, Nishiki can see not only had his girlfriend done some tidying up waiting for him, she’d boiled a pot of water too. On the counter next to the kettle she bought as a housewarming gift to him, set the tea and two cups for the both of them. 

She comes back into the room, a t-shirt and a fluffy towel replacing his jacket on her arm. The woman thrusts the items at Nishiki, mumbling with a bashful smile, “As cute as you look with your hair all wet, I’d hate for you to get sick, Akira-chan.” 

Hands like ice reach out to take the shirt and towel. With an equally bashful nod, he smiles, “Thanks, baby.” Gently drying his hair, the fabric muffling his words, he feels free to mutter, “You’re too good for me.” 

Clinking sounds from the kitchen pull him from his self pity, Nishiki dropping the towel on the nearest piece of furniture he could find. She calls to him from the counter, a beaming smile flashing him over her shoulder, “You want your tea like usual?” 

With a tilt of his head he walks up to inspect her work. Wrapping his arms firmly around her warm, dry, waist, he watches her pour the green powder into the cups of steaming liquid. “What’s my ‘usual’?” he questions with a laugh. 

His dry chuckle earned one from her in response, “You’re joking right?” craning her neck to look at him, she smirks, softly, “You like yours with extra froth.” 

The sparkle in her eyes at that moment seemed to intense at least threefold. The smoothness of her voice and the sincerity of her words captured Nishiki in a trance. He could feel her leaning back into his arms as they tightened around her ever so slightly.

He couldn’t even begin to quell the beating of his heart, either. A heat rose to his angular cheeks as he nodded, “Yeah… I do.” A pair of devilishly soft lips connect to his jaw and the heat becomes more prominent. “I… I didn’t think you’d remember,” he admits.

Looking down at her hands, he watches them prepare his tea, just the way he likes. How had she managed to keep such a small, insignificant, detail in that busy head of hers? Why was he worth remembering at all? 

It was no secret to anyone Nishiki didn’t garner respect from any person in this town. Oftentimes he felt like giving up, folding in half on the ground and waiting for the world to end his suffering. No one cared about him, no one would notice. Yet, something about the tea in front of him was beginning to make him think differently. 

After working up a Nishiki amount of foam at the top of his tea, she turns in his arms. With a soft, caring hand, she reaches out to his, grasping it gently. With her other, she places the warm porcelain into his palm, urging his fingers to take hold of it. 

Doing so, his eyes never once leave hers. Even in the dim light of their one bedroom apartment, they shone like stars. Gleaming, sparkling, and beaming with pure adoration… for him. They looked like warm pools of steaming hot springs water, so inviting and comforting. If he could, he’d swim in them forever. 

Bringing the tea to his lips, he tilts his head back, feeling the froth of the tea smooth over his tongue. It really was good. As the tea warmed his stomach, the thought put into it warmed his heart. 

Nishiki sets the porcelain cup back down on the counter, the sound of it clinking onto the wood echoing in the room. Wrapping his arms back around her, he pulls her close to him. His nose, still damp from the rain, buries into her hair. Hands splayed across her back, feeling the fuzzy fabric of her sweater, he sighs. 

A clench in his chest becomes prominent, as well as a stinging in his eyes. Nishiki chokes back the feeling, not wanting to add crying to an already horrible day. Feeling her hand reach up to grace the back of his head, he whispers to her, “I missed you so much today, you know that?” 

She chuckles, her chest vibrating against his in their soft embrace. “I missed you too, Akira-chan. I always miss you…” 

That last comment caused him to squeeze her just a little bit tighter, almost afraid that if he let go even a little, she would walk out of his arms and out of his life forever. Digging his fingers into her shirt, he prays the moment will never end. 

Gentle fingers begin to card through his hair, the sensation easing some of the tension in his shoulders. Leaning her head against his, she whispers, “Why don’t we take this to the futon, baby?” 

Nishiki leans back, nodding meekly before she takes his hand in hers, gracefully leading him to their bed in the corner of the room. It was already laid out and neatly made for the evening, his favorite set of night clothes folded on his pillow, waiting for him. 

She pulls him down, leaning up against the wall. He falls onto the soft cushion, his head resting in her lap. Glancing upwards, he is met with a sweet smile that makes him nearly melt into a puddle in her embrace. 

Repeating her action from moments ago, she begins swiping her hands through his slowly drying, silky, black locks. His eyes flutter closed for a moment, nearly purring at the movement of fingers against his scalp. 

Being in her arms felt like laying on a cloud, nothing in this world was more soft, more gentle, more calming than feeling her with him. It was smoother than the foam of vigorously whisked matcha. The aftertaste of the tea on his tongue was the sweet reminder of the love she harbored for him. Licking his lips, he smiles, remembering its earthy taste and frothy texture. 

“So…” she mutters, never once ceasing her hands, “You wanna talk about it?” 

He only hums, barely able to pull himself out of his trance. It was like she was a magic sorceress, and he was nowhere near strong enough to resist her spell. 

Her light laugh only solidified his thought as he silently swooned at the sound. “Akira-chan, baby, you don’t have to act all tough around me.” 

Finally, he turns over in her lap, resting the back of his head on her thigh to look at her better, “What do you mean?” 

Reaching up, a light knuckle traces down his cheek and across his jaw, tilting his chin up just a hair, “I could tell the second you walked into the door, something was wrong.” 

The gleam in her eyes seems to spark for a brief moment as she leans down, pressing her lips gently to his. Not able to resist himself, Nishiki holds her head to his, gripping her hair and deepening the kiss. Moving his warming lips against her, he feels the last bit of stress from the day float away, like the magic of her mouth had carried it off. 

Loosening his grip on her, he glides his palm down to her cheek, their faces only inches apart. As she regains her breath, the air tickles his nose, sending a comfortable shiver down his spine. “You know me so well, baby.” 

She holds his hand to her face, sandwiching his skin between hers, trying to capture the feeling of him on her. A warm smile spreads across her face as she sighs. 

She knew what he meant by that, what he had wanted to say. It was obvious from the grateful look in his eye to the way his thumb was dragging across her cheekbone. Instead of responding, she only nods, pressing her lips to his once more. 

If this was how every rainy day would end, Nishiki thought, then maybe he was going to start praying for more bad weather.

[darling-i-read-it]

Five More Minutes

Will Graham x reader

Word Count: 900

Warnings: bad days

Author’s Note: its been a tough panic attack day. Needed some will. Because i love will. (Edit: I wrote this like a month ago so I’m okay today!)

Summary: The reader has a bad day and Will comforts her

Genre: angst at the beginning but all around fluff

Song: krystal by matt maltese 

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director 

(not my gif)

Will looked at you quietly like you were about to break. You were such a fragile little thing, quiet and kind to everyone that you met. He loved you like you were the only thing he had ever been allowed to love which made him fiercely protective over you.

Anything that ever laid a hand on you was in his view. He wasn’t overbearing, not that you knew, but he also knew that sometimes you needed to be protected. Just like some days he needed you to protect him. It was simply factual and a reason your relationship worked as well as it did.

But now you looked distraught and like your soul was being ripped from your body. You wished you could just leave at that moment and Will had no idea why. It made him sick to his stomach.

“Darling?” he whispered and walked over to where you sat on the bed. You were on the edge of it, your head not even resting on the pillow as it usually would have been if you were anywhere near the bed. You looked up at him and wiped your eyes.

“Long day. Don’t worry about it.” 

Will pushed aside anything that could have made him not focus on you and sat beside you. The dogs even picked up on your mood as they crowded around you.

“What’s wrong?” he whispered. You shook your head.

“I don’t wanna talk about it.” He let out a soft sigh and nodded. He knew that feeling and he didn’t want to push it but he did want you to feel better. He put his arm around your shoulder and you put your head on his.

“Alright,” he muttered. “We’ll just sit.”

He made you feel better almost immediately. You kicked up your feet and he grabbed them, putting them over his lap and then helping you so that you were sitting on him. You buried your face in his neck and he held you like he would never let you go.

You were quiet for a long time and he was okay with that. As much as he wanted to fight whoever made you feel this way he more than anything just wanted to hold you. And that is what he did. 

“Will?” you whispered after a long while. He nodded, brushing your hair and getting the knots out.

“Yeah?” his voice was barely audible.

“I love you so much,” you told him. He let out a sigh of relief that you seemed to be doing a little bit better. Whatever was bothering you wouldn’t pass that quickly but the idea was that he would be able to get you distracted. It was looking like he succeeded.

“I love you too darling,” he whispered. You lifted your head off of his shoulder and looked into his blue eyes. A hand was brought up to his cheek where you rubbed his face softly as you examined him with artist eyes.

“You’re so handsome,” you whispered. He smiled a little bit at that. If your distraction happened to be his face he wasn’t going to complain about that.

“Thank you.” He brushed a piece of hair out of your face. “And you are gorgeous,” he promised. You smiled shyly. 

“Thank you.” 

“Do you want to talk about what was bothering you or should we just keep sitting here?” You shrugged, clasping your hands around his neck once again. 

“Are you hungry? Did you eat at work?” 

“I could eat but I’m not starving.”

“Do you wanna go out to eat?” 

“You wanna go out?”

You nodded. 

“I want a fresh start to the day.” He nodded and thought about the places that the two of you could go for a moment. There wasn’t anything for miles but once you got into town there was the basics.

“What are you in the mood for?”

“Whatever you’re in the mood for.” He scoffed and shook his head.

“That’s a cop out.” 

“No it’s strategic. Come on.”

“We could go to the steakhouse in town?” You nodded quickly, your smile returning which warmed his heart.

“They have really good desserts.” He nodded and then looked down at you, still sitting on him.

“If you wanna go we do have to get up,” he told you carefully. You shook your head.

“I don’t wanna get up.”

“But I can’t drive anywhere with you on my lap. I think the local police department would consider that distracted driving.”

“I’ll pay them off.”

“The workers at the steakhouse might think we’re on our honeymoon.” You scoffed.

“In Toronto?” He shrugged.

“Sure. Some people have different tastes than you, don’t bash that.” You nodded, smiling gently before putting your head back on his shoulder.

“Five more minutes,” you said, your voice back to the whisper. He nodded and went back to drawing circles in your back.

“Five more minutes.”

[monstersandmaw]

Mute male siren x female reader (nsfw)

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

This is a tier reward for a lovely patron who wanted a siren who's never been able to use his voice, and is thus treated poorly by his own kind for being 'useless' in their eyes. Hope you enjoy!

It’s been up on my Patreon for a while now, so if you want to have access to stories before they go up on Tumblr, plus a number of exclusive rewards, access to our Discord server, polls, artwork, character concepts, etc. then head on over and check it out!

___

It was the eerie melody - almost more of a feeling in your chest than a sound in your ears - that drew you out onto the jetty from the beach where you’d been walking barefoot, flip-flops dangling from the fingers of one hand. You knew about the shoal of sirens who lived and hunted off the reef that guarded Starfall Bay, but you’d never seen them; they didn’t come too close to shore very often after all, preferring the vast open waters of the channel beyond.

Something about their song that afternoon seemed harsh, cruel, despite the plainchant beauty of it and a tear spilled from your eye before you’d even noticed it forming. The song faded as the sirens clearly dived back down again, and it left you strangely hollow. Humans were far from immune to the hunting calls and songs of those hauntingly strange creatures, and in the silent wake of their absence, you found yourself humming softly. The tune was a cheerful one as you tried to rally your spirits a little.

Squinting against the reflections of the strong summer sun against the rippling water, you clambered down to sit on the edge of the dock so that you could dangle your feet in the cool, clear water. A little crab scuttled around in the rocks beneath the jetty’s pilings, minding its own business, and you watched him for a bit. As the hairs on your arms prickled suddenly, you looked up and found that you were not alone.

Lying half slumped over a nearby rock which had been smoothed by the constant caress of the sea was a creature that was unmistakably a siren. You frowned, wondering what they could be doing just metres from the shoreline, and half-hauled out of the water. Something about their size and shape suggested that they were male, and you stared openly at the stunning colours of his tail and upper body. The thick muscle was covered with inky blue scales which were in turn dotted here and there with pearlescent scales. It brought to mind the clearest of night skies. The fan of his tail was feathered and spread out in the water behind him, while his upper body was smooth and free of scales. His skin there, however, was a dark blue-grey, and he had little fins of iridescent blue at his elbows. Plastered to his head and hanging halfway down his back, his hair was black as an oil slick, and he stared at you with huge, dolorous, sapphire eyes, blinking slowly.

“Hi,” you called, waving. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a siren up here before. Do you come here a lot?”

He waved back, somewhat hesitantly, and then gestured with a clawed hand at his throat, opening his mouth silently.

“Oh,” you said. “You don’t speak…? Is that right?”

In answer, he gave a slow, sad nod, those bright, completely blue eyes turning down to stare at a spot of vivid green seaweed on the rock.

Something about his dejected posture made you keep talking, so you asked, “Do you know Sign?”

His head jerked back up at that and he tilted it curiously to one side in a silent question.

“You know, Sign Language?” you asked. “It’s what people who can’t hear or talk - or sometimes both - use to communicate. They use their hands.”

The siren froze but his lips parted in soft astonishment, eyes wide with wonder. He clearly hadn’t known that there were other ways of expressing himself, and your heart twisted at the anguish in his storm-blue eyes.

“My friend teaches it,” you went on, thinking on your feet. “I don’t know it myself, but if you’d like to learn, I’m sure I can ask him for you.”

He nodded emphatically but then went still again.

“What? What’s wrong?”

He made an empty kind of cough, mouth opening in an unvoiced hiss of frustration - more of a choke, really - flashing razor sharp teeth. Then he looked back at you and rubbed his thumb against his fingertips in the gesture that said ‘money’ almost the world over. He’d clearly been around landfolk often enough to have picked that one up.

Waggling your legs slowly through the water as you thought, you pouted and then said, “I can ask if he’d be willing to help out anyway… He’s the kind of guy that would do that.”

The hope that kindled in those sad eyes nearly tore your chest in two.

“I’ll ask him right now. Hang on.”

One quick text later and Jera was agreeing to come down to the beach in ten minutes to meet the siren. The bright green of the lizardfolk’s tail seemed to fascinate your siren, and the two of them seemed to hit it off almost immediately. You couldn’t help but notice the way he flinched away though whenever either of you made a sudden gesture or raised your voices - even to laugh - and as you and Jera made your way back up the beach after promising to return the next morning, your friend voiced his concerns.

“For a siren to have no voice…” he muttered darkly. “He must be the lowest of the low… he…”

“He seems to desperate to communicate,” you commented.

Jera shook his head and made a soft growl like an alligator. “It’s more than that. They use their voices for everything: hunting, mating, socialising… Without that, he… he has no role, no function.”

Your heart ached for him and you said, “You mind if I sit in on the lessons too? That way he’s got me to talk to as well…”

“I kind of assumed you’d want that anyway,” Jera grinned. “We’ll start tomorrow.”

Over the next three weeks, you and Jera spent hours down at the shore with the siren. He was literate as it turned out, and at the start of your first lesson he wrote his name with a talon in the hard, wet sand.

“Ilta,” Jera repeated, looking up at him. “That means ‘evening’,” he added, and both of you eyed the starry night sky of Ilta’s tail.

“Appropriate,” you grinned and Ilta blushed darker. His face was so sharply defined, his features so intense and clearly belonging to a predator, that to see him turn a little softer sent a thrill through you.

When he saw the way you smiled, he signed, “Thank you,” with a hesitant and bashful hand.

One morning perhaps a month into your daily lessons, as you hurried through the town, with your heart fluttering and your chest light with excitement to see him again, your phone buzzed and you paused at the harbour to read the text.

Jera: Hey, I can’t make it today - something’s come up and they need me to cover for another member of staff at school. Sorry! x

You replied that it was fine, and that you and Ilta could practise together anyway. However, he wasn’t there when you got to your usual meeting spot in the cove, and a stab of worry hit you like a hammer blow. Eventually, after thirty long minutes of pacing the sand and staring at the water, the surface of the sea rippled in a rush of bubbles, and you saw Ilta’s dark tail propelling him towards you.

“Hey,” you called, waving to him, but when you saw how dejected he looked, how broken down, you knelt in the water, heedless of the splashing waves, and held out your arms to him. “Come here,” you murmured.

He lay in your lap, his chest heaving silently, and he flung his lean, muscular arms around your waist. Stroking his wet hair seemed to calm him and after a moment you felt him shiver. “Ilta, what happened?” you asked softly, but he only tightened his grip on you and buried his face from sight. “Ok, it’s ok,” you crooned. “I’m here.”

After a while, you recalled something that Jera had said about song being so important to the everyday life of a siren, and you began to hum quietly. It was the tune you’d sung on the day you’d first met him; a variation of a folk melody that had always cheered you up when your grandmother had sung it to you. Within seconds, his body went limp beneath your touch and he let his hands fall to the sand on either side of your thighs. He listened to you sing it through twice before he took a deep, shuddering breath, and then pushed himself upright.

His strange gaze met yours and he reached a lethally-clawed hand for your throat, his fingertips just brushing against your skin as you continued to sing. The urge to stop was overwhelming, but something made you keep humming. He blinked slowly, dark lips slightly parted, and he continued to touch you. Eventually he withdrew his hand and signed an embarrassed, “Thank you… I’m sorry.”

“What happened?” you asked, using your hands instead of your voice now.

He shuffled slightly, splashing you as he got comfortable enough that he could sit half-coiled up on himself, balanced and able to use both hands to speak. “Sorry,” he grinned as you wiped the droplets off your face with a quiet laugh. “I… I had a bad day with my shoal.”

“What do you mean?”

He rolled his eyes in frustration, though it wasn’t directed at you. “They use their voices on me,” he admitted.

“I don’t understand…” you said gently, movements of your hands small, quiet, faltering.

He turned his gaze back to meet yours and said, “You know how we hunt, right? We lure our prey in and then we use our voices to stun them. The sounds are…” he paused, frowning, searching for a way to explain it to you. “You know how some whales hunt by blasting sound at fish, making the air inside them expand or leaving them twitching and immobile…”

Horror slid into your stomach and you stared at him. “They did that to you?”

Ilta nodded. “They’ve always done it,” he went on. “But since I’ve been coming here and learning to talk another way, they’ve been doing it more and more. I… I can’t defend myself from that.”

“Can you leave?” you blurted aloud.

He shrugged. “Probably, but only if I stayed in and around the harbour. I learned to hunt in the shallows the way other merfolk do, with a spear of sharpened shell, but they think that’s hilarious of course.”

You made a disgusted noise in the back of your throat and he smiled broadly.

“What?”

“I love the noises you make,” he said. “Sometimes it’s just really cute and other times it’s beautiful. You have a lovely voice you know?”

You snorted softly, flushing. “You should have heard my grandmother. She was a real singer.”

“What’s a real singer?” he asked.

“You know, someone who sings for audiences… People pay to come and hear her…”

“Oh,” he said. “You sang for me though,” he added, his movements suddenly shrinking down to barely-there twitches of his hands. He’d picked it up much more quickly than you had, and you almost missed what he said.

“I couldn’t think of any other way to make you feel better,” you said shyly. “Did it work?”

“Yeah.” It was obvious that there was more to it though, but he didn’t go on immediately.

“Did… Did I do something wrong?” you asked, trying to catch his eye but he was too busy looking at a patch of bare sand just beside you.

He shook his head.

“Then what is it…?”

