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khwxbeeda · 1 year ago

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The Almost Wedding: Ch. II

Krushna had passed the limit of “fashionably late” a long time ago, and the limits of giving a fuck an even longer time ago.

The news of Tanishka agreeing to marry Chaitanya had been making the media rounds for the last two months without any signs of becoming old news— the eldest child of a film mogul and the younger brother of a famous Indian-European actress was the match of the year for the young generation of India, and the public had been going crazy over the two of them being seen holding hands and going on dates.

Three weeks ago, Krushna had been sent an invitation for an event being held to introduce Chaitanya Kulkarni to Arjun and Tanishka’s extended family with a postscript from Arjun that said he had to come whether he wanted to or not. Krushna had replied with an affirmation of his attendance, curious to get to know the man that had managed to meet the high standards of his best friend’s older sister.

He was regretting that right now.

Why did the event have to be on the day before Christmas, and why did it have to be in the evening? The celebrations were in full swing all throughout the city, and the traffic of Pune had been horrific. He had spent half an hour being stuck in the same place on the way to the venue, simply because the traffic had refused to bloody move forward. It was the insipid icing on the unpalatable cake that was the entirety of today. He was tired and drained and had nowhere near enough energy to deal with more than three people right now, but here he was, stepping out of his car after an hour of suffering through traffic and nodding in thanks to the valet for opening the door.

He took a deep breath in and released it as his chauffeur drove away and out of sight, and lifted his chin to rake a gaze over the expansive, beautiful building.

The Ritz Carlton, Pune.

He remembered first coming here for a formal event with his sister and mother three weeks after it had been opened to the public, sitting awkwardly wearing a suit he did not feel comfortable in, listening to Rukmini and Aai talk with various business associates that had smiled at him condescendingly while asking him how his school was going. The second time he had come here, it was a few months ago with his friends from Milan to celebrate his own twenty-fourth birthday, and that had been one of the best experiences ever.

Now here he was for the third time, celebrating the betrothal of a woman he did not particularly like. Curse his curiosity— Arjun had talked about the Kulkarni siblings and their out-of-this-world beauty so often that Krushna was now very interested in meeting Chandan Kulkarni.

His phone chimed, and Krushna blinked out of his reverie, letting out another exhausted sigh. He unlocked it, and opened IM. Inadvertently, a soft snort climbed up his throat at the text.

Satan and his Gucci Gang

desi regina george

wheres the hot piece of ass 7:37 P.M.

Aharya Jadhav— Arjun’s cousin of the same age, a lawyer, a fashionista, and one of the most chaotic people Krushna knew, second only to Arjun himself. Two people began typing, one of them Arjun, but he raised his eyebrows at the other one. He had been reliably informed that Sarthaki would not be attending the event, having used her broken leg as an excuse to escape the torture. No doubt the annoying little shit was lying on her bed with a bag of chips and a pizza, having fun commenting about them having to suck up to Arjun’s family.

He began walking as his idiots continued to type, through the doors into the luxurious lobby and towards the lifts without bothering to talk to the staff members or check the Events notice board. He already knew where to go.

scared of apples

idfk man he should have been here like two hours ago 7:37 P.M.

bakwaas dictionary

are you seriously calling krush a hot piece of ass?? 7:38 P.M.

Krushna bit his lip to hide his smirk and stepped into the lift, hand rising to press the button for the eighteenth floor without even having to look at it. His thumb flew across the screen of his Samsung, firing off a reply that he knew would piss Sarthaki off.

aal izz well

i mean… arent i 7:39 P.M.

scared of apples

i mean… isnt he 7:39 P.M.

desi regina george

i mean… isnt he 7:39 P.M.

bakwaas dictionary

stfu and go back to your lame party losers 7:40 P.M.

Krushna stifled a laugh as the doors of the lift slid open on the eighteenth floor, right into the entrance for the rooftop bar. He arranged his face into a polite, charming smile and tucked his phone into the pocket of his trousers, checking his reflection in the mirror on the far wall for a second. Makeup was in place, hair was pulled back into a purposely messy half up half down style, and the piercings in his ears gleamed brightly, perfectly matched to the silver brocade of his black kurta.

Good enough.

He straightened his back and stepped out onto the balcony.

Arjun and Aharya descended on him like a flock of vultures amidst the blinding flashes of the paparazzi’s cameras, wrapping themselves around each of his arms and giving him identical sweet smiles that immediately sent alarm bells ringing through his head. He groaned under his breath as they dragged him towards the bar.

“Fuck, please tell me you two chuckleheads didn’t murder someone,” he murmured under his breath, “I do not have the energy to help you hide a body tonight.”

Arjun let out a strained chuckle.

“Nahi,” he gritted out between clenched teeth, a stiff smile stretched over his glossy lips. He looked good, with contour and highlighter accentuating his bone structure and wearing a royal blue silk kurta with matching trousers. The bi flag bead bracelet Krushna had gotten for him when he had first come out was in place as it always was, and it rattled ominously when Arjun dug his fingers almost painfully into Krushna’s biceps. “But I’m extremely fucking close to snapping Tanu Tai’s pretty little neck.”

There was a Marathi phrase for the situation that Tanishka and Arjun were in. Chhattis cha aakda. It literally meant “the number thirty-six”, and implied that three and six would always be at odds with each other due to being complete opposites. Arjun and Tanishka were not entirely different— they were both good looking, frighteningly smart and shared a number of little quirks— but they were always at each other’s throats about literally everything, and it was a 24/7 source of entertainment for their friend group.

“What did she do now?” Krushna asked, leaning back on the bar and turning to give Aharya a chaste kiss on the cheek. She looked beautiful, dressed in a pearly white saree with silver zari and matching blouse, a sterling silver choker around her slender throat and hair piled into a stylish bun with a silver and pearl hairpin. Her makeup was flawless, with glimmering silvery white eyeshadow, white highlighter and soft pink lip gloss. “And Aharya jaan, you look fabulous as always.”

“Thank you, my love. Tanu Tai is showing off her arm candy,” she replied with a roll of her eyes, accepting the glass of champagne that Arjun handed her and leaning back against the bar. “Chaitanya— that’s the husband to be— is pretty and smart, and Arjun has dealt with enough of her bragging about it.”

Arjun scoffed, extending a black glittery cocktail towards Krushna, who took it gratefully. After the day he had just gone through, drink and gossip was the perfect pick me up. He took a sip and hummed in surprised approval at the explosion of blueberry on his tongue.

“And like, I get it okay,” Arjun said, raising his own glass of some violently pink concoction to his lips, “the man is ridiculously pretty and he’s studying physics because he actually bloody likes it, the weirdo.” The last two words are said with affection, and Krushna suddenly remembered that Arjun had spent a lot of time with this mysterious to-be-fiancé of Tanishka’s since the beginning of September. “He deserves to be shown off a little. But god damn can you shut up for like three seconds?”

Aharya stifled her snicker behind her glass, and Krushna grinned.

“He’s approved by both of you?” he said with exaggerated shock, placing a hand to his chin. “This is a tremendous occasion, I simply must meet this mystery man now.”

Arjun and Aharya rolled their eyes as one, already used to his theatrics. “He’s out of Tai’s league, honestly,” Arjun muttered. “I don’t know what he saw in her that he agreed to a marriage, but we all know he’s way out of her league.”

Krushna raised an eyebrow, an amused smirk curling up the edges of his lips. Arjun saying something was out of Tanishka’s league was routine, and so was Krushna and Aharya taking turns to pour gasoline on the dumpster fire that was Arjun and Tanishka’s relationship. “Well, then,” he drawled, “someone, introduce me to this man— what did you say his name was?”

“Chaitanya,” Aharya supplied, dark brown eyes glittering with the same amusement that Krushna was sure he himself was showing. “Chaitanya Kulkarni. I think you might have met his older sister somewhere at your modelling gigs— Charita Kulkarni, that actress who’s based in France.”

He nodded, taking a sip of his cocktail. “Yeah, I worked on that campaign for UNICEF with her two years ago. Excellent woman, and very intelligent. I had no idea she had a sibling.”

“She has three,” Arjun said. “Two brothers and a sister. And all of them are bloody fit. Seriously, it’s actually frustrating. Shame the oldest is married, or I’d have hit on him.”

Krushna and Aharya burst out laughing, attracting the attention of nearby tables before they remembered where they were and toned down the noise.

“You won’t believe the number of times this dude has gone on and on about Chandan, I swear,” Aharya snickered, and Krushna laughed harder, patting her on the shoulder.

“Oh, darling,” he gasped, “I’ve literally been dealing with it every day since the day Tanishka met that fiancé of hers. The first thing he did was call me and whine about how it’s ‘such a shame that Chandan is happily married’ and how he would ‘climb him like a tree if given the chance’, never mind that the man is almost forty.”

Arjun glared at him, and the fact that there was definitely a blush creeping up his neck under all his makeup had Krushna burying his face in Aharya’s shoulder to stop himself from cackling louder.

“I do not whine,” the shorter man grumbled, looking like he was seconds away from stomping his foot. “I do not!”

Krushna could not stop laughing. He leaned against Aharya with an arm wrapped around her waist for support, both of them giggling uncontrollably, stomachs starting to ache with how hard they were trying not to laugh too loud. Arjun groaned through gritted teeth, and folded his arms across his chest and glared at them, leather shoes tapping on the floor.

“Look, do you wanna meet Chaitanya or not?” he asked impatiently.

Krushna sucked in a deep breath and nodded, forcing himself to stop laughing. He elbowed Aharya in the stomach and gave her a look that said shut up, and turned to Arjun with the most demure expression he could manage, making him snort derisively.

“Alright,” he muttered, grabbing his drink to throw the last of it back and setting the empty glass down on the bar. “Come on, Tai has dragged him along for her rounds. Find her, and we find him.”

— — —

Chaitanya stuck his free hand in his pockets and exhaled through his nose, making sure the smile on his face did not look as done-with-this-shit as he felt. Tanishka had her hand tucked into his left elbow, and was smiling charmingly at one of the many old ladies that he had been introduced to and promptly forgotten the names of.

Gods, this was too many people in too little time. He wanted to leave.

He had nothing against Tanishka and her family, of course— they were wonderful people for the most part, except for that one aunt who had asked outright if he was planning to live off of his family’s wealth since the M.Sc in Physics was obviously not of any use— but he really did not have the social capabilities to be dealing with such a large crowd. He had run out of things to say twenty minutes ago, and was simply smiling and nodding along to whatever Tanishka was talking about, not bothering to pay attention to anything.

Chandan, the traitor, was ensconced with a socialite at one of the tables at the corner, deep in conversation about something or the other. Charuta was in Delhi, having left two months ago for her work, and Charita was… nowhere to be seen. Chaitanya furrowed his brows and cast a glance all over the place.

Where’s Ritu Tai?

He scanned the entire place, but no. There was not a single hint of the eye-catching hot pink cocktail dress his sister was wearing. He frowned harder and tapped Tanishka’s arm so she would loosen her grip, and turned around, only to catch Arjun’s eye.

The boy in question grinned and waved, beckoning Chaitanya to join him. Chaitanya shrugged and tilted his head towards Tanishka, who had an iron grip on his elbow and was still talking to the lady. Arjun’s eye roll was visible even from across the pool, and Chaitanya suppressed a grin. He liked Arjun— the boy was hilarious, openly bisexual and an absolute riot. He was what Chaitanya supposed he would have been if he had not been such a bloody introvert.

A few seconds later, Arjun came to a stop right next to him just in time for a couple flashes of blinding white light to go off, reminding him of the presence of the paparazzi. The other boy was accompanied by two people— a pretty woman whose name he could not remember, and the most beautiful man Chaitanya had ever seen in his life.

His eyes were a startlingly bright grey, almost silver in the lights of the restaurant, made even brighter by the silvery smokey eye makeup and diamond sharp winged liner. He was almost a head taller than Chaitanya, with long black hair pulled back into a half up half down style that accentuated his sharp, contoured cheekbones, and full lips covered in transparent glitter gloss. The black kurta with gold brocade that he wore only served to show off his broad shoulders and thick biceps, and his ears were covered in piercings— two standard lobe piercings, a helix on the left ear, and an industrial on the right— gold to match the rest of his outfit.

Krushna Mahajan.

Chaitanya recognised him, from a couple of photos his sister had shown him from that one UNICEF camp again she had done a few years ago, and from a few posts on Instagram that he had seen on his FYP. He was a model and owned his own fashion brand based here in Pune, if Chaitanya remembered correctly.

“Good evening, Tanishka,” the man greeted with a deep, honey-smooth voice, full lips pulling into a smile that was just so on the wrong side of polite that was completely at odds with his pleasant tone, taking in Tanishka’s outfit with the classic Up and Down. “I see you’ve cleaned up nicely.”

There was a ‘for once’ implied at the end of the sentence. Chaitanya raised a brow and looked at Arjun, who winked and silently gestured with his eyes for him to keep watching. He suppressed a smile and acquiesced.

“Krushna,” Tanishka greeted with a ramrod straight back, much less polite. “I don’t remember sending you an invite.”

Chaitanya turned to her, blinking slowly in shock. That was the bluntest he had seen her speak today; she had even been polite to that one aunt Arjun had told him she had loathed since she was a child. Had she suddenly forgotten all her manners? Granted, the man had probably snuck into the party without an invite, but that was no reason to be unpleasant in full view of the guests and cameras. The old lady she had been playing nice with a few moments ago was less than three feet away, for fuck’s sake!

“Actually, Tanu Tai,” Arjun interjected, the promise of chaos written all over his too sharp, too smug smile, “I sent him an invite because you forgot to. After all, he’s practically family, isn’t he?”

Behind him, the beautiful woman smirked and raised her champagne glass to her lips, narrow-eyed gaze focused predatorily on Tanishka. Chaitanya was starting to think that this was an ambush, and that he just had the unfortunate luck of being caught in the crossfire.

Beside him, Tanishka clenched her jaw, plum-painted lips pursing dispassionately. She looked beautiful today, with a deep purple co-ord kurta and palazzo set that matched the tie Chaitanya was wearing, but that prettiness sharpened into something terrifying the moment she glared at Krushna. He decided it was best if he interfered, and hastily stuck a hand out towards Krushna with a small, polite smile.

“Good evening,” he greeted in the most amiable tone he could muster, “it’s nice to meet you. I’m Chaitanya Kulkarni. Tanishka’s boyfriend.”

Krushna’s intense silver stare fixed itself onto him, and the slow, charming grin that curled up his full, glossy lips was positively swoon-worthy. “Oh, they weren’t lying,” he murmured under his breath as he took the offered hand and shook it firmly. “You really are ridiculously beautiful. Hello, Gorgeous. I'm Krushna Mahajan.”

A red hot flush bloomed across Chaitanya’s cheeks, and he squashed down the urge to squirm, ducking his head and letting out an honest to God giggle. He was pretty sure he resembled a tomato, and silently cursed his pale complexion for flushing so easily. “Ah, um,” he stammered, an awkward smile curling up his lips, “not— not really. I’m just⁠― I’m just wearing a bit of makeup.”

Krushna chuckled, smooth and deep and unfairly attractive. “Makeup is not the only thing that makes someone beautiful,” he replied, gazing intently into Chaitanya’s eyes.

The sound of a throat being cleared broke the moment, and he realised Krushna still had a firm grip on his hand. He pulled away with another awkward laugh and turned towards Tanishka, who had her eyes narrowed at Krushna. Her fingernails dug into Chaitanya’s elbow till it was bordering on painful, and he winced, shifting a little so the pressure lessened.

“Ah, my apologies,” Krushna said, his voice very apologetic but the way he narrowed his eyes back at her very much not. “Congratulations on the betrothal, Chaitanya. Tanishka, I’m very happy for you.”

Arjun made an aborted sort of sound, hiding it by turning away, and Chaitanya blinked at him in confusion. Tanishka’s glare focused on her little brother, and the man in question raised his hands with a shrug and a badly hidden shit-eating grin. Chaitanya felt like he was missing about several hundred extremely important details, and he looked at Krushna with a raised eyebrow. The man simply shrugged back, and he felt himself unconsciously tracking the movement of the broad line of his shoulders before turning away and catching the eye of the woman in pearly white.

She winked at him. Chaitanya pursed his lips, feeling his flush return full force, and he blinked, trying to look anywhere except Krushna or the woman.

“Come, Chaitanya,” Tanishka gritted out, adjusting her clothes and tugging on his elbow, almost making him lose his footing. “We have other guests to meet. Arjun and Aharya can keep Krushna entertained.”

With that, he got dragged away before any of them could reply, throwing one last apologetic look back at the three friends.

“Tanishka,” he began, but the woman did not even bother to look at him, and continued to pull him towards whatever part of the restaurant she had her mind on. He sighed and ripped his arm from her grip as gently as he could, exceedingly aware of the cameras on the edges of the room that were eager to click away at any perceived unrest or drama, and gently grabbed her shoulders to turn her around. “Tanishka. Tanishka, wait.”

She glared at him, and he bent down to press a soft kiss to her forehead, and cheered internally when she leaned into the touch instead of pulling away like he was half afraid she would.

“What happened back there?” he murmured, and she shook her head minutely, the look on her face telling him to drop it. He ignored it. He wanted answers. “I’ve never seen you be that rude to anyone— hell, you were nice to that bitch who spilled her coffee on you the other day.”

Tanishka’s lips twisted up, features scrunching up into a poisonous look aimed over his shoulder, and he had an inkling that it was aimed at Krushna. “It’s nothing,” she said curtly. “Don’t concern yourself with it.”

Chaitanya sighed and dragged her closer for a hug, clenching his jaw when he saw a flash go off from the corner of his eyes. He turned them around so the cameras could not get a glimpse of Tanishka’s face, and leaned down to place another kiss on her forehead. “I just wanna know if there’s something I can do to help,” he said softly, running a soothing hand up and down her back.

Tanishka shook her head.

“No,” she whispered, closing her eyes. When she opened them again, Chaitanya was alarmed to see them swimming with mushed tears. He pressed her closer to himself, casting a panicked eye around for Charita. Bloody woman kept disappearing right as he needed her the most.

“Krushna and Arjun go way back,” Tanishka said after taking a second to control herself, words coming out haltingly like she was trying not to choke on her tears. “And they’ve made it their mission to ruin anything and everything for me. They hate me, and they make it known. It’s been like that since I was fifteen.”

Chaitanya stared at her, not knowing how to respond to that. Sure, Arjun had an unusual love for pushing Tanishka’s buttons, and guessing from what he saw right now Krushna was probably not her biggest fan, but that could not possibly mean they hated her. Hell, he and Charita still heckled the eldest two siblings to their limits, but that did not mean they did not love each other.

“I’m sure that—” he began, but Tanishka glared at him and shook her head.

“Let’s not talk about this,” she said, and before he could stop her, she extracted herself from his hug and walked away, the soft jingle of her paayal lost to the sounds of the party. Chaitanya stared after her for a couple seconds, unsure of how to react to this situation.

He exhaled, and ran a hand through his hair.

Maybe it was best that he focused on looking for Charita, rather than whatever sibling rivalry was going on between Tanishka and Arjun, and Krushna.

Tag list: @kanha-sakhi @musaafir-hun-yaaron @orgasming-caterpillar @natures-marvel @yehsahihai @h0bg0blin-meat @mad-who-ra @girlatreus @krisnosura (lmk if you want to be added/removed)

#the almost wedding #amrut writes #chaitanya kulkarni #arjun deshpande #krushna mahajan #tanishka deshpande #aharya jadhav #original characters #original writing #original work #romcom #romance #chaptered fic

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machiroads · 11 months ago

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Machi's 2023 Year In Review

'23 was a bit of a wild one. A toast to the last twelve months (both in fandom and IRL) under the cut.