He swallowed and looked up at you at last. “It’s something a mate might do,” he said with trembling fingers. “No one has ever done anything like that for me before. I thought they never would… you know… because of…” he finished by gesturing weakly at his voiceless throat.

Feeling brave, you reached for his face and traced your thumb across his cheekbone. “Ilta,” you said and he brought his hand up to your throat again before dropping it so that he could speak.

“I love your voice,” he said. “I wish I could sing for you. I wish… I…” His hands fell limply into the water beside his tail and he sighed. Slowly he brought the fingers of his right hand up to his own throat, claws digging into the muscle of his neck. For a horrible moment you thought he might hurt himself, but he relaxed a second later and opened his mouth. As he exhaled, gills flaring briefly in his neck, he let out a wet choking sound. It was just air in his throat, with no vocalisation at all. “I can’t,” he signed. “I’ve never been able to…”

You took his hands in yours briefly once he’d stopped talking and kissed his knuckles gently. “I know it’s… it’s been awful for you,” you said as you continued to kiss his cold skin, “But… I think that not having a voice has made you partly who you are. I’m not saying I wouldn’t love you if you could sing, but… I love who you are, Ilta. I love spending time with you and listening to your stories about what it’s like underwater… I would never have known any of that if I hadn’t met you.”

Ilta listened to your words and stared at you, stunned, barely breathing. Eventually he slid his hands free of yours and asked, “You mean that?”

“Of course I do,” you reassured him.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked immediately, and when you nodded, he grinned again.

He knocked you back into the sand, pressing his whole body against yours, and it was as if his touch became his song. Silently, he sculpted his feelings for you against your skin, running his hands up your legs, his gills working as he became more and more aroused by the feel of you. He lifted your top and raked his teeth over your warm skin, making you gasp and cry out. The cove was mercifully pretty empty, with only a few people about, but they were a long way off.

His fluke flailed in the surf as he dragged himself up towards your shoulders, his body still pressed along yours. His long hair fell to one side and you looked up into his eyes. “You were going to kiss me,” you grinned.

Ilta’s answering smile was sharp and wicked but full of fondness, and he kissed you hard enough that you let out a low moan. One of his cold hands wrapped lightly around your throat as you continued to mewl and groan under his touch, and you knew that his touch was his answering song for you. Together, the two of you made a song of your own. When you said as much, he tipped his head back, almost in victory, and rutted up against your thigh, his scales suddenly slick where they touched you.

Ilta continued to touch you with reverence and wonder until you could no longer stop the sounds from falling from you. He took every single one of them and returned them with his body until the two of you were gasping together, sharing a breath as he spilled his release across your thighs, his forehead pressed to your collarbones and his fingers tangled in your hair.

With one final, soft, decadent moan, you kissed the top of his head and he signed something vague that might have been ‘thank you’ but you weren’t quite sure. To be fair though, you weren’t in a much better position to be articulating anything either.

—

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[ve1vetyoongi]

heart of gold (blades of ice) | ksj

Pairing: Seokjin x Reader

Genre: fluff, smut, angst.

Au: christmas!au, figure skater!oc, hockey player!seokjin

Word count: 20k

Summary: After a fall during figure skating practice dashes your dreams of competing at nationals, you vow to hang up your skates for good. That is until you cross paths with Kim Seokjin, captain of the ice hockey team, who is determined to get you back out on the rink and melt the ice in your heart.

Warnings: unprotected penetrative sex (don’t risk it protect ur biscuit kids), fingering, nipple play, handjobs, fluffy smut, mentions of panic/anxiety, cavity inducing fluff, all the cheesy Christmas cliches we know and love and also probably a number of terrible skating/ice hockey inaccuracies pls forgive me lol i tried.

Disclaimer: although some parts of this fic take place when the characters are teenagers, all smut takes place when they are legal, consenting adults!

A/N: hello 🥺 it’s been a while but i finally finished writing this fic for @jamaisjoons’ 12 days of bangtan collab! (link to be added bc tumblr sucks) I had so much fun writing something fluffy for a change (although there’s some angst in there too for all you sadists who ask me for more of that) and it really got me into the Christmas spirit this year so i rlly hope it can do the same for you 🥺🎄 a big merry Christmas to all of you guys, thank you for being here with me through 2019 and pls don’t forget to check out all the other amazing collab fics!! all the love hehe ~ 💞

You spot your best friend Seulgi sat on the bleachers immediately. Her red hair stands out like a sore thumb against the white glare of the campus ice rink.

It's mid November and the cold wind that whispers over your skin as you watch skaters glide past on the ice paints the tip of your nose a rosy pink, even with a scarf wrapped tightly around it. Seulgi doesn't seem bothered by the temperature, wearing nothing but a pale blue bodysuit and tights all while stuffing her feet into a pair of polished ice skates nonchalantly as you climb the steps.

Seulgi doesn't even have to look up to know it's you when you slump down beside her. You've been best friends since the age of five and she would recognise the frustrated sigh you let out beside her in an instant.

"What are you doing here?" Her voice quips, chastising enough to finally pull your eyes away from the rink. You don't respond, stubbornly slinging your chapped hands into your coat pocket and avoiding her gaze until you feel a gentle hand on your arm. "I thought you said you weren't going to torture yourself anymore, Y/N."

You finally turn to look at her. There's a flick of silver liner on her lids that sparkles like tiny snowflakes against her dark lashes. She looks like she belongs in one of those figure skating magazines you used to ponder over as a kid. Like she belongs here, belongs on the ice.

You belonged here too, once. Before the accident.

The accident. 

The accident that destroyed your dreams of competing as a professional skater. The one that every single competitive figure skater at the rink whispers about in the locker rooms when you aren't around. The accident that turned the looks of astonishment and wonder you used to receive as you whirled around the ice into nothing but half smiles and pity as you now stand beside it.

Seulgi is looking at you like that right now, her puckered bottom lip pulled between her teeth as she searches your face for any sign of brokenness. You focus on steadying the rise and fall of your breath, letting the ache that seems to permanently stab at your chest these days whenever you're reminded of just how much you miss skating float away with the wisps of condensation that leave your lips with every exhale of chilly air.

"Trying to stay away was worse," You shrug. "I like being close to the ice."

"That's what you said last week before you had a panic attack after I slipped in the middle of my routine," Seulgi crosses her arms over her chest. "What if it happens again?"

"I'm feeling better, really." You manage to look her in the eyes, attempting to sound as convincingly sincere as possible.

"Fine. But don't make me say I told you so." She tucks your hair behind your ear before she's distracted again. "Hey, don't look now but Jimin's heading this way!" Seulgi squeals, fixing her hair hurriedly. 

She crosses and uncrosses her legs before settling into a position she deems natural and alluring, though it just makes her look stiff. "Do I look okay?"

You let out a puff of laughter. Seulgi has been head over heels for Jimin for as long as you can remember. You disapprove for the most part since Jimin has a reputation for being a world renowned ass but what with her being the most envied figure skater at the rink after winning a gold medal at nationals and him being the top ranked ice hockey player on campus, it only seemed like a matter of time before they would "team up". And Seulgi seems determined to make it happen before the year is out.

You follow her gaze to where the ice hockey team are clambering out of the locker rooms, hoots of laughter echoing through the rink as they push and pull each other playfully in their wobbly skates.

Sure enough, it's Park Jimin who interrupts your inner dialogue as he skates over to the barrier, waving up at Seulgi who grabs you by the hand and pulls you down to rink beside her despite your grumbling. Moral support, she says.

"Seulgi!" His skates crunch against the ice as he swings to a perfect stop. "What's up?"

"Not much! This is my best friend, Y/N. I don't think you guys have met before—"

"I know who she is." Jimin looks you up and down. "Skater right?"

"Ex-skater." You correct him.

"Oh that's right." There's a glint in his eyes as he pretends to pout, tugging on his collar like he wants you to think he made a mistake. Everyone around here knows about the accident so it's hardly believable. Jimin knows that you don't like him. Is he trying to get under your skin? "Whoops."

"Anyway..." Seulgi swiftly interrupts the strangely tense staring contest going down between you and Jimin, hand curling around your forearm like she's afraid you might jump him or something.

Jimin's eyes snap back to Seulgi. "So, I've been meaning to ask. Would you be able to get free tickets for me and the guys for the Christmas party at the rink next week?"

You roll your eyes. So that's why he suddenly decided to come over here to talk to Seulgi. Jimin was known for picking up girls with his sweet bargaining talk and empty promises and dropping them when they no longer had anything to offer, and this seemed like another one of his tricks — after all, everyone knows that Seulgi's dad owns the town's biggest ice rink and that tickets for the annual Christmas parade are like gold dust to get your hands on.

Jimin flashes Seulgi one of his trademark pearly grins and you can see her panties practically drop as she nods eagerly, even despite the condescending look you give. Don't do it. You try to send the words with your brain waves or something but apparently thirteen years of friendship isn't strong enough to break down the barrier of Park Jimin infatuation.

"Of course! I'll add you to the guest list!"

You slap a palm to your forehead.

"Great! I guess you could call it a date..."

Jimin's sweet talking becomes too cavity inducing to bare so you resort to resting your chin in your palm and watching the hockey team play instead.

You've seen them practice here hundreds of times so it's no wonder the brand new player sat at the edge of the ice, doing up his skates alone in a number 33 jersey, stands out to you instantly.

The whistle blows and the game starts and you gasp when you see how easily and languidly he glides across the ice. "Who is that?"

Jimin follows your gaze, resting his elbows on the edge of the rink just in time to watch the mystery player slide past his opponent before sending the hockey puck flying into the net with an easy precision. His teammates skid to sharp stops, jaws hanging open in disbelief at his skill as they fumble to congratulate him with loud thwacks to the back of his jersey.

"Who is that?" Seulgi's mouth is open in disbelief as Number 33 just brushes his team off with a humble nod, as if the attention makes him bashful, and skates to the centre of the rink to maintain his starting position for the second round.

"Him?" Jimin rolls his eyes. "That's the new captain. Can't remember his name. Don't care, honestly. Said he moved here from downtown or something, I don't know, but everyone acts as if he's an ice hockey prodigy or something."

"He's good." You jump in. "I've never seen someone make a goal that easy before."

"I just don't understand why coach chose him to be captain instead of me." Jimin murmurs under his breath, though you still catch the disdain in his voice as Number 33 makes yet another goal. "There's only one scholarship up for grabs and it has to be mine."

The funny feeling is back in your stomach again as the game finally comes to an end and the guy in the number 33 jersey disappears into the locker room. You just can't put your finger on it. Why are you so drawn to this random guy?

"Earth to Y/N? Hello?" Seulgi waves a hand in front of your face and you notice the blush on her cheeks as Jimin jogs away. "Critique my salchow jumps while I practice?"

You nod and Seulgi disappears onto the ice, taking her starting position before the music plays and she glides across the ice with ease. But you barely even feel the pang in your chest like usual as you watch her perform a routine you know you could do a million times better because you're too focused on the name that echoes through the arena as the guy in the number 33 jersey emerges from the locker room, helmet in hand now as he shakes free his head of dark brown hair.

"Kim Seokjin!"

Suddenly everything becomes clear.

5 years ago.

Adrenaline runs hot in your veins as you tip toe onto the rink.

Seulgi's dad always let you be the first to break the fresh ice in. There's nothing you love more than the first crunch of your blades against the blanket of undisturbed frost, how the coolness of the ice hits your chapped skin as you gain speed, skates gliding on autopilot like they're following the map of patterns every spin leaves behind in the mosaic of ice.

Here it's easy to forget. All that matters is focus and balance and fingertips skimming ice. Reminding yourself to push further, to embrace the dizzy feeling of flying. Getting lost in the speed and the adrenaline and the goddamn burn in your quads as you close your eyes and spin and spin, arms poised like you might take flight at any second. Like you're one with the ice.

And when the determined sweat on your brow freezes and the blisters from your rental skates gets too much, you glide to the edge of the rink and drape yourself over the barrier with a triumphant smile. Your body aches and even though you shiver there's a warmth in your chest.

Freedom. And you can never get enough.

You don't realise your gasping for breath until a nervous cough pops your bubble of serenity and you're reminded you're at the ice rink and your shift is about to start and there's a strange guy in a fur hood and mittens peering up at you with wide eyes.

What the...?

"Can I help you?" You ask.

An awkward silence stretches out as the guy stares at you quizzically for a second, eyes dragging from your skates up to your face. You see him swallow thickly when he meets your gaze.

"Me?" He glances to the left and then to the right, cheeks flushing a deep shade of red when he finds the rink otherwise derelict. "Oh, uh...I was walking by just now and I saw you and—"

"If you wanna skate you need to buy a ticket." You hoist yourself off the rink, clomping across the heavy rubber carpet towards the ticket booth in your skates like you're on a pair of wobbly stilts.

He thrusts his hands into his pockets and trails a few steps behind you, eyes trained to the ground as you lift the hatch and slip behind the cash register. "Right. I knew that."

"What size do you need?" You call over your shoulder.

"Huh?"

He's a couple feet shorter than you and his forehead barely pokes over the counter of the booth but you can still sense the confusion in his voice. It takes all your strength to bite back a smile. "Your shoe size? For your skates?"

"Oh — right! Uh, 12 please." The guy scratches the back of his neck bashfully as you hand him a pair of freshly sharpened rental skates. His hand shoots out a little too eagerly, mitten covered fingers just barely brushing yours, the touch enough to send a jolt through your entire body like you'd just touched something icy cold. You pause, your own cheeks heating up now as the fur hood hugging his ears falls down to reveal a mop of messy brown hair and a pair of gentle eyes that won't quite meet yours.

You cough, eager to gloss over the awkward moment quickly. "First time here, huh?"

The embarrassed chuckle he lets out is endearing. "Yup. Is it that obvious?"

"Kinda." A smile finds your lips as he slips off one of his sneakers and fiddles with the laces of the ice skates clumsily. "So what brings you here?"

His foot finally slides into the boot. He smiles triumphantly. "I want to learn how to do what you did."

You quirk a brow. "Me?"

"Yeah. Just now, when you were skating. It was awesome. Like you were flying or something." He swallows. "I hope you don't mind that I watched, you can tell me if it's totally creepy-"

You cut off his nervous rambling with a chuckle. "It's fine, really." It's your turn to avert your eyes now. "Besides, I'm not awesome. But thanks."

You watch the professional figure skaters that frequent the rink to practice every week with their perfected turns and toe loop jumps and hand sewn leotards that glimmer in the rink's reflection. They are poised and disciplined, floating across the rink like their skates never quite touch the surface. You are nothing like them. And you never will be.

"Are you kidding?" The guy all but splutters. "You're the best skater I've ever seen!"

"And how many other skaters have you seen?"

"Zero." His eyes glint cheekily. "But I'm sure none of them could top you, skater girl.”

You practically choke at that, face flushing a deep red as you bump into a rack of ice skating brochures before panicking and dropping to your knees out of sight behind the booth.

Way to seem natural! What had gotten into you? Idiot.

You squeeze your eyes shut, pinching your inner arm like you might wake up from a crazy dream and this whole embarrassing-yourself-in-front-of-cute-boy malarkey would disappear with it. Alas, when your eyes open you find that you are very much awake and brochures cover the booth of the floor.

Luckily, he doesn't notice; he's already getting to his feet shakily, whitened knuckles gripping the side of the booth as he tries to find his balance. You remember how it felt the first time you wore a pair of skates. How the edges dug into your ankles and every step felt like you were on a tight rope. Now they felt natural.

"Woah!" His first steps are like watching a baby deer, arms outstretched as he desperately tries to maintain his dignity and stop from face planting before he even gets out on the ice. "This is harder than I thought..."

You slowly get up from your knees, a coy smile finding your mouth as you peer over the counter. The new customers were always the best to spy on; you and Seulgi spend hours back here behind this very booth spluttering over hot cocoa at the people who always seem to fall on their asses as soon as they touch the ice. If she was here right now she'd probably say something about how he was ticking every first skater cliche box possible.

Frantic windmill arms? Check. Nervous muttering? Check. The balance of a penguin in high heels? Triple check.

You rest your chin in your palm, biting back your amusement when he staggers over to the edge of the rink and tentatively takes his first step onto the ice. His skate immediately slides out from beneath him and his knuckles turn white around his grip on the barrier as he struggles to pull himself back upright, glancing side to side bashfully to check if anyone spotted his screw up.

"I meant to do that..." He grunts, taking a deep breath as he moves closer to the ice again. This time, his first step is successful and after a few almost mishaps he seems to finally get the hang of it, pushing his weight back and forth so that he moves — albeit shakily — across the rink, gaining speed by the second. He punches the air triumphantly, letting out a long hoot of elation.

"Look I'm doing it! — wait...ah!" Despair flashes across his features when he realises his body is headed straight towards the barrier at full speed. "How do I stop?!" He cries, legs scrambling to find their balance.

"Oh no..." You wince, covering your eyes. "This can't end well."

It's too late to help him now and all you can do is wince and watch in horror as he crashes onto the ice in a pile of clumsy limbs with a grunt.

"Ouch!"

You count the seconds that he's down, waiting for the moment his head pops up over the barrier. Ten seconds. Then twenty. Thirty, and still no sign of his dazed face or choppy bangs.

Oh no.

Before you can think better of it you are clambering over to the rink and gliding across the ice to where he lays on his back, eyes shut.

He's not...he can't be...is he?

"Are you okay?" You prod him with the toe of your skate. No response. Panic courses through your veins as you fall to your knees and shake him by the shoulders. "Oh my god, please wake up!"

A lazy smile appears on his face, words a little slurred. "I'm fine! I'm fine!"

You lean back into your heels with a sigh of relief as he scrambles onto his elbows and brushes the ice chips from the back of his coat.

"That was..."

"Dangerous." You deadpan.

"Amazing!" He breathes, pure wonder lighting up his face. "I want to go again!"

Your mouth hangs open as he tries to scramble to his feet awkwardly and without success, his skates sliding out from beneath him again. He grabs at the scarf strung around your neck to try and save himself, only he ends up just pulling you down with him into a heap on the ice.

"See! Dangerous." You tut, rolling your eyes as you feel the wet ice soak into the back of your jeans. Nice, now you would have to walk around looking like you pissed your pants for the rest of the day.

He pouts, blowing a frustrated puff of air from the corner of his mouth to dislodge the bangs that fell messily across his eyes in the scuffle. "You made it look so easy! How do you do it without falling on your ass?"

You snort. "You don't. If you wanna learn to skate you're gonna have to embrace having a cold ass once in a while. Skating is about being able to pick yourself back up again each time you fall." You rub the small of your back with a frown. "Even if it bruises."

You get to your feet and reach out a hand for him to take, pulling him up after you. When he finally finds his balance you grab him by the elbow to glide over to the safety of the edge of the rink where he can't be a liability to himself. He lets out a breath of relief when his fingers grasp the barrier.

"Aren't you scared to fall?" He puffs, wiping the sweat that has formed on his brow despite the chill in the air from the ice.

"Terrified." You grin when he glances up at you through his bangs, eyebrow quirked. "But that's part of the fun."

"Teach me." He says suddenly.

"Huh?"

"Teach me how to skate." He clasps his hands together, eyes full and round. "Properly! Like you. Please?"

You let out a sigh. You barely even know this kid. For all you knew he could be a crazy person!

But something about the way his eyes shine when he lifts his hands from the barrier and manages to keep his balance makes you hesitate. You recognise the flushing smile on his face, can imagine the warm feeling of triumph thawing his chest.

Passion.

How could you say no?

"Fine. Meet me here every day at 3. And don't be late."