Fic

Here's what went out the door in '23:

Naruhata Noir

I started posting NN in December '22, about a month after finishing 9L. At one point last year I joked about finishing the entire thing in the week between Christmas and New years. Evidently, this did not happen for a variety of reasons:

A) A series of events occurring in my personal life that do not merit further detail that I will herein refer to as "the conga line of nonsense". That kicked off during last year's holiday season and bled into like...May. Which leads directly into:

B) Tears of the Kingdom came out. And;

C) A general loss of motivation in the project.

During the aforementioned Conga Line of Nonsense, I had a goal of finishing before TotK came out, but I only managed to cobble together another 4 chapters between January and May. After somehow managing weekly to biweekly chapters for 9L, NN was much more sporadic, and at one point I had people asking me if I was still alive. Which. sucked, since I generally strive to be a somewhat reliable person.

Once the TotK hyperfixation hit, I managed maaaaaaybe another 2 chapters before I finally got bored of grinding monsters to upgrade outfits. I did manage to meet the third self-imposed deadline of finishing before going to Japan for 2 weeks, so at least that's one W.

In addition to the distractions of Life, NN was more challenging to write for a few main reasons:

Aizawa is not the narrator. Look, I'm mature enough to acknowledge that he is Blorbo From My Shows, and everything I write wants to revolve around him. Taking a step back from that and trying to get into another character's head after spending 8 solid months on 9L was an adjustment. It took me a bit of time to find Shinsou's voice.

Most of the relationship dynamics in this fic are non-canonical, and pulled directly out of my ass. Shinsou's relationships with the Hottas are central to the back half of the fic, and his relationship with Mirko also becomes prominent at times. NONE OF THESE CHARACTERS HAVE EVER INTERACTED IN REAL LIFE I'M JUST SMASHING DOLLS TOGETHER LIKE I DID AS A 7 YEAR OLD.

Trying to parallel something I already wrote several months ago is hard. I wanted NN to make sense on its own, but also follow the relevant bits from 9L. This was next to impossible to accomplish without sounding clunky. Almost from the very beginning of the fic, the outsider's perspective of Aizawa's first steps, I felt the urge to change the dialogue because the story that I wanted to tell from Shinsou's perspective was different from the one I wanted to tell from Aizawa's perspective. I locked myself into that rigidity for a while, until I finally decided just to say fuck it at the end and modify the 9L dialogue slightly because the story had taken on a life of its own.

Erasermic took a major backseat in this one, but I still needed to scratch the itch, and I think that's why I ended up writing 2 emic one shots in between chapters.

I don't think a direct parallel spin-off is something I would try writing again, and the fic was probably a lot longer than it needed to be, but at the end of the day, I'm satisfied with the way it turned out, and I'm happy I was actually able to finish it this year.

Here's a collage of my inspo for Aizawa's apartment cobbled together from google maps and japanese real estate websites.

Being No One, Going Nowhere

The first of the 3 one shots that I put out this year, and a proof of concept that I can slap together 3k in a day and a half fever dream and call it a fic.

This one in particular was instigated by one of @o0fyuu0o's tweets that refused to leave me alone. And maybe also the two broken arms story from reddit, but you know, like, less incesty.

Mic was extremely pathetic in this one, which is immensely fun to write. Just a pathetic little meow meow. Sopping wet cat of a man.

College AU was fun to write, emboldened in part by @kyurilin's fic Stray. After being married to canon-verse for both 9L and NN, this was an exercise in just making shit up, and also living vicariously through the memories of the house I lived in for the better part of 2 years as an undergrad. I graduated 7 years ago and it is still crystallized in my memory.

A Tumultuous Sea, You and Me

I've been nursing a healthy crush on Pirate!Aizawa (or Paizawa, as the kids on JP Twit call him) since the Volume 35 character page came out in June '22. Paizawa even killed a 2 year long art block, that's how powerful he is. (Look!)

I do not remember what exactly spurned this one on, but it also got written in the span of about 2 days. I think I reread The Art of Drowning at some point this year, but I do not remember if it was during the writing frenzy, or sometime before it.

Aizawa gets to hold the meow meow card again in this one. His 2 sentence rivalry with Vlad is one of the best things I've ever written.

Of the 2 days I spent writing this, I probably spent 75% of that researching pirate ships. I used almost none of it, and have forgotten almost all of it by this point.

I feel like everyone that dips their toes into the realm of merpeople has a different interpretation on it, but I wanted to spend approximately 0 minutes on worldbuilding, so it's just kind of a chill coexistence between the pirates and the mermaids in this one lol. People were intrigued by said "worldbuilding" however and wanted more, but I think I've scratched the mer-pirate itch for now haha.

1966 Ford Nutstang GT350 Shelby

@kyurilin made a tumblr post that misspelled "mustang" as "nustang" and I skim-read it and saw "nutstang" and was like "you know what would be a terribad nickname for the car? Nutstang." At which point I immediately informed her, which led down the rabbit hole of a very loose RP (as it often does) and I decided YOU KNOW WHAT? I SHOULD JUST TURN THIS INTO A CRACK FIC.

At which point I had to sort of construct a loose plot around the entire bonkers concept. Nemuri held a key role in the pseudo-RP, but I ended up wanting to keep the fic tight and her role was mostly cut. But rest assured she is there in spirit, though, judging.

The plush nutsack is just a bastardization of a kangaroo ballsack coinpurse I saw in a Crap Souvenirs From Around The World calendar I had many years back that has imprinted on my memory. At no point did I seek out visual reference for it, and neither should you. It is up to the reader's imagination.

On the topic of bastardizations, the reappearing nutsack plotline is borrowed from the drawfee gnome saga.

Mic yelling GOOD MORNING and Aizawa banging his head on the underside of his desk is S tier slapstick.

PEOPLE MADE ART????

Some wonderful listeners readers are still making art for 9L, and we have been blessed with two beautiful new pieces this year:

Mic and Eri's selfie, from @kaleidoscopedrawsjpg

The Only One Bed scene, from @guiltyfixations

@obsessed-dragon also drew the photo of Shinsou holding Miso from Naruhata Noir, and Black Spider Eyes drew Aizawa dangling out the window from Tumultuous Sea.

Every time a piece of art drops on my dash, or I see my fic being recommended to other people, my brain does a lil short circuit and I have to go get up and walk around for a bit. I'm not sure words can express how much it means to me that people have enjoyed my writing enough to recommend it to other people, or sit down and create something of their own based off of it. It's humbling, and I'm truly grateful for every kind word or "sketch I should have maybe spent a little longer on" hahaha

Stats!

Look, I'm an engineer. I can't resist the thrall of Microsoft Excel. So here's A Chart.

I value Bookmarks the highest of all the stats that AO3 spits out. Views are pointless (skewed higher in the context of multi-chap fics). Kudos are an indicator of how many people read and liked enough to leave a kudos, but bookmarks are my indicator of how many people liked it enough to keep it around to read again, or recommend to others.

The bookmark-to-kudos ratio is (in my unscientific opinion) a measure of how many people loved the work vs how many people just liked it.

From the chart above, we can propose the following conclusions:

9L is still, far and away, the most popular, and most well-loved thing I've ever written. I'm fine with that.

The Nutstang fic was a certified cult classic, with a bookmark-to-kudos ratio of almost 0.3, second to only 9L.

NN is at a respectable ratio of 0.24 (middle of the pack), but in terms of number of kudos, is not that far ahead the mer-pirate fic. NN was not tagged as erasermic, so I do think this checks out in terms of sheer exposure.

Still Cooking:

FFXII AU

I started this one in March during the conga line of personal life nonsense. I somehow lured in Robbirdthe8th and @o0fyuu0o and @obsessed-dragon and got a solid month of drafting done before I was like "maybe I should work on NN again" and then it sat dormant until like. October.

It's up to almost 30k across 3 partially written chapters already, and I outlined 9 chapters. It is almost certainly overambitious, and I will almost certainly run into the same motivation issue I had with NN because it's a rooftop 4 fic and not just erasermic, and it has a demographic of approximately four people as an AU of a game that came out in uh........2006.

I thought I'd get at least some of it out in '23 but I'm taking it easy and just writing when inspiration strikes at the moment.

Fortuneteller AU

I started this one maybe a week-ish ago, in my quest for a pitch for the erasermic zine (surprise! they haven't made official announcements yet, but I'll be in it. this is an easter egg for those of you who made it this far). It's going to end up far too long for the 3k word limit for that, so I'm just co-opting it for another one-shot. Taisho era urban fantasy dabbling in some Violet Evergarden/FMA-esque post-war themes. Mic with pince nez. Aizawa in hakama. Gratuitous amateur tarot. It has gripped me by the throat.

More from the Nine Lives Extended Universe (canon-willing)

I've got 3 more spin-offs to 9L simmering, just waiting for canon to figure out its business. These are:

When The Battle's Lost and Won

A final battle post-mortem in 4 parts (if 3baka all make it out alive that is). Every few chapters of canon that come out, something gets added or tossed. Extremely fluid at this point, but there are some good quality blurbs and bullet points in there.

Kintsugi

The erasermic epilogue to 9L, from Mic's perspective. An exploration of their relationship beyond the final battle, with an overarching theme that I've borrowed from a Dorktown documentary on former Toronto Blue Jays pitcher Dave Stieb: Not at all, and then all at once.

This one's just pure body worship, punctuated by an extremely casual marriage proposal. A lot of people still comment on 9L like "THIS CAN'T BE IT, WHERE'S THE REST OF IT?", so I hope this will satisfy those looking for some closure from a relatively open ending.

The Way of the Househero

With the impending graduation of the hell class, and a body that doesn't quite move the way it used to, Aizawa has a bit of an existential crisis and semi-retires so he can be a full-time parent to Eri while figuring out what's next for him. Mostly slice of life. No real plot to this one yet, mostly just vignettes. Aizawa finally gets cats of his own, makes mom friends, and becomes more of a knife slut (only its in the kitchen now instead of on the streets).

IRL

Painting

Every room in my home is painted some sort of bland pastel, and this year we managed to purge pastels from four rooms: my home office, our living room / dining room, and our bedroom. I am enormously pleased with how each of these have turned out.

Gardening

We moved to this house in January '22, and last year was mostly seeing what came up in the garden. This year we cleared out a lot of the decorative shrubs in our backyard (turns out you can hock shrubs on facebook marketplace), and planted a veggie garden. The extent of my gardening experience prior to this year was mowing the lawn as a teenager, so this year was a continuous learning experience, and likely will be for many more years to come.

We had some big wins (potatoes, tomatoes, carrots, cherries, squash, dear god the squash), and some losses (apples that were infested with tent caterpillars, arugula that bolted, and lettuce that got eaten by bunnies to name a few).

In addition to veggies, we also did a lot of general cleanup around the rest of the yard, including clearing out some invasive species and thinning out some partially dead shrubs. We mostly let the yard do its own thing last year, and the previous owner of our home died about 6 months before we moved in, so it was probably neglected for a while. I cut out a blackberry cane that was as long as our driveway. I bought a wood chipper and a compost aerator and am learning the art and science of turning yard trash into yard treasure. (I have not peed on my compost pile yet, as recommended by /r/composting. Maybe some day.)

I also adopted a clipping from my sister-in-law's monstera, which has done quite well (except for the parts my cat has taken a mild interest in nibbling on from time to time)

Travel

Probably too much travel this year ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

3 Weddings (4 if you count the one in December '22 that's included in the Conga Line of Nonsense). Got covid at 2 of them. Invited to a fifth next year. Wishing everyone of marriageable age I know IRL a very elope

Trips for work to Winnipeg and Calgary (to which I have never been before, but are both underwhelming). Also got to fly on a floatplane for the first time, which is noisy, but the views are unbeatable

I turned 30 this year, and after the Conga Line of Nonsense, I said fuck it, we're going back to Japan for my birthday. 2 weeks, 8 cities. L: Shimanami Kaido cycle (still somehow 30 degrees in September x full sun x forgot sunscreen x 80km = pain) (my husband has proofread this and insists that this is not an L but agree to disagree) W: Hokkaido (beautiful scenery, incredible food, not 30 degrees in September lmao)

Anyways

If you made it this far, thanks for reading, and thanks for your love in '23. I hope to provide you with more of the same nonsense in '24. Let me know if you want a spinoff cats + gardening + DIY blog, since that's just my life now. Happy new year 🍾

#Machiwrites #long boi under the cut

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allwaswell16 · 2 years ago

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Hello Anitra, some weeks ago I sent you an ask for a fic rec about HL (1 of them) working at the hospital and the other had an accident and had to go there and you wrkte in tags that you were trying to see if you could do a small fic rec bc there weren’t too much or if not, you’ll add it to your list, but it’s not there and I can’t find the small fic rec because tumblr search works when it wants 🥲🥲🥲 hope I’m not bothering you!

Hiiii! Sorry it's taken a bit to get back to this! Here are some fics that fit what you're looking for! (There were more than I thought!) Happy reading!

-Injured Character/Hospital Staff Fics-

If It Means A Lot To You by themasqueraded (NR, 25k)

20 year old Harry works at one of the best hospitals of London and he's got his whole life figured out. It all works out until a beautiful, injured boy comes along.

i carry your heart in mine by millsx (G, 18k)

It all starts with Harry covering a shift for his colleague. It ends in old wounds, resurfaced feelings and an ex-boyfriend Harry never really got over.

fight me breathless by sideofzemblanity (M, 7k)

Louis Tomlinson has no idea why he’s in a London hospital for asthma, but enter Harry Styles, his doctor, who he definitely doesn’t think is hot, and he’s left wondering if asthma is why he can’t seem to breathe properly with his doctor around.

When You Really Love Christmas by @jaerie (E, 5k)

Harry really loves Christmas. It lands him in the hospital with a Christmas tree stuck up his ass.

Slip into Your Arms by @ohpleaselarry (NR, 4k)

“Am I too old to ask for a cast that isn’t just plain white?”

The nurse laughs easily, shaking her head fondly as she continues to scribble on her little clipboard. Louis sets his free (non-broken) hand under his chin and sighs, peeking at the clock for the fifth time in the last minute. Waiting for doctors sucks. Waiting for doctors to come and fix up your throbbing hand while your head pounds and it’s Christmas- that really sucks.

I Don't Care It's Obvious by RedRidingStiles (M, 4k)

“You mind telling me what happened?” Harry asks.

“Well Lou here thought it would be a great idea to ride his board down the big hill on fifth street, you know the one right? Anyways he's going at least fifteen miles down that bitch and ends up falling off halfway down due to the fact he can't hold his liquor worth a shit.” The blonde explains, his words only slightly slurred as the two boys follow Harry down the hallway to an empty patient room.

“Excuse me, Niall, not all of us are Irish bloody fuckers who can - ah, ah, ow, motherfucking shooting pains, shit,” The injured one, Lou, says. Harry wonders if it’s a nickname.

“He kinda hit his head when he fell too, it's gonna be hard to tell considering some of the shit that comes out of his mouth usually but,” The dark-haired one pipes up, his voice soft and raspy.

“Piss off. I don’t even know why you two are still here, Curly here and I can have fun all by ourselves, right Curly?” Louis slurs, peaking up at Harry through his messy fringe. Harry tried his hardest to ignore the little flutter of fondness that struck his chest, he was a professional, even if cute drunk boys with broken limbs don't often stumble into his ER room as often as you'd think.

Temporary Fix by winterpillowtalk (T, 4k)

Harry as a doctor? You bet is he.

Charm Your Pants Off by 4ureyesonly28 / @evilovesyou (G, 2k)

When Harry hurt himself in front of all of his coworkers, he thought his Christmas Eve couldn’t get any worse. That was, until he ended up in an actual ambulance.

Perhaps the gentle and ridiculously attractive doctor he meets at the hospital can make his trip (pun absolutely intended) worth it?

Green Jello by orphan_account (T, 2k)

In Liam’s defense, he’d mostly been joking.

Louis didn’t see it that way, of course, but he wasn’t sure anyone else would either, had their best friend dared them to jump into the ocean in the middle of December “for the vine,” and they’d ended up in the hospital with a nasty case of pneumonia and a very high chance of being stuck there through Christmas.

Louis is stuck in the hospital for the holidays. The only spot of hope is his unfairly pretty nurse.

Sugar Let Me Be Your Passenger by teddy9 (G, 2k)

Someone must have deemed the situation serious enough to transport Louis somewhere else because when he regains consciousness he is notably not on the field. No he must have fatally injured himself and ended up in heaven. All of those half-hearted prayers to the big man when he needed to pass an exam at uni or make rent that month must have paid off because he was definitely in heaven if the celestial being above him was anything to go by. or

Louis gives himself a concussion playing football and Harry is the EMT who takes care of him and endures his shameless flirting on the way to the hospital

#ask #anon #ficask #ficrec #injured character #hospital

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after-witch · 4 years ago

Text

Hook Line and Sinker [Yandere Ransom Drysdale x Reader]

Title: Hook Line and Sinker [Yandere Ransom Drysdale x Reader]

Synopsis: You’ve broken up with Ransom Drysdale, and you mean it this time. But the freedom that comes with the breakup leads to a series of unexpected coincidences that leave you wondering: was it worth the price?

Word Count: 8955

notes: yandere, mentions of physical abuse, financial abuse, comfort sweaters

Nothing lasts forever. Not even relationships--and certainly not love. What might start off as an intense, passionate relationship can (and did, in your case) eventually fizzle; things that you were willing to overlook when you were absolutely besotted would wear down with time, and eventually they became too much to ignore.

That’s what you tell yourself, what you remind yourself, in the moment after you tell him:

“It’s over, Ransom. We’re done. I’m leaving.”

It couldn’t last forever. Not with his inability to stay sober, not with his tendency to cheat on you with meaningless flings that somehow hurt more than any steamy single-minded affair. Not with his flare-ups of controlling tendencies that left you in tears on the bathroom floor as he asked you to please stop dressing like a slut in front of his family, is that too hard to ask?

You’d asked him to change. He swore he would; he never did. You forgave him, more than once, more times than you could count. But enough was enough. Maybe he thought you were too weak to leave him, especially three years into your relationship, when your lives were becoming so integrated, pushing you towards a potential permanent future. It was a future that left you feeling numb and anxious. Stuck in a marriage with someone who wanted to stay with you but treated you horribly, all the same. And that wasn’t even getting into the family dynamics that left your head spinning.

He stares at you now, and his mouth opens just a little bit in what you know is going to be a barrage of questions, insults, maybe even threats spurred on by your words. But instead he closes his mouth and shakes his head, letting out a soft, bitter chuckle.

“Well, damn. This sucks.” You can see the indent of his tongue in his cheek before he clicks and shrugs. “Guess that’s it then. Need help packing your shit or what?”

His response is so blasé that you’re genuinely shocked and, you must admit, a little hurt. He didn’t even ask for a second chance or beg you to stay or argue with you about your terrible timing because our-vacation-to-Hawaii-is-coming-up. So it’s your turn to look surprised, and you shake your head.

“No, I… already took care of it. It’s at a storage locker.” You didn’t have family left, and your close friends had pulled away from you one by one once you stayed with Ransom time and time again--so you’d had to pay movers to help you pack and transport everything to storage over the weekend, while Ransom was away and you were free to make a clean breakup.

He nods, sticks his hand inside his jacket pockets. He’s looking around the room, avoiding direct eye contact in a clear show of his discomfort. It’s weird seeing Ransom like this--the normally self-assured, cocky Ransom, looking for any excuse not to look at you.

“So… see ya around?” His tone is sincere, if still confused. The idea of you leaving must have really never crossed his mind. The look on his face when he finally faces you again appears genuinely puzzled.

He sticks out his hand and it feels almost comical for things to end this way, particularly considering the nights you’d spent imagining some big blow up, some big fight with Ransom screaming and you firing off the many reasons why it had to end no matter what he said.

But it didn’t go the way you expected at all. It was calm. Easy. A clean break-up.