"Deal." He holds out a mittened hand for you to shake. "My name is Seokjin, by the way. What's yours, skater girl?"

"Y/N." You say when you take his warm hand in yours. "Nice to meet you."

Three o clock becomes your favourite time of day.

Seokjin is like a snow storm in a cup. True to his word, every day when the clock ticks over to 3PM he comes flying into the rink in a flurry of cheesy smiles and dad jokes.

And even though you make fun of the bundles of scarves up to his eyes (that his mom made him wear, as he likes to remind you begrudgingly) and roll your eyes every time he trips over his own skates or bruises his knees or falls on his ass, you can't deny the fact that you're starting to enjoy having him around.

You're not the only one who loves his company. Everyone at the rink is talking about the guy with the bowl cut who is showing so much potential. Probably because Seokjin is much better than you at making friends, instantly becoming well liked in the skating community for his humour and his up and coming skating skills. You hate to admit it but when Seokjin smiles and flirts with the pretty figure skaters from Seulgi's class it makes you burn with jealousy, especially when they titter at his stupid jokes like they're the peak of comedy.

But when Seokjin sees you tying your skates and watching from afar he always turns down their offers to buy him coffee and bounds over to you like a puppy, ready to launch into a recount of some anime he watched last night or one of the advanced skating jumps he wants you to teach him despite barely being able to keep his balance on the ice.

And that's why Seokjin makes you feel like you belong here just as much as everyone else. Because he sees you when no one else does. Because you finally have something that is all your own.

"What's up, skater girl?" Seokjin shoots you a set of finger guns when you look up from the skating magazine in your lap before he leaps over the ticket booth counter. "No customers today?"

You shake your head. Sunday's were always slow days at the rink. That's why you liked these shifts. It's peaceful just being alone with the ice.

"Guess you could say we're totally ice-olated! Get it?" He cackles as he pulls out a pair of white skates from his backpack. His parents bought them for him as an early Christmas present. They are much nicer than your scuffed rental ones and you tuck your feet under the chair so that he can't see them while he ties up his laces.

You chatter absentmindedly as you make your way to the rink as usual. It's only been a few months of lessons but Seokjin doesn't even flinch now when his blades touch the ice, immediately taking off around the rink as fast as he can to blow off some steam before skidding to a stop in a flurry of ice chips when you flash him an amused grin.

"I can never get enough of this feeling." He spins in demonstration, the ends of his hair fluttering up in the breeze that whips around him. "Can we keep learning the routine today? I think I almost got it perfect last time."

"Sure." Seokjin had begged you for weeks to teach him a figure skating routine so you showed him one of the easy ones you saw the beginner skaters perform sometimes. He was getting pretty good now, rarely falling on his butt or missing a step like before. The concentration on his face as he copies your demonstrations and the triumphant grin that replaces it when he finally gets a jump right fills you with a sense of pride.

You're about to skate over to the boom box and hit play on some music so you can go over the routine when the door busts open and in walks Seulgi's figure skating class. You instantly fill with dread as their eyes land on you, scrutinising, and you feel a heat rise in your cheeks.

"Hey Seokjin!" One of them calls — Jennie, you think her name is — as she drapes herself over the barrier seductively. "Why don't you come over here and show us what you're made of? Without your, uh, friend"

"Sorry Jennie, I'm kinda busy right now." He shouts back. "Maybe some other time."

A weird combination of envy and sadness rises inside  you. "Just go." You mutter. "They can teach you a lot more than I can. I don't care."

Lies. You care so much the words taste sour leaving your mouth but you're sure the way Seokjin wistfully gazes towards the pretty girl with fluttering eyelashes who throws her sheet of black hair over her shoulder invitingly tells you all you need to know.

You sting with inferiority. You are just a rookie after all. A nobody. Why would Seokjin want to hang out with you?

With an awkward pout you take off and start skating in circles absentmindedly. It acts as a pleasant distraction, lets you breathe a little bit. Another pair of skates scrape somewhere behind you and then Seokjin's shoulder brushes up against yours. You push harder and faster but he's good now and keeps up with you easily, even as you both start panting with exertion.

"Why don't you take skating classes here like them?" He asks suddenly. "I know it bothers you. You spend so much time skating, don't you wanna do it for real?"

Seokjin's question takes you by so much surprise that you forget your balance and before you can react you're sat in a heap of limbs on the ice. You hide behind your hair when you hear the figure skating team tittering with laughter, amused that however hard you try you will never be able to skate like them.

"Because I'm not like them." You mumble. "I don't have supportive parents like you and I don't have the talent they do." Seokjin says nothing and you wait for him to leave you for Jennie instead but he just stays rooted to the spot. "Why don't you just get proper lessons if your parents can afford it? Why do you keep coming back here everyday to me?"

Seokjin doesn't respond. The next thing you know, there's a loud crash and he's throwing himself forcefully onto his butt on the ice beside you. "Whoops!" He says, putting on a show for the skaters to hear. They immediately stop laughing when he sends them a stern look.

"Because I like you." Seokjin whispers, but only loud enough for you to hear this time, making a point of rubbing his back like the fall hurt to make you laugh. "Not them."

He offers you a hand and you both scramble to your feet. The smile on your face hurts your cheeks but you can't bring yourself to let it go. And as Seokjin spins you around until your giddy and your teeth start to chatter you forget about the skaters and the inferiority and fill with nothing but belonging.

"You're getting better." You tell Seokjin as you skate hand in hand over to the edge of the ice. "In a couple of weeks you'll be able to skate without me supervising."

He smirks. "I know."

"How humble." You punch his shoulder but he barely flinches, just chuckles when you nearly lose your balance again and he has to grab you under the elbows to keep you upright. "Woah!"

When you look up you're practically nose to nose with him. His breath is warm when it tickles your cheek and you feel yourself go slack in his grip. Seokjin's eyes are filled with stars as they dip down to your mouth and then back up to your eyes.

It hits you how much you want him to kiss you. How much you want to kiss him. Although he seems to have other ideas...

"Hey, I almost forgot!" He pulls away and you let out a shaky breath, scuffing the toe of your skate against the carpet bashfully. Seokjin's face lights up as he fumbles around in his big coat pockets. "I got you something for Christmas. Close your eyes."

"Huh?"

He's practically jumping from foot to foot with excitement now. "Just do it!"

You oblige with a fond shake of your head, squeezing your eyes shut, heart fluttering when Seokjin presses something cold and smooth into the palm of your hand.

When you uncurl your fingers you find a delicate Christmas ornament in your palm that is shaped like a pearly white ice skate. The tiny boot is tied up with red and white candy cane laces and the silver glitter on the blade sparkles in the low light.

"Oh Seokjin..." You gasp, turning it around in your fingers. "It's so pretty."

"Do you like it?" Seokjin asks anxiously, searching your face, a grin appearing on his lips to match your own when you nod eagerly.

"I love it!"

"I thought of you as soon as I saw it." He scratches the back of his neck, suddenly shy. "Now you can think of me when you see it, too."

You slide Seokjin's gift into your pocket, walking beside him in a comfortable silence towards the exit. "See you here again tomorrow?"

Seokjin's hand falters on the door handle, something close to pain crossing his features. You wait for him to answer your question but he never does. Instead you're being pulled into a tight hug, his arms squeezing you so tightly you start to feel light headed. At least that's what you tell yourself. It can't be the way his warm breath flutters against your neck, right?"

"Thank you. For everything." He murmurs into your hair. "For being you."

Your arms wrap around his back instinctively. "All of a sudden?"

"Just remember that, okay?" He flashes you a final small smile before his warm embrace is gone and he's out the door and being whisked away with the flurry of snow that has begun to fall.

Seokjin doesn't come back the next day. Or the day after that. Even when a week passes by with no sign of him you still find your head snapping up each time the door opens or you see the flash of a red scarf.

"He's not coming, Y/N." Seulgi sighs, pushing your legs down from where you balance on the windowsill with your forehead pressed to the glass to make room for her own body to squeeze in beside you. "My dad says his family left town last week, remember?"

You keep your eyes glued to the path outside. If you focus hard enough you can almost see him barging through the door like he always does, making his unruly presence known by calling out some irritatingly unfunny dad joke that still managed to somehow make you laugh when he cracked himself up. Or grabbing your hands and swinging you around on the ice until you're both panting and laughing and teary eyed at the same time but you don't care because you're together.

And if you close your eyes you can still remember how it felt when he wrapped you up in his arms before he left and you wonder if anything he ever said meant anything at all.

Fresh snow has started to fall and just like that the boot prints he left behind are covered up, like they never even existed. Like he never even existed.

You bite your lip. "How could he leave without telling me first?"

"Oh Y/N." Seulgi rubs your shoulder. "I'm sure he had his reasons."

"Whatever." You jump down from the window, slinging your hands in your pockets only to feel your heart pang when your fingers brush up against the Christmas decoration Seokjin gave you.

You dangle the string from your finger, admiring the way it sparkles and glints when it hits the light, even when your eyes start to fog up with tears that just won't seem to disappear no matter how hard you try to rub them away.

And with that you drop it into a stray box of Christmas decorations and it's like Seokjin really is gone for good now.

"Y/N?" Seulgi's dad pokes his head into the ticket booth. You have to wipe your cheeks with your sleeve quickly, mustering up the closest thing to a watery smile as you can. "I was thinking about your Christmas gift. How would you like some skating lessons with Seulgi. I watched you today and I think you're really talented. Let's not waste it, hm?"

Present day.

"So you're telling me the kid with the weird hair is back?" Seulgi asks, though you can only see her eyes peering over the top of the cardboard box filled with Christmas decorations that she lugs out of the storage closet. Her dad asked you to decorate the huge tree that looks like it belongs out in a forest instead of in front of the ice rink, which is how you find yourself balanced precariously on a wooden ladder trying and failing to lasso tinsel over the furthermost branches.

"He doesn't have weird hair." You say through gritted teeth as the ladder wobbles and you miss the branch once again. "And his name is Seokjin, Seulgi."

"Same difference." Seulgi barely puffs before her foot slips and the box is sent flying to the ground in a wince worthy crash of jingling bells and cracking glass that bursts all over the carpet. "Oh shit! These were my grandmas! My dad is gonna kill me...hey, can you rescue the survivors while I go get something to clean up this mess?"

"Sure."

"Don't start on the lights without me!"

Seulgi disappears into the back and you breathe a sigh of relief when you hop down the ladder and your feet touch the ground again.

It takes all your strength to heave the box onto a nearby table, frowning when you open the flaps to find nothing but a pile of sparkling crushed glass where Seulgi's grandma's prized ornaments should have been. Rolling up your sleeves, you begin to remove the salvageable ones, pausing when your fingers curl around a familiar shape.

When you open your palm it reveals a small silver ice skate with candy-cane laces hanging from a dainty silver string.

Seokjin's gift. How did it get here?

God, you really are hung up on this guy, huh? Wherever you go these days reminders of him seem to follow. Without figure skating to distract you, you have fallen back into your old missing-Kim-Seokjin ways and you can't help but scowl at your own weakness for some guy who just up and left without a single word five years ago.

"Hello?" A voice deeper than Seulgi's echoes through the rink, followed by a gust of chilly wind and the slamming of the entrance doors. "Are you open?"

Is that...

"Seokjin?"

His name leaves your lips as a whisper but the shrill sound of the ornament falling from your shock slackened fingers and shattering into a million pieces alerts him of your presence.

Shit. Seulgi is gonna kill you.

You bend to your knees, desperately trying to reassemble the smashed shards but failing miserably.

"It's ruined." You have to bite your lip to stop angry tears from sliding down your cheeks as you stare down at the miserable pile of broken glass. All that is left of a happy memory gone forever.

A pair of boots stop in front of you and when you lift your head you're met with a familiar pair of gentle brown eyes staring down at you in concern.

"Skater girl?"

He's back. Kim Seokjin is back. And he's here!

In your surprise you accidentally squeeze the glass between your fingers too hard, hissing when you feel a sharp scrape against your palm. "Ow!"

"Hey, watch out! You're bleeding."

The last place you expected to find yourself today was cradling your cut hand behind the ticket booth while Kim Seokjin of all people rummages beneath the counter for the first aid kit. It's almost as if he never left with how easily he shrugs off his coat and gets to work.

"You still keep it down here, right?" You nod and he lets out a little ta da when his head re-emerges behind a box filled with bandages and antiseptic. "I remember from all the times I fell out on the ice and you had to patch me up."

When he sits down on the stool opposite you it's like you're experiencing a severe case of dejavu. He looks exactly the same as he always did yet somehow completely different; his shoulders are broader than you remember them and it looks like he started gelling his hair back, exposing his forehead. Your eyes can't help the way they trace the curve of his jaw, sharper now, and the ice hockey shoulder pads that protrude from beneath his winter coat.

One thing is the same though. The way he takes your wrist gently into his lap and begins to wind a strip of bandage around it with caution, glancing up at you every now and again to check it isn't too tight or too painful. He always was the kind and patient one after all.

"There." He says when he's finished, thumb running across your wrist just barely before you take back your arm sheepishly, still avoiding eye contact. "You should really be more careful. You won't be able to train with an injured hand."

You wince at the mention of figure skating. Of course Seokjin hadn't heard about the accident yet — he was living in a different town when it happened. But that didn't make it any less painful.

Seokjin frowns when he sees your face, mistakenly reaching for your hand again. "Does it still hurt?"

You take a sudden step back and his hand falls to his side. "No. It's fine." You grab your bag with your good arm and swing it over your shoulder. "Thanks for this but I gotta go."

A hand curls around your arm, pinning you in place before you can even take a step. When you turn begrudgingly Seokjin is biting his lip. "Did I say something wrong?"

A sigh escapes you and Seokjin reluctantly lets you go when you shake your arm free of his grip, finally taking a deep breath to fill your lungs with enough courage to look him in the eye.

"You didn't say anything at all. That's the whole problem, Jin." His mouth hangs open and he starts to stutter something but you put up a finger and he stops, retreating back into his seat like a scolded puppy. "You just left! Without even telling me where you were going! And now you're back here?"

"Y/N listen—"

"Why? Why are you back Seokjin?" The way your voice wavers makes his eyes widen.

He scratches the back of his neck almost remorsefully, avoiding the real question and your eyes. "I...I transferred. I applied for a ice hockey scholarship to play here. I was actually hoping I'd find you here, to see if maybe you wanted to go skating again sometime or something..."

"Listen, I don't skate anymore okay?" You scoff, turning on your heels and marching towards the exit. "So don't bother coming back."

Just then Seulgi reappears from the back. "Y/N? I found some more decorations — oh."

The last thing you hear is her voice calling your name before you march right out of the rink and get as far away from Seokjin and the memories and the longing and the hurt as possible.

November has already rolled into December by the time you see Seokjin again.

Seulgi's family's ice rink is bustling with locals in scarves and wooly hats, alive with a buzz of excitement that mingles with the cheesy Christmas tunes playing overhead and the smell of hot cocoa from the concessions stand as the town eagerly awaits the beginning of the annual Christmas parade, of which the rink is the central attraction.

The rink is decorated to the nines and you can't deny it looks breathtaking; you aren't a total grinch after all. You're almost sure that you've woken up in some kind of alternate winter wonderland, like you're a character in one of those decorative snow globes they sell at the mall and the whole place could be picked up and shaken until the air fills with Christmas spirit like the first flakes of snow on a winter's morning.

Except nothing about working the ticket booth feels even remotely festive. Your cheeks have started to hurt from all the polite smiling at even the rudest of customers and the sly side eyes and grimaces you and Seulgi throw at each other every time you see another kid fall over and need first aid and there's fake snow in your hair and tinsel stuck to your shoe.

You've just slumped into a heap on the stool behind the counter after dealing with a particularly lumpy case of motion sickness from one of the parents begrudgingly skating like baby deers behind their children when you spot Jimin and the rest of the hockey team elbowing through the crowd to the ticket booth.

You can't help but roll your eyes when you see the pair of dark shades balanced on the bridge of his nose that just look silly with his winter coat and the smug smile on his face as he barges to the front of the queue and rings the bell on the counter like a man possessed.

"Can I help you?" You ask nonchalantly, inspecting your nails.

Jimin turns up his nose. "Is Seulgi around."

You shake your head. A lie. She's just in the back taking her gingerbread cookies out of the oven so she can hand them out to the children while they are still warm.

"No. You've got me. How many tickets?"

"We're on the guest list, actually." Jimin purrs. "Seulgi said so herself."

You pick up the clipboard on the counter and pretend to scan the guest list, pushing your bottom lip out mockingly as you shrug your shoulders. "Sorry. Doesn't look like you are. Now that'll be ten dollars each or I'm gonna have to ask you to leave—"

"Pfft, let me see that." Jimin reaches over the counter and tries to snatch the clipboard from your grasp but you just end up in a childish game of tug of war. With a scoff he suddenly let's go and wipes his hand on his jacket with a scowl, looking you up and down with gritted teeth. "What is your goddamn problem, Y/N? Would it kill you to be nice to me for once?"

"Me? Nice to you?" You let out an exasperated sigh, fists clenching as Jimin's entourage begin to look nervous, some backing up and others tugging him by the arm to back down which he only shakes off, eyes never leaving yours like he's daring you to look away first. "You are my problem, Park Jimin. You think you can come in here and use Seulgi? Well you'll have to cross me first—"

"Did someone call me?" Seulgi's sugary laughter rounds the corner before she does, confusion crossing her features when she sees Jimin's tense jaw and the murder in your eyes. Not exactly Christmas spirit, is it?

"Let's ask Seulgi herself about the guest list, shall we?" Jimin's face lights up with his signature smile that has Seulgi heating up in a blush and you mentally face palming as you reluctantly hand over the clipboard and watch Seulgi zero in on the PARK JIMIN she wrote in her own curly scrawl, the 'i's dotted with tiny hearts.

"Yep, you guys can go on through." She says with a grin, seemingly too blind with love to see the I told you so look Jimin sends your way.

"Seulgi are you really gonna—"

"I knew I could count on you Seulgi," Jimin drawls. "How about we go skating together?"

Yup. That's it. Your best friend has been taken over by the love bug and nothing you say now will bring her to her senses as she nods eagerly and begins ticking each member of the hockey team off her list.

"...Kim Taehyung...Jung Hoseok and last but not least, Kim Seokjin!"

Hold up...

When you stupidly snap your eyes up they instantly meet the very pair you've been trying to avoid. Seokjin's.

There he is in all his glory, tall enough these days to see over the counter. The smile on his face fades when he notices you too.

"Y/N? Hello?" Seulgi snaps you back out of your Kim Seokjin induced trance, blushing when you realise you must have been staring and that's probably why he's fiddling with his coat zipper and avoiding your gaze. "Can you handle the ticket booth for a bit while I go for a skate?"

All reservations are wiped from your mind and you have to swallow hard before any words come out that aren't oh my god or Seokjin. "Y-yeah, sure."

"Great!" She swings over the counter. You stare at your feet, face uncomfortably hot under Seokjin's gaze. Seulgi takes Jimin's elbow. "See you later!"

"Have f-fun." You manage to mumble, relief flooding your chest when Jimin and his entourage become smaller and smaller before disappearing amongst the indistinguishable hustle and bustle.

Your breath catches when you finally lift your gaze and find Seokjin still stood frozen in the same spot, opening and closing his mouth awkwardly like he wants to say something but doesn't quite know how.

I'm sorry. I didn't want to leave. I don't think you're a freak like everyone else just because of your accident.