So you shake his hand and grab your purse and the small roller-suitcase and give a half-hearted wave as you walk out the door; the taxi you’d hired to pick you up is waiting, car running, meter going. You would be staying at a hotel for two weeks, which would hopefully be enough time to find a semi-decent apartment; your credit score had improved so much since Ransom added you to his cards, to a shared checking account, and it wouldn’t be too difficult to get approved.

A new life, one where you could focus on yourself for once, was just around the corner.

"I'm sorry, miss, but it's definitely not the reader. The card is declined."

You've had this nightmare before. No, you've lived this nightmare before--years ago when your credit was shit and you ran up your cards and had to face the music in a publicly humiliating display with the longest checkout line you'd ever seen behind you. Only that was years ago, in a little grocery store, and since getting together with Ransom you never had to worry about problems like this. You never had to worry about the shame of not having enough, not being enough.

But this? This was happening now. In an upscale hotel. With your nice purse (a Christmas present) and designer clothes (casual, comfortable) and your cheeks flushed undeniably warm.

The hotel clerk has a tight, sympathetic smile on her face. A coworker who walks behind her glances at you, judging, and you just know he's going to head into some break room and tell everyone but yet another piece of discarded army candy with a declined credit card. You wish you'd kept your sunglasses on.

"Did it, um, say why? I don't--" you plaster a smile on your face, hating the way this all feels familiar, like a part of your past coming back to haunt you. "I don't understand, the card is good."

The clerk's smile flickers, just a bit.

"It says there's a fraud alert on this card. Perhaps you'd better call the company. Or would you like me to call them?"

Fucking. Ransom.

"Oh, oh no, don’t worry about it. I’ll call them myself. I'm so sorry about this." You turn away from the clerk as quickly as possible and step away from the counter, away from the person waiting behind you who will surely have no trouble with their card, away from the clerks giving you a passive side-eye. You lean against a cool cement pillar in the lobby and you know what you have to do.

You have to call Ransom.

You haven't deleted his number yet--you'd planned on calling him today or tomorrow to figure out how to split up your shared finances--so it's easy enough to find the number. It's not so easy to tap his contact, but you have to, so you force yourself to do it and stare at his photo as the call rings. And rings. And rings. “Hello?” Your breath catches but in an instant, when the message continues, you feel stupid. It’s his voicemail. Fuck.

You text him, instead. Emergency. Call right away. And of course: He leaves you on read. Fuck.

You call him again. And again. He picks up on the sixth call, but your heart is racing too hard and sweat is beading down your forehead and it takes you a moment to confirm that the "Hello?" wasn't part of the voicemail message this time. Fuck.

"Um. Hey," you say, keeping your voice as un-royally-pissed-off as possible, because if he did put in a fraud alert then you don't want to risk any additional asshole moves. "So there's something wrong with the card? The one that ends in 8921? The hotel said there was a fraud alert and--"

"Did you really think I'm going to keep paying for your shit if we're over?"

His voice is quick, biting--exactly what you'd expected from him earlier. Somehow it stings even harsher over the phone, where you feel more helpless, unable to avoid his words.

"I thought..." you wet your lips, trying to maintain your cool. "Look, my name is on them, so I thought send you my part of the payments until I can get cards in my own name."

He chuckles, low and short. "Yeah? What, you want to create a payment schedule or something?"

You fight back the annoyance in your tone. You hate having to be the bigger person, but your finances--your life--is on the line. "Yeah, actually, that'd be perfect. It wouldn't be for long. You know I'll pay them on time, I'm not looking to screw you over."

"You're going too pay me on time? For all the stuff you've bought, the stuff I’ve bought for you, this hotel room and god knows what else? How are you going to afford all that?"

He knows you recently earned a promotion at your work. He knows this, because you were so excited about it, and his half-assed congratulations over lukewarm leftovers left you feeling bitter and sad and useless. So you can't help it when bitterness seeps into your voice with your answer. "You know I just got a promotion."

"Did you?" It's said in such a casual tone that it gives you pause, but a moment later he simply hangs up on you.

Fucking. Ransom.

You shove your phone back into your purse, and the clerks at the counter are staring at you. Sweat has trickled down your back and your shirt sticks to your skin ever-so-slightly as you pull away from the pillar and approach the counter, awkward smile and cheeks hot.

"There is an issue with the card, they're working on it, so I’ll just call for a new reservation when it's fixed. I'm so sorry for the mix up!" Your voice is so peppy and high-pitched and fake and you feel like you’re back at your old job, feet aching with falling apart shoes, forced to deal with people returning old toasters laden with crumbs, calming they’d “just bought it the day before and it didn’t work.”

"Of course," the clerk says, and you know this is hotel clerk code for "You're a shitty liar."

You roll your suitcase out of the lobby with tears in your eyes and you shove your sunglasses on as soon as you've cleared the building. You feel exhausted, drained--so you use what little energy you have left to start googling for cheap motels.

The room smells musty. You pin the plastic sheet you’d snagged at a dollar store over the comforter and pray it will be enough to protect you from whatever is on the likely unwashed fabric. The TV is broken, there’s no WIFi, and there’s a few suspicious stains on the floor that make you wonder if this hotel has ever been featured in a porno, true crime show, or both.

But it’s all you could afford with the cash in your wallet. You only had enough cash on hand for 2 nights at a ragtag hotel that offers nightly and hourly rates. You didn’t dare use your debit card or any credit cards with Ransom’s name or information on them.

You just need some sleep. A good night’s sleep to feel renewed and ready to tackle retaking your life, bit by bit. In the morning, you need to go to the bank and withdraw your money from the joint bank account. Then you can reopen an account in your name, get a new debit card, and apply for a few credit cards afterwards.

Sure, it would have been nicer to do this without Ransom being an asshole. But deep down, you suspected he wouldn’t let you have a clean, lets-still-be-friends type of break. Not after all the times he’d pressured you into staying, manipulating you with words and gifts and promises, promises. Promises that were worth shit.

The sheet crinkles underneath you as you scroll through your messages. You’d texted a few formerly close friends about the breakup earlier, hoping that they’d maybe want to reconnect. So far, you’d been left on read, blocked, and received only one response: “New number, who is this?”

So much for that. Not that you can blame them. There are only so many times they can rush over for a late night intervention in which you tell them every horrible thing Ransom does (he’s controlling, he doesn’t want me to meet with friends without permission, he tells me what I can and can’t wear, he cheats, he lies, he pushed me--)--before they get tired of you returning to him, again and again and again.

The only one who’d been texting you recently--okay, for the past year--had been Ransom. Mostly dick pics. And demands for you to send him something back, which you always did after a while, because you didn’t want to deal annoyed texts or voice messages accusing you of clearly cheating on him or hating him because why else wouldn’t you be willing to send him so much as a sexy selfie to your boyfriend?

But in between those, there were conversations. Sometimes sweet ones, sometimes thoughtful ones that always made you remember why you fell hard for him in the first place. Late night conversations from when he was off on trips. You try not to wonder if he was fucking someone on each of these trips, if while you were sending him a late night ramble about a TV show and he was humoring you with jokes and quips, he was actually snuggled up with someone else. Laying in bed, naked, laughing at your dumb ass waiting at home.

The not-so-sweet conversations were ones that you had screenshotted and sent to your friends more than once, before they pulled themselves away. Texts asking where you were. Asking who you ate lunch with, and whether or not you were fucking them. Asking why your new office was connected to a certain co-worker’s, and how many blowjobs you had to give to get said new office because you didn’t tell him about the new office until after you were moved in, so you were clearly hiding him. Asking you to send him outfit pics so he could approve them or make you change if they were too slutty or not slutty enough or if you were only clearly wearing that halter dress to try to get with the bartender.

Yet your mind had always returned to the nice Ransom, the Ransom who made you laugh and squeezed you hard when had a shitty day of work and let you bury your face in his sweater as you snuggled on the couch. Maybe that’s why it took so long to leave. You were waiting for him to stop being Ransom and start being the fantasy of Ransom you’d conjured in your head.

Your eyes feel heavy so you plug in your phone, turn the sound off, and lay down on the uncomfortable plastic sheet that crinkled over the pillows. It feels strange to lay on a lumpy mattress covered in plastic, after years of custom-made beds and memory foam pillows and all the other luxuries that Ransom was able to provide.

You try not to think about it too much. While you won’t exactly be indulging in all the luxuries you had with Ransom, but your job pays you well, and you won’t ever have to go back to living hand-to-mouth like you did before. You won’t have to worry about late bills and debt collectors and landlords who come late at night and demand inspections while you’re in your pajamas.

You have work in the morning. You have to get to the bank in the morning. Your thoughts are still buzzing with anxiety as you fall into an uneasy slumber.

“I’m sorry, but the account has been closed.”

You feel years of customer service training cracking underneath your skin. You can’t freak out. If you freak out, they won’t feel inclined to go the extra mile. You know this, from firsthand experience.

So you take a shaky breath. “Um, this just--it isn’t possible. It’s a joint account. I’m on the account. There was money in there, you can check--”

“I’m sorry, but the funds were transferred and account has been closed by the other account holder. There’s nothing I can do. I suggest contacting the other party in the account.”

You swallow and nod and walk away, this time having been smart enough to keep your sunglasses on to hide your humiliated expression. Why didn’t you insist on having your own account? Ransom said it was better to keep it joint, so you could just buy stuff whenever you wanted. You’d agreed because it was so generous, something you’d never thought possible at the time, when you were used to having to pay overdraft fees and cringing whenever you checked your balance.

Your fingers tremble as you bring up his contact on your phone. You tap. No answer.

You don’t have time to call him two, three, ten times--you have to get to work. So you steady your nerves. You breathe in, you breathe out. You get in your car and plug your phone in and decide to contact your lawyer. Fuck--your lawyer was Ransom's lawyer. But the anxiety eases when you remember that you’d paid him a retainer fee months ago, and Ransom couldn’t do anything about that. You could at least get a basic consult out of the retainer.

The call ringing sounds muffled through your car’s speaker but it isn’t long before someone answers, and you’re transferred to the lawyer Ransom insisted you have--gotta have a lawyer when you have money, babe--and that you hadn’t spoken to in ages.

“Hi,” you say, voice artificially bright, “this is--”

You don’t get a chance to finish.

“I know who this is.” The lawyer sounds tired, and his tone is curt and clipped. “I’m sorry. I’m no longer able to provide you with any legal counsel.”

You almost miss a red light and regret calling the office while you were driving.

“Is this about the debit card? Because I paid the retainer months ago--”

“The retainer has been refunded into the connected checking account.”

Your voice looses its artificial cheeriness and you stumble over your words in frustration. “That’s--it’s--it was a joint account, which is why I called, Ransom drained it and took everything. Isn’t there something we can do, because that was my money too and--”

“I am no longer able to provide you with legal counsel.”

You want to cry. You hate crying, as an adult. It makes you feel weak. Especially on the phone.

“I don’t understand. Why was the retainer refunded? Did--did someone call you?”

He clears his throat into the phone. “I am no longer able to provide you with legal counsel. Goodbye.”

He hangs up. Your hands shake.

You pull into the parking lot of your work and park the car and as soon as you do, you hunch yourself over the steering wheel and simply shake in frustration.

You have no bank account. Ransom drained it. You have no credit cards. Ransom blocked them. You couldn’t even talk to a lawyer, because--shock--Ransom made sure you couldn’t. Everything was in Ransom’s name. He insisted on adding you to his accounts, closing out your own paltry ones; insisted that he pay off your credit card debt, and making you close those, too, instead adding you to his cards. It was all to help you out, he said, at the time.

Wasn’t it? He was shockingly not judgmental about the state of your finances, and while you’d put up some protest, you didn’t exactly argue with him when he suggested wiping your debts clean and getting your credit back up. And considering that he wasn’t immune to needing a bail-out now and then (late night calls to his grandfather, snarky comments at his parent’s dinner table, come to mind) maybe he could sympathize with being in over your head. Even if your issues were rooted in poverty and shitty jobs and his were rooted in a total lack of financial discipline and, as you’d later found out, a drug addiction.

Still. He helped you before. He would help you now, once he realized how serious it was. For now he was just--reacting like an asshole, acting childish and ridiculous. He was an asshole. You know this. You’ve known this. You need to call him and meet with him and make him realize how ridiculous he’s being, and he’ll sigh and snark but he’ll agree to stop acting like such an ass.

But first you have to work. Life goes on. Even without Ransom--even with Ransom, screwing you over out of pettiness.

The air conditioning in the lobby is on blast, and the familiar smell of clean furniture and floor cleaner from the late-night cleaning crew is surprisingly comforting. Here, you can forget about Ransom--forget about the cards and the lawyer and the fact that your life has been upended in mere hours. If only until your lunch break, at least.

Anthony is working the front desk and you give him a a soft, if strained smile. There’s something in the smile that he gives you in return that reminds you of the hotel clerk. Sympathetic and judgmental.

Ah. You probably look like--well, less than your best, you realize. You did pack some toiletries in your suitcase but the water in the motel had streaks of brown and you didn’t shower, opting instead to rinse your face with what was left of a water bottle you’d bought earlier and layering on more deodorant to make up for the lack of a proper scrub. You probably looked a bit tired, haggard, not unlike some of the employees who got stuck with big clients the night before their paperwork was due.

Still. Nothing that freshening up in your private bathroom--thank god for the new office--can’t help. So you hit the button on the elevator and take deep breaths as you ride up, intent on working as productively as possible. The doors open and you navigate the familiar maze of open-plan desks for the lower-tier workers, desks surrounded by half-walls that always kept you staring straight ahead, lest you accidentally glance over and see a co-worker picking their nose.

Yet as you weave in-and-out of the familiar rows, heading towards the back of the room where the real offices, the ones with full walls and doors and privacy glass lay, you can’t help but feel that something is… off.

No one calls out to greet you, though that can be easily attributed to the jealousy over your promotion. You’d been working there for far less than most of the lower level workers--Ransom got you the job, with his connections and a hefty revision of your resume and, you assume, some personal phone calls--and you’d already been promoted to senior management. That wasn’t technically Ransom’s work, though. That was all your own effort, your own blood, sweat, tears and intense devotion to each project that came your way. Sure, the connections he helped you make, the dinner parties, all that helped--but if it weren’t for your skills, the connections wouldn’t have made a difference. Right?

Still, whatever bitterness existed in the people hunch in open-air cubicles, the receptionists always greeted you. But today they caught your eye then awkwardly glanced down, or pretended to be looking for something in their drawers. It was odd. Did you look that bad? That out of sorts?

You shake off the heavy feeling in your stomach and for once, you shut the door to your office instead of keeping it open for passers-by or people needing approval for this-and-that. It feels good to lean against the solid wood door and take a breath, a deep one, invigorating and calming.

A quick trip to the bathroom has you staring at yourself from all angles. You don’t look that bad, you reason. Just tired. But who wouldn’t be, sleeping on a plastic sheet in the shittiest motel in the area? You take a quick sniff under your arms but even that reveals nothing much but a faint hint of sweat and powdery deodorant.

There’s a firm knock at your office door and you glance at the mirror for a final once over before opening it up. It’s your boss. Did you have a meeting? You try to do a mental scan of something you’ve missed, but nothing comes to mind.

“Hi,” you say, wavering with uncertainty at the threshold. Should you invite him in? “What can I do for you? We didn’t have a meeting, did we?” You let yourself chuckle, dry and quick. “I’m sorry, I’m a bit scattered this morning.”

Your boss doesn’t return your chuckle, which immediately raises the hairs on the back of your neck. Something was wrong. Shit--you were working on a major project for a seriously important client. The type of client that could genuinely make or break a company, if you got on their bad side. You press your lips together and make a silent vow to keep it serious.

“I’d like to keep this conversation private.” His tone is low and serious and you invite him in without a second thought, shutting the thick door behind you, trying to ignore the way everyone was shooting glances as it closed. Fuck, fuck, fuck, your thoughts race--no wonder everyone was giving you the stink eye. Something was wrong with the client, and you were the one making primary contact with them.

Your boss takes a seat on the leather sofa pushed up against the wall and you immediately set yourself down behind your desk.

He sighs. Short. Frustrated. Annoyed.

“We have to let you go.”

The words don’t register.

“Go where?”

It’s only after you say it that you realize what he said, what it meant, and you feel like a colossal moron in every respect.

“It’s not working out,” he continues, staring at your desk and not at your face. “Since you’ve only been in this position for a month, you don’t quality for senior severance. The best we can do is to pay you what you’ve earned this week.”

Your mouth is so dry that you don’t know if you can talk. Your hand fumbles on your desk for a water bottle you’d left overnight, and that’s when you see it--the photo frame. You keep a photo of yourself and Ransom, cuddled together for a selfie, on your desk. The photo was lying on your desk, frameless, ripped in half--leaving only your vacantly smiling face staring up at you.

Ransom was here.

“Did he put you up to this?” You whisper. “Did Ransom tell you to fire me?”

You know he won’t answer. But you stare at him so fervently that he can’t help but look up at you, and you see it all in his eyes, in the subtle, embarrassed expression of his face.

You can imagine Ransom strolling in--maybe he called first--and settling in for a private audience with your boss in his office. He’d probably pull the chair up to the desk and put his feet on it, just to be an ass. Then he’d bring up… you. And why you had to be let go. Did he give a reason, did he tell your boss why a respected employee who he once secured a position for, who shot up the ranks through intense effort and work, needed to be fired? Did he even need to give a reason?

“This is absolute bullshit,” you say, finally, voice dry and hoarse and bitter. You want to say you’ll be contacting a lawyer. That this won’t stand. But you know--and he knows--that there’s nothing you can do.

Your boss stands, slow, and sighs again. “I’m sorry it had to end this way. Pack up your things as quickly as possible.”

He leaves, and you keep your eyes trained on the ripped photograph to avoid seeing the expressions of the people in the doorway before your boss mercifully shuts the door.

It takes all of your effort not to cry.

You don’t have much effort left.

Your things consisted of a handful of personal items, little touches you’d brought in to make your office feel more like “you.” A nice picture print. A pastel afghan to drape over the couch. A stapler with a floral design. You have the strong urge to dump them in a trash can, but that’s quickly quelled by the realization that you can’t afford to buy new things, or any things, at this point.

You don’t care if wearing your sunglasses as you power walk to the elevators makes you look stupid. You know someone, somewhere in this office is filming you and probably captioning it with something stupid to post to their Reels or TikTok, and it just makes you leave faster. A few people murmur comments your way, sympathetic in tone, but you’re not really listening. None of their platitudes matter, because Ransom was here, in your workplace, in your office, and he stole the thing you were most proud of from under your feet.

To his credit, when you reach the bottom floor, Anthony practically fumbles out from behind his desk and holds the door open for you. He mouths a “Sorry” and he probably is, but he’s probably used to dealing with rich assholes like Ransom who get what they want, when they want it; even when what they want is to fire a good employee on demand for very personal reasons.

The sun is beating down hard, even for the morning, and the stress of your situation makes you blast the air conditioning as soon as you get in the car. God, the car--how are you going to afford the payments? You wish you could call your mom. You wish your friends--are they even your friends, anymore?--would call you back.

You grab your phone from your purse and stare at the black screen. Maybe you should call the friend who didn’t block you. She would answer, if you called, because she knew you didn’t make calls unless it was serious. She might not rush to your side, but maybe she can offer you a place to stay, a couch, some advice. A kind word would do, right now, with how much anxiety and frustration has been packed into the last 12 hours.

But when you unlock your screen, your gut sinks. Five missed calls. From the storage company. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

You tap their number and bring the phone to your ear and pretend that your hands aren’t shaking.

The man who answers is the same one you talked to on the phone before, when setting up your move. “Hello, Move’nSecure Storage Company. This is Steve speaking. How many I help you?”

“Hi Steve!” You hate how chipper you sound. “I actually just got a few missed calls from you guys, I’m sorry, I was in the office and--”

“Oh.” His voice is surprisingly flat, suddenly flat, losing its customer service inflection in an instant before picking it back up. “Yes. We’ve been trying to reach you. For confirmation, the storage locker your purchased is A443, correct?”

You fumble in your purse for the receipt and confirm the little numbers printed neatly on the paper. “Yes, A443. Is everything okay?”

“No, it’s not.” You’re grateful that you didn’t have much for breakfast because you know it would be clawing its way back up at this point. “The card you gave us for the storage fee was declined.”

The debit card. You’d paid in cash for the move, and paid for 1 month of storage with the card. The card that was now useless, connected to an empty and closed bank account.

“Is there another card you can give us?”

“No, but...” You say, because no, there is not. There is not a card. There is not a job. There is nothing. “But if you could just hold my stuff, I’ll be there in less than a hour to get it.”

“We don’t hold items,” Steve tells you, a rehearsed banality to his tone. “Your items are currently outside the unit.”

You instinctively want to yell at Steve but, fuck fuck fuck, you’ve been there, behind the counter, dealing with people who couldn’t pay for shit and then had the nerve to get upset with you. “All of it?” You ask, your voice cracking slightly.

“Yes.”

You hang up, and toss your phone onto the passenger seat. The quicker you get there, the less chance that something will get broken or stolen or who knows what else.

The trip to the storage unit seems to take forever, and when you arrive you don’t even take a second to lock your car doors. Instead you sprint inside, startling Steve--looking at his phone, then at you, then at the sign plastered up on the wall leading to the storage locker floors. He points. Row A, separated into 100s, 200s, 300s, and--your number--400s.

You don’t remember if you say ‘thank you,’ because you’re speed-walking down the hallway and following the signs and it isn’t long before you see it: a storage locker with tons of stuff piled up, dumped, outside the now-empty unit where it was supposed to be safe and sound. Waiting for you to get an apartment and pick it back up and rearrange it into your new life, your new “you.”

The problem is immediate: You can’t fit all this in your car. You don’t know anyone who could take the stuff for you. You mind reels for options and the only thing you can come up with is ferrying your belongings to and from the hotel. You can pay for a few more days once you cash your partial paycheck. After that… you don’t know.

Pawn your things? Yeah. That might work. You can get enough cash by pawning most of your stuff, the good stuff. Enough money to get you into a shitty apartment with leaks and a bad landlord. Then you can a job that barely pays rent and you’ll be right back where you started, before you met Ransom. Before you thought leaking ceilings and $20 paychecks after taxes were a thing of the past.

You ignore the humiliation that makes your stomach curl as you take your things out to the car, handful by handful. Steve doesn’t bother holding the door open for you. You mention that you’re going to be back on your way out, and he offers a non-committal hum.

At least when you get to the hotel, the owner sees you fumbling with boxes and offers to help you out. It takes less time with two hands to get everything in the room, and once it’s locked up you head back out to the storage units.

You keep your sunglasses on for the second trip into the storage unit, even though you don’t know Steve or care what he thinks. He doesn’t look up when you walk in and it’s just as well, since you’re only heading back to the A-400s and don’t need his non-existent help.

But the sight that greets you when you round the corner to your unpaid-for storage locker makes your blood run cold.

Your stuff is gone. All of it.

You rush back to the desk, where Steve does look up, startled by your urgency.

“My stuff,” you spit out, “My stuff is gone! Someone took it!”

Steve shrugs. “Sorry.” He points to a sign behind him: “We are not responsible for the loss of items inside or outside storage lockers.”

“Are you fucking kidding?” You can’t the anger in your voice this time. “You just watched someone walk off with my stuff and didn’t say anything?”

Steve raises his eyebrows. “If it was that important, you shouldn’t have left it here. Or you should have given us another card.”

You feel like throwing your hands up but you just clench your fist and storm out the door, huffing as you reach your car. The anger melts into the sense of loss, the realization that you only have a few meager items that you’d managed to collect; you picked the lightest stuff, first. And in retrospect it was things that didn’t matter much at all. Clothes. Hair supplies. Makeup. You should have grabbed the box with your USB sticks, your memory cards, your photo albums; your personal mementos and sentimental shit. Instead you grabbed the box with your shampoo.

At least the clothes might get something in a pawnshop. The makeup, too, on Facebook or Depop or Instagram. But it wouldn’t be enough to put you up in an apartment. You’ll have to live in your car. Until they repossess it for lack of payment.

You don’t have your bank account, your credit cards, your job, a place to stay, or your personal possessions. And soon, you won’t have your car.

You have no friends. No boyfriend. No family.

All you have $20 left in your wallet and well, fuck it. You grab some McDonalds on the way home because, fuck it, and eat all the fries before you make it to the motel. The thought of eating in your dirty room makes your stomach turn and you decide to eat everything else you bought, the burger and the shake and the chicken nuggets too, tossing the wrappers on the floor. It feels like deja vu--getting cheap fast food to make you feel full, tossing trash on the floor of the passenger seat, all bringing back the way you used to when you’d grab something from the dollar menu on your way to work at the call center.

You almost wish you could stay at this hotel, brown water and all. The owner is decently nice. He smiles at you when you enter and doesn’t bring up that you didn’t come back with more boxes, like you said you would.

You’re surprised at how grateful you feel for the dingy hotel room now that you won’t be able to stay here more than another day. Now that the alternative is sleeping in your car, then sleeping on the street, if you were lucky.

Your phone feels heavy when you set it on the table and stare at the home screen. Another photo of you and Ransom stares back up at you. You haven’t had time to change it up yet. He’s grinning. You’re smiling. It’s a good photo. You try to place it in your memory, try to remember what beach that was, but your trips blur together and you can’t.

Should you call him? If it was just the cards, just him being petty over credit and finances, it was one thing. You could try to placate him with returning gifts, just asking him to give you what you put in from your own paychecks. But making you lose your job? It was too far, too fucking far. And there was no going back from that. Fuck, someone was probably moving into your office as you sat in this dimly lit room mourning the loss of your entire life.

For a brief, very fleeting moment, you consider calling Harlan. You weren’t exceptionally close, but he seemed to like you well enough. He’d even asked you once, puling you aside at a tension-filled family party, if Ransom treated you right, told you to tell him if he ever got to be too much. Harlan felt like Ransom’s keeper--in more ways than one. You could never tell Harlan about the shouts or the occasional bruises from when Ransom really, really lost his temper--it’s not like you could prove them, anyway, as Ransom made sure to keep you away from his family when he lost control like that. No need for excuses about running into doors when he made sure you looked your best at family functions.

But the thought of breaking the uneasy stasis that Ransom had with the most significant member of his family made you want to vomit. There would be no coming back from that, and you knew better than to cross any line involving the great Harlan Thrombey.

You could call your friend--ex-friend? The one who didn’t block you or forget your number. You should. No, you will. Because what else do you have to lose.

But before you can bring up her number, you get a text--Ransom. It’s a photo and your curiosity gets the better of you as you click the notification.

“What the fuck?”

He’s sent you a photo of his car, trunk open. It’s filled with boxes, odds-and-ends. It’s filled with your stuff.

You text him: What??

He texts back: Hey. I’m in front of the hotel. Come out? Bring your suitcase. :P

It’s your stuff. It’s his car. He’s here. All reason is thrown aside as you grab your suitcase and purse and rush down the hallway, ignoring the owner’s confused response from behind his desk as you push open the front doors and look around the parking lot.

His car is parked to the side, not in front of the hotel’s glass double doors. He’s standing outside his car, leaning against it. He takes off his sunglasses and tucks them in his pocket when he sees you approaching, face confused and fuming all at once.

“What the fuck, Ransom, what the fuck is your problem--”

“Hey, hey,” he says, hands up in defense, “You’re not even going to thank me for picking up your stuff?”

You feel suddenly, impossibly rooted to the spot.

“What do you--what? You took my stuff?”

He shrugs. “C’mon, did you really think I’d just leave your stuff in some shitty storage unit? Someone would’ve taken it if I didn’t get there first.”

You swallow. “Why?” You ask, because Ransom never does anything for no reason. Or so you’ve learned.

His expression loses a bit of its cocky casualness. He tilts his head a bit, looking at you as if you’ve asked a particularly offensive question.

“Why do you think?”

To lord it over you? To make you think your stuff was gone and make you worried, sick, crazy?

“I don’t know,” is what you settle for in the end. “I really, really don’t. You--” You lick your lips, and try to calm down, calm the pitter-patter of your heart, and think before you speak. “You’ve done some pretty messed up stuff today. My job?” The last question comes out soft and pained, and you know your eyes are starting to tear up.

“Hey.” His voice is soft and placating and it makes your stomach flip as he approaches you, standing there on the sidewalk with your purse and suitcase. “Hey, c’mon. Don’t cry on me.”

You know this Ransom. The Ransom that holds you and pets your hair and offers to get Thai food delivered even though he doesn’t like it just to make you happy.

He puts his hand on your shoulder and you jerk it away. “Don’t.” That Ransom is a fantasy. Or an incomplete version, the version that pretends he doesn’t lie and cheat and hurt you in more ways than one. “Don’t you fucking dare, especially not after what you pulled today. My job? My job, Ransom? You’re a--a fucking asshole.”

He puts his hands up again, defensive, and takes a step back. But he doesn’t return to his car, and stays just a few steps in front of you.

“Look. Call me an asshole. Sure, fine, I can admit that. But do you know what else I am?”

He waits a beat, waits for you to look at him, before he continues. “I’m a realist. I like facts. And the fact is? You aren’t much without me. No job, no credit cards, no bank account. Without me, you’re just some broke chick scrambling to get an apartment in the shittiest part of town, working a dead-end job that don’t pay shit. With me though…. “

He leaves the words unfinished, but you know what he means. Flashes of your life, cocktails and smart business outfits and dinners at restaurants you didn’t even dream about attending before you met him. Phone calls with shakers in the industry and social media requests from people you’d never dream you’d meet. Connections that meant something, a career path, dinner parties with people who could offer tangible benefits to your career and your life.

It wasn’t that he spoiled you. He wasn’t a sugar daddy. You weren’t getting gifts for blowjobs. It was that his presence in your life boosted you, socially, financially, mentally, physically, in every which way possible.

His presence got you a job that you loved, which meant you weren’t burnt out when you came home, which meant that you had the time and energy to spend hours catching up on books or redecorating the house or watching movies. Good money meant you could order in whenever you felt like it, meant you didn’t have to worry if you burned dinner because you could just buy new steaks or order-in or go out, last minute, and still get a great table. It meant you had all the clothes you wanted, stylish and personally tailored; it meant you had easy access to a gym and exercise equipment and an indoor pool to keep you healthy. It meant you had a life that provided comfort in every way possible.

Being with Ransom Drysdale was like… like a little shot of privilege directly into your arm.

Privilege that he took away just as easily as he gave it. Just as easily as you took it. Just as easily as you took it and eagerly ignored the dark side underneath. Or maybe you didn’t ignore it. Maybe you liked it, maybe it reminded you of who you were underneath the designer clothes and expensive dinners.

Maybe you wanted to fix him, like he fixed you? He wasn’t totally bad, after all, he did make sure no one took your belongings. Maybe it was your presence that gave him the idea for that touch of sympathy, maybe with Ransom change was slow and muddled, not picture-perfect sweeping changes like the kind in movies.

“So?” Ransom’s voice cuts through your thoughts. “Are you going to come home or,” he waves his hands around dismissively, at the hotel, at you.

You feel very, very less-than right now. You look awful, your hair mussy and your makeup mostly melted off with sweat and sun. You probably smell more than you normally do, thanks to the lack of a shower. Your muscles, sore from the motel bed, ache for the large spa bathtub that Ransom had installed in the master bathroom just for you, stocked with bubbles and salts and overpriced bath bombs that were $10 a pop.

But your muscles had hurt before, when he pushed you against the dresser.

You have nothing, and no one. Except Ransom. Ransom who didn’t judge you when you instinctively saved plastic bottles and boxes, but merely nudged you towards recycling and took you out to splurge on a reusable water bottle and proper storage containers the next day. Ransom who asked you what sort of job you wanted, really wanted, and made it happen for you. Ransom who shrugged and wiped away your credit card debt without making you feel like shit.

Ransom who didn’t let you leave the house if your wrists were sporting fingerprint shaped bruises. Ransom who argued with you about talking to men, even men at work. Ransom who held you tight at night and said he never wanted to let you go, and wouldn’t you just make a fine-ass addition his crazy family. Ransom who took care of you, now that you had no one else.

“What do you want me to do?” The words feel slow, sluggish. Like they wanted to stick to the roof of your mouth and it took everything in you to get them out.

His voice turns low and serious as he stares at you with an characteristic expression. “Well, the first thing is to get down on your knees…”

You feel your eyes practically bugging out.

“What the fuck, Ransom?”

He laughs. He always did have a nice laugh.

“I’m just messing with you, Jesus. Take a chi-I-il pill. Just grab your purse and come sit your sweet ass in the front seat. Let’s go get some burgers, I’m starving.”

Your legs feel like jelly when you take that first step, and the sound of your roller suitcase as you pull it along seems louder than ever. Ransom pops the truck and you just manage to fit it inside with the handle closed, jamming it in between some boxes at an odd angle. The handle of the passenger side is familiar, warm from the sun.

You open the door and practically shove yourself into the seat, closing the door as fast as possible. You can’t do more than glance at him as humiliation and anxiety and just the smallest bit of relief washes over you. It’s been less than 24 hours since you broke up, and here you are--again.

He’s staring at you quietly, his expression difficult to place. He looks relieved. He looks annoyed. He looks like he wants to kiss you. He looks like he wants to slap you. Maybe he wants to do it all at once and can’t decide which to pick.

Instead, he puts his hand on your thigh. Gives it a squeeze. Hard, bordering on painful. He’s staring straight ahead, at the worn-out sign on the hotel’s front door, one hand gripping the flesh of your thigh. He looks good in profile. “Don’t ever try to pull something like that again. I mean it. I really mean it.”

You turn, glance out the window, familiar tears at the edge of your eyes.

“I won’t,” you whisper, dreaming of the tub and bubbles and how good a warm soak will feel on your back, on your thighs, on your soul.

“Good girl,” he says, patting your thigh firmly. He plucks his sunglasses out of pocket and puts them on in a smooth motion. The car starts smoothly, its fine-tuned and expensive engine a familiar sound, and your hands feel robotic as you pull the seatbelt over your chest and click it tight.

“Let’s get dinner and get home. You have some unpacking to do.”

#ransom drysdale x reader #yandere ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale #knives out #yandere x reader #afterwitch writes

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1-800-amortentia · 4 years ago

Text

teen romance (sirius black x reader)

summary: sirius talks with y/n. (marauders era)

word count: 1k

genre: angsty ass smut enjoy u pervs!1!1

a/n: ib a random patrick hocksetter imagine i read lol.

masterlist!

“ go away” i mumbled at siruis as he followed me towards the gryffindor common room. i had been avoiding him for about a week, and he was quick to notice.

“no, i want to talk to you.” he replied, quickening his pace. i stopped walking and turned around as the stair case we walked on started to move.

“well, i dont want to talk to you-”

“why not.” he asked, stepping up a stair, and looking down at me. i sighed, slowly beginning to walk up the stairs again once we started moving again.

“love where are you going?”

“my dorm.” i said, before saying the password and quickly walking through the portrait hole and into the completely empty common room.

“but i haven’t gone down on you yet.” he says. i can hear the smirk in his voice. i scoff, turning around.

“it’s not like you don’t have other options.”

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

“just saying you regularly have sex with multiple other people besides me.” i say, turning around to face him, looking up, since he was at least 6 inches taller than me. his deep grey eyes meet my e/c orbs that are now glossed over.

“listen-”

“no. now will you please leave.” i say. he gently grabs my jaw, kissing my lips. i feel my knees go weak as he brings his other hand around my waist.

“s-siruis.” i whisper as his lips go farther down my neck.

“you love me, y/n. admit it.” he mumbles, sticking his hand up my skirt, meeting the hem of my panties.

“stop” i say sternly, pushing him away from me. he obliges, stepping back slightly. he caresses my cheek with his thumb.

“what?” i ask him as he stares deeper into my eyes. he smirks, placing his arm against the cold stone wall behind me. i can smell his cologne. a deep amber and wood smell.

“just thinking about how beautiful you look riding me” he whispers. my breath hitches. i roll my eyes, stepping away from him. he grabs my wrist quickly.

“let...let go siruis.” i say. his grip gets tighter.

“no love. im tired of watching you walk away and get your heart broken”

“then stop breaking it” i say, pulling my wrist away. he sighs, running a hand threw his hair.

“i’m not! you’re doing it to yourself by giving yourself to other guys who dont love you the way i do. this is the last time i’m letting you go y/n.” siruis says, pulling me back into his chest. he presses his lips back into mine, picking me up and gently pressing me against the wall.

“how do i make you feel love? huh? everytime i kiss you, or when i fuck you?” he asks. i stare at him.

“it feels good” i mumble.

“exactly, so why do you hang around asshole guys who will never be able to make you feel as good as i will?” he asks. i feel my heart drop.

“b-because they distract me from how hard it is to to not be with you.” i whisper. he looks at me for a minute.

“then why not be together?”

“because you hurt me siruis! it’s so easy for you to stand here, look me in the eyes and lie to me.” siruis clenches his jaw.

“lily told me about maggie. how you kicked james out of your dorm and she sucked you off” you said.

“but i wouldnt have lied if you asked me i would’ve told you the truth.” he says, his voice cracking, meaning he was about to cry. which never ever happened. the only other time you saw him cry was when he stopped seeing his parents and he spent christmas alone.

“okay maybe you didn’t lie but it still hurt sirius. you still hurt me” i whisper.

“i know” he mumbles. he bends back down, reconnecting our lips.

“god you drive me insane, y/n” he groans, setting his hands on my thighs. i moan as he connects his lips to my jaw, making my knees.

“siruis...” i moan. he sucks hard on my sweet spot.

“do you love me?” he asks, still working at my neck. do i? yes, i do. more than anything.

“y-yes” i whimper. he picks me up, setting my legs against his hips as he countines sucking and kissing my neck.

“say it. tell me how much you love me doll” he mumbles.

“sirius i love you so much, god please.....” i moan as he moves from my neck to my chest.

“i know what i do how i drive you crazy and make you all hot and bothered in class” he says, dragging his hand towards my heat as i blush. he slowly slips his middle finger into me, flicking it up and down. my breathing quickly fastened, my head falling into his neck as he pins me harder against the wall.

“i know you think about me all the time. when you’re with lily, or in class, or showering or eating. you can never get me to leave that pretty little head of yours.” he says, speeding up his fingers. i moan in response, making him smile.

“you’re so pretty” he whispers. i gasp as he goes faster, if that was even possible.

“i-im close” i whimpered.

“let go for me” he whispers into my ear, my head still set in his neck. i oblige, feeling myself finish through a series of whimpers and groans. my breathing is still heavy as siruis lifts my chin revealing my pink tinted face with his clean hand. he wipes his finger on his pants.

“you’re so beautiful love.” he whispers. i smile as he kisses my cheek.

“i love you so much” he whispers, kissing my other cheek, then my forehead, and finally my lips.

“i love you too” i whisper.

“so what are we now?” he asks. i pretend to think for a moment.

“boyfriend and girlfriend?”

“nah love, you’re my wife now” he says, setting me down on my feet, lacing our hands together as we walk out of the common room to find our friends.