You can imagine so many different combinations of words leaving his lips except the ones that he finally croaks aren't quite what you're expecting. "Uh, I need to rent some skates. I forgot to bring my ones..."

Oh.

A few awkward seconds pass until you realise he's waiting patiently for you to do your job and get him the freaking skates instead of standing open mouthed like some kind of frozen ice sculpture that doesn't know how to function, and you turn a little too abruptly, eager to hide the heat in your cheeks and nearly knocking the whole rack of rental skates down in your haste.

God! Why do you always embarrass yourself in front of him?

"I need a size—"

"12. I know." Your voice sounds small as you turn back around and hand him a pair of black skates, freshly sharpened just like how you knew he liked them. Or used to like them anyway. "I remember."

Something close to pain briefly flashes over his face and there's another silence that feels deafening despite the screams and cheers of skaters a few meters away that fill the atmosphere.

He coughs when his hand brushes yours as he reaches to take the ice skates and you feel your eyes widen when an electric current runs up your arm and settles in the left side of your chest with a funny pang. His eyes slowly meet yours, soft and gentle and filled with stars just like you remember them. Your heart starts beating so fast you're sure everyone at the rink can hear it now.

You can almost hear your words from the other day echoing in his head. Don't bother coming back.

And when he rips his gaze away from yours, the warmth of his fingers disappearing with it as he turns on his heels and starts to walk away without so much as a goodbye, you realise just how much you didn't mean them. How glad you are that he's back here, at the rink, like old times, like you've always silently hoped he would be despite never admitting it to yourself until now.

That's why you can't help yourself when you swing your body over the counter and jog after him, with a call of, "Hey, Seokjin, wait up!"

He stops abruptly at the sound of his name and you almost crash into the back of him, grateful for the arm that shoots out and catches you before you can stumble over your own feet.

"Woah, be careful. You coulda got hurt—"

His arm is still around your waist when you start mumbling incoherently, out of breath and desperate to get the truth off your chest in this sudden burst of bravery before you chicken out and retreat to the bubble of timidity you've found yourself in since the accident.

"Listen, I'm really sorry about the other day I was just kinda surprised to see you again and I lashed out." He cocks an eyebrow when you finish, before you're spluttering, "Good surprised! It's, uh, good to see you again is what I'm trying to say — really good to see you."

There's another silence that feels immeasurable and you feel hot embarrassment caress your face as you scan Seokjin's features for any sign that he's going to push you away or tease you for being such an idiot that still likes him even after he left you and—

Then he's laughing. Deep chuckles vibrating against your cheek as he pulls you into a bear hug and you're smushed up against his chest and breathing in his woody cologne until you're laughing with relief too.

"It's good to see you too, Y/N." He says when he finally lets you go and maybe he's just cold but you're sure there's a trace of a blush on his own nose as he shoves his hands deep into his pockets like he can't trust them not to reach out and grab you again. "Really good."

"Hey Kim Seokjin, stop flirting and get your ass over here stat!"

Seokjin's eyes roll in unison with your own when none other than Park Jimin's voice ruins the moment. When you both turn and find him leaning over the barrier of the ice rink, beckoning Seokjin with a single finger, you cant help but snort at the exasperated sigh that leaves the boy beside you.

"Will he ever give me a break?" Seokjin mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose and mouthing sorry as he nods his head to signal for you to join him. Jimin offers you both a salute in greeting.

"Captain," Jimin practically snarls around the word, contempt evident in his voice despite the grin plastered to his face. It only grows when he turns his attention to you. "And sweet little figure skating champion Y/N — oh wait!" He must see the way your face drops because he can't conceal the laughter that bubbles up next. "Whoops. Did I say something wrong?"

Seokjin looks between you and Jimin with confusion which quickly turns to concern when he sees the way your fists have started to shake. His hand falls to the small of your back and you briefly feel all your anger rinse away.

"Lets just go, Y/N—"

Jimin seems to have other ideas. "Hey Seokjin! Did you hear about Y/N's little...accident?" He calls. You stiffen and Seokjin finally meets Jimin's gaze head on, somewhat curious. "It happened right here on this very rink. The day before nationals, right princess?" Jimin waits for you to nod before he continues. "I'm sure she can fill you in on what happened while you two flirt like school girls. Maybe then you'll understand why she feels the need to make everyone around her miserable. Because her injuries healed but she's still broken."

A gasp comes from somewhere behind Jimin and you instantly recognise it as belonging to Seulgi who has just skated into the middle of the battle ground. She's not the only one who looks surprised — a couple members of the hockey team flash you sympathetic looks. It drives you crazy. You hate being their goddamn reason to throw a pity party.

"Even after my accident I can still skate better than you ever will Park," You spit. "And don't you forget it."

Jimin's eyes glint with something dark and you swallow thickly. Oh no.

"Then how about you prove it to all of us, huh?" He smirks when you just gape at him, the implications of his words sending a chill down your spine. Jimin pretends to tap the non existent watch on his wrist when you stay rooted in place with wide eyes."We haven't got all day. You gonna get your skates or what?"

Get your skates on. Right now?

"Okay." You wince at how timid your voice sounds, not even able to enjoy the surprise on Jimin's face because of the fear tightening like a coil in your stomach as you let your feet carry you over to the rack of rental skates.

When you reach for your favourite pair — your old favourite pair — you find your hands are shaking uncontrollably. They don't stop even as you somehow manage to slip them onto your feet and clomp back over to the edge of the rink where Jimin waits with a cheshire grin and Seokjin and Seulgi rush forward to stop you from taking another step as soon as they see the way your breathing has quickened and your practically gasping for air now. When did it get so hot in here?

"Y/N I really don't think this is a good idea, you don't have to—" Seulgi starts, but you brush her off, determined to prove Jimin wrong.

Sure, it has been nearly a year since you last got on the ice without falling into a panic attack. Sure, your heart is racing so fast at the thought of the blades beneath your feet touching the frozen surface you can feel it in your throat. Sure, you still let yourself cry sometimes when it's late and Seulgi's fast asleep and you wake up from a dream where you're skating and you're free and then the icy bitterness of reality sets in and you remember that's all gone now.

But you're not broken right? You can't be.

No. I'm not broken.

You grit your teeth. "I can do it."

I'm not broken.

Your knuckles whiten with how hard you're gripping the barrier as you drag your feet closer to the edge of the ice.

"Then what are you waiting for?"

I'm not broken.

Your vision starts to blur into a swirl of Christmas lights and ice skates and Park Jimin's stupid grin.

You squeeze your eyes shut as the tip of your blade touches the ice and then—

"Stop!"

An arm curls around your waist and pulls you back. You let out a sigh of relief. It's Seokjin and he's holding you upright now as you clutch your chest and try to breathe, determined to stop angry tears from slipping down your cheeks.

You're broken. Utterly and completely. Jimin was right.

"Back off, Park." Seokjin barks and you're aware of how Jimin is clutching his stomach, laughter spilling from his lips as Seulgi stares on nervously.

"Why? Because you know I'm gonna steal your scholarship at the Christmas Eve game?"

Seokjin scoffs. "Because you're being kind of an ass right now. Come on, Y/N, grab your coat."

"Why?" You manage to splutter, still needing Seokjin's support as he pulls you behind him to the locker rooms.

"We're getting out of here."

The sky has faded to a deep blue-black when you push out of the ice rink into the chilly winter evening beside Seokjin.

You pull your coat tighter around your chin, unsure if the way your limbs shiver is because of the December weather or the fear still lingering in the pit of your stomach.

Seokjin's presence beside you is comforting. It brings you back to reality somewhat. He doesn't mention the earlier tension between you, just flashes you a small smile instead. "Come on. Let's get warmed up."

The Christmas lights strung between lamp posts above your heads provide a subtle glow that makes his eyes softly gleam as he offers you a glove covered hand just like he used to, all those years ago before he left. With a shy glance you slide your hand into his, cheeks burning, but grateful for the feeling of Seokjin squeezing your hand reassuringly, grounding you like lead to a balloon.

Maybe you would regret it tomorrow when you remember that this wasn't going to last and he was inevitably going to leave you again. But old habits die hard and you can't resist the natural feeling of mutual comfort that settles between you like a warm hug from nostalgia.

Seokjin pulls you behind him to join the throng of people in woollen scarves and fuzzy earmuffs making their towards the annual Christmas market your town always throws to celebrate the holidays. The entire street is alive with joyous laughter and twinkling lights, the smell of freshly baked mince pies mixed with pine wreaths soothing you instantly.

Seokjin buys you both a cup of steaming mulled wine from one of the cozy market stalls with thatched roofs playing tinny Christmas tunes. You take it from him graciously, thankful for the fuzzy warmth it provides as you breathe in the festive aroma.

You walk together in a comfortable silence, enjoying the way Seokjin's arm brushes against yours sometimes and how he always blushes when it does. He keeps looking at you like he wants to say something but doesn't know how, resorting to sipping the hot liquid he cradles between his palms instead as if to stop the words from tumbling out without permission.

You're about to tease him for it, ask him to spit it out, whatever it is, or forever hold his peace — but then you see it.

Across the street sits a quaint shop with a SANTA STOP HERE sign on the door. It's decorated just as festively as the rest and would have blended in to the picturesque scene had it not been for the thing on display which catches your eye.

Before you know it you are wandering up to the window with wide eyes, breath fogging up the glass as you take in the pair of pearly white ice skates glaring at you from behind your own reflection. They're tied up neatly with a red bow inside the store's display and they seem to sparkle beneath the twinkling Christmas decorations like they're covered in thousands of tiny snow flakes. The sight nearly takes your breath away.

You can almost hear the way the blades would scrape the ice just the way you liked it, how the cold air would make your eyes water as they carried you around the rink. How the satin interior would never rub your toes and the fur trim would hug your ankles just right.

A pair of skates like these were supposed to belong to one of the pretty professional figure skaters you could never quite keep up with when you were on the ice, routines so rehearsed they could be free styling to the inexperienced eye, silver laces complimenting their daintily sequinned bodysuits.

Not someone who only has plain bodices and rental skates and wears ugly burns on their knees from hitting the ice too hard. Not someone like you.

Besides, you promised yourself you would never pick up another pair of skates again. What is the point in dreaming?

"So..." Seokjin starts, blowing at the steam swirling from his paper cup. "What happened back there? You seemed kinda freaked out."

You freeze. Seokjin shifts. "You miss skating huh?"

You drop your eyes to the liquid in your cup. Were you that easy to read? Or did Seokjin just remember you better than you realised?

"Mhm." It comes out a little choked but you force a smile, hoping he'll believe it even if it doesn't quite meet your eyes. "But I'm a law major now. Don't have a ton of time for competing anymore."

It isn't a complete lie. You are a law major now, much to the pride of your family who always thought skating was a waste of time anyway.

But becoming a lawyer isn't your dream. It was your back up plan. Because your dream of being a competitive skater will never come true now and you had to accept it somehow. Throwing yourself into classes and deadlines seemed like the best way to keep your mind occupied, even if it doesn't make you forget your troubles in the same way skating used to.

"Sounds boring."

You shrug. "Sometimes."

Seokjin narrows his eyes. "But I know you, remember? The Y/N I knew always had time for skating. Did...did something really happen?"

You bite your lip, glassy tears fogging up your vision. God, you told yourself long ago to stop crying every time someone brought up the accident. When you wipe at your eyes harshly with the back of your hand you hear Seokjin suck in a nervous breath.

"You don't have to tell me, I'm sorry for bringing it up—"

"No! No it's okay." You shake your head with a loud sniff. "It's me, not you. It happened a few days before I was due to leave for nationals. I was practicing at the rink with Seulgi like usual and the next thing I know I'm lying in a hospital bed with my leg in a cast." You sigh, a twinge of pain running up your leg as you remember the stiff feeling of the cast. "I don't even remember what happened, not really. Seulgi said I hit my head pretty hard. Haven't been out on the ice since."

"I'm sorry." Seokjin's eyes soften and his hand hovers over yours like he wants to comfort you but doesn't know how. "I can't imagine not being able to skate, I think I'd...I think I'd go crazy."

You shrug. "You get used to it after a while." A lie. "It doesn't matter anyway." Another lie. "Besides, it's not like I can't skate, my leg healed just like they said it would. I'm just..."

"Scared." Seokjin finishes. You feel a flush of embarrassment rush to your cheeks as you nod carefully. You've never told anyone this. Not even Seulgi. But something tells you Seokjin would understand.

"I want to skate again so badly. Like with every bone in my body badly. But every time I even get near the ice I just...freeze up like I did earlier at the rink." Your head falls into your palms, self condemnation evident in the spiteful laugh you afford to your own weakness. "Ugh you must think I suck so bad."

A group of carollers stroll by merrily and you're grateful that their rendition of Silent Night catches Seokjin's attention and covers up your embarrassingly loud sniffle.

"I don't think you suck." Seokjin says eventually, blowing on his hands to warm them up. "It's natural to be scared, especially after something like that. A wise person once taught me that even the best skaters are terrified to fall. It's part of the fun."

You flash him a small smile. The accident still feels raw though and you're eager to change the subject swiftly.

"What about you? Any grand plans for the future?"

Seokjin scratches the back of his neck bashfully. He never did like being boastful. "Took a year out so I could practice playing ice hockey. You've heard about the Christmas Eve game right? The scholarship board is gonna be there.

"Who would've thought that the Kim Seokjin, worst skater in town, would end up being captain of the team?"

He punches your shoulder playfully. "Hey! I wasn't that bad."

"You don't remember falling on your ass every time I tried to show you how to skate?"

Seokjin rolls his eyes. "Well a wise person once told me that being a real skater means being able to pick yourself up each time you fall." He rubs his chin playfully. "And something about getting a cold ass."

You scoff, somehow embarrassed that Seokjin had remembered the words you spoke all those years ago. Embarrassed at how weak you have become since then. "She sounds like an idiot."

"A wise idiot."

You shake your head fondly. Seokjin's laugh is warm and it makes you feel all fuzzy, like just for a moment the cavity in your chest is full. You realise then just how much you missed it. How much you missed him.

When you drag your attention away from the skates on display, your wandering eyes catch a glimpse of the Christmas fairground in the shop window's reflection. You let out a gasp, tipping your head back to look up at the giant ferris wheel that lights up with a million different rainbow colours like a firework against the dark blanket of night.

"You wanna go for a ride?" Seokjin asks, looking somewhat amused.

"Can we?" You're fully aware of just how childlike you must sound right know but the gleeful glint in Seokjin's eyes puts you at ease instantly, a smile lighting up his features that is brighter than all the Christmas lights around you. It's enough to make your stomach do somersaults.

You furrow your brows when Seokjin suddenly takes off into a run, scarf trailing behind him in the wind. "Last one there has to pay for our tickets!"

"What? Hey!"

Before you know it you're climbing into one of the tiny ferris wheel cubicles after begrudgingly paying for both of your tickets, the space between you and Seokjin so slim your knees touch. The ride feels shakier than it looked from the ground and you let out a shriek as it stutters to life, the cubicle rocking back and forth lightly as you begin to raise into the air.

Seokjin appears startled. "What's wrong?"

You weren't expecting the ride to go this high. Perhaps your crippling fear of heights would have been a good thing to mention before you got on.

"Falling." You manage to choke, hands gripping the safety pole so tight your knuckles turn white. "Scared of falling."

"Hey. C'mere." A mitten covered hand engulfs your own. It feels familiar, comforting. Your breathing instantly slows when Seokjin squeezes your fingers tightly. "I won't let you fall."

"Promise?" You whisper, still not convinced as you watch the people on the ground below get smaller and smaller.

"Promise." Seokjin chuckles. "Hey! Look!"

You manage to lift your gaze to where Seokjin's finger points, all fear melting away like snow when you lay eyes on the view of the town stretching out before you like tiny pieces of a toy village. The location gives you a perfect view of the giant Christmas tree that has been set up in town, decked with golden tinsel and shiny baubles alongside the thin layer of frosty snow that glimmers on rooftops and church steeples like a thousand stars.

"Woah." A gasp leaves you involuntarily. "It looks so..."

"Beautiful." Seokjin finishes your sentence with a smile but when you turn you find him staring straight at you. A blush caresses his cheeks. He coughs bashfully and you're reminded of the younger, shyer Seokjin you used to teach to skate at the ice rink.

The Ferris wheel comes to a halt when your cubicle reaches the very top. You smush your nose against the safety glass. If you squint you can just about make out the ice rink in the distance, along with an abundance of skaters gliding serenely across the ice. For a moment your heart leaps and you long to be down there, flying and spinning beside them, but then you remember the accident and you sink back with a frown.

Seokjin's velvety tone beside you brings you back down. "It's because of you, y'know."

"Huh?" You blink.

"You're the reason I started skating in the first place. I'd never be captain if you weren't such a good teacher."

You snort lightly. "If I'm such a good teacher how come I can't even skate anymore myself?"

Seokjin's smile is pitying but determined. He holds out his hand as if he wants you to shake it and you furrow your brows in confusion.

"Do you trust me?"

"Yeah...why?" Suddenly the cubicle starts moving back down and you are thrown into a less than graceful heap directly into Seokjin's lap. "Oh!"

"Woah there..." Seokjin's arms curl around your torso instantly, bigger and stronger than you remembered them being. You're hit with the scent of his laundry detergent and the lightly minty whisper of his breath across your cheek when you turn and find yourself nose to nose with him. "Be careful, skater girl."

A flush caresses your cheeks and this time it's not because of the cold. "I trust you!" You rush.

"Promise?" His breath is warm when it ghosts across your lips.

"Promise."

He just stares at you for a few seconds before you realise you're pressed so close to his chest that he can probably feel the way your heart is beating faster than one of those mechanical Little Drummer Boy decorations.

You cough and slide off his lap into the space beside him, muttering a few awkward sorry's and instantly missing his warmth when your fingers curl around the cold metal pole instead.

Seokjin's grin doesn't leave his face until you're both safely on the ground again and it only grows when you let him slide his hand into yours after he lifts you free from the death trap of a Ferris wheel and your boots collide with the sweet, sweet tarmac.

"Good. Because I have an idea."

"Remind me," Seokjin grunts as he hoists himself over the college campus gate, the locks and chains holding them together rattling under his weight before his feet land neatly on the other side. "Is trespassing illegal, little miss law student?"

"Very." You follow his previous actions, nimbly climbing the railings before letting Seokjin lift you to the ground on the other side. "Why are we here, anyway?"

His breath is visible against the darkening night as he pulls a key from his pocket, dangling it in front of your face teasingly. "Being team captain has some...perks."

"Perks? What kind of perks — Seokjin, wait up!" Before he can answer your question, he's already flattened himself against the brick wall with a sly smirk, looking both ways before sliding around the corner like a shitty MI5 agent. You stay put, arms crossed stubbornly, before Seokjin's arm appears from the dark mouth of the corner and drags you behind him with a yelp.

"Just trust me, okay?" Seokjin starts with a smile, but not before his face is draining of colour and he's lowering his voice to a harsh whisper. "Shit! I forgot about the cameras..."

"Cameras?" You squeak, following his gaze up towards the CCTV camera pointed toward the entrance a few feet away, like it's a predator waiting to catch its prey. "Seokjin! We can't get caught, you could lose your chance at a scholarship and I could get kicked out and—"

"Chill, we've got this. I've done this hundreds of times!" Seokjin's eyes flit to the ground when you raise an eyebrow at him. "Just, you know, to practice and stuff. Not with other girls or anything. Not that there are other girls! Just you. Because you're the only girl that I ever — never mind..."