#siruis black #siruis black smut #siruis black x reader #marauders x reader #remus lupin #harry potter #lily potter #james potter #young sirius imagine #siruis black imagine

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fruitcoops · 3 years ago

Note

so i just reread your fic where jules gets bullied at school and remus comforts him, because i'm pretty sure i go back and read that every week. would you ever write a sequel where jules gets some comeuppance? bc i don't believe in violence but i want to kick luke sanders

That's one of my favorites--I'm glad you liked it! There is no violence here, just some realizations from the mind of an eighth-grader with an attitude problem. SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

First fic is here

Luke was having a shit day. He was pretty sure that he bombed his science quiz the day before and wasn’t looking forward to seeing the disappointment on his mom’s face when she saw the score, even though it was only worth 2% of his overall grade. Just try harder, she would say. I know you can do it. Just try.

And he did. He just sucked at science, and that was the way the world worked. Luke kicked a pebble and smiled as it pinged off the signpost. In his head, a goalhorn lit up red and his picture appeared on the jumbotron.

If I could play hockey all day, I would, he thought as he rounded the last corner to the school building. It was one of the only things that made him happy—he itched with the need to get out on the ice at every minute of the day. In the real world, where his pads were unstrapped and he wasn’t good at things, he was…bored. Really, really bored. There was nowhere to put the big feelings he got sometimes, and nothing to do.

His friends were already standing in a circle outside the side door, talking and laughing. They never seemed to need him much, anyway. Frustration flared in his chest and he kicked another pebble, harder this time—it smacked into the curb with a satisfying clatter and he felt a lovely bit of vindication. He didn’t need them to have fun.

Gasps broke out to his left and he craned his neck to see the source; as one of the taller kids in his class, he didn’t need to stretch very far. His heart skipped a beat. Joy soared, then came crashing down like a broken plane. Oh, shit.

Remus Lupin was at the other end of the parking lot, looking as normal as any parent dropping their kid off while he ruffled his little brother’s hair and ushered him away from the car. Remus Lupin, who was one of Luke’s absolute heroes; Remus Lupin, whose little brother he had been pushing around whenever he got bored or frustrated by life.

Shit, shit, shit. Jules’ eyes landed on him and narrowed. Luke forced a sneer, even as his pulse skyrocketed when the kid marched over with his hands balled into fists. He was scrawny, built a little like a scarecrow, but he had the same set to his mouth that his brother got just before beating the crap out of an opponent on the ice.

“What do you want, Loony?” he asked, crossing his arms.

Jules’ jaw ticked at the side. “Leave me alone.”

“You’re the one who came over here.”

“And don’t talk to me anymore.”

“Why not?”

A beat of silence passed before Jules drew himself up to his full height. His chin passed Luke’s chest by less than an inch. “My brother told me to be nice about this and report you, but if you fuck with me again, you’re gonna wish I just told the principal.”

Luke barely held down a smile. Hearing cuss words from an eleven-year-old who barely cleared five feet was more than a little funny. “Sure thing, shrimp. Hey, why don’t you—”

He faltered the second he glanced over Jules’ shoulder. Remus was still standing by their ancient car, glowering at the pair of them with those unsettlingly bright Lupin eyes. The sudden realization that this was Jules’ way of ‘being nice’ struck him like a runaway train; Luke was sharply and terribly aware that he would probably be on the ground with a busted nose if Remus hadn’t reined his little brother in.

Luke had never thought of the littlest Lupin as anything approaching ‘scary’ before. He was beginning to reconsider that particular judgement.

Jules was still waiting with one eyebrow raised when he looked back. “Forget it,” Luke scoffed, hiking his bag up higher to hide the slight tremor in his hand. “You’re wasting my time.”

“Don’t talk to me again.”

“Whatever,” he muttered as he headed back toward the schoolhouse. Adrian said something as he passed, or maybe Dylan—hell, it could’ve been Hunter for all he knew—but he didn’t register a word around the thud of his heartbeat in his ears.

Hobbies. He needed a hobby. Something to do that would take the place of bothering some skinny kid that could and would kick his ass given the chance. When he checked over his shoulder after the first bell rang, Jules was cheerfully chatting with his other geeky friends as if nothing had ever happened. Luke made a mental note to ask his mom about the art supplies she had stuffed in the attic the prior Christmas.

#luke sanders #julian lupin #remus lupin #sweater weather #my fic #lumosinlove #fanfic #let me be your shelter

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stark-tony · 4 years ago

Text

underrated irondad and spiderson fic recs part 2

part 1

Queer Eye for the Cacti by silentsaebyeok

summary: He bought one-hundred cacti on Amazon! Pepper was going to kill him!

What had possessed him to do such a thing? He never went on shopping sprees when drunk. That just wasn’t a Tony Stark type of thing to do. And in all honesty, he was astonished he even remembered the Amazon password.

Tony makes an interesting purchase while drunk. What he doesn’t expect is for said purchase to bite him in the ass in the worst possible way.

pairings: pepperony

tags: fluff, hurt/comfort

warnings: none

Tumblr Posts by Jen27ny

summary: Literally what the title says. All the prompts and one-shots I post on tumblr.

pairings: pepperony, spideychelle

tags: hurt/comfort, fluff, angst

warnings:

It Lasts for Always by YellowDistress

summary: Peter has never asked anyone to kill for him, especially not Tony.

pairings: none

tags: angst

warnings: none

Cursed Christmas by sahiya

summary: A series of unfortunate events befalls Tony, Pepper, Peter, and Morgan (and Happy and May) in the week leading up to Christmas.

It'd be kind of funny if it didn't totally suck. Fortunately, they've got good back-up.

pairings: pepperony

tags: hurt/comfort

warnings: none

Keeping your head up by frostysunflowers

summary: It’s been a while, a long while, since Tony felt this defenceless. He’s without a suit, the manacle around his ankle is solid steel, and he can’t see a single way out.

He’s been here before, but back then there had been tools, resources, options.

Here, there’s just the walls, his missing kid and the water.

The water.

pairings: none

tags: hurt/comfort, angst

warnings: kidnapping

Young, Dumb and Suffering by wordscorrupt

summary: In a moment of desperation, Peter decides to take Steve's pain medication to relieve a migraine.

Peter accidentally overdoses on pain medication.

pairings: none

tags:

warnings:

Midnight Oil by JolinarJackson

summary: After everything that has happened to Peter over the last year - or five, really - he shouldn’t be worried about something as mundane as the ACT. When he fails it, though it sends him into a spiral of self-doubt, which only gets worse when Peter realizes that he doesn’t seem to be able to fix whatever is broken.

pairings: spideychelle, pepperony

tags: hurt/comfort, angst

warnings: none

Love Will Remind Us Who We Are by blondsak

summary: There had been many times in Tony’s life when he’d known the piercing clarity that separated a Good Day from a Bad Day. Had known the ways in which, upon first waking, one’s soul would strike a balance between agony and relief either in your favor, or not.

But none of his earlier Good and Bad times had prepared him for his reality now.

Nine months after the Avengers defeated Thanos, Tony is still reckoning with the toll the final snap took on his body. Between grueling physical therapy, near-constant pain, and the inability to so much as tie his own shoes, well-- things aren’t exactly like Tony had imagined.

Luckily for him, there’s a certain kid from Queens who won’t let Tony give up so easily.

pairings: none

tags: angst, hurt/comfort

warnings: none

Summertime Sickness by Spideysickfics

summary: "Well, this is your lucky day, then!" Peter replied enthusiastically, putting his hands on his hips and puffing out his chest as he broke into a wide grin, "You're looking at a former Boy Scout!"

Tony let out a huff of air.

"No shit, a Boy Scout, huh? When did you quit?"

"First grade." Peter's grin didn’t waver. Tony rolled his eyes with a laugh.

"I'm sure you're very knowledgeable."

An Irondad camping trip and sickfic to soothe your soul

pairings: none

tags:

warnings: none

to break in these bones by searchingforstars

summary: “We’re gonna go play baseball? I’m not exactly a great shot, and you might have to let me out of these first,” Peter rattles his wrists around in the metal chains and they clink together, echoing around the sparse room, “but sounds like fun.

“We’re not playing baseball.”

“Shame, because I passed a park on my way here and I’m pretty sure that there’s only been like, six murders there this year so that could have been a fun spot.”

“I’m going to enjoy this, you fucked up little kid.”

“Hey, I’m not a little-” Peter starts, but he’s cut off by all the air being knocked out of his lungs as he sees the bat raised in front of him.

or, Peter doesn't listen to Tony, pisses off someone dangerous and ends up on the wrong end of a baseball bat.

pairings: none

tags: angst, hurt/comfort

warnings: none

5 Times Peter Gave Tony Something by impravidus

summary: and the 1 time Tony gave him something back

pairings: none

tags: fluff

warnings: none

You'll Be Here (in My Heart) by seekrest

summary: The morning that Tony’s life changed forever began as his days usually began now — shuffling into the kitchen half asleep, going through the motions as he searched for Pepper’s favorite coffee mug.

Tony stifled a yawn, grabbing the Black Panther novelty mug she adored while he grabbed one that Morgan had made them years ago - one that made her now cringe with embarrassment anytime she saw him use it, the childish scribbles that made him laugh.

He sets Morgan’s creation down on the countertop as he reaches for the Black Panther mug, it being just barely out of reach for when Pepper has put it last.

“Damn thing.” Tony mutters to himself, fingers barely brushing against it before he grabs it - going to set it down on the counter only to be surprised when Pepper walks in from the bedroom, an unreadable expression on her face.

“Morning. You know, you and I need to have a talk about about your choice of mugs. I know T’Challa somehow perfected the cup warmer thing here but you could at least show a little—“

“Michelle’s in labor.”

pairings: spideychelle

tags: angst

warnings: none

the little things we don't say out loud by JBS_Forever

summary: “It's not funny,” Peter says, voice catching as he whines, “This is life or death, Ned. I'm actually dying.”

On the other end of the line, Ned sighs, amused and not at all concerned. “So you're Mr. Stark's secret Santa. It's not that bad.”

- - -

In which Peter is Tony's secret Santa, and it is, in fact, that bad.

pairings: none

tags: humor, fluff

warnings: none

Hiking Essentials: A backpack, plenty of water, and a Spider-kid by kiwifeather

summary: Morgan, Peter, and Tony enjoy each other's company on a hike through the woods while Peter is staying with them for the weekend. Father-and-son bonding ensues

(Takes place after the snap but Tony survives because this is the good timeline and we know that Tony deserved a happy ending)

pairings: none

tags: fluff

warnings: none

In Case of Emergency by Bowtiez

summary: Babysitting his little sister at the Stark's lakeside cabin seems like quite the gig for 17-year-old Peter. Of course he's got that covered- he's a mature individual and he can watch over a five-year-old for forty-eight hours.

On a totally unrelated note, did anyone know that super-healing doesn't really work on bacterial infections? It's a good thing Morgan knows what to do. Well... it's probably a good thing?

pairings: pepperony

tags: fluff

warnings: none

Three Times Tony Stark Used Italian Nicknames and One Time He Received One by MCUsic_to_my_ears

summary: Tony can't help but slip into his Italian when with his children.

pairings: none

tags: fluff

warnings: none

More Ancient Than Magic by ironfamjam

summary: Life isn't exactly normal when your Head of House is also kinda your father-figure and his daughter is kinda sorta your little sister.

It's also not normal when the bad guys your real-life-war-hero-not-actually-dad defeated in The Great War threaten to return and you're still just trying to finish your Charms essay.

But Professor Stark asked him to protect Morgan. And that's what he's going to do.

Even if it breaks him.

The mini Hogwarts AU

pairings: spideychelle, pepperony

tags: fluff, angst

warnings: torture

Peaches by peterparkr

summary: There’s no response, not even a faint twinge of muscle. Peter tries to listen for a heartbeat, but he can’t seem to focus enough to pinpoint it. Another bubble of thought starts to rise. This could be the reason his spidey-sense is going haywire. Tony could be—

He pushes the bubble down.

Peter and Tony find themselves stranded in the woods after an Avengers mission

pairings: none

tags: angst, hurt/comfort

warnings: none

Snowflakes by Jen27ny

summary: Tony just wants to see his kids happy - which means letting Morgan stick as many snowflakes to the window as she likes, and making Peter talk about his nightmares.

pairings: none

tags: fluff

warnings: none

I Sure Do Like Those Christmas Cookies by baloobird

summary: Tony is spending a fun afternoon baking cookies with his kids, but his older one isn't acting like himself.

Whatever the problem is, it's up to the now-retired hero to figure it out.

pairings: none

tags: fluff

warnings: bullying, acephobia

An MIT Halloween by bethy_277

summary: Coming to MIT had been difficult, having almost lost his mentor when he had snapped to save the entire universe, and Peter had really struggled. If it hadn’t been for Ned and Harley- who he had met shortly after he came back and become good friends with- he didn’t think he would have made it past the first few weeks at school. He had called both May and Tony that first week, hysterical and begging to come back to New York. May had been patient, Tony had been ready to get in his car to drive to him to help him through it, and Harley and Ned had been there and talked him down both times.

** Peter is a college student at MIT and Tony brings Morgan up for some trick-or-treating.

pairings: none

tags: fluff

warnings: none

Someone Take Me Home by GallagherHunter

summary: More than a month since May's death Peter is having a less than stellar day at school in the hopes of making it through the day so he can get to the apartment where he's been living with Tony since his world came crashing around him. Meanwhile, Tony has been advised to adopt Peter to assure him he won't leave him.

pairings: none

tags: hurt/comfort

warnings: bullying

It’s Gonna Be Lit by Pawprinter

summary: What Christmas gift does one get for the man who seemingly has everything?

Peter is struggling to find out.

pairings: none

tags: fluff

warnings: none

I'll Be Home For Christmas by snarkymuch

summary: May gets called away for work, and Tony steps in to make sure Peter isn't alone for Christmas. Harley, Morgan, and Peter being adorable kids, and Tony being a great dad.

pairings: none

tags: fluff

warnings: none

The power of makeup by SparrowFlight246

summary: Peter shows up to a prestigious awards ceremony with a black eye and a whole lot of regret.

Tony raids Pepper's purse and decides to improvise.

pairings: pepperony

tags: fluff

warnings: none

if you'll be my star, i'll be your sky by ftmpeter

summary: There are two things Tony learns about Peter after Morgan is born.

The first thing is that when it comes to kids, he's a natural.

The second thing is that he's a self-sacrificing little shit.

(Tony already knew that. He has the gray hairs to prove it. But. Still.)

It isn't the kind of self-sacrificing that will get him killed or seriously injured - thank God - but it's just as annoying. Maybe even more, because while he can ground Peter from Spider-Man, he can't exactly ground him from staying up all night to make sure Morgan sleeps through it.

pairings: none

tags: fluff

warnings: none

give the cookies a miss by searchingforstars

summary: “Surprise!” Morgan exclaims as soon as they’re both in the room. She gestures excitedly towards a few slightly sad looking lumps of something drenched in icing and severed onto sticks. There are sprinkles as well, which look like they might have been a nice touch to cheer the entire thing up, had the majority of them not ended up scattered around the surrounding bench space.

“Daddy and I made cookie pops! Well, I made them, he just helped me use the big scary whisk-y thingy. They’re for Katie’s birthday party tomorrow because we all have to bring something yummy to eat, and Daddy wanted to do regular cookies but I told him that was boring. So we made these instead!”

or, Peter is poisoned by the ones he trusts most.

pairings: none

tags: fluff, hurt/comfort

warnings: none

i want to be with you 'til the whole world ends by searchingforstars

summary: The last thing he does as his eyes slip shut is wrap his arms tighter around Peter, as tight as he can manage when it feels like the life is draining from him.

Please, for the love of God, I'm sorry I couldn't do it, but please, please, someone look after this kid for me.

Tony would give anything to make sure that Peter Parker is safe.

Unfortunately, he doesn’t have much left to give. He’s about to have nothing left to give.

The world goes dark.

He drifts away.

Or, Peter and Tony nearly lose each other.

pairings: none

tags: angst

warnings: none

Of bright autumn days and things that go bump in the night by frostysunflowers

summary: Halloween/fall themed fics featuring plenty of fluff, feels and seasonal shenanigans!

pairings: none

tags: fluff, humor, angst

warnings: none

Twelve Days of Terror: A Whumptober Collection by seekrest

summary:

pairings: spideychelle

tags:

warnings:

#irondad and spiderson #irondad #peter parker #tony stark #my fic recs #kidnapping tw #torture tw #acephobia tw #bullying tw

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hecksee · 4 years ago

Text

Don’t Leaf Me Hanging

This is was written for the Hazelnoot Secret Santa, for the wonderful @enielsen06. Much thanks to the amazing @jacklighting for organizing this amazing event, and to @lumosinlove for these wonderful boys. I wish everyone a Happy Holidays!

By 7pm, the Dumais' holiday party was in full swing. The kids were stuffing their faces with desserts (the adults had stopped monitoring their junk food intake hours ago), and everyone else was milling around conversing. Empty soda cans, solo cups, candy wrappers, and chip bags littered the house, joining the half eaten treats and dirty plates. Holly wreaths were on doors, presents were stacked on the table waiting to be exchanged, stockings were hung over the fireplace, and mistletoe was hung above almost every doorway. Many people had already been caught under the mistletoe; including Adele and Katie, Sirius and Remus, Regulus and Sirius, and Natalie and Alex.

Adele and Katie had walked under the mistletoe first, while arguing over what is the best potato chip flavor (Adele said salt and vinegar, Katie said sour cream and onion). When they realized the mistletoe was over their heads Adele took the snacks Katie was holding out of her hands and started to cover Katie’s chubby little face with light kisses. Katie was giggling and squirming away from Adele, and Katie escaped when Adele started laughing too hard to have a firm grip on the squirming child, who then took the opportunity to run away. Adele laughed and started chasing after Katie.

Then it had been Remus and Sirius who walked under the mistletoe next. The first time, it was an accident, the team had laughed and told them to kiss and get it over with. Sirius had leaned in and the two of them shared a chaste little kiss. But the problem was, that Sirius took the mistletoe off one of the doorways and just kept following Remus around with the mistletoe. At first, Remus and everyone else found it funny, but after about 10 minutes it just got old. Nobody knew what Remus said to Cap that made him stop but one could guess.

Sirius got stuck under the mistletoe another time, this time genuinely not meaning to be under the festive plant. He was talking with Regulus one moment, and the next he realized the two of them were under a sprig of mistletoe. Sirius grabbed Regulus’ arm and started to jokingly lean in. Reg took one look at Sirius, said “No,” pushed Sirius away, and walked away; leaving everyone in the room laughing.

The last pair to get stuck under the mistletoe before this story takes place, was Natalie and Alex. One minute they were talking, the next they realized where they were and were exchanging small chaste kisses. Finn was on the sidelines, fake retching about seeing his brother kiss Natalie. June and Heather were watching Finn’s dramatics with smiles on their faces. Finn’s retching was cut off when Alex flipped him off (and when Finn started laughing too hard to keep up the disgusted act). After Finn finished his dramatics, he returned to his conversation with June and Heather.

“Hey Fish,” Leo approached the trio that was talking by the food table. “Have you seen Lo? I can’t find him.”

“Nah. Why?” Finn sets his drink down on the table and turns towards Leo.

“I think I overheard him telling Dumo he was going down to check out what used to be his room,” June interjected. Heather nodded her head in agreement.

Leo’s mind suddenly went into overdrive. Logan’s old room, Christmas party, Finn talking to June, June. He knew exactly what was going on, why Logan had been more subdued than usual. Leo leaned in to give Finn a quick kiss before pulling back. “I’ll be back with Tremz soon, okay sweetheart?” Finn murmured his agreement before chasing after Leo’s lips for another kiss. Leo laughed and patted Finn’s cheek before walking away and leaving Finn to his conversation.

Leo headed down the steps into the basement and knocked on the door of Logan’s old bedroom. Dima had used it for a while, but a few weeks ago he moved out and into an apartment with Reg. They were more than friends, but nobody knew exactly what they were; and that was okay. When he got no response, he quietly opened the door. Logan was sitting on his old bed, his face in one of the old pillows. Leo walked in and sat down on the bed next to Logan, wrapping his arms around the older boy. Logan, recognizing his lover’s touch, relaxes into Peanut’s hold.

“Veux-tu en parler?”

“Ensuite,” Logan lets go of the pillow and turns around to bury his face into Leo’s chest. “Can you just hold me for now?”

“Of course mon amour.”

They spend the next few minutes wrapped around each other, not talking, a comfortable silence filling the room. Eventually though, Logan breaks the silence, lifting his head from Leo’s chest onto the blond’s shoulder. “It’s just hard you know? Seeing Finn with her, when this time last year they were dating. Like, I know he loves us, but it just, it hurt, seeing them together.” Logan was rambling now, “With all the history we had, it, just, everything was so confusing then.”

Leo nods. “I know, but it all worked out in the end. This year, we can go up and kiss him then after the party is over we can go home together and cuddle. And this year, insead of coming this close,” He holds his fingers about a centimeter apart, “to kissing you down here, I can do this.” Logan raises his head and connects his lips to Leo’s. The kiss is slow and reassuring, the two of them appreciating each other and pouring all their love for each other into the kiss. Leo breaks the kiss and cups Logan’s face in his palm. “We love you Lo, we always have and we always will. Now how about we head upstairs and re-join the party?”

Logan nods, “That sounds good. I love you too.” He leans in for another kiss, to which Leo happily obliges before the two of them get up and start heading upstairs.

When they enter the kitchen, Logan leans in and presses a chaste kiss to Logan’s cheek. “I’m going to ask for the Celeste of that cheesecake you love okay?”

“Mmm, okay.” Logan glances up, taking in the sight of his beautiful younger boyfriend. As he looks up to Leo’s face, he sees the mistletoe. “Baby look,” Leo follows Logan’s eyes, seeing the leaves above them and smiles. “Can you give me a real kiss this time?”

“Of course,” the kiss the two of them share is soft, sweet, and unhurried. Logan’s arms wrap around Leo’s neck and into his hair, whereas Leo’s hands are tangled When they eventually break apart, they rest their foreheads against each other, just sharing breath.

The moment was broken by Sirius walking into the kitchen and heading towards the food table, exclaiming “Aye! Cut the PDA!”

A shout comes from the living room, coming from Reg. “Like you’re one to talk! When I lived with you every five seconds I’d find you and Lupin sucking face.”

Dumo’s voice chimes in, “I found you two making out in the locker room last practice.”

“Point taken! I get it, Remus and I are worse, I’m a hypocrite.”

Logan laughs and heads towards Finn, who’s still talking with Heather and June by the drinks. “Hey,”

“Hey Lo,” Finn turns to look at Logan, “I heard you were giving out kisses.”

“Yup,” Logan smiles

Finn leans in, “Come on babe, don’t leaf me hanging.”

Logan smiles, biting back laughter, “That was terrible.” he breaths fondly, but leans in anyway to give Finn a small kiss.

“Hi Tremz,” Heathers says and June awkwardly waves

“Hello,” June puts down her drink “I need to set some things straight, because last year, we weren’t doing so hot, yeah?” Logan nods “I knew Finn was pining after someone else, and frankly, it wasn’t too hard to figure out who he was pining for. I came to family skate and this holiday party because frankly, I knew that you needed a kick in the ass.”

Logan laughs “Yeah, that's fair.” He leans into Finn while June continues.

“But hey, it all worked out in the end. We found our perfect people.” June leans in and gives Heather a quick kiss.

“Hey, June, it’s fine, I promise.”

The conversations lulls into different topics and Logan loses interest and goes to find Leo. He hears Leo talking from the living room so he heads in there. Leo is sitting on the couch across from Regulus, the two of them in a debate about the best Beatles song. Leo raises his left arm in an invitation for Logan to come sit. Logan snuggles into Leo’s side, tuning out the debate and focusing on the warm body next to him. At some point, Finn joins the two of them, sitting down on Logan’s left after pressing a kiss to Leo’s forehead.

A few minutes after Finn sits down, he leans into Logan and whispers "What happened?”

“We’ll talk about it later mon chou, everything is fine now I promise.” Finn nods and snuggles into Logan. There, surrounded by people they love, the cubs are happy, and all is well.

#lumosinlove #coast to coast #sweater weather #oknutzy #c2c #wolfstar #coops #finn x leo x logan #finn o'hara #logan tremblay #leo knut

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maria-scribbles · 4 years ago

Text

cocoa

sick of hearing his parents fight day after day, reggie goes to the one person who knows exactly what he's going through: the pretty violinist who lives next door.

fandom: julie and the phantoms

ship: alive!reggie x reader

word count: 1.5k+

featuring: swearing (as always), fighting, allusion to an abusive relationship, general sadness, mention of a family member’s death

a/n: day 2 of my holiday challenge: hot chocolate! this is kind of depressing and i'm sorry, sad!reggie was stuck in my head and he wouldn't leave until i wrote this but it has kind of a hopeful ending tho so i guess that counts for something? this is also my first time writing for this fandom so forgive me if it sucks. as usual, unbetaed so all mistakes are my b.

come join my holiday challenge!

December 1994

They were fighting again. It was the same old story: his dad being an ass on purpose, his mom taking the bait, wash, rinse, repeat. Their shouts rang harshly throughout the house, gloomy and miserable despite the cheerful decorations strung up in every room and the massive Christmas tree downstairs, dressed in its festive best and looking like it came straight out of a seasonal catalog.

Reggie had gone to them at the beginning of the month, begging them not to fight, please; his everyday life was already ruined by their screaming matches and the only thing he wanted for Christmas was some peace, quiet and civility to celebrate his favorite holiday. His father had pretended not to hear his son's pleas, ignoring him completely like he always did while his mother offered a tight-lipped smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"We'll try, honey." She'd said and he knew it was a lie. His mother always lied, his father always threw a plate at her head, Reggie always wished he had the courage to run away for good, like Luke did. But he wasn't Luke, he never would be, and he just didn't have it in him to leave them, even though he was the one who came out worse for wear after each fight.

The distant shatter of ceramic drifting up the stairs was his cue to go until things cooled down again -he never stuck around after the first dish got thrown, not anymore, the scar on his arm the perfect reminder why- and so he jimmied open the window of his room and climbed down the trellis into the salty air, the crashing waves of the Pacific covering his escape like a blanket.

(He could've stormed down the stairs and slammed the door behind him and his parents still wouldn't have noticed he left but something about sneaking out and risking a broken bone made him feel alive, the same rush he felt when he was on stage, bass humming in his hands, performing alongside his bandmates and knowing they felt it, too.)

Even outside, the echoes of his parents' angry voices still rang in his ears, haunting him all the way to the house next door, its sparkling lights shining brightly and guiding him through the darkening night like a beacon. The driveway sat empty, sans for one lone bicycle haphazardly lying on its side in front of the garage and he carefully propped it up on its kickstand before climbing the stairs to the front porch.

The faint sound of a slow, somber violin came to a stop as he knocked on the door, followed by a quiet, familiar voice Reggie knew like the back of his hand.

"It's open."

He found Y/N alone on the couch, eyes downcast and fingers fiddling with the strings of the violin on her lap and she glanced up at the tap of his boots on the hardwood floor, face brightening the slightest bit at the sight of her friend rounding the corner into the living room.

The girl didn't speak as she gently placed the instrument aside and stood, meeting him halfway and throwing her arms around his neck to draw him into a crushing hug. His own arms wrapped around her waist and held her just as tightly, his head resting on her shoulder, and the warm vanilla scent of her soft hair tickling his nose helped calm the storm in his heart.

"I'm sorry, Reg." Her voice was low and soothing in his ear and he didn't know how he could possibly hold her any tighter than he already was but he managed as he replied, "I'm sorry, too."

While his parents fought like wildfire, explosive and loud and raging with the wrong type of passion, hers were like a deep freeze, icy and cold and desolate in the worst possible way. Too many times Y/N was left to her own devices, all alone in an empty house with her thoughts and a violin her only company (at least they had given her that, the gift of music and a beautiful, expensive instrument to prove their love was real, albeit superficial).

It was some time later before she pulled back just far enough to look him in the eye and brushed a wayward strand of his dark hair back from his forehead with one calloused finger. "Okay, pity party's over. It's almost Christmas and we're not spending it being sad about shitty parents. Deal?"

She held out her pinky with one eyebrow raised expectantly and grinned when he nodded and hooked his pinky around hers. Reggie loved really liked that about her, the way she could just make all the heartache and pain and disappointment vanish from his mind like magic and replace them with thoughts of her and her sunny smile, her big heart, her touch that made the very blood in his veins spark like lightning. Y/N was his bright spot, his safe haven, and while Luke, Alex, and Bobby knew what he was going through, they just didn't understand like she did (they had their own problems to deal with, anyway, so he couldn't blame them).

"Good, now come on," She wrapped the rest of her fingers around his hand and started tugging him down the hall to the kitchen. "You're helping me make hot chocolate."

"Peppermint?" He asked, smiling when she glanced up at him with an offended look on her face.

"Duh. Only a heathen would make it without peppermint, Reginald."

Another thing he liked about her: she never did anything halfway; half-assing things, taking the easy way out, cutting corners just wasn't her style. It even applied to hot chocolate apparently, as he watched her flutter around the kitchen with practiced ease -heating milk and cream on the stove, measuring sugar and chocolate, slowly adding drops of peppermint oil- and despite her saying he was going to help, the only thing he got to do was crush some candy canes. Not that he minded, though, because while his hands could play bass like no one's business, they were a total disaster when it came to cooking and he knew Y/N was well aware of that fact, considering it took a week for the burnt popcorn smell to fade from her microwave the last time he tried.

The violinist smiled and proudly handed him the finished drink, whipped cream piled high and candy cane bits almost overflowing from the edge of a red mug. "This is my grandma's recipe," She said, one hand holding a purple mug for herself and the other reaching to grab onto his wrist and pull him out the front door. "She'd always make it when she came to visit for the holidays and we'd sit out on the porch and watch the ocean, each and every year."

"She was the best," Reggie said as the two sat together on the porch swing, his right side flush against her left. "I still have dreams about her cookies and wake up drooling."

The cool ocean breeze ruffled Y/N's hair and carried her laugh off down the beach. "She loved you, you know that? She was always talking about 'that nice boy next door.' Pretty sure she wanted us to get married."

"I loved her, too." He took a sip of his drink in an attempt to hide the blush that was taking over his entire face. "And we still have time for the whole marriage thing."

"I'm still waiting for my ring." She laughed again before looking down at the mug in her hands, voice becoming quiet as she replied, "I really miss her. She was the only person in my family who actually cared about me 'cause my parents sure as hell don't."

He wanted to tell her she was wrong but he knew it'd be a lie and he never did that, refusing to become a pathological liar like his mother, so instead he just wrapped an arm around her shoulders and tucked her against his side. "Hey, no more talk about shitty parents, remember?"

"Sorry, I know," She took a long sip of her cocoa, then rested her head on his shoulder with a sigh. "I just feel alone sometimes when you're not around. I mean, you have your band and I always had my grandma to talk to but now she's gone and I'm kind of...lost."

"You have the band, too, Y/N! Alex and Luke love you and Bobby, well, he's Bobby. No one really knows what goes on in that guy's head but I know he thinks you're cool. We all do, especially me, and you should know you're never alone 'cause you'll always have us."

The girl abruptly sat up and grabbed the mug from Reggie's hand before he could blink and placed it alongside her own on the floor, then threw her arms around his neck in another one of her fierce hugs.

"Has anyone told you how fucking amazing you are?"

"You just did." He buried his blushing face in her shoulder as his arms wrapped around her waist once again. "I'm serious, Y/N. You'll always have me."

"And you'll always have me, Reg. No matter what."

And as they sat there on the porch swing, wrapped in each other's arms, Reggie knew as long as he had Y/N in his life, things were gonna be okay.

#obxmermaidholiday #julie and the phantoms imagine #jatp imagine #reggie jatp #reggie x reader #reggie x y/n #jatp fic

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daydreamingintheimpalax · 4 years ago

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Four No’s and a Yes.

Prompt: Write about someone who gets proposed to five times on Christmas Eve.

Warnings: None, cuteness, fluff i guess lol

Dean x Reader (Childhood friends)

Chritsmas Eve 2016.

The Y/L/N’s house was decorated to the T, Mrs. Y/L/N always went all out for Christmas and to say Dean loved it was an understatement. Dean had grown up next door to y/n and her family all his life, every Christmas was spent with his best friend and her family, their families took turns every year on which family would host the big Christmas dinner. It was Christmas eve, this year, Y/n’s family was hosting Christmas Eve and Day.

He watched as you sat down across from him, the same way you did every year, this time your boyfriend of almost a year sitting next to you. Dean frowned but for the most part accepted him and tried to make Carl as welcome as possible.

It’s not that he disliked the guys she dated, he just never thought they were good enough for his best friend, it had nothing to do with the fact he’d been inlove wih you almost all his life, despite what Sam and his parents had to say about it.

The meal conversations began, Dean smiled as he watched Sam’s wife wipe a smudge of food off his brothers face before then placing a small peck on his cheek. He was imsensely happy for his little brother, he had tried to find love himself but despite all the girls that came and went, none were ever good enough to bring home to Mary and John, none ever compared to, well, you.

“So Dee, any news about that girl you took out last week? She seemed nice.” You ask, shoving a fork of ham into your mouth, he chuckles watching before he replies, “uh no, didn’t pan out, first date and she was already naming our kids.” He shakes his head, cringing. Y/N makes a funny grossed out face, “Yikes, stage 5 clinger”, Dean smirks, “Exactly, not my style, sweetheart.”

“Sweetheart?” Carl pipes up, raising an eyebrow at Dean. Right, Carl hated when Dean called you by a pet name, sucks for him doesn’t it. Dean shrugs, y/n reassures him its just for fun, that they’ve been friends forever and Dean’s the only other man allowed to call her that. Carl doesn’t seem happy but strugs it off.

It’s almost 9 Pm when Carl speaks, he stands up from the tables, everyone having had a few rounds of wine by now and 50 conversations going on at once. He clears his troat, tapping his champagne glass with his fork, everyone stops, their attention on him.

“Well, this has been an amazing night, y/n your family is incredible, i’m so happy to have shared this holiday with you all, but tonight, i want to share another moment with you guys, i know how important family is to y/n and i want to make sure i do this right.” He pauses, grabbing y/n’s hand and pulling her up, Dean can see the look on her face, shes shocked and confused, not sure what the hell Carl thinks he’s doing.

He pulls something out of his pocket, Dean lets out a soft groan before taking a huge chug of his beer, Sam pats his back, a silent signal asking if he’s okay. He shrugs it off.

“Y/n, i know we haven’t been together as long as other people, but my love for you has no limits, we are a perfect match and you’re a perfect part of me, you make me better, i love you so much, and i don’t want to waste anymore time,”

He gets down on one knee, Dean watches, slightly angrily as y/n gasps, she slightly looks at Dean and he can see the panicked look on her face, she’s not ready for this, he’s ambushed her.

“Y/n Y/l/n, would you do me the honor of being my wife, my partner in crime, my forever.” Dean rolls his eyes, his mother swatting his arm and giving him a disapproving look. Y/n stays silent, looking around as everyone watches her, Then, she bolts.

Dean chases after her to see if she’s okay.

Carl was never seen again after that night.

Christmas Eve 2017

Christmas was different this year, Their parents had decided they wanted a break from cooking, so they had booked a cruise for vacation, not telling any of their kids until last minute.

Sam and Jess had decided to have Christmas with her family now that they were expecting their first child. Sam was over the moon at the chance to be a dad, he was going to be an amazing one.

Dean checks the tickets, finding the seats and throwing the jackets over them, y/n heads towards him, sitting next to him in her own seat and she hands him his beer and the hotdogs she grabbed. Dean was lucky he booked last minute tickets to the wrestling match, not surprised that even on Christmas eve, the stadium was booked solid.

They enjoy the fights, they’re small local fights, no big names, but they both enjoy it, laughing and enjoying their time together as best friends, it’s been a while. Since she started dating Max four months ago, he barely sees her, he’s insecure, especially when Dean’s around, probably because Dean’s twice his size in height and muscle, but that’s not his problem. Max starts fights with y/n anytime they hang out, so for her sake, he keeps his distance, waiting for her to call him for a hangout instead.

An hour in and it’s break time, they sit and chat, and before they know it, a voice is speaking over the PA system. “Sorry to interupt everyone, but since we are on a break, it seems like the perfect time to do this. Y/n Y/l/N, if you wouldn’t mind looking up at the jumbotron, we have a message for you from Max.”

Y/n’s eyes go wide, she looks at Dean curiously and he shrugs, just as confused. She looks at the screen, Max’s smiling face on the screen as he’s handed the microphone.

“Y/n, i know this is random and out of the blue, but you make me really happy, i know you’re not big on attention and big romantic gestures, but i wanted to do something memorable, so, i was hoping you’d be down for being my wife, will you Marry me?” he speaks, Dean almost can’t believe it, what was with these losers, she deserved to be proposed to, but not so soon and definitely not on the spot, she hated grand gestures that drew attention to her. Y/n barely knew what she wanted to do with her life, let alone to settle down.

Y/N starts breathing heavy, tears forming as she starts to panic at the whole stadium now staring at her and waiting for her answer, and just like that, yet again, she tries to run but Dean stops her, suggesting they go outside and talk to Max privately before she has a complete anxiety attack.

Another douchebag he never sees again.

Christmas Eve 2018

Another year, another Christmas Eve, y/n is sitting on Deans couch, the two of them got stuck at the airport due to a snow storm and aren’t making it home for Christmas. They had driven back to Dean’s place and she decided to crash with him, She’d just broken up with her recent douchebag boyfriend and wasn’t in happy spirits. She lies on his couch, sniffling as she watches her favoirte Christmas movie, which is currently everything on the hallmark channel.

Dean sits next to her, her feet in his lap as he messages her feet, warming them up from the cold.

“Am i ever going to find the right guy? i mean, at this point it’s become a pattern, every fucking Christmas i end up single and alone, i should just give up finding the perfect guy.” She shrugs, wiping away a stray tear.

Dean sighs, “First off, you’re not alone, you have me. Second, you pick crappy guys, you have shitty ass taste. Give it time, sweetheart, the perfect guy for you is out there, and you’ll find him, you’re just looking in the wrong places.” Dean assures her and she gives him a dry chuckle.

“Oh yea, well if you ever come across prince charming, send him my way.” She rolls her eyes and he laughs. He hates seeing her upset.

Theyre at the local skating rink when it happens, he finally got her to stop crying enough to take her out and here comes Jack, Jake, Joke, whatever the fuck his name was holding a bouquet of roses and a ring box, smiling widely at her, this jackass really thinks a ring will fix everything he’s done to her. What a damn clown.

Y/n stops abrutly, eyeing him up and down, she’s definitely angry still.

“That better not be what the fuck i think it is.” She snaps, tossing the roses in the trash. “Y/n, i know i fucked up, but you’re worth more than-” He’s cut off by the sound of her hand meeting his cheek.

“NO!” She shouts, a few people now stopping to watch. “You have some NERVE showing up here, after cheating on me and for what? to propose? ARE YOU FUCKING DRUNK? In what fucking small minded universe that you live in do you think proposing to me is going to fix what you broke? No, i will not marry you. Go to hell, Jeff.” She stomps off, as good as she can in skates.

Jeff, that’s his fucking name. He looks over at me and i shrug. “You fucked that up on your own man, you don’t deserve her.” Dean walks away.

She never mentions Jeff again.