A few moments pass in silence as you just blink at him  while he scratches the back of his neck. Watching him toe the dirt with his shoe sheepishly has a small smile growing on your face and all your inhibitions get thrown to the wind as quickly as your heart has started to race.

"I trust you." Seokjin looks up hopefully. "Let's do it."

He practically punches the air at your unreserved participation. "Here. Put this on." He yanks the green winter hat off his head, revealing his cutely dishevelled hat hair, and pulls the fabric down over your head roughly.

"Hey! Watch it. I can't see!"

He just laughs, thumbs pushing back the material to reveal your eyes, the fond curve of his lips coming into view when your vision adjusts. His hand pats the bobble on the end of the hat amusedly, like he's satisfied with his work. You pout. "What? It looks cute. Now come on, keep your head down and no one will ever know it's us."

You shoot a final wide eyed glance at the camera. You had already lost one dream and you couldn't afford to lose another. And if you lost it because of your own stupidity...

To your surprise, Seokjin's mitten covered hand slides into yours and its the feeling of his big palm enveloping your own that brings you back down. Something about the way he squeezes gently is comforting and fills you with a warmth that makes the December night feel a lot less chilly.

Seokjin smiles when you squeeze back. "Ready?"

"Ready."

And then, before you can change your mind, your feet are following Seokjin's as you run together in a fit of giggles past the cameras towards a back campus entrance, a funny feeling of elation fizzing through your veins as Seokjin swaps the hand he's holding so that he can use his dominant one to fiddle with the key in the lock.

"Remind me again, little miss law student." After a few tense heartbeats, the door swings open, and Seokjin flashes you a mischievous grin. "Is stealing the ice hockey coach's key so you can sneak in to the ice rink after dark illegal?"

Your eyes widen as he disappears into the dark entrance. "Very illeg- woah!"

Before you can protest, Seokjin's arms wrap around your waist, dragging you inside with him. Your hands curl around his neck automatically when he swings you around and around until you're both dizzy and spluttering with laughter in the darkness.

"Seokjin! Stop! Where are we?" You murmur into his hair when he finally sets you down on your feet, chests flush together as he backs up so that your shoulder blades press against the wall.

"Can I ask you something?" He whispers, suddenly serious. Your eyes have barely adjusted to the low light but you can tell his lips are inches from yours and you shiver when his warm breath tickles your nose.

Your hand instinctively reaches out to brush away the bangs covering his eyes, breath catching in your throat when Seokjin's brown pupils bore into your own, close enough to see the frost on his dark lashes.

"Of course," You manage to squeak, suddenly aware of how you've been holding your breath. "What is it?"

Did you miss me as much as I missed you? Can I kiss you?

You squeeze your eyes shut when his lips brush your forehead. He smells of minty shampoo and you're sure your heart is beating so fast it's going to escape from your chest any second. If you just lean up a little, place a hand on his shoulder and stand on your tippy toes...

"Why shouldn't you tell jokes while ice skating?" He whispers against your skin. His voice sounds hoarser than before and you notice the way his Adam's apple bobs when he swallows hard. Is he trying as hard as you are not to kiss him?

"Enlighten me." You breathe.

He keeps drawing ever closer and you pucker your lips...

"Because the ice might crack up."

Your eyes snap open just as he finishes leaning in, reaching over your shoulder to flick a switch that has the whole room lighting up before you.

Oh.

You're briefly disappointed until your eyes finally adjust, and you can't help but gasp at the sight akin to a winter wonderland before you. Strings of Christmas lights are suspended carefully over the familiar campus ice rink you know and love, glimmering like multicoloured snowflakes in the ice's reflection. The bleachers are lined with frosted Christmas trees flashing with silver tinsel and baubles that glint like river-light against the night.

You bite your lip but that doesn't stop elated laughter from escaping you, throwing your arms around Seokjin's neck, his own deep chuckle joining in when he staggers and barely keeps his balance.

"I've missed you." You say when you finally come down and you're both just staring at each other giddily now.

"Even the dad jokes?" The nod into his neck in confirmation makes Seokjin punch the air, though his laugh suddenly trails off and he starts to wring his hands nervously a moment later. "You might regret saying that when I tell you why we're here..."

"Seokjin?"

He flashes you a sheepish smile.

"Surprise! I'm gonna teach you how to skate again!"

"Absolutely not!"

"Come on, you said you trusted me remember?" You feel the colour drain from your face, Seokjin's fingers tightening around your wrist when you try to back step. "I can tell how much you miss it, don't you wanna be able to perform again?"

The memory of how it felt to glide around the ice is enough to make you shiver, a longing settling in your stomach for the cheers of the crowd as you land a perfect jump mingling with your skates scraping the ice.

For the feeling of being free again. That's what you miss more than anything in the world.

"I do." You bite your lip. "But..."

"But?"

"But I'm broken, Seokjin! Just like Jimin said."

"Hey. Look at me." Seokjin whispers when you turn away, probably able to see the glassiness of your eyes as his forefinger bumps beneath your chin. "You're not broken, okay? You're just scared."

You hug your torso. "Well duh. What if something happens? What if I fall again but this time my injuries don't heal? Or worse what if you fall—?"

Seokjin squeezes your shoulders gently and you realise that you're rambling. You trail off when you find him smiling at you reassuringly. "Listen. We don't have to do this if you don't want to. It's completely up to you. But if you do decide to start skating again, I promise I'll be there to pick you back up when you fall okay? Just like you did with me."

A sudden confidence grips you. Freedom feels so close again you could touch it. Who better to experience it with than Seokjin?

"Okay. Let's do it. I want to skate again."

Before you know it you're sat on the bleachers, sliding your feet into a pair of skates Seokjin retrieved from the lost and found closet. Your shaky fingers pause when they find the laces. Seokjin's warmth appears beside you.

"You okay?"

He's frowning and you realise your teeth are chattering with nerves. "Mhm. Just cold."

"You can be honest with me, you know." Seokjin gets to his knees and gently swats away your hands from your skates, his own fingers deftly stringing the laces. "I know this must be hard for you."

"I'm just nervous." You swallow.

"I'll be by your side the entire time." Seokjin assures. "And if you even come close to falling I'll catch you. I'm not captain of the team for nothing right?"

You snort and kick him with the toe of your skate teasingly. Seokjin's tongue pokes out of the corner of his chapped lips as he concentrates on tying your laces into a neat bow, glancing up at you to check they're tight enough and flushing when he meets your gaze head on. It's endearing and gets your heart racing, and not just with anticipation or nerves any more.

"Promise?" Your voice shakes.

His hand covers yours in your lap. It's mitten covered and warm against your frost bitten skin. "Promise." He scratches his neck. "But if you want to back out at any time just tell me and we can forget this ever happened—"

"No!" You quip, squeezing his shoulder. "I want to do this. With you."

Seokjin flashes you a smile and offers you his elbow. "Then what are we waiting for?"

Panic rises like bile in your throat as you get closer and closer to the the rink.

"No, no, no." You freeze up. "I can't!"

"You can." Seokjin insists, wrapping an arm around your waist as he guides you to the very edge. "Just don't think about it too much."

Don't think about it? How can you not think about it when your heart is beating a million miles an hour and your vision is blurring and you feel like you're going to pass out every time your body tells you to run run run as far away from the danger as possible?

"Look." Seokjin uses the barrier to lift himself onto the ice, sliding his feet back and forth to convince you. "I'm okay, right? Haven't fallen yet."

"Yet." You swallow, gripping the barrier to keep your balance even though you're still stood on solid ground.

"I won't." He offers you a hand. "Now come on. It's your turn."

You close your eyes and take a deep breath. You'll be fine if you just stand on the ice right? Baby steps.

Your palm slides into his and before you can change your mind you're launching yourself forward, eyes squeezed shut as you simply glide straight ahead into Seokjin's open arms. Relief washes over you when he holds you tight and you're safe again, one eye opening carefully to check you're really balancing on the ice and not a pile of limbs on the ground.

"See! That wasn't so bad right?" You shake your head. "Now you just gotta remember how to move..."

Your eyes widen. "Seokjin, I think this is enough for today—"

"Wait!" Seokjin fiddles with the zipper of his pocket to retrieve his phone, removing one of his gloves so he can tap at the screen. "We can't do this without music."

A few seconds later Seokjin is pressing play on a slow track he has downloaded on his phone and sliding one of his earbuds into your ear, the other into his own. You recognise it instantly as it's the same one you used to perform to when he begged you to teach him a routine five years ago. He grabs you by the arm again and smiles, big and bright. "Perfect. Ready?"

You're squeezing Seokjin's hand so tight you're sure the circulation to his fingers must be cutting off but he doesn't say anything, just keeps his other hand protectively at the small of your back as you slowly start to slacken your vice like grip on the barrier.

To your surprise, your feet move without you telling them too, naturally gliding along the slippery surface as if they've never been away from it. Muscle memory, you figure, as you find yourself beginning to gain some speed.

"I'm doing it!" You pant, relief washing over you as the breeze hits your face. "I can't believe I'm doing it!"

Your eyes are glued to Seokjin's skates, focusing hard on moving your own in time with his every step. You feel his chuckle vibrate through you and you don't even have to look up to know his eyes are shining.

"See? I knew you could."

The music humming through the headphones reaches its pivotal moment and you've done this routine so many times you know what move comes next. A one foot spin.

A bout of fear ripples through you again but Seokjin's right there to soothe you when he sees your eyes widening as he starts to twirl you around. "Just let go!"

"Let go." You repeat to yourself, finally taking your fingers away from the barrier as you lift one skate from the ice and begin to spin and spin and spin until the cold wind burns your skin and you're so dizzy you don't know whether to laugh or cry.

You don't even notice the music has stopped until you come to a shaky standstill. You're gasping for breath and Seokjin is just staring at you, mouth open.

"Damn. I forgot how good you are."

"Shut up." You're grinning now, elation coursing through every fibre of your being. "Let's go again! — ah!"

All the spinning messed with your vision and it feels like everything goes into slow motion as your legs crumble beneath your weight and your body collides with the cold ice. All you can hear is your heart, pumping into overdrive with fear as you close your eyes and brace for the pain in your leg to begin.

Except confusion settles in the pit of your stomach when it never does. You wriggle you're toes, relieved that they seem to still work and then you're sitting up in a daze.

Seokjin's face appears over yours, eyes filled with fear as he pulls your head into his lap. "Are you hurt? I'm so sorry Y/N, I never should have brought you here, this was a bad idea—"

Exhilarated laughter interrupts his concerned rambling and before you know it you're clutching your stomach and wiping happy tears from your eyes.

You're not broken! You're. Not. Broken. And for the first time since the accident you feel free again, like all the anger and hurt and sadness inside you just melted away to nothing.

"Huh? Did you hit your head?" He asks confused, coughing bashfully when you throw your arms tightly around his neck.

"Thank you! For bringing me here. Can we go again?"

Seokjin helps you to your feet but stops you from getting ahead of yourself. "I think this was enough for today but how about we agree to meet here again tomorrow at say...3PM?"

You reach out a now steady hand for him to shake. "Deal."

The next few weeks fly by when you have skating with Seokjin to look forward to every day.

As time goes by you start to regain your confidence, the panic that used to paralyse you whenever you set foot on the ice dissipating whenever Seokjin was around to reassure you.

You feel lighter than ever, like you're on top of the world. It's like everything is falling into place again. You have your skating back but more importantly you have Seokjin. And just being with him is like you're going at full speed on the ice, adrenaline and freedom coursing through you even when you're stood still.

It's like time stops when you're together just you and him and the ice, and that's how Seokjin finds himself running across campus in his ice hockey gear, late for practice again.

"So much for being a 'good captain.' Seokjin doesn't even turn up and he gets a college scholarship?" Park Jimin rolls his eyes at Jennie who is perched on his knee. Since Seulgi cut things off with him after his little show at the parade they've been pretty cosy, mostly because of their shared hatred for you and Seokjin respectively. "It's all that girl's fault."

"Who? Y/N?" Jennie says. "Ugh, I know. She's so full of it. I swear she thinks she's some pro skater or something."

"I mean, she is pretty good." Jimin confesses, stroking Jennie's thigh when she furrows her brows, smiling meekly. "But you're better, obviously."

"I don't know." She murmurs with a huff. "I was kinda glad when she stopped skating, y'know, because it meant that I was top of the league again. If she starts competing again..."

Jimin's eyes suddenly brighten with an idea. "Then we only have one option."

"What?"

"For me to become captain and for you to stay at the top, we gotta finish them once and for all."

"I like your thinking." Jennie purrs, but not before Seokjin runs into the campus locker rooms, out of breath as he fastens his ice hockey helmet around his chin.

"Sorry I'm late! I promise it won't happen—"

"Again?" Jimin scoffs, gesturing around at the rest of the team who are packing up their things. "Dude, you missed the whole of practice. We couldn't wait any longer so we had to start without you. Without our captain."

Seokjin throws his duffel bag into his locker, slamming the door shut a little too harshly. "And I said I'm sorry." A hush falls over the room, all eyes landing on the pair locked in a stare out. "I'll go practice now to make up for it, okay?"

He's hardly through the door when he hears Jimin snicker under his breath to Jennie. "This is why I'm telling coach he shoulda made me captain."

Seokjin freezes. "What did you say, Park?"

Jimin lets out a deep chuckle, standing up and squaring his shoulders though he's still a couple feet shorter than Seokjin. "I said that you're a shitty captain and I'm gonna take your place and your scholarship at the game on Christmas Eve."

"With your technique?" Seokjin pinches the bridge of his nose. "Tell me a funnier joke, Jimin."

"The only joke is your pathetic excuse for a skater girlfriend," Jennie spits, appearing behind Jimin and wrapping her arm around his waist in solidarity. "Maybe if you spent more time with your actual team instead of teaching that lost cause to ice skate you wouldn't feel so threatened."

"I'm not threatened." Seokjin clenches his fists. "...and she's not my girlfriend."

"Then prove it."

The contours of his face harden, jaw tense and shaking with a desire to set Park Jimin well and truly straight clouding his rationality as words he doesn't mean come flying out of his mouth before he can think better of it.

"Y/N means nothing to me, okay? I'm just teaching her to skate again because I feel bad about her accident." A finger pokes Jimin's chest harshly. Jennie seems startled. "And you're right. Maybe it is getting in the way of my focus. But guess what? From now on I'm only gonna be focused on beating your ass at the game on Christmas Eve and taking the scholarship that belongs to me."

"What?" A small voice sounds somewhere behind him and when Seokjin turns he finds you stood clutching the red scarf he left behind at the rink.

He can tell by the paleness of your face and the way your lip quivers that you heard everything. And before he can reach for you and explain, you're fleeing from the rink in a flood of angry tears for ever letting Seokjin melt the ice in your heart, even for a second.

"Y/N! Please wait!" Seokjin tugs at his hair exasperatedly, turning back to Jimin who is clapping with a dark smile.

"Looks like you have a choice to make, Seokjin."

"Go away, Seulgi." You grumble as your blanket cocoon is ripped away from your body. You hear the footsteps of your best friend patter across the carpet to the window, the light that floods into the room when she rips open the drapes making you groan. "It's too bright."

"Come on, time to get up!" You yelp when a perfectly manicured hand wraps around your ankle, dragging you away from the warmth and comfort of the body-shaped dent in your mattress. "This situation officially requires an intervention! And as your best friend I am taking it upon myself to get your ass out of bed."

It's been almost a week since you last saw Seokjin. Almost a week since he crushed your heart like glass and stamped on the shattered remains and threw them into the garbage disposal when you found out you were just his charity case and nothing more.

And more importantly, it's been almost a week since you realised just how real your feelings were for him. Are for him.

After a small struggle Seulgi wins, despite how erratically you kick your legs in a bid to break free from her grip, and you end up landing with a thud in a pile of blankets and throw cushions on the floor. You rub your eyes with a sigh. "An intervention?"

"Yeah. It's been, like, a whole week since I've seen you leave this room Y/N. I have skating practice in half an hour and you're coming with."

Seulgi gets down cross legged, shuffling up beside you and pulling the blanket over both of your laps. When you finally blink at her blearily for the first time you see her flame-like hair has been scraped back into a tight ponytail and she's wearing a matching mesh skating outfit, clearly ready for practice.

"Thanks but no thanks." You snort. "As much as that sounds thrilling I'm good here."

Seulgi shakes her head and prods your shoulder, sing song voice hardening into a lecture. "You can't hibernate forever, Y/N."

"Can too." Your fingers find a loose thread in the throw cushion in your lap, picking at it mercilessly to avoid looking your best friend in the face for fear that she would see through your facade. "I like hibernating. It's fun."

"Fun?" Seulgi rolls her eyes. A few seconds pass before she lets out a gentle sigh, her voice softening. "Listen...have you spoken to Seokjin yet—"

You wince. Just the mention of Seokjin makes your heart pang.

"No." Your voice wavers. "And I'm not planning on it. How can I after what happened?" Finally allowing yourself to talk about it feels good and before you know it you're burying your head in your hands and letting everything go. "God, I'm so embarrassed, Seulgi."

"Oh, Y/N." Her hand rubs your back soothingly. "What really happened between you two? Why did you run?"

You swallow hard. "I just...got scared."

"Of skating again? You seemed to be doing better since you started training with Seokjin..."

"No. I was scared of..."

"Your feelings for him?"

You pause, unable to help the small smile that creeps onto your lips even despite the warm tears that have started to roll unceremoniously down your cheeks.

"How do you always manage to read my mind?"

"I'm your best friend remember?" Seulgi draws a line between your foreheads before she wraps her arms around your waist and lays her head on your shoulder. You squeeze her back, silently thanking her for being there when you need her. "Besides, it's not like you've been hiding it. Whenever he's around you go all heart eyes for him." She grimaces. "I'm starting to see why you used to complain about me and Jimin so much."

"Do not!" You grumble, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks when she shoots you an are you serious? look. "Okay fine, lets say theoretically I am all heart eyes for him? What's the point in even admitting it when everything is messed up now, anyway? He said it himself. He never felt the same way about me."

"Well, theoretically, I would tell you to just talk to him. Bottling up your feelings isn't gonna change anything. Besides, I think you still have a chance at making things right. I've seen him waiting around outside the rink after hours. For you."

You avert your eyes. Seokjin? Waiting outside the rink? For you?

"He was probably just passing by or something." You grumble with a shake of your head.

"Everyday this week?" She raises an eyebrow. "Seokjin is good for you, Y/N. You've been different since he turned up...good different. Back to the Y/N we all know and love."

"If you love me so much why won't you let me sleep for a little while longer?"

"Please, you know it's just because I need my honorary wingwoman back. Kim Taehyung is coming by the rink tonight." It's your turn to raise an eyebrow. Seulgi laughs. "Okay maybe it's because I love you a little bit. I think getting back to normal and being at the rink will lift your spirits. Whaddya say?"

You roll your eyes but Seulgi doesn't miss the curve of your lips. "Fine."

She claps her hands gleefully, jumping to her feet and rummaging through your closet. She throws a Christmas sweater at your head. "I'll be waiting in the car!" She skips out of the room, humming the tune of a vaguely recognisable Christmas song beneath her breath. You shake your head fondly when wisps of her red hair poke back around the doorframe a moment later. "Oh, and don't forget to dress warm. There's gonna be a blizzard tonight, remember?"

A few minutes later you're sat in front of your mirror, brushing the frizz out of your hair in a bid to look somewhat presentable when Seulgi knocks on your door again. You roll your eyes. She's always impatient.

"Uhh, Y/N?"

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" You yell, grabbing your coat. "Hang on!"

"There's someone here to see you."

Your bag drops to the carpet with a thump when you round the corner and see him stood on the doorstep.

"Seokjin?"

Well, you can't see much of him because he's wrapped head to toe in snow gear and he has a huge box in his arms with a red bow on top and there's snow all over his coat but seeing him again makes your chest constrict none the less.

Seulgi still has her fingers on the door handle and she's looking between the pair of you with wide eyes as you just stare long and hard. "Well, I guess I'll leave you two to it then." She sings, but it sounds squeaky and forced as she wraps a scarf around her neck, ready to face the blizzard outside. "Y/N, you know where I am if you need me."

You manage to get out a nod and then Seulgi is awkwardly shuffling around Seokjin who is blocking the doorway and seems to have forgotten how to use his feet.

It's not until the cold air from outside starts to permeate the cosy warmth from your crackling fire place that you realise Seokjin is really here — and he's still standing outside in the goddamn blizzard like he wants to become a human snowman.

His voice brings you back down with a jolt.

"Can I come inside?"

Slanted shadows cascade across Seokjin's face as he peers through the blinds. The street outside is buried beneath a blanket of snow, and even from where you sit with your chin in your palm on the back of the couch you can see an icy flurry of flakes falling from the sky like frozen jewels beneath the glow of the street lights.

"Doesn't look like anyone's gonna be driving anywhere tonight." Seokjin murmurs. "This blizzard seems pretty severe."

You raise your eyebrow with a sigh. First Seokjin turns up on your doorstep unannounced, teeth chattering and covered in snow, and now he's gonna have to spend the night here? With you?

Seulgi sent you a text to let you know she was going to be staying with Taehyung for the night (wolf whistle) and follows up with some flirty emojis and a comment about enjoying your alone time with Seokjin which you can't see happening anytime soon what with the thick tension that sits heavy in the air.

Yeah, this could not get any more awkward, right?

Wrong.

"Thank you for the dry clothes." Seokjin gestures to the much-too-small hoodie that stretches across his torso and the jogging pants that barely reach his calves. The biggest items of clothing you could find in the clean laundry basket to replace his snow-sodden tshirt and jeans that had become transparent in some places by the time you invited him inside. If the situation weren't so tense you'd find it funny. "I thought you were gonna leave me out there all night and let me freeze to death for a minute."

You don't laugh, just keep your eyes on the dark swirls of hot cocoa you stir in two steaming mugs. He flashes you an awkward too soon? smile when you hand the largest mug to him, watching as he takes a grateful sip and sighs when it warms his insides.

A few seconds of silence pass interrupted only by the crackle of the blazing fire that creates orange flickering shadows over the contours of his face while you curl up on the opposite end of the couch beneath the patchwork blanket Seulgi bought you last December.

Finally you let out a sigh, looking at him properly for the first time. He seems worn around the edges, eyes ringed a little red as he fiddles with his fingers awkwardly. There's a pang in your chest.

"Why are you here, Jin?" The waver in your voice makes Seokjin's eyes soften at the corners. "I thought we were over. Whatever we were..."

"I wanted to talk to you."

You raise an eyebrow. "Couldn't you have waited until after the blizzard passed?"

"I needed to talk to you. To tell you the truth."

The truth. Did he really drive all the way over here just to rub it in that you meant nothing to him?

"What?" You scoff bitterly. "That you never really liked me? That I was just a joke to you this whole time?"

"No!" Seokjin reaches for you, some of his hot cocoa sloshing onto his pants in the process. He retracts his hand when you flinch. "That I'm a shitty, selfish idiot who got too caught up in his own drama to see what mattered most."

You dig your fingernails into your palm and promise yourself not to cry. "Then what about those things you said to Jennie, huh? Explain that."

"The scholarship." He tugs at a hangnail with his teeth, eyes filled with remorse. "When you saw me talking to Jimin that day he was trying to make me mad. He told me that if I kept skating with you..."

Suddenly it all makes sense. A wave of relief and realisation washes over you. It feels like your heart stutters back to life and you suck in a shaky breath.

"He'd tell the coach you weren't committed and get you kicked off the team." Seokjin nods and you instantly feel guilty that you didn't hear his side of the story before, fury towards Jimin burning up in your veins as you shake your fists. "That asshole! He's been mad this whole time that you got made captain instead of him and now he wants to ruin your chance at a scholarship? I have every mind to kick him in his tiny, useless—"

"I'm the asshole, Y/N." Seokjin tears you out of your rage as he leans forward and buries his face in his hands, shoulders quivering. "I let him get in my head and make me say things I didn't mean when I don't even care about the scholarship if..."

Your mouth is suddenly dry. "If what?"

He runs a hand through his hair carefully, finally lifting his gaze to lock with yours. "If I can't have you."

It's like you've been punched in he stomach but in the best way and you want to jump for joy or squeal like a goddamn school girl but all you can do is sit there with your mouth opening and closing like a goldfish.

"But now I've lost you again and this time it's for good and I'm so so sorry—"

Before you can think better of it you're planting your hands on Seokjin's broad shoulders, throwing your leg over his lap and crashing your lips together.

"Mmf!" It takes a couple seconds for Seokjin to catch up but when he does he lets out a tiny gasp, chest melting against yours as his lips finally move in sync with your own. "Oh."

The way he sighs into your mouth is like he's been waiting forever for this and you feel a similar sense of satisfaction, finally able to curb the craving for him that has been aching inside you for Seokjin for as long as you can remember.

"You haven't lost me." You pant when you bring yourself to break away for a breath. "And you're not an asshole. You've been working towards this scholarship for years so—"

It's his turn to cut you off now, Seokjin's fingers hooking beneath your chin and tilting your head towards him so that he can press his lips against yours in a tentative kiss, swallowing your words in transit.

It's slow and languid, the way he slots his plump bottom lip between yours, making you melt instantly. His cheeks feel warm and soft in your hands as you cup them, the action feeling somehow just as natural as the warmth blossoming in your chest when Seokjin moves his lips against your own with an impossible tenderness.

"I missed you so much." Your eyes are still squeezed shut when he places a peck to the tip of your nose, tucking a stray hair behind your ear as he forces you to look at him by bumping your chin playfully. "I'm sorry."

You pull him closer to you, so close you're sure he can feel the way your heart is beating like a drum. "Don't be. Just kick Jimin's ass at the game tomorrow, okay?"

"I can do that."

He smirks, leaning in for another kiss but hissing when his crotch brushes your thigh a little too directly that has a warmth pulsing between your legs when you feel the big problem he seems to be trying to hide.

You gasp. "Are you...?"

"Maybe..." A groan passes his lips and he tips his head back bashfully, unable to curb his smile when you start giggling into the crook of his neck. "What? I've been imagining this moment for years."

"Then hurry up and kiss me again, idiot."

This time the kiss is hungrier, tongue and teeth tangling together as his hands tighten in your hair. He tastes like hot cocoa and you can't help but groan when his tongue languidly brushes against yours, hips starting to press down into his teasingly.

"Need more, need you — oh!"

"A-are you sure? I'm good just kissing if you don't wanna..."

"No! I want to." You promise. "I trust you."

"Good." Seokjin's lips murmur next to your ear as his fingers dig into the underneath of your thighs, the hardness in his pants pressing against your stomach as he gets to his feet and you throw your legs around his waist with a squeal. "Because I don't think I could handle a whole night here with you like this." Seokjin's teeth pull at your bottom lip and you open your mouth to groan but Seokjin's eyes flutter closed and he ends up staggering straight into the elaborately arranged Christmas tree that Seulgi spent hours decorating. "Shit!"

You both freeze, staring at the mess of tinsel and lights scattered across the ground before you're shrugging your shoulders with a whoops! and guiding Seokjin to your bedroom as he chuckles beneath you. The decorations can be cleaned up later but you need Seokjin now.

Throw cushions soften the blow as you're dropped onto the bed and Seokjin crawls over you, parting your legs with his knee and wasting no time in attacking your neck with his lips. He smirks against your collar bone when you shiver as his hands creep up the hem of your sweater and you rotate your hips impatiently against his thigh, desperate for some relief from the throbbing ache in your heat.

"Can I?" You nod and he wastes no time lifting the garment over your head and you reach behind to unclasp your bra, a shaky breath leaving Seokjin when his eyes roam across your bare breasts, sitting back against his heels to drink in every inch of skin.

"You're beautiful." A heat rises in your cheeks when he attaches his lips to your hardened nipple, lavving his tongue over the bud, a groan tumbling from his chest when you tangle your hands in his hair and arch your back, desperate for more.

"Please." You whimper, hands feeling for the waistband of his sweats when he comes up for air with a pop. "Wanna feel you."

The rise and fall of his chest quickens when your warm palm grasps him over the fabric, pads of his fingers tightening around your thigh when you sit up so you can slip your hand into his boxers, letting out a moan of your own when your fingers finally wrap around the girth of him.

He's hot and hard and heavy in your palm and your heart skips a beat when your thumb spreads the bead of precum leaking from his tip down his shaft, the slick movement of your hand as you begin to stroke him increasingly faster making his head fall into the crook of your neck.

"F-fuck Y/N." He bucks up into your fist and you smirk. "F-feels so good. Been imagining this."

"Me too." You confess, giggling when he grabs your wrist and flips you over so he can press you into the mattress again. "Can't believe this is happening."

"Me either." His fingertips run down your sides tentatively, hooking beneath the band of your jeans which are quickly stripped away and thrown across the room with a grin. He stops when he gets to your panties though, glancing up through his dark lashes, eyes ever gentle and filled with a combination of lust and fondness that you know you'll never be able to get enough of. "Are you sure?"

Your heart thumps with anticipation as you nod, pulling him down to connect your lips. "I'm sure." And with your confirmation Seokjin is dragging the lacy fabric down your bare legs slowly until they join the rest of your clothes on the floor.

Seokjin's eyes dip between your legs when you part them shyly, an involuntary oh my god slipping past his lips when he sees how your folds glisten with wetness, palm coming between your legs so you can grind your neglected clit against the heel of it while he slips a finger into your tight heat.

"Oh!" The intrusion makes you writhe, on one hand grateful for some relief but on the other ever more eager to feel fuller. The pads of his fingers drag against your walls deliciously and the pressure on your clit is just right and you feel your climax steadily build between your legs. "Wait!"

Seokjin pauses and you take advantage of his momentary confusion by flipping him onto his back, bracing your hands on his chest. "Wanna make you feel good too."

"H-how..." Seokjin starts, but then your hand is wrapping around his cock and lining the tip up with your entrance before sinking down to the hilt with a soft exhale that mingles with Seokjin's. "Fuck."

It takes a couple seconds for you to adjust to the size of him and you rest your cheek on his chest, listening to the way his heart beats uncontrollably. His fingers stroke your hair and you feel so overwhelmed with warmth that you're sure of it now; you're in love with Kim Seokjin.

"Ready?" His nod is eager and when you start to move your hips his head throws back into the pillows and you can see the way his adams apple bobs every time his cock nearly falls out of your heat before your slamming back down again in a steady rhythm.

Eventually you feel the coil in your belly start to tighten again, eyes rolling back as you lose yourself to the feeling of his cock hitting your sweet spot with every thrust and you're a mess of whimpers and breathy moans. Seokjin's big palms come up to cup your ass, holding you steady so he can pound his own hips up to meet your movements at an even faster pace than before.

"Seokjin!" You cry, bracing yourself with a hand on the wall behind the bed. The angle has your clit grinding against his pubic bone with every upward thrust and before you know it you're shuddering and reaching your high, vision turning black as you feel your walls tighten impossibly hard around Seokjin, the action enough to have him falling over the edge with you.

A few seconds pass where your pants of satisfaction just mingle together before Seokjin is cupping your face and whispering the three words you've always wanted to hear against your lips.

"I love you." He croaks, the sincerity in his voice making the corners of your lips turn up. And in that moment you feel the last pieces of your heart flutter into his hands and you know you are undeniably, irrevocably, forever and always his.

Seokjin suddenly flips you onto your back, leaving a series of playful kisses all over your face, each punctuated by a sillier "I love you!" until you're pushing him away by the chest and snuggling up into his side instead, head on his arm where you feel so safe and warm you never want to leave.

"Can I ask you something?" You whisper shyly. He nods, eyes falling shut as he plays with your hair contentedly.

"Why did you leave without telling me before?"

Seokjin brushes your noses together. "Because I knew I wouldn't be able to leave if you told me not to go."

You smile up at him, thumb tracing his jaw fondly. "You cheesy idiot."

Realisation flashes across his face. "Wait! I forgot about the cheesiest thing yet." You groan when he throws the covers off, assaulting you with a blast of cold air as he pulls his pants back on and disappears back into the living room. His head pokes around the doorframe cheekily, something hidden behind his back as he stalks back over to the bed, eyes glinting. "I got you something."

You furrow your brows when he produces the large box from earlier, now able to read your own name scrawled across the gift tag in his messy handwriting.

"Surprise!" He holds it out for you to take. "I wanted to wait until Christmas but now feels like the right time to give it to you."

Your fingers shake with excitement as they carefully untie the ribbon and remove the lid, revealing an abundance of pink tissue paper surrounding a pair of the most beautiful ice skates you have ever seen. The very same ice skates you remember seeing in that shop display at the Christmas market all those weeks ago, except the laces have been swapped out for a pair of candy-cane coloured ones, just like the miniature ornament he once gave you has been brought to life.

"Seokjin." Tears well in the corners of your eyes as you turn them over in your hands in pure disbelief. "They're really mine?"

He nods, scratching the back of his neck anxiously. "Do you like them?"

"I love them." You assure him, scrambling to your knees so you can plant your hands on his shoulders and kiss him hard and slow. "But I love you more."

His face heats up a rosy red and he pulls you into his chest to avoid the evidence (and the cheesy grin appearing on his face.)

"Impossible."

“Wait!” You sit up suddenly with a pout. “But I didn’t get you anything.”

Seokjin just laughs. “You’re the best Christmas gift I coulda asked for.”

It's Christmas Eve and you're sat in the bleachers, eyes glued to the number 33 jersey moving swiftly around a group of defence men on the ice below.

Through the unruly cheers of the crowd you can hear the faint throb of your own heartbeat pulsing in your chest, breathing rigid as the game gets tense — there's one minute left, the score is 2:2, and the opposition is pretty good for a college team — but you know Seokjin is better and you cross your fingers tightly as you see him steal the puck.

With a sharp flick of his wrist he launches the black puck into the air. It spins a few times before it slams into the net and the crowd around you erupts into a frenzy. Your heart beats with pride as his team mates lift him onto their shoulders, punching the air and thumping his back in elated congratulations. Even the scholarship board who you can see sat in the front row seem impressed, nodding their heads and scribbling furiously in their notebooks.

Kim Seokjin! Kim Seokjin! Kim Seokjin!

Seokjin lands back on his feet and then he's ripping off his helmet, cupping his forehead, and squinting up through the harsh reflection of the ice at the bleachers, scanning every single face until his eyes land on yours and a giant grin tugs at the corners of his lips. Suddenly it's as if everyone around you disappears and it's just you and him against the world.

But the moment is interrupted when Seokjin is suddenly knocked off his feet by another body moving at full speed. Park Jimin. You know it's him because you can see his hard eyes peering out from between the bars of his helmet as he throws his hockey stick down on the ice and angrily swings himself over the barrier so he can storm out of the rink.

A cacophony of gasps sound around you. The whistle blows. Seokjin is flat against the ice. Your heart starts to pound.

"Come on Seokjin. Get up. Please get up." You cross your fingers behind your back, brushing away the searing fear that runs hot in your veins telling you to run, that he's injured beyond repair. "Get up!"

And then, he gets up.

Before Seokjin can reach the edge of the rink you're running down the bleachers, pushing through the crowd to get to him. He's breathing heavily when he pulls off his helmet but that doesn't stop the beaming smile that appears on his face when he sees you coming his way.

"You're an idiot!" You whisper into his neck when you crash into him full force. His arms curl around your back, legs wobbling in his skates as he tries to find his balance and prevent you both from falling. "You could have gotten hurt! Or worse!"

"But I didn't, did I?" Seokjin cocks an eyebrow. "Not even gonna congratulate your boyfriend on his smashing win?"

Seokjin chuckles when you shake your head and hit his chest with a pout that desperately wants to turn into a smile. His eyes soften when they meet yours and you instinctively unwind your scarf and drape it around his neck when his teeth start to chatter.

You finally give in to the way the corners of your mouth tug. "Just shut up and kiss me already."

"Gladly." Seokjin chuckles, pulling your face into his hands and planting his lips on yours.

[rainydaydream-gal18]

Steve Rogers x Reader: The Nutcracker(AU) Part 3

(Warning, these are long)

 An hour or so later; you, Steve, and Natasha were on the road.  You wore a warm winter outfit and a thick coat over it with a hat and mittens.  And what do you know?  Trudging through the snow with actual winter boots made it a much better experience.  Natasha was dressed similarly, and Steve, well, he didn’t exactly need any winter gear in his nutcracker state.  Must be nice not having to worry about getting cold.

   It was hours of trekking through the snow.  You passed the time with word games and asking questions about the kingdom. Natasha and Steve enjoyed it.  They asked you questions in return about your life back home.  It was a learning experience for everyone.

   As the three of you approached the frozen lake, it seemed so vast.  One thing you hadn’t noticed before was the little cabin perched right at the shore.  Smoke rose from the chimney, and you were reminded of the quaint town you had left behind.

   “Oh great,” Steve muttered, stopping at the top of a hill.  “I forgot.”

   You glanced at him.  “What?”

   Natasha smirked at you.  “An old friend of ours lives in that cabin.”

   “He and I didn’t always agree on things,” Steve elaborated.  “He refused to stay at the Royal Garden Inn with everyone else after the Mouse King raided the castle.  Likes his space.”

   “Castle?”

   “Yeah, you could say I used to work there.  Like Romanoff.”

   “Ohh, I see,” you adjusted your coat.  “So, what does this mean?  Are we still able to cross the lake?”

   “Not without Tony’s help.”

   “Tony?” your brows rose incredulously.  “As in Tony Stark?”

   “Yes, the famous inventor,” Steve confirmed.  “At least, he’s famous here.  How did you know?”

   “Oh,” you shrugged.  “It’s a long story.  But for now, let’s just pretend I overheard something about him at the inn.”

   “Alright then.”  Steve shook his head.  “Either way, I was really hoping I wouldn’t have to run into him again.  Not looking like this.  Tony’s going to have a field day.”

   Knowing what Tony was like in the Avengers movies, your Captain America nutcracker was certainly right.  However, if he said that the three of you couldn’t cross the lake without him, he would have to deal with it.  In reality, you were excited to meet the character in this world!

   - - - -

   You, Natasha, and Steve stood at the doorway to the log cabin.  Steve and Nat exchanged looks as if daring the other to knock. You shrugged and knocked a few times without hesitation.  Steve sucked in a breath, and Natasha looked like she was trying to hold back a smirk.

   The door opened, and there he was.  Tony stood there, brown eyes staring down the three of you.  His gaze rested on Steve before he burst into laughter, hands on his stomach as he roared.

   “Really, Tony…” Steve grumbled.  “It’s been a while since we saw each other, and this is how you want to go about this?”

   “Hey,” the inventor chuckled.  “You show up on my door looking like that and expect me to act like nothing’s up?  It’s fair game, Cap, and you know it.”