Christmas Eve 2019

Their families get together again, Dean’s family hosts this year, y/n and he had flown home early this year to help with the food and decorations, y/n had run into one of her exes, a guy she dated back in highschool, He’d ran in Sam’s circle of friends, one of his old football buddies. They had gone on a date to catch up, ending up at the local bar with some old highschool friends.

Sam sits next to him, downing his own beer. “Man, why don’t you just tell her you’re her prince charming, watching her get with and dump all these idiots is getting tiring. Even mom and dad know you two belong together.” Sam chuckles, letting out a burp, he’s clearly borderlining between drunk and tipsy. Dean sighs, he’s going to have to call Jessica soon.

“If i was her soulmate, she’d have noticed by now. I’m not going to make that choice for her. If it’s meant to be, she’ll realize it on her own, not because i forced her to like me.” He shrugs and Sam laughs, “You’re both so stupid.” Sam huffs and shakes his head.

Before Sam can continue pestering him about his failure to woo Y/n, they hear a commotion, they turn to see Eric covered in beer, calling y/n a bitch and some other not nice words.

Dean gets protective, not even a split second before he’s standing next to her, shoving Eric away from her. “Easy man, get away from her.” He yells and Eric huffs, throwing his arms in the air, “Whatever, you’re a waste of time, can’t believe i ever dated you, i forgot what it was like being with you.” He snarls before stepping outside, no doubt to light up another blunt.

Dean frowns, “What happened?” he asks and you laugh. “He proposed, said he missed me and regretted ever breaking things off, said he finally realized i was the one that got away.” She airquotes before she sips her beer, huffing, “Turns out, that’s his game, he was hoping if i said yes i’d be over the moon and jump into bed with him again. Ugh, i hate men.” she grunts before walking out, Dean slaps a few bills on her table before going after her, a semi drunk Sam at his side.

Chritmas Eve 2020

Christmas Eve dinner is a hit. Changing things up, Dean and Y/n had decided to host this year, flying their families out to vancouver. It’s cold and snowy, but makes Christmas actually feel like Christmas, unlike the warm sunny holiday in california, they love it there, but this year, with the snow, it actually feels like a real Christmas.

They sit out on the back deck, taking a break from the family game night and friendly comeptition and yelling going on inside. Their families are nuts, but it always makes for a great time.

Dean’s sure he’s ready, she hasn’t dated anyone since the last proposal, and he’s insane, he’s sure of it, he’s sure just like the others, he’ll be turned down, and he’s willing to make an utter fool of himself, but it’s time, he’s waited long enough, he needs her to know, he needs to tell her, he’ll never be able to truly move on and get over her if he doesn’t at least get an answer on wether she feels the same.

“How long do you think that bingo game is going to last?” She asks, chuckling and she watches their families fight over who had bingo first.

“Marry me.” He blurts it out without even realizing it. That’s not how he wanted that whole thing to go, he had planned it out, but plans go out the window when you spend time obsessing on things being perfect.

“What?” She’s stunned, but she hasn’t run away yet, and she’s not hyperventilating, that’s a good sign. He begins to babble like a damn idiot.

“I don’t have a ring, or a proper set up like a jumbotron or some shit, and this isn’t even how i planned on this day going, i’m not perfect, and i have my flaws, hell i’m so fucked up i’d be insane to think i even deserve even half your love, but i’m crazy about you, and i have been since 5th grade, when you gave me my first valentines card because no one in class gave me one and then kissed my cheek and told me you’d always be my valentine. I guess, what i’m trying to say is i may not be your prince charming, but you’ve always been my girl, i’ve never chosen anyone but you, and i realize, i don’t ever want anyone, except you.” He finally takes a breath, too scared to make eye contact, and he sighs.

“I know this is stupid and random and you can totally say no or run away if th-”

“Yes.” She stuns him, completely silencing his rant.

He finally meets her eyes, “What?” He asks, sure as shit he heard her wrong.

“Yes, Winchester, i’ll marry you.” She says, this time clear as day.

He huffs out a laugh, “ Wait, seriously?” he asks, stunned and still thinking she has to be fucking with him.

She shrugs and smiles, “Yeah, I’ve known you all my life, you were always my prince charming, my perfect match, i was just waiting for you to figure it out.” She laughs. Dean’s eyes roam her face, for the first time, seeing how perfect she really is for him.

“I literally could have been with you this entire time?” he raises and eyebrow and she shrugs, smiling. He shakes his head, not believing his own stupidity before he takes full advatnge, leaning in and finally claiming what’s been his this entire time.

Safe to say, that was the last proposal she ever recieved.

#Dean x Reader #Reader insert #daydreamingintheimpala

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lilyvandersteen · 4 years ago

Text

Don’t Jinx It by lilyvandersteen

Author’s Note: This story is dedicated to @grlnxtdr30, who fuelled my inspiration with a wintery Klaine fic prompt. Thank you, and I hope you enjoy reading this!

As soon as Kurt stepped outside, it was clear to him that he shouldn’t have put on those gorgeous boots he bought at 70% off on Black Friday.

Overnight, the drizzle that had been falling all week long had frozen solid on the sidewalk. Kurt stared at the ice, horror-struck. He was clumsy and uncoordinated on the best of days. This was an accident just waiting to happen, especially with boots that were stylish but offered no grip. He would need to either go back upstairs to his apartment to change his footwear or suck it up and hope he’d get to work in one piece.

Seeing as he was already running late for work, he decided to risk it.

He slipped and slithered and cursed a lot, but apart from falling on his bum twice, his luck held until he reached the Condé Nast building. His sigh of relief came too early, however. He slipped right in front of the sliding doors, his flailing arms found nothing to hold onto, and down he went, hard. He heard a sound like a branch snapping in half. Pain flamed through his left leg. Before he had time to process this, his head hit the sidewalk, and he blacked out.

When he came to, Cathy from the reception desk was crouching next to him, freaking out if her frantic babbling was anything to go by. “Kurt! Kurt, please wake up! Oh my God, why does this have to happen while I’m on duty. I’m not good with blood and stuff. I faint, and I panic, and I never know what to do. Should I call an ambulance? But they’re gonna wanna know what’s wrong with him, and I have no idea. Kurt! Dammit, Kurt, wake up, will you? I can’t have you die on my watch!”

“I’m not dead,” Kurt said.

Cathy jumped and held her hand to her heart. “Jeez, warn a girl next time! You okay?”

“Never better.”

“Really?”

Kurt glared at her. “No!”

Cathy’s relieved smile slid off her face, and she backed away a little.

Kurt hastened to sit up - wow, that made him feel dizzy - and apologise. “Sorry, sorry! I just… My head hurts, and my leg hurts even more, and I haven’t even had coffee yet ‘cause I overslept… But that’s not your fault. None of it. So… Sorry for snapping at you.”

Cathy offered him a hand to help him up, but as soon as he put pressure on his left foot, he hissed in pain. “Ow, ow, ow, ow, OW!!”

Cathy went back to looking panicked. “Maybe you’d better sit back down?”

Kurt bit back a sharp retort and sat.

Okay. A broken ankle. Great. Just great. Could this day suck any more?

“Want me to call you an ambulance?” Cathy asked.

“Nah. A cab will be cheaper. Where’s the nearest clinic where they do X-rays?”

“I’ll look that up for you, and I’ll call you a cab, too.”

“Great. Thanks, Cathy, I appreciate it.”

Kurt shuffled a bit to the side so as not to hinder any other Vogue employees from going in or out the building, and called Isabelle to tell her what had happened, and to promise he’d be back as soon as he could. He tried calling Adam as well, but got his voicemail three times in a row.

After that, there was nothing for him to do but wait for Cathy to come back, or the cab to arrive, whichever came first. His stomach rumbled, and his bum went numb from sitting on the cold hard ground.

Luckily, it didn’t take long to rustle up a cab, and an hour later, he limped into the room where his X-rays would be taken.

In the waiting room, he’d tried calling Adam about six more times. Either Adam had forgotten his mobile at home, or his phone battery was dead again.

Ugh. Could this day suck any more?

The X-rays showed that his ankle was broken. In two places. But apparently, it was a “mild” break, according to the chipper radiology assistant. “It shouldn’t take too long for it to heal. Four weeks in a cast should do it. We’ll get you a pair of crutches, and you’ll be all set!”

The assistant escorted him to the plaster room and told him to lie down on the ambulatory chair and wait for the nurse to arrive. Kurt took his boots off and lay down as instructed. The nurse bustled in, and before Kurt could say or do anything, she cut open his trousers to put a cast on his lower leg and foot.

Kurt’s eyes almost bulged out of his sockets. “These are Ralph Lauren!”

“These are tight as hell, and we’d never have gotten them off you without doing more damage to your ankle,” the nurse retorted. “Buy yourself some wide jogging pants for the coming weeks.”

Kurt sulked through the whole application of the cast. Those trousers were among his absolute favourites, and it was a colour that paired beautifully with most of his shirts.

I hate this! Could this day suck any more?

When he hopped outside a little later, he shivered as soon as the cold hit him, and realized he’d left his coat in the X-ray room. He managed to find the room again, but not his coat. The assistant, still as chipper as ever, helped him look everywhere, and even went to the plaster room to check if Kurt had left it there. He hadn’t. His coat was gone. And his phone had been in the inside pocket, so he’d lost that, too.

Noooo! Maybe I should stop asking myself if the day could get any worse, cause every time I do, something worse happens. I hope this was the last of it.

He thanked the assistant and left the clinic, struggling to keep his balance with the crutches. The wind seemed even colder now, and… wetter?

Oh, great, it’s snowing now, too.

The air was filled with fat snowflakes, and in other circumstances, he’d have smiled and made plans to go for a walk in Central Park. Now, though, it was inconvenient.

He looked for a cab to get home, but there weren’t any around, and of course he couldn’t call one without a phone.

He cursed under his breath when a drop of ice-cold slush fell on his neck and trickled down his spine. He had to get out of the cold, and fast, before he caught pneumonia.

There! Across the road was a cosy-looking coffee shop, tastefully decorated, with a steady stream of people going in and out and lovely smells wafting his way.

Kurt hopped his way to the coffee shop slowly and carefully. He didn’t want to fall again. A woman heading out of the shop held the door open for him, and he smiled and nodded gratefully.

Inside, it was toasty warm, and the delectable smells were even stronger. Kurt’s smile widened, and he joined the queue to get a hot drink and a snack. Thank heavens he still had his wallet!

He found himself humming along with the Christmas songs playing, and admiring the nifty bowtie one of the baristas was wearing.

Of course, that was when the universe decided he was too happy, and messed with him again.

Kurt heard someone laughing. A laugh that sounded very familiar. He could have sworn that was Adam.

And yes, when he turned around, he saw his boyfriend of two years, now lip-locked with some other guy, plastered against him and fondling his ass as though he’d forgotten he was in a public place.

Kurt moved towards the table Adam was sitting at, barely aware of what he was doing.

“Adam?”

He had to call twice more before his boyfriend ended the kiss and looked up. “Yes?”

When Adam saw it was Kurt, he didn’t even have the grace to look ashamed. Instead, his expression was annoyed.

“Who’s this, sweetheart?” the other guy asked.

Adam let out a put-upon sigh. “That stalker I told you about. I thought he’d give up after I graduated last June, but here he is, as annoying as ever. Don’t pay him any attention, Jules, he’s not worth it.”

Kurt was struck numb. What was happening?

Jules turned to him, his lips a thin line. “Okay, let’s have a little talk. You seem like a nice enough guy, but you need to stop bugging my boyfriend. It’s been TWO YEARS. Adam has told you time and again that he’s taken. Get over your crush and find someone else to love. Because this is not healthy. Okay? Let it go.”

Kurt gaped at him for a moment, before he got himself together enough to ask, “YOUR boyfriend?”

Jules looked at Adam with a soft smile, and then at Kurt again. “Yes. We’ve been together for nearly five years now, and we’ve been living together for three. We’re quite committed to each other. I’m afraid you never had a chance with Adam.”

Kurt fixed Adam with a stare. “So that’s why I could never come to your place. Now I get it.”

“Why would you need to come to our place?” asked Jules.

Kurt sighed and ran a hand over his forehead. “I hate to break it to you, but Adam isn’t as committed to you as you think.”

“Don’t listen to him, Jules!”

Kurt continued, “He’s been dating me for two years. I swear I had no idea he was seeing you at the same time.”

“He’s lying!” Adam shouted. “A sick, twisted little liar is what you are, and I don’t want you anywhere near me!”

He stood up and made to push Kurt, but Jules stopped him. “No, don’t! Can’t you see his leg is broken? He’ll get hurt even more!”

“He deserves to!” Adam thundered.

Kurt flinched and took a step back, losing his balance. Thankfully, Jules caught him and offered his chair for Kurt to sit on.

“What are you doing?” By this time, Adam was nearly apoplectic with rage. “Don’t let him sit down, tell him to bugger off!”

Jules gave him a long look. “Calm down, and let the boy have his say.”

“It’s nothing but lies!”

“I’m not taking anyone’s word as gospel at the moment. I’m sure that whoever speaks the truth, will be able to prove he’s right.”

“Jules!”

Kurt looked up. “I can prove it, if you’ll let me use your phone for a minute. Mine got stolen earlier today.”

“It’s a trick!” Adam yelled. “He’ll steal your phone!”

Jules rolled his eyes, and handed Kurt his phone after unlocking it. “Don’t be ridiculous, the boy can barely walk, let alone run.”

Kurt logged into his Google account and looked for the sexy videos he had of Adam on his Google Drive. He selected one and pressed play, angling the phone so that only he and Jules could watch, and turned up the volume to the max. The video showed Adam jerking off while telling Kurt everything he liked about Kurt’s body and everything he wanted to do to it when he next had the chance. It ended with Adam coming and shouting “Kuuuuuurt” really loudly.

There was nothing but silence when the video ended. You could hear a pin drop in the coffee shop.

Kurt closed the window, logged out again and handed the phone back to Jules.

Jules swallowed with difficulty. “I take it your name is Kurt?”

Kurt nodded. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I really didn’t know he was two-timing us.”

He got up from the chair and gently pushed Jules onto it, then handed him his drink.

Jules sipped from it, staring blankly ahead.

“You’re really going to believe him over me?” Adam asked, putting on a wounded air.

Jules set his mug down with a clang and glared at Adam.

“That video was fake!” Adam insisted.

Jules set his jaw. “Shut. Up.”

“I love you. Please don’t do this.”

“Shut. Up. That was you. I know what you look like naked. I know what you sound like when you’re turned on. I know what you look like when you orgasm. And that was you in that video. Dirty talking to HIM. Saying HIS name, not mine. I’ll give you until three this afternoon to pack your things and leave my apartment. Then I’m changing the locks.”

Adam wrung his hands. “You don’t mean that!”

“I sure do. You get ‘till three p.m., and not a minute longer. Better get a move on!”

Jules got up, put his coat on, nodded at Kurt and left without sparing a look at Adam, who seemed beyond speech or action.

As soon as the door clanged shut behind Jules, though, Adam unfroze and lunged for Kurt. “You bloody arsehole! You piece of shite! He’s throwing me out of his flat because of you! You will PAY for this!!”

Before he could hurt Kurt even more than he already was, two coffee shop employees grabbed Adam by the shoulders and firmly escorted him out, telling him he was no longer welcome in the shop.

Adam looked like he wanted to argue, but the taller of the two employees cracked his knuckles and said, “Give me an excuse, man, go on. Make my day.”

That shut Adam up at once, and he scurried off as fast as his legs could carry him.

Applause rang out in the coffee shop when the employees came back in, and the tall one doffed an imaginary hat and made a low bow. “Thank you, thank you!”

Kurt sagged down on the nearest chair and buried his face in his hands, no longer able to keep the tears at bay. He was cold, tired and hungry; he’d gotten both his ankle and his heart broken, and it hurt like hell. He’d give himself five minutes to have a good cry about this and then he would try and find a taxi to take him home.

“Hey,” said a soft voice, and he felt a fleeting pressure on his arm.

Kurt looked up and saw the bowtie-wearing barista. “Oh… I-I haven’t… I know I haven’t bought anything yet, but I will. In a minute. I promise. I just needed… a moment.”

The barista, whose name tag read “Blaine”, smiled at Kurt. “Relax. You can sit here as long as you like. And I brought you something to cheer you up. On the house.”

Blaine set a tray down, winked at Kurt and disappeared behind the counter again.

Kurt watched him go with his mouth wide open, and then looked at the tray. On it was a steaming mug that smelled of cookie spices, and a filled croissant still hot from the oven.

Quick as a flash, he tore off a piece and popped it in his mouth. Ah, heaven!

The rest of the croissant disappeared in no time, and by the time he’d finished his hot drink as well, he found himself smiling again.

“Better?” the same soft voice asked.

Kurt looked up at Blaine and nodded. “Much better. Thank you. You knew just what I needed.”

Blaine grinned. “Something sweet always helps. May I ask… Why aren’t you wearing a coat in this weather?”

Kurt’s face fell. “It got stolen at the clinic. With my phone.”

“That sucks. Not your day, huh?”

Kurt let out a humourless chuckle. “You can say that again.”

“Do you live nearby?”

Kurt shook his head.

“Is there someone you could call to come pick you up?”

Kurt shook his head again, his heart sinking.

“Okay… So here’s what we’re going to do. My shift will be over in an hour. Then I’ll call us a cab and I’ll bring you home, all right?”

Kurt looked at Blaine in wonder. “Why would you? You don’t know me at all!”

“Call it my good deed for the day. It’s about time your bad luck streak got broken.”

“Oh, don’t jinx it!”

Blaine was as good as his word, and after his shift, he brought Kurt home and escorted him upstairs to his apartment.

The first thing Kurt saw as he came in was a paperback that belonged to Adam on the coffee table. He picked it up, and tears sprung to his eyes again.

“Well, I guess I should count myself lucky I never gave Adam a key,” he mumbled.

“Are you scared your ex will turn up here?” Blaine asked, solicitous as always.

Kurt stared at him, aghast. He hadn’t even thought of that. “I…”

“I can stay with you a while longer, if that would make you feel safer. I was heading to the library for some peace and quiet to study, ‘cause my roommates are noisy, but I can just as well work here, if you’re okay with that. I’ve got my laptop and everything.”

“Oh. I…”

Blaine shrugged. “Or not. We don’t actually know each other. I guess I shouldn’t expect you to feel safer with a stranger around.”

Kurt cocked his head to the side. “You know what? I do feel safe with you. Yes, stay. We can get some work done together. And I’ll make us dinner, in a bit. Consider that a thank you for helping me out.”

Blaine ended up staying after dinner, too, even though Adam never showed up, and he was the first contact Kurt added to his new phone.

He took Blaine to Vogue’s Christmas party two weeks later, and kissed him under the mistletoe.

Six months later, Blaine moved in with him, and a little later, Kurt took him to Ohio to meet his dad.

When Kurt proposed to Blaine the next New Year’s Eve, he said, “I’m so glad I met you that day. You were the one who turned my bad luck around, and saved the day for me. And that’s what you’ve kept doing, every day since. You make my life so much better and brighter. Will you marry me and stay with me for keeps?”

Blaine said yes, of course, and Kurt’s luck held for the rest of his days.

THE END

#klaine fanfiction #my fic #don't jinx it #for grlnxtdr30 #happy reading!