   “Alright, alright.  Have at it.”

   “So, what’s your plan?  Chop your arm off if you need firewood?”

   “Theeere it is,” Steve sighed.  

   You shook your head, though you were unable to hide a smile, as you interjected.  “Come on, guys, let’s try and grow up.”  

   Tony’s laughter died down, and his expression became more skeptical as he looked to you.  “And who are you?  I don’t think we’ve met.  Friend of the Royal Highness, I presume?”

   “What?” You tipped your head to one side.  “No, I’ve never met this prince that everyone keeps talking about.”

   “Um, yes you have.”

   “Tony, don’t,” Steve warned.

   “I never took you for the type to not flaunt your royal status.  You had no trouble doing that at the palace.”

              “Look, I never wanted to ‘flaunt’ my royalty.  There were some people who seemed to forget that I was the one in charge of running the kingdom, and they wanted to do things their way.  I had to remind them from time to time.”

   “Wait, what’s going on?” you questioned.  “Steve?  Are you the prince?”

   Steve looked at you and nodded.  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you at first.  I intended to.”

   “It’s fine, I mean, it doesn’t really make a difference,” you explained.  “But what does bother me is we’re having this discussion out in the cold.”

   Tony shrugged and stepped aside so the three of you could file in.  His cabin was basically a steampunk workshop with odd devices scattered about and hanging on the walls.  There was even a steampunk Ironman suit in the corner.

   “Thanks, Tony,” Natasha said.  “Now, we didn’t come here so you could make fun of Prince Steve.  We’re actually trying to cross the frozen lake to-”

   “To find the Sugarplum princess.”  Tony rolled his eyes. “You’re not the first.  There’s no proof that she even exists other than some ruins where a castle used to be.”

   “Well, that’s something,” Steve grasped onto that hope.  “___________ and I need to get there and turn back into our original forms.”

   Tony looked at you.  “What happened to you?  You look fine to me.”

   “The Mouse King shrunk me in my world.”

   “Oh, gotcha.”  He stroked his beard as he contemplated this.  “I’ve got just the thing to help you lot across the lake.  It’s in the workshop out back.  Believe or not, I made the finishing touches last night.”

   “Wow perfect,” Nat said.  “You know, we could use that brain of yours.”

   “Yeah, I’m sure you could,” Tony plopped down in a couch and put his feet up on the coffee table in front of it.  “But I’m sure Prince Stevie wouldn’t want me coming along.”

   “Actually,” Steve spoke up.  “Nat’s right.  We could really use you on the team, Tony.”

   Tony’s brows rose in surprise.  “Isn’t this a pleasant surprise?  Cap needs my help.”

   “Wait, why do you call him Cap if he’s the prince?” You asked.  “Not to change the subject or anything.”

   Tony chuckled.  “It’s short for Captain of the Guard.  That’s what he used to be before he was granted Prince status by the kingdom.”

   “Ohh, I see.” 

   “Anyway,” Tony continued.  “You sure you want someone with different ideas than you along on the trip?”

   “Tony, it never bothered me that you have different ideas.  Yes, we are very different.  Polar opposites.  But you’re a smart man, and we need you.  The sooner we find the Sugarplum Princess, the sooner me and ___________ can get changed back and maybe even get help taking down the Mouse King.  Then we can all take our rightful place in the palace again.  You get your old workshop back.  Nat and the rest of the guard resume their post.”

   “And you get your nice throne back wrapped up with a pretty bow,” Tony stated, a hint of irritation in his tone.  

   “I’m going to do things a little differently,” Steve said.  “There’s no way I’m letting someone like the Mouse King get through again.”

   “Well, what can I say, Cap?” he shrugged.  “I guess I’m in.”

   “But Tony, you have to- Wait, you’re in?” Steve asked.  

   “Yep.  Let’s do this thang.”

    - - - -

   “Wow, Tony, you’ve really outdone yourself,” Natasha complimented, giving the horseless sleigh a pat with a gloved hand.  “You sure this thing will get us there in one piece?”

   “Oh yeah.  This baby is pretty fast.  In theory, that is.”

   “You haven’t tested it yet?” Steve asked.  “You know what? I don’t even want to know.”

   “Well, what are you all waiting for? Christmas?  Get in, and let’s get rolling,” Tony ushered you inside.  Steve volunteered as tribute and jumped in first, reaching out a hand to help you.

   “I hope this thing doesn’t blow up in my face,” you grumbled, climbing in.  It was a casual display of chivalry, but you got bashful as Steve helped you into the spot next to him.

   “If it does, it’ll have to go through me first,” he assured you.

   “You’ll just feed the fire,” Tony pointed out with a shrug.

   “Don’t say that!” Nat gave him a slap with her hat.  

   Tony raised his hands defensively.  “What? He’s literally made of wood!”

   You rolled your eyes and hugged your knees to your chest as the inventor started up the engine.  It sounded like a few gunshots going off before the sleigh shook violently for a moment, and then the whole thing shut off.  After a few more starts, the sleigh finally roared to life.  

   “Woohoo!” you exclaimed.  Then, your mood quickly changed when you happened to glance over your shoulder and see the Mouse King and several of his minions racing across Tony’s backyard towards where you all were at the edge of the lake.  “Um, guys?”

   Tony’s eyes followed where you were pointing.  “Looks like we got this thing started just in time.  Mouse Guy and his boys are on their way.” He shifted gears, and the sleigh took off flying onto the frozen lake, spraying snow and ice everywhere.  “Thaaat’s right, chitauri. Eat my dust.”  Tony shifted another gear, and the sleigh picked up speed.  Just like that, the chitauri looked like ants in the distance, growing smaller and smaller behind you.  With the danger evaded, you took a moment to enjoy the feel of the wind in your hair.  It was ice-cold, but was still a lot of fun.

   “This is awesome!” you exclaimed.

   “Oh, you want to see awesome?” Tony smirked.

   “No, Tony,” Steve scolded.  “Do not start doing donuts on the frozen lake.  We have a destination to get to!”

   Surprise, surprise.  Tony did a few donuts anyway.  You noticed Steve’s irritation melt away when he looked over at your grinning face.

   Next thing you knew, the sleigh engine began to sputter mid-donut.  Your smile quickly vanished.  The group hadn’t made it across the lake yet.  If the engine gave out now, it could be problematic.  It revved once or twice, and then it finally just died.

   Tony looked at Steve.  Steve looked at Tony.

   “You’ve got to be kidding me, Stark,” Steve complained, face-palming.

   “Hey, I barely had a chance to test it before.  We were bound to run into issues anyway.”

   “But you didn’t have to push it like that…”

   As the two of them began arguing, you and Natasha exchanged looks and shook your heads.  “Looks like we’re camping out on the lake,” she said. “With all due respect, Prince Steve, I think you two should stop fighting and start getting ready for when the temperature drops.  You do have an emergency kit in this thing, right Stark?”

   “Of course I do,” Tony replied.  “There are a few compartments under the seats with firewood, blankets, and some snacks.  It should be more than enough for a few nights.  Worst case scenario, if we run out of firewood, we can throw one of Cap’s arms in there.”

   Unamused by his comment, you reached under the seat and found the blankets.  Then, Steve and Tony started hauling out firewood and piling it up.

   “We’re fortunate to have left the Mouse King in the dust,” Tony commented.  “You don’t think they’ll come after us out here, do you?”

   “No,” Nat stated.  “He’s too much of a coward.  And even if he did, it would take them a while before they could reach us.  We went pretty fast.”

   “That’s good to know,” you said, watching as she pulled out flint and steel and lit the fire.  “Also...why are we building a fire on the ice?  Won’t it melt?”

   The scientist of the group spoke up immediately.  “Interestingly, no. Fire burns upward, so it won’t melt the ice.  Plus the ash creates a sort of bedding around the fire to keep it from hitting the ice too.”

   “Oh wow, that’s pretty cool.  And comforting.”  You sighed, spreading out a blanket to sit on beside the fire.  “If it weren’t so freaking cold out, I’d really enjoy this more.”

   “Tell me about it,” Tony agreed.

   Steve sat down beside you and put an extra blanket over your shoulders.  Nat glanced at him, and then smirked at you knowingly.  Tony didn’t miss the moment.

   “You’re being as gentlemanly as ever, Cap.  What’s up?”

   Steve stared at him.  “What?”

   “Nothing, I just noticed you’re being extra attentive.”

   You wanted to crawl back into the sleigh for the night and disappear.  Steve just met Tony’s gaze sternly, and thankfully, nothing more was said on the subject.  You also saw Nat elbow Tony out of the corner of your eye.

   As the night drew on, the temperature did indeed drop.  A lot. You thought it was cold before, yikes, you had no idea what was coming.  Fortunately, the fire helped a lot.  Tony passed out, and Nat drifted in and out of sleep a few times.  You could tell she was a light sleeper, probably from being a soldier-spy.  Soon enough it was just you and Steve awake.  How conveniently romantic.  It wasn’t though.  Actually, it was a little awkward at first.  Neither of you said anything for a few.  Finally, he looked over at you.

   “You warm enough?”

   You tore your eyes from the warm glow of the fire and met his blue ones.  “Yeah, I suppose.”

   “I know it may not be much help, but come here.”  He opened his arms a bit so you could sit right up against him, and you obliged.  You expected it to be like sitting against a wall or a wooden dresser, but strangely, it was comforting.  It was safe, and perhaps you imagined it, but it was a little warmer.

   “Thank you, that’s actually much better,” you told him.

   “I’m glad.”  He ran his hand up and down your back, as if hoping the friction would bring you more warmth.  “I’m sorry we were delayed another day.”

   “It’s fine.  Things happen,” you chuckled, shooting a glance at sleeping Tony.  “Either way, I’m just glad we’re all safe and sound.  Cold, but safe.”

   “Me too,” he agreed.  “Soon we’ll find the Sugarplum princess, and you and I can go back to normal.”

   “So she seems cool,” you concluded.  “What else do you know about her?”

   “They say she’s very beautiful, kind, and compassionate,” he continued, eyes softening.  You recognized a pang of jealousy in your chest and a weird twisted feeling in your stomach. Would Steve fall for her?  His hero?  The one who would change him back and restore the kingdom?  

   “That’s cool,” you said, not wanting to dig any deeper on that matter. “I do have another question for you. Why did you not want to tell me you were the prince?”

   “Oh, that,” Steve scratched the back of his head.  “I didn’t want you look down on me for letting my kingdom get overrun by the Mouse King.  That, and also because I didn’t want you to see me any different if I was a prince.”

   “Me?  Look down on you? Never.  And to be honest, you’re a superhero in my world, so any star-struck behavior on my part has already passed.  Finding out you are the prince here didn’t really change how I feel about you.”  

   He smiled.  “That’s good to know.  You’re amazing, you know that?”

   You looked up at him, a mixture of surprise and warmth in your eyes. “Thank you.  I wouldn’t say ‘amazing’ exactly, but I appreciate it.”

   “Well, you are.”

   The two of you continued your conversations, talking about random things.  It was a different experience getting to know Steve versus seeing him on the big screen.  Since he was a prince of a kingdom here, there were some obvious differences.  But he still had the same calm demeanor, selflessness, and kindness.

   You awoke to Natasha gently nudging you.  You weren’t sure at what point you had drifted off to sleep last night. You awoke a few times, missing your home and wondering if they were worried about you.  After tossing and turning a bit, you must have fallen asleep.

   “Good morning, sleepy-head.”

   “Good morning,” you yawned.  Tony and Steve were already getting the sleigh loaded.  “We’re leaving already?”

   “Yeah, Steve insisted we let you sleep a bit.  He said you had a rough night.  You okay?”

   You nodded.  “I guess I was a little homesick is all.  I’m good, though.  Thanks.”

   “Glad to hear you’re better,” she helped you pack up the blankets.  Boy, it wasn’t nearly as cold as it had been last night, but it still wasn’t the most pleasant.  “Stark managed to get the sleigh working again.  It was quite the ordeal.  I’m surprised you slept through it.”

   “Wowzers, well I’m glad we don’t have to walk the rest of the way.”

   “I’d have to kill Tony if that were the case.” Nat lifted a brow, and you had a feeling she might be only half-kidding.  You hopped into the sleigh in the same spot next to Steve, and Nat and Tony got in shortly after.  Tony started it up, and you were off!

    It was a while before the island came into view.  Upon arrival, Tony was sure to park the sleigh out of sight just in case the Mouse King showed up.  It was very doubtful, but you never know.  Taking a look around, you realized Fury had been right.  The only thing left of the Sugarplum Princess’ castle was ruins. It was snowy and beautiful like the rest of the land here, but nothing seemed particularly interesting about it.

   At least, not at first.

PART 4 (FINAL PART)

[jack-is-lost]

PATCHES & PINS (CH 2)

A/N: This story revolves around a transgender, female to male, original character. LGBTQ+ topics are a given within this story. Gender and body dysphoria will come up as well since he is not out to his family — only close friends. If you dislike such a story premise please understand you do not have to interact with it at all. Leaving hate comments will be removed. Of course, constructive feedback is always welcomed.   Pairing: Eventually Marko x OTMC Story is still in progress and updates will be slow Eventually it will be posted on A03 once I’m a few chapters in

Chapter one | Currently on Chapter two | Chapter 3 coming soon.

Chapter two

“Stayed up late again, didn’t you?” Jay groaned into the couch cushions as Tyler braced his weight on the back of it to peer down at his gremlin of a sister. “With a sleep schedule like this, you might be able to snag an overnight job at the store.”

Tyler received another mumbling mess for a response, but he knew the telltale answer. It was always the same; ‘Don’t wanna’ or ‘No time’.

“C’mon, Jay,” he shook the couch, the motion of it getting her to roll over at least and look up at him. “You know it’s a good idea. You’ll be turning eighteen soon, and you have no job history under your belt.” 

“Ty…” Jay sighed out, searching for strength. “I know that, of course. It’s just—”

“—No, no, none of the ifs, ands, and buts, Jay.” He cut his sister off, arms crossing. Sometimes it was like Tyler was trying to be the father figure. Not that they were missing one by any means. “It is the summer. A good time to work a temporary job, at least.” Jay sat up and ran fingers through unruly hair, trying to calm it down. “Fine, I’ll walk around a bit and put applications in, okay?” Anything to get you off my ass, Jay added silently. “Head over to the market.” Came the simple reply, but a smile was there nonetheless. They both knew the store was always looking for overnight stockers. It was the job Tyler worked at for the longest time before getting a spot at the town's mechanic shop. “Will do. Now, let me lay here in peace, please, or make a pot of coffee.” Tyler rolled his eyes dramatically but didn’t say anything snide. Instead, he headed for the kitchen to wash the pot out and start a new batch. Their parents wouldn’t be home for a few more hours, both working afternoon shifts, and Jay could lay about till then. “Oh, by the way,” Tyler called out from the kitchen. “I changed the laundry over to the dryer while you were napping.” Jay peered over the couch at the words and into the adjacent room, staring at his back with big eyes. “And you might want to hide your newly bought jeans from mom.” Oh, yeah, he definitely saw the giant tear in the knee. Jay slid down into the cushions face first, groaning once more. 

Shit. . . . “Edgar!” he hollered out while stepping into the comic shop from the cooling night air. A rustling noise, a sound of a box hitting the ground, greeted Jay before a head popped up over the counter. “What’s the deal, man,” Edgar grumbled out before ducking back down. Obviously startled by the sudden outburst and now irritated at picking up inventory from the floor. “The deal?” Jay stopped at the counter, plopping his bag there to unzip it. “You left my ass at the cemetery, and—” he pulled out the jeans, “— my pants tore because of you.” Edgar stood up straight to look at the clothing, quickly noticing a nice long gash in the overall pristine trousers. “I wasn’t wearing them so how is it my fault?”

“Don’t,” Jay glared and was ready to explain the reasoning when Alan walked out from the back. He looked equally exhausted. “I’ll fix them.” He spoke up while coming to a stop next to his brother. “Why? It adds character.” “Shut up, Ed.” Alan grabbed the clothing and slung it over his shoulder. It was clear to him that Jay was avoiding trouble. They looked new, and Alan knew how much their parents were strikingly different. If any of their clothes tore, it was no problem — hardly even noticed by their stoned-out mom and dad. Jay’s parents, however, that was another story. “Thanks, man.” “Wear something more worn out next time,” Edgar muttered while bending down to pick up the box to continue his work. “Next time?” Jay followed the brother along the counter, stepping up behind Edgar as he walked into an aisle. “I’m not doing a ‘next time’.” 

One time was enough. “Look,” the boy turned to face him, a scowl already present, but when wasn't it? “You made it out with no trouble, right? Didn’t get caught, right?” Jay eyed him, not sure where this was going. “...Yeah?” “Then why stop? You need the practice to become a proper hunter.” “Ed—” “—Edgar.” Jay rolled his head along his shoulders, “Point is," he breathed out. "I never wanted to be a hunter.” This made Edgar’s brows lift with speculation. “Then why read so much about monster-bashing?”

“I…” Jay started then shoved his hands into his jacket, turning away, “Forget it. I’ll be back tomorrow to grab my jeans.” He needed a break from these two. Jay headed outside of the establishment, almost scrapping shoulders with a customer while storming out, but he didn't care. It was hard for Jay to explain his mere interest in folklore. It wasn’t to go on make-believe hunting sprees, not at all. Supernatural shit didn’t even exist — it was all made up for entertainment, nothing else. Blindly Jay walked down the boardwalk, heading out toward the shopping district further into town. His gaze was more on the ground or sky than straight ahead of him, asking any deities up there to give him some internal strength. He really needed it. Jay hated job hunting, avoided it even. It was just another group of people calling him female pronouns and using his full name — where legal paperwork spoke volumes over him. And the uniforms — they would no doubt show off what little curves Jay constantly made a point to hide, and he hated it. A bump against his shoulder went unaddressed. Jay could care less and didn’t even look back to apologize. It wasn’t until the person spoke up that he even gave pause. “What?” Jay asked while turning around, catching the sight of a genuine smile. “I said, ‘you look better with no mud’.” It was the guy from the cemetery. ( Marko’s POV )

“Thanks?” the voice was soft, if not a little uneasy. Marko shrugged, “No problem. Where were you headin’?” “Oh,” Marko watched the other turn back toward their previous destination. Off in the distance, the shopping district lit up the night sky. If one squinted, they could even see the big, bold neon sign for the market. “Was about to, um,” Marko lifted his brow while waiting. “Put in an application?” “You don’t seem so sure about that?” He asked while holding back a smirk. “Because I’m not?” Again it was said like a question. “Let me guess,” Marko chuckled. “You’d prefer not to work? What are you, a party animal or something?” That received a good laugh. “Fuck, no. Do I look like a frat boy to you?” Marko took the question like an invitation and openly swept his gaze over the one standing before him. Short hair with the sides faded, a hoodie beneath a jacket — how many layers does one need during summer nights — faded jeans, and sneakers. “Ah, nope.” He popped the ‘P’ sound after a second of staring. “I’d say you look more like a guy who…” he hummed in thought, really trying to find the right words. “—Like someone who’d probably fall asleep at a movie theater?” Marko feigned shock, a hand grabbing at his chest. “You’re kiddin’ me, right?” “Nope,” this time he popped the ‘P’ sound. “With all that loud sound effects and shit?” Marko received a nod without hesitation. “Okay,” he drew out the sound, ”How ‘bout horror movies? You cannot tell me you’d sleep through all that noise?” Boring romance movies and dry comedy was one thing, but slasher flicks was another — surely. It took a moment to reply, and Marko watched as the other’s face scrunched up in thought. The answer came in the form of a shrug, “Can’t say I’ve tried that, exactly.” Without a second thought, Marko grabbed the teen’s wrist — like he did last night, and headed in an entirely new direction. “Whoa— whoa, where’s the rush, my dude?” “Child’s Play just came out, and I am taking your ass to the movies.” “You are what?” The voice behind him laughed. “I don’t even know your name, and you’re taking me on a date?” Marko looked over his shoulder with a wicked smirk. “The names Marko.”

( Jay’s POV ) Jay stared at the back of his head while being guided toward The Sash Mill Cinema. Was this normal? Everything felt natural around this guy, and it left Jay feeling a little baffled. Marko didn’t even bat an eye at the lame joke. He didn’t think I was serious about it, did he?  He stood beside the other while Marko paid for tickets. He didn’t even comment about it when the other ordered a large bucket of popcorn and two fat sodas. It wasn’t until they plopped down inside the semi-lit room, waiting for the movie even to start, when Marko spoke up again. He looked completely at home, too, with boots resting upon the seat in front of him. “So, do I get the courtesy of your name too?” “Oh, uh, it’s Jay.” His gaze fell to the popcorn in his lap, where Marko had placed it once sitting down. “I could have pitched in some, y’know?” “Don’t worry about it, man. Besides,” he reached for a handful of popcorn, a boot resituating to lean across the other. “How could I expect a jobless teen to pay for something?” The words didn’t have any heat to them, but Jay still gave a side-eye-glare. “I had some cash on me.” “Then you get to pay for dinner afterwards.” The comeback was quick. Does he even think before speaking, Jay wondered. “If that’s the plan then I hope you dig pizza.” “Pizza’s good, yeah.” Marko agreed as the room around them dimmed, the movie starting. “Shh — don’t want to piss off paid customers.” he snickered. Jay looked around the theater and noticed a handful of people here and there. It wasn’t overly crowded, which was surprising for a Saturday, but still full enough. With that in mind, Jay didn’t make any comments as the screen lit up and began playing, fingers blindly grabbing some popcorn.  It wasn’t even three minutes into the film when Marko chuckled under his breath. Jay glanced at him then back at the screen, trying to figure out how getting shot in the chest was meant to be funny. He didn’t have to wonder long as Marko leaned closer to him, voice quiet. “You’d think he would have ducked after shooting. He did it multiple times before that. And the blood, what did he do? Stick his hand into paint?” Marko leaned away again to sip his soda. Jay smiled a little. He guessed it could be kind of funny when thinking outside of the movie. “Did he just blow up the entire shop by chanting?” “Holy shit, he did!” “Shhh!” A couple a few seats behind them grumbled. Marko simply flipped them off without even looking.  And that’s how the whole film went. Marko, trying to keep his laughter to a minimum as a toy doll went on a murdering spree and Jay, almost choking on popcorn from it all. Not once did he feel bored enough to pass out. . . . As they walked out of the theater, Jay bumped against Marko’s shoulder, glad that their height wasn’t much different. Being short always bugged Jay since most men seemed tall, bulky. It was another image he couldn’t be or attain. The motion of being bumped was answered with an arm draped across Jay’s shoulder. “You didn’t fall asleep even once. I’d say that is a point for me, zero for you.” Marko smirked as they shuffled together near the closest pizza establishment, a little family-owned gig near the theater. “Are we keeping points here, really?” Jay smiled back. “Remind me next time.” Marko chuckled lightly as his hand slid down to give a slap to Jay’s back before dropping altogether. “Oh, next time you say?” he pulled open the door wide enough a family of four could have walked through. “You think you’re lucky enough to get a second date?” Jay rolled his eyes as he stepped inside the shop, the smell of breadsticks and pizza hitting his senses like a brick wall. “Still on about the whole date comment, aren't you?” “I don’t see why not,” he simply said while stopping at the cashier, “Or you saying I’m not hot enough to date?” Again his words held no real malice to them, just a light inquisitive tone. Jay eyed him for a moment before the girl behind the counter spoke up, drawing him to make a decision. At the mention of the buffet being half off, Marko boastfully announced his opinion before already hitting the line of food. It left little room to argue, and Jay paid for the price, pocketing the remaining bills in his back pocket. He grabbed the cups offered by her as she popped her gum. “How’d you snag a hottie like him, gal?” her hand propped up her chin as she leaned against the counter, gaze not even on Jay as she asked. Who, at the pronoun, bit the inside of his cheek. He couldn’t tell if her words were honest wonderment or layered with less positivity than her brightly colored wristbands. “None of your business.” “Sheesh, snobby much?” She rolled her eyes nice and slow before turning her attention to the staff working in the backroom.  Jay didn’t see a reason to correct her. Not for implying his gender or calling him a snob. It didn’t matter much, anyway. Family, teachers — they all used them. It was an uphill battle that Jay stalled by sitting at the bottom. The Frog brothers were different, and Sam figured it out without any help by tagging along with them. It was a safe little corner for Jay to be in, even if a little crazy. He walked the buffet, grabbing a slice of pepperoni and some garlic sticks, even after Marko grabbed a booth — plate stacked. Jay gradually took his time to pace through the small selection as his eyes wandered over to the curly-haired boy. Not once did he ever mention female nouns the entire night. He, overall, treated Jay like any other dude. Did he know any different? Jay sat down and laughed as Marko bluntly commented on his plate. Apparently, pepperoni was too plain, and Jay needed to live a little and try it with olives. He watched Marko stuff his face and lick salt off fingers, nonplussed by the display of eating, and he couldn’t help but think this guy just didn’t care — didn’t care about Jay’s appearance or title in life. Something that often weighed him down. It was a relief, in a sense — to not care. “C’mon, Jay, seriously try it.”

The pizza drooped in front of his face, and Jay reluctantly leaned forward for a bite. “Fuck—” he wiped at his mouth instantly. “— that is WAY too much jalapeno, man.” Marko laughed at the expression across the teen’s face. “Nah,” he breathed out. “Your tongue is just a fuckin’ wuss, is all.” Jay gulped down his soda before wiping at his mouth again. “Are you sure it isn’t your tongue that has long since left the planet?” What did they do to that pizza? Let it marinate in jalapeno juice? “I can guarantee you that my palate is top-notch.” “Sure, sure.” “Hey,” the girl from before stood by their booth, hand on hip. “We’re closing up in twenty-minutes.” “What time is it?” Jay asked as he looked outside the nearest window, noting that the parking lot was practically empty. Was it that late already? “Almost ten,” she simply stated before openly checking out Marko, gaze fanning over his open black coat that showed a white tank. Not surprisingly, Marko gave her an equal amount of attention with his gaze. Jay stood up, “Think we should head out.” he grabbed the last breadstick and headed for the exit, stepping out into the cooling air. It took another minute before Marko emerged with a cheeky smile, a folded paper between his fingers. “Got her digits, huh?” “Easily,” Marko slid it into his coat pocket. “Must be my charm.” Jay stepped off in the direction of his street. The walk home was going to take a good thirty-minutes, but he didn’t mind. All the walking around kept him in shape. And so what if Marko nabbed the girl’s number. It wasn’t like they were on a serious date — just two guys having a good time, and jealousy was not about to ruin the good mood. “Where are we heading next?” Marko asked while easily getting in step next to Jay. “The boardwalk stays open later during summer hours. I’m sure we can snag a few spots on some rides before they shut down.” Jay kept walking away from the boardwalk, hands in his coat. “I’m heading home.” “Already?” Marko placed a hand on the other's shoulder, causing them both to pause. “The night’s still young.” “My parents will start to worry if I am not back by eleven.” “But you were out roaming the graveyard way past midnight yesterday?” Jay cut his gaze away, fingers fiddling with the seam inside his pocket where a string had come loose months ago. “I snuck out last night to help some friends, is all.” It would be hard to explain everything, wouldn’t it? The valid reason he was out there among tombstones. Even if Jay explained it, what would stop Marko from instantly labeling him off as a weirdo? “Besides,” Jay spoke up before Marko could ask for further details. “Why were you even out there? Are you a grave robber or something?” He didn’t know anything about this guy, not really.

Marko must have noticed the way Jay’s tone had shifted, and the uneasy tension was back. He placed his hands up in the way of surrender, pale fingers a stark difference to the gloves covering everything else. “No grave robbing by my hands, promise.” They stared at one another for a second before Marko’s hands dropped, his voice filling in the thick silence around them. “If you don’t want to elaborate, I get it — all’s good, but let me at least walk you home.” Jay shook his head without even considering the notion. “Just hit me up later or something. I’d rather walk home alone.” “Okay, okay.” Marko stepped away, hands in his own coat and looking relaxed. It seemed like nothing could sour his mood despite how their night was ending. “I’ll chat with you later, Jay.” “Yeah, see ya’.” And Jay turned  around without looking back, bag slung over one shoulder and drawing his hood up. So what if their night ended off on an odd note, and Jay didn’t apply for any jobs? His sneakers scrapped along the cracked pavement, thoughts turning inside his head like a storm. For the most part Jay enjoyed the night. It went from shitty to fun, and that’s what really counts, right? “Tyler is going to be pissed at me.”

[sillyrabbit81]

Her Heavy Cross

Summary: Three years after tragedy hits, Lana she decides to start dating again. She meets Will through a dating app and they begin an online romance. After months of constant requests, Lana relents and agrees to meet and go on an irl date with Will. But is Will who he says he is? Lana is quickly pulled into an intense relationship forcing her to confront her tragic past. Will Lana face it or will she close her heart forever?

Pairing: OMC x OFC

Word Count: approx 2.3k

Warnings: swearing

Authors Note: The story started as a Henry Cavill fanfiction but I changed it to be an original character, but shades of Henry are still there. Hope you enjoy the story and thanks for reading.

Part 15 Part 17

Part 16

Liam cooked us a chicken stir-fry with Asian vegetables for dinner. I was mildly surprised that he was such a good cook and told him so. He said he had to learn pretty quickly in the early days of his career when he would go months without a paying job.

"I was lucky. My parents were supportive, so I knew I wouldn't starve, and they would give me money if I asked. I didn't want to, though. I felt like if I had to ask for money, then I was a failure. It motivated me to go to more auditions, prepare better, take some classes to get more skills, perfect my accents."

I admired him for that. From what I knew about his family, they seemed to be wealthy. It would have been easy for him to rely on them while trying to make it.

Liam had told me a lot about his family. He was very close to his two brothers. It seemed like he was a bit of a mummies boy, and I supposed that comes from being the youngest. He seemed to credit his Dad for his love of stories and his desire to act.

"Have you told them about me? Your family, I mean." I asked a bit hesitantly, unsure how I'd feel if he said no.

I shouldn't have worried though, his huge smile said it all. "I told Mum about you over a month ago."

"We hadn't even met yet."

"I know," Liam sounded a bit bashful as he continued. "My Mum kept saying how happy I sounded. I kept dropping hints that she thought I was seeing someone. She's very good at reading me. She hounded me until I told her."

"What did she say?"

"She was surprised we hadn't met. I spoke to her during the week a few times and told her we'd met, and it went well, and we'd seen each other the whole weekend. It was a bit awkward like I said. She knows me too well. She said, 'You mean you spent the weekend shagging.'"

"Oh, my God!" I was so embarrassed. "What did you say? She's going to think I'm the town bike."

"She wasn't judging, by the way. She was worried about how you would react to me. She was happy because she felt like I shouldn't have used Simons photos."

"She's not wrong," I said.

"I know, I know. Do I have to apologise again?"

"No, just don't do it again."

He briefly grinned but then looked at me, his face and tone serious. "Hopefully, I'll never have to."

I didn't know how to respond to that. What did he even mean by that? I didn't ask. I wasn't sure if I wanted to know. I cleared my throat. "Is that all she said?" I asked, instead.

Liam opened his mouth and was about to say something before closing his mouth and trying again. "Well, then she saw the photos and stories about us. I tell her not to read that stuff because most of it is rubbish. But she does. Anyway, she said we looked lovely together and..." he paused before continuing. "And she can't wait to meet you in a few months. She's coming for a visit in late June early July for my two-week hiatus."

I almost asked what he was going to say, but I changed my mind. "What about your brothers? Your Dad?"

"Well, my Dad isn't much of a talker when it comes to relationships. But he did say Mum had shown him your picture and that you seemed like a nice girl. Other than that, he didn't comment. He rarely does unless he thinks someone isn't good for me."

"Is he coming with your mum?"

"Only for one week. My mum will stay for nearly three. My brothers well..." he grinned. "You know what brothers are like. We are rarely serious together. Also, we rarely call each other. We mostly keep in contact through group chats." His lip twitched as he said, 'there were a lot of ginger jokes this week."

I could only imagine what those chat logs contain. I rolled my eyes at the thought. "The bastards," I said.

Liam laughed then asked, "what about your family?"

"I haven't told them much. Dave knows a bit. I haven't told Mum anything." I shifted in my seat. "Dave knew I was seeing someone after I asked him to watch Perrin. But he didn't ask questions. Then on Friday, he found out it was you. He seemed ok with it." I brightened and said, "they will know all about you next week anyway."

Liam returned my smile.

After dinner, we went to bed. We both read for a while. Liam sat up with his back against the headboard while I laid on my back, using his chest as a pillow. I read until I fell asleep.

I grew to hate Sundays.

Sunday's meant my time with Liam was coming to a close. This Sunday had a silver lining because I would only have to wait until Thursday to see him again. This only partially comforted me because it was also the premiere. As the time drew closer, I knew I'd regret saying yes.

I sat with my head in my hands in the store's dressing room. Just picking which dresses to try on had been an ordeal. I had done a quick google search that morning to see what kind of dresses people wore to premieres, and it was almost no help. The range was too extensive. It seemed nearly anything was acceptable, from cocktail dresses to full-on evening wear.

Some articles made me feel sick, especially the articles about the actresses. So many articles talked about how many women found it hard to find dresses in their size because they were size 6 and too big to fit into most designers dresses. I checked out a size conversion chart and found that size 6 was a size 10 here. I was usually a size 10, but sometimes my arse needs a size 12.

I started thinking I was too fat. I kept thinking about my huge arse and thighs, which got me spiralling into thinking my breasts were too small, my hair was too frizzy, I had too many freckles, and I was too pale. The list of my faults just grew in my head until I was sure I'd end up at the premiere looking like a bush pig in a dress.

I started to breathe deeply, in through my nose, hold it, out through my mouth. After several breaths, I opened my eyes. I could do this. I picked up the first dress the assistant had helped me pick. She knew it wasn't going to wor. It was a loose short black lace dress with puffy sleeves that would make me look like the only shape I had was round. The other picks she made were dresses that looked like they were for the bride's grandmother. She also looked at Liam too many times for my liking. She was very helpful if you call taking us to dresses sold out in my size useful. Or if directing all her questions at Liam was helpful. I'll bet she's out there right now being helpful...

Fuck me dead! I think I'm jealous.

That was an emotion I hadn't felt in a while, and I didn't like it. Fuck that. I don't need to be jealous. I picked through the dresses until I found the one I already knew would be the winner.

It was from Australian designer Maticevski. The gown was black with a high neckline, and the beautiful fabric gathered on the left shoulder. The dress was pulled from the hips and cinched in the waist. It had a thigh-high split, revealing just enough skin to be sexy and a small but elegant train. I loved it the moment I saw it and knew I wanted it. But it was $2,500. I loved it so much I almost didn't care. I mean, I knew I wasn't the one people cared about. They wanted to see Liam. This time was different because it would be our first official event together, and the story right now was who was he dating. This time I would get attention. But I still thought it was too much money. I had almost put it back, but the assistant smirked. Liam, bless him, took it out of my hands and said he would love to see it on me.

I wriggled my way into the dress and looked into the mirror. It was the winner for sure. I had brought my heels from Friday night to try the dress on with, and though they weren't quite right for the dress, they gave a good idea of what I would look like. It was slightly too tight around the hips and too a little big on the top. I could get it altered, though. It wouldn't take much. Maybe even a bra with a bit of padding would fix it. I flipped my hair to give it some bounce and a sexy 'just been fucked' look and stepped out.

I was right. She was hitting on Liam hard. I wanted to punch her in the face. But then Liam saw me, and the way he looked at me made me forgot about her. I took a few steps over to him and posed in an over the top way.

"What do you think?" I asked Liam.

He didn't say anything, but his eyes did. He had the same look when he approached me on Friday night. This is definitely the dress.

"It's not too dressed up? I could try something else if you think it's too much." I said to Liam.

"It doesn't quite fit. Perhaps the..." the assistant didn't get time to finish before Liam spoke.

"No." He said firmly, cutting her off. He cleared his throat and approached me. "It's absolutely perfect." He kissed me, and his lips were so soft. He ran his hands over my waist and stood back, looking me up and down. "Perfect. We will take it."

"You don't want to try..." the assistant tried again.

Liam didn't even look at her. "I said we would take it. The other dresses can go back. Thank you for your help." I loved it when he spoke in that authoritative tone, which made me weak.

She went into the dressing room and took away the ten other dresses I was going to try. I wasn't sad to see them go, none of them would be as good as this, but I still wasn't sure.

"I can try another dress. I mean, this one is stupid expensive."

"I don't care if it was a hundred thousand dollars, you look amazing, and you like it, so you will have it."

"I just don't know if I can afford to spend money like this for one night."

"I invited you. I'm paying."

"Fuck. I should have said I need matching earrings." I joked.

"Do you?" He asked, sincere.

"No, don't be silly. Shoes and a handbag will do. I'll buy the shoes you buy the bag. Deal?"

"Nope." He was shaking his head, "I want to get everything for you. Think of it as an Easter present."

"I can afford to buy things for myself, you know. I make pretty good money considering I own my house, and I only have to take care of myself and Perrin."

"I know." Liam ran his fingers through his hair. "Call me a misogynist if you want, but I want to buy you things, pretty things, things you'd never buy yourself. I want to take care of you."

I decided to let it go. I didn't think it's misogynistic to want to buy your girlfriend a present. It's misogynistic if you think you own her because you chose to buy her things. And it did feel nice to have him want to buy me pretty things.

"Ok, Liam," I said.

His smile came back. "Good. Get changed, and let's buy you some shoes." His lip twitched. "Do you need help taking it off?"

"Get out of it." I laughed and got changed.

When I had come out, he wasn't waiting for me. I looked around and couldn't find him in the shoes or the bags. A thought came to me. I hated that I thought it, but I wondered if the shop assistants come on had worked. I didn't believe it, not really, but once the thought was there, it wouldn't leave.

I didn't want to, but I looked for the shop assistant. As I looked, I felt sick from fear and disgust with myself. I found her putting away the dresses from the dressing room, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I hated myself. I wasn't usually like this. It wasn't fair on Liam either. He had given me no reason to suspect him at all.

Then I started to panic. My breath came out shallow and rapid. I felt smothered. There were no windows, and I needed to get out. There were too many people.

I felt warm hands slide under my t-shirt and rest on my belly.

I jumped and spun around. It was Liam. "Ready for shoes, Sweetheart?" He asked.

"Where were you? I looked everywhere."

"I went down to menswear real quick," Liam said. "Now that I know what you're going to wear, I know what I'm going to wear, and I needed a new shirt. It took longer than I thought."

"No worries. I just, I didn't know, it's ok."

"You ok?"

I nodded. "Let's go."

Part 17