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popculturebuffet · 4 years ago

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Star Vs: Stump Day Review or The Why Are You Booing Tom He’s Right Holiday Special

Before we start a special credit to @jess-the-vampire who I discussed the episode with during the writing process and brought up a LOT of good points that ended up going into this review. She clearly hates it as much as I do and had even more good reasons for it. Happy Hanukah, Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays Everybody! And today we got a big, fat, grotesque lump of coal to smash to pieces. And after a long, draining, if worth the effort scrooge review, and with this being something I needed to cross off my to do list this holiday season, I put this one here as I could use the cathariss of giving this steaming bowl of elephant piss a good thrashing. As you can tell unlike my usual reviews, I do not like this episode. This isn’t the FIRST i’ve not liked i’ve covered, but it is the first rather infamous one to me i’ve covered and not just a dead possum of an episode I ran into while reguarly covering an otherwise good show like “Quaraller’s Pass” or “Strife of the Party”. This one’s had it coming, making my top 8 worst christmas specials list last year, and while not the series worst outing, that’s a toss up between the finale and marco jr, it’s easily one of them. So while usually I like diving deeply into something good and picking apart while it’s good, if not ignoring any bad aspects, here i’m just going to take a hammer to this thing to explain why it dosen’t work and why it sucks dirty ass in thunderstorms. I might be overstating it a bit but probably not. Nothing really new has happened since the last episode so the only new thing to cover is why i’m doing the episode here instead of after Monster Bash. And the simple reason is that like the Ducktales Halloween and Christmas specials, this episode clearly does not take place in the same time frame of the episode before or after it, with the next episode, The Bog Beast of Bogabah, taking place the day after Monster Bash. It’s most likely they simply held this episode over till Christmas and it dosen’t really fit in AFTER the huge game changer that is monster bash, especailly since the next three episodes after this all take place in rapid sucession, two on the same day one the day after them. So yeah i’m doing this one first and putting it ahead of monster bash on my episode guide for clarity’s sake.

Good, so with all that settled, let’s unwrap this complete works of pauly shore shall we? We open on the titular Stump Day, essentially mewni’s christmas complete with Cocoa, carols and a gay couple and their equally adorable child. And Star, unsuprisingly is giddy for it as the actual chlidren, and wearing an adorable santaesque dress complete with horns on her santa hat. Seriously you cannot tell me tom didn’t get that for her. Fucking precious. Marco is more just confused and has his hood up and one of Star’s cousins asks uncle river to tell him the origin of stump day. River’s response.. is easily the best joke of the episode.

“(in a jolly tone) ha ha, you don’t tell me what to do”

He does so anyway though: Basically when settlers arrived on Mewni they found themselves cold and griping with each other, and soon found a blizzard had struck.. but by huddling together under a magic stump, they all learned to get along or something like that and now once a year everyone gathers in warmth and camraderie.. or else. Before Marco can understandably question what “or else” means in this context, Star butts in when one of her cousins chastises the younger one who asked river the question for beliviing and says he’s real. It’s a nice touch as it fits star perfectly to still belivie in mewni’s horrifying version of santa. I forgot just how adorable and likeable the character was before the final season shot that to hell. How her energy could be infectious and how Eden Sher really brought her all to the performance, which is still the performance of her career and hopefully like Rider Strong she’ll do more voice acting eventually. So that night as Star tucks in after wonderful night of sleep, and to avoid her dad’s usual drunken chorus of Tom Jones “Sex Bomb”, and gets woken up by Marco who leads her to the dining hall because a windows broken to fix it with magic. Star entirely buys this flimsy story.. but as Jess pointed out, and as I missed hence the credit up top... she dosen’t bring her wand. She.. dosen’t bring her wand.. to go fix something with magic. Now i’ll grant next season shows she CAN fully do magic without it, and while not as powerful like her mom still has plenty of punch behind it.. especially when she does the rainbow fist thing. But it’s still.. weird she dosen’t think to grab it and feels out of character. While Star’s learned by this point not to rely on it, and as we’ll see gives it up entirely, one of the few bits of her character development that actually sticks, it still seems resonable she’d take it with her wherever she goes.. and usually SHE DOES. And her jammies, which are also adorable, seem to have pockets so the animators had no reason to not just stuff it in one. It would’ve made their job harder yes.. but then don’t have marco use an excuse that directly requires it then and draws attention to the fact the wand is missing, and the fact you blatantly just hoped we’d forget about it as it’d ruin the climax.

It’s far from the worst thing in this episode..trust me we’re almost there. But this does bring me to a point.. so far the episode is GOOD. The comedy’s good, the setup for what’s about to happen is good, the holdiay setting is warm and inviting but weird enough to perfectly fit mewni, and River, much like his VA and homosexual talking boat portrayer Alan Tudyuk, is a national treasure as always. Whelp it’s all down hill from here bitches! Giddyup.

So Marco announces a SUPRISE PARTY! And everyone’s there: Tom, Kelly, Ponyhead, Starfan14... oh yeah this is the first ep i’ve coverd with Starfan14 isn’t it? Starfan14 is star’s insane fangirl, voiced by series creator Derfron Nercy herself, who star happily tolerates despite clearly wanting to wear her skin. We’ve all been there. Also Jackie is transparently missing, though at least it’s SOMEWHAT reasonable as she and marco broke up a few .. months ago? I mean it is winter on mewni for this episode but the end of season 4 and the series is set at the start of summer, yet months still pass.....

Confusing timeline aside, Jackie has every reason not to attend a party thrown by her ex for the girl who confesed she had feelings for said ex and it’s probably the only good decision Marco makes this entire episode that he wisely decided to give Jackie some space. And it says something a decision made entirely off screen that was probably because the creators genuinely forgot Jackie once she was out of the way so they could shift the love triangle stuff to Tom, Star and Marco instead of you know.. not doing that because most love triangles are annoying at best and utterly insufferable at worst. Case in point this episode but I can give out more about this aspect of things in a bit with more context.

And to his credit, and as Jess backed me up on, Marco’s gesture is genuinely throughtful.. at least to start with. He got her a choclate fountain, brought all of her friends, and geninely just thought Star never celebrated her birthday on her birthday because it was you know the same day as christmas. As someone whose birthday is a week before christmas, December 16th if you were curious, I understand the pain of having your birthday in the same month as christmas. Of having all your presents clustered at once and of having to manuver around a very stressful season, though it does sometimes have perks like getting to celebrate your birthday and christmas, it also means your birthday is secondary and always will be to most people due to proximity. And Star has hers ON mewman christmas, so it’s even worse. So from Marco’s perspective, TO START, his best friend constantly had to share her birthday with her faviorite holiday and just wanted to do something nice. SO FAR, he’s done nothing wrong and just means well. That’s... about to end. Star.. instead of being greatful.. starts muttering no before going on an manic rampage and destroying everything including hte band’s insturments. And apparnetly star’s gotten some flack for her behavior.. but I understand it. To her the stump is VERY real, and will be very angry if someone else celebrates so to her all she’s doing is saving her best friend from the holiday equilvent of the trees from evil dead, and when Marco asks about it she GENUINELY is sorry, getting he meant well, that he was being sweet, and that he did a lot of nice stuff for her.. she just can’t celebrate not because she loves the holiday but because again, from her persepctive, the stump will kill them all if they don’t support it. She is genuinly affraid for her friends lives and given she could go grab her wand and fight it, clearly thinks she, with all her CONSIDERABLE powers, cannot win this, and neither can tom whose powers are almost entirely fire based. Star is just trying to protect her friends from being horribly murdered. And she turns out to be entirely right about it so no, star was not a jerk here. A bit over the top, but she was not insensitive, she was not mean, she just didn’t want a party for understandable reasons.

So let’s get to actually insensitive shall we?! Marco’s reaction to this is at first confusion as he didn’t realize the stump was real, though Tom, Kelly and Pony are convinced it’s not. Also this episode implies Kelly is from mewni, but she turns out not to be so why she knows about the stump I genuinely don’t know. They think it’s just a baby thing.. though in Tom’s defense he dosen’t phrase it that way, thinks star still beliving is cute, which for a teenage boy finding out his girlfriend belivies in santa is very sweet and mature of him, and is trying to be nice about it even if he doesn’t believe. But Marco.. his response to his friend having a good reason for not wanting to have the party.. is to complain about how much effort he put into it and try to guilt and bribe her into having it by mentoining he got her faviorite cake flavor, rainbow. Just.. WOW. I’ve seen some bad turns from characters, but WOWWWWWW. Holy shit.. I mean at least other jerkass marco episodes before this had SOME reasoning to them. Sophmore Slump had him clearly sublimating his feelings for star combined with the usual obnoxiousness of someone having gone abroard for the first time, which as Letterkenny recently went into, the only thing worse is Stillborn Puppies. Nothing else.

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And with Lint Catcher while he was presumptive and not blameless.. river still outright lied to him. Here? It’s clear star dosen’t want this, cake can be refigirated, he only takes a loss on the choclate fountain and he could still just let everyone have some and say it’s for stump day to appease her. He dosen’t have to take a loss on this finacially or morally and there would be no harm done. But that’s.. not what HE wanted, not waht HE set up and he wants what HE wanted, which was to impress star with a thoughtful gesture. But that’s the thing bud: Gestures aren’t about you or what you get. Their about doint something nice for another fucking person. It’s the whole point of christmas and birthdays: To just give someone something to be ncie and to celebrate the day and them respectively. If she dosen’t WANT your gift for understandable reasons and isn’t being rude about it you don’t have any leg to stand on you seflish twatwaffle.

So already Marco is not coming off well.. and if you know this episode you know it gets worse. Oh god it gets worse. So first PONYHEAD of all people calls out Marco.. and for once, PONYHEAD, the most selfish, most unresonable and a character whose tolerablity varies on the episode, tells him he’s being selfish and is only pressing on because of his need to control things. So not only is Ponyhead right but the episode LIKELY wants you to feel she’s wrong because she’s pony which is not how this work as she knows star well and thus, while unaware she still belivied in the stump, which tracks as while it’s obvious she does Pony is so up her own whatever she has that functions as an ass, it’s understandable she’d miss some details. So no Pony’s right, and the fact PONY is one of the more resonable people in this episode is both a sign of the apocalypse, which is thankfully starting to recede, and a clear marker of just how bad Marco’s being if someone who torments him and disagrees with him out of principal is entirely right.

Oh but it gets worse as next up, Tom steps in and tries to get Marco to back out, admitting he told him this was a bad idea. Now granted Tom did mess up by not stepping in to stop this a bit.. but he A) didn’t know how much his girlfriend genuinely belivied in the stump and B) Probably assumed Marco meant well, as would I before he whined about not getting his way, and decided it was worth a try. So he’s not that bad, and while it is a bit ehhh to try and take back credit for this when he participated, it’s still minor and Marco is still being a huge dick who refuses to help shut things down when it’s clear the party is only causing star to have a panic attack and assault some humble marachi players. He sees nothing good is coming from this and just wants what star wants. Also it paints Marco in a worse light as he was warned about this, and was so obssed with making it a suprise party because that’s how his plan went, he refused to just.. talk to her about it. Hell he could’ve just casually asked “Why do you never celebrate your birthday on your birthday”. It’s an easy question, dosen’t give the game away and allows him to gage if this is a good idea or not BEFORE baking a cake , hiring a band and getting a chocolate fountain. Instead he just went ahead with it. And he did so.. because this ISN’T about making Star happy. This is abotu HIM making star happy. Him showing her how thoughtful, and considerate and sweet he is and how he’s always been there for her and how maybe she should be with him instead of Tom. I mean it just comes off that way.. he made it a suprise party because in his head that’s how it worked and she was super impresed and left tom that day to be with him in some elaborate fantasy. Granted the episode dosen’t say this.. but it sure as hell acccidently implies hte hell out of it by having marco act like a selfish ass who refuses to take what STAR wants into consideration, and just wants to get his fantasy back on track. What supports this to me is how he treats tom, you know one of his best friends: He, again, accuses him of forgetting.. then calls him a bad boyfriend.. a bad boyfriend for NOT wanting to force a celebration on his girlfriend she does not want, and for not forcing it on her. For you know GROWING AS A PERSON. Beacuse here’s the pickle pumpernickle: This thing Marco’s doing? Is exactly the kind of thing a pre-character development TOM did, that was rightfully framed as bad. Being controlling, wanting things to go JUST a certain way instead of letting them flow naturally, not getting the hint star isn’t intrested, and not caring about what she wants and only what you want. Marco is doing the same thing Tom used to do. And for starters i’ts already bad because you know MARCO WAS THE ONE WHO FINALLY GOT IT THROUGH TO TOM THAT THIS KIND OF BEHAVIOR WAS TOXIC AND SELFISH. But apparently when it’s Marco himself doing it it’s fine. If there was ever any clear evidence Marco regressed as a character, there it is. Him actively unelarning a lesson he taught someone else and then getting combative when that person rightly tries to call him out. Marco is just insufferable in this episode: He’s being selfish, creepy and posseive and he’s apparenlty supposed to, at least on some level BE RIGHT. But.. we will get to that. Consider a pin put in this rant.

So Tom overreacts, and throws some fire at marco, which is genuinely wrong and Kelly’s right to call him out, and then headlocks him asking marco to say he’s a good boyfriend. Marco screams out ‘NEVVVEEEERRRR”

I just made this, by hapinstance, while watching the video I put up there. I.. I did not think i’d get to use this so soon but my god. Just my god that’s a terrible thing to say. So the party soon breaks down elsewhere as Kelly is mad at tom for.. understandable reasons again the guy she has a crush on was just nearly set on fire, even if i’m still on Tom’s side overall here, it’s still not right. Janna points out it’s probably because she has a crush on marco, which while acurate dosen’t mean she was wrong and Tad pops out to be upset about that. Even though you know you two are broken up and as Kelly points out he needs to move out. Pony is mad she’s not getting any attention and Starfan is mad because star’s mad. Star results to desperate measures, opening the windows to try and repeate the act of the settlers. She didn’t however count on the Janna factor as she throws the stump in the fire, which is in chracter. What’s not, and again I give Jess full credit for this one, is that everyone just starts.. warming around the stump and not caring like a bunch of jackasses not caring about their close friend, and in tom’s case, girlfriend’s feelings. Also tom and marco apparently stopped fighting just to be this stupid.

But naturally burning the symbolic stump is a bad idea and the real one attacks. Protip: If you live in a world of magical nonsense, maybe don’t discount the magic stump. Everyone’s captured, including moon and river, with River also being suprised and replying to Star’s annoyance at him not beliving with “Sweetie it’s a stump!”. Alan Tudyk is a god and I feel you all should acknowleddge that. But yeah everything seemsm to be bad but everyone apologizes, if not for the right things in Marco’s case, and Tom says “I’m sorry i’m a bad boyfriend!”. You .. you aren’t. You did nothing wrong. I feel like this is tom for the last agrivating 6 minutes of the episode

He did SOME THINGS wrong but he is NOT a bad boyfriend. He is throughtful, kind and while he has flaws, SO DOES STAR. He is not a bad boyfriend for not wanting to repeat past abusive actions! GAH. Let’s just get on with it. They all hold hands, they thiunk this is what made the stump go away but Star is sure it was just going to kill them, Moon and River have a thousand yard stare as they realize they both have to get repairs for this room now and do an extra big stump day next year to make sure it dosen’t come back. And Marco apologizes to star.. for not beliving her. Not for forcing this on her, not for causing all of this, not at all to tom, but for not beliving her while star FUCKING APOLOGIZES TO HIM. Pin removed, bullshit falling to the floor... Trunks if you would.

Thank you. Star DID NOTHING WRONG. Tom DID LESS WRONG THAN MARCO. WHY ARE THEY APOLOGIZING. Why is this little shithead getting everything he wants as the party happens after all, if a day later, and he gets to dance with star, while everyone else is painted as being in the wrong? That’s what makes this special so putrid: that MARCO is apparently in the right for doing the same , if on a smaller scale, manipulative shit tom used to do before he grew as a person, yet the episode sides with him, props him up and teases Starco. If it’s Starco it’s okay apparently and that’s.. not okay. You can’t .. build a ship on a character acting like a jackass. That’s not how this works. Marco was wrong, he was bad and he should FEEL bad. Instead he’s just a creepy jerk this entire episode, being entitled, manipulating star, screaming at tom.. and gets REWARDED FOR IT. Fuck this episode.

FINAL THOUGHTS: I believe I said Fuck this episode. This is easily one of star vs’ worst episode and much like the season after this episode it gets worse the more you think about it. I put it on my worst holiday episodes list for a reason.. and frankly even with the decent first 4 mintues it should be higher. It’s an unplesant mess that throughly ruins Marco’s character and takes him from a kind, upstanding, polite and bright young man to a creepy manpiulative jackasss. Fuck this episode and have a happy holidays.

#Star Vs the Forces of Evil #star butterfly #marco diaz #Tom lucitor #tomstar #starco #kelly #lilica ponyhead #starfan14 #christmas #holidays #holiday #stump day #bad episodes #reviews #animation

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petri808 · 4 years ago

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Scarves prompt for Bakudeku winter week

“Ah choo!” Katsuki sneezed for the second time in less than a minute. He’d been so angry when he’d left his apartment, that he’d barely remembered to grab a jacket on the way out. It was freezing cold and snowy, but he couldn’t stand being in the apartment another minute because it reminded him too much of the boyfriend he’d just broken up with.

Talk about the worst Christmas ever.

Katsuki walked the streets of falling snow, full of last minute Christmas shoppers. All these cutesy couples holding hands and keeping each other warm made him want to cry, to gag... to scream. And now his stupid ass was catching a cold. He rubbed his hands together rapidly, blowing warm air onto them in a bid to stay warm. But it was only a temporary reprieve.

“Ah choo!— Argh!” Sneezing sucked!

“Excuse me mister?”

Katsuki turned to the soft voice ready to tell them to go away, but is caught off guard instantly and all he could choke out was, “yeah?” A stranger stood there with rosy red cheeks and warm emerald eyes that twinkled under the streetlights glow. Katsuki’s breathing hitched. This man was beautiful!

“Sorry to stop you there, but you’ll catch a cold.” The man unwinds the scarf from his neck and reaches up on his tiptoes to wind it around the taller Katsuki’s. “Please take this. I only live another block over so I’ll be okay until I reach home,” he smiled.

“Thank you...” Katsuki reached up and ran his fingers over the soft material. It’s instant warmth and this man’s kind-hearted generosity made him forget get all about his sadness. “Mister?”

“Izuku,” the man smiled brighter. “And you are?”

“Katsuki.”

“It was really nice meeting you Mr. Katsuki.” Izuku nodded and started to walk away.

“W-Wait! Izuku!”

“Yes?”

“Would you like to grab a warm drink or something?”

“I’m, well...”

“I know I’m sorry, it’s weird cause I’m really just a stranger to you— I just, you see I just broke up with my boyfriend, and I don’t even know why I’m telling you this but you seem really nice, and I just... don’t really wanna be alone at the moment.” When Izuku doesn’t respond immediately, Katsuki realized how crazy he must seem. “That’s okay. Sorry you probably have someone waiting for you at home or something. Thank you again, really, I—“

“No, no.” Izuku stopped Katsuki’s flailing hands. “You just caught me off guard. I don’t have anywhere to be so, I’d love to take you up on the offer.”

Katsuki blinked in surprise. “Wow... really?”

“Yeah,” Izuku grabbed the man’s hand. “Come on, we should get out of this weather.”

“R-Right!” Katsuki blushed from the burst of heat and warmth of Izuku’s smaller hand in his own. Had he just met an angel in disguise? “I really appreciate the company.”

“It’s my pleasure.”

They find a small cafe and chat for several hours. By the time they part ways, Katsuki felt as if they’d know each other forever. Izuku was so easy to talk to, truly an amazing person at heart that it melted away all the pain of his break up and then some.

He really didn’t want it to end.

“Do you think I could call you sometime?” Katsuki blurted out. “I’ll need to return your scarf too.”

“I’d really like that,” Izuku blushed. “You know I’m really glad we bumped into each other.”

Katsuki squeezed his hand. “Me too...”

#bakudekuwinterweek #bakudeku #bkdk #katsudeku #ktdk #scarves prompt #bakudeku ficlet #bakudeku fan fic #bakudeku fan fiction #modern setting #quirkless

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ve1vetyoongi · 5 years ago

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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.

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