#a 2 faced fucking bith

[movingmyselfon]

08/02/2024, 19:05pm

It seems all I ever get.....is being used

#used and thrown away when im not lonher required for someone elses mental health #uk does it to me since she founf her lover #jr did it to me ahen she found her new friends #and now Roxi the one who always said hoe wed support each other and hoe allah Brought us together to help eahc other #apparently her life is amazing right nowd #so amazing shes in suchhh a goof place rigjt now according to her. #so thags means im not needed and so thay also means she foesnt care aboit if im doing okay #todah she was even more hostile to me #me asking if she done her work and she wanna do is brush me off and pretend shelk do it another dat #fucking btich i cant fucking stand her anhmore #a 2 faced fucking bith #she cam fuck off to the other 2 faced fucking kaffar #so done wifj her bs #watch hoe when she starts spriallting she comes back #lol maybe she wont this time actusllt #she literallt uaed me for her own benefit tben dropped me in a second #and she knoes i notice everything #she also knoes i never gorhet #im done yhere is no longer a friendship hete #shes made thaf verh clear #the friendship i held so mucj value in she destroued in a month #go be witj the other 2 faced bitch you both deserve each other #and i hope nothiny good dor either of them #ameen #mytalks #i dont care anymore b #work2.0 #never gonna fucking l3ave it seems #vera alsp used me for masters too lol tjdm dipped #another fucking bitchy

[enigmatist17]

Based off a half-dream I scribbled down at like 2 in the morning 🤣

Based off @chiliger 's bigger teeth AU you can find here :)

----------

Wolffe decided early on that he didn't like how limited the Kel-Dor diet was compared to the rest of the galaxy. He had also decided early on that he didn't like how some planets were hostile to the General, being rude to the man who was just trying to save all he could.

Naturally, they were currently on a planet that was hostile in both areas. Plo had decided to use the Force to sustain himself for the current campaign, and none of his men were pleased with it, but really couldn't argue with the man.

What they could argue with was the nasty civilians and politicians, but again, they held back for the most part. They'd taken to unofficially guarding their General, playing up their role as trained soldier to send those who weren't brave enough running. It wasn't ideal, but the second Plo had negotiated what he was here for, Wolffe himself would drag the Jetti off-planet and far away from these people.

Plo was with them when Wolffe finally snapped, and just stood back and watched the show.

He was so proud of his son.

They'd been hanging out in a bar after a long day of negotiations, the air one of hope as it seemed that soon they'd be off and away. Most of the men had their buckets off as they regaled some civvies of their past battles, and older clones just watched on while having much quieter conversations. The small group that came in at first didn't raise any flags, but when they crowded around where Plo was seated, the lull in conversation hung in the air.

"Thats my seat Kel Dor, move." The taller one of the group snarled.

"There is no need for hostilities, I was not aware you sat here." Plo calmly got up, but paused when the men surrounded him. "Do you need something?"

"We need you an' your band of freaks to leave, that's what." Another grumbled, and the silence that filled the bar was now resolute.

"What did you just say?" There's the scraping of a chair when Wolffe stood, the commander slowly stalking over.

"You heard me, you freaks need to leave." The man repeated, although his bravado from before seemed to have vanished.

"The Republic could have sent us a better class of Jedi." One of the others spoke up, he and his buddies trying not to look nervous of the suddenly very tall clone who was clearly pissed with them.

"General Koon is one of the best Jedi the Order has, but that's not the issue, is it?" The commanders voice is as calm as it could be with a low growl building from the back of his throat, but the threat coated on each word doesn't go amiss.

"We don't like the Kel Dor here.' The leader shrugged, swallowing as Wolffe's eyes narrowed on him.

"That's your problem." The clone let out a snarl with an audible growl, and for the first time, the group saw the rather sharp and elongated teeth when Wolffe's lips had curled up.

"What the?!" The group jumped back, and bith Sinker and Boost seemed to materialize by Plo's side the moment there was an opening.

"What's the matter? Where's all that bravado?" Another clone asks, showing off their own canines with a smirk, the brothers by his side doing the same. They're all rumbling with their own muted growls, and the group that had heckled the Jedi suddenly regret walking in.

"You're going to get out of here and leave our general alone." Wolffe stalked towards the now terrified group like a predator approaching its prey, eye glinting as he looked them over. "Otherwise, my brothers and I might chase you for sport."

"Fucking animals!" One of the whimpered before bolting out the door, the others quickly following as Wolffe crossed his arms.

"Really? For sport Commander?"

"Why not?" Wolffe is grinning when he turns to face the Jedi, who is shaking his head in amusement. "I should, just to pound the message in."

"Perhaps another time, we are here on a diplomatic mission, after all." Plo motioned for Wolffe to join him at the bar, and conversation struck back up as the commander crossed the floor.

"I could have killed them." He grumbled, looking over at the gentle hand on his shoulder.

"I applaud your restraint Wolffe'ika." As expected, the commander looked away with a faint blush, but the sincerity in Plo's words staved off any teasing.

Well, for now.

Strangely enough, nasty retorts seem to die down for the rest of their time on the planet from passing civilians, and Wolffe holds himself up with pride.

No one shit-talked his General.

#personal #star wars #clone wars #the clone wars #104th battalion #commander wolffe #buir plo koon #plo koon #plo koon and his sons #chiliger #one day wolffe will bite someone #as a treat

[saltygilmores]

Thoughts While Watching Gilmore Girls: S3/EP4/One's Got Class The Other One Dyes

Episode titles with 6 or more words (the first four seasons): Season 1: The Lorelais First Day At Chilton, Star Crossed Lovers And Other Strangers Season 2: Red Light on The Wedding NIght, Nick And Nora And Sid And Nancy

Season 3: One's Got Class The Other One Dyes Season 4: The Lorelais First Day At Yale, The Hobbit The Sofa and Digger Stiles, In The Clamor and The Clanger, Girls In Bikinis Boys Doing The Twist, Last Week Fights This Week Tights, Nag Hammadi Is Where They Found the Gnostic Gospel (come on AmyShermanPalladino. Come on. She's just fucking with us with that one. She didn't envision a future where people like me would have to type that shit out). Anyway. This episode is a classic.

Let's have a look at what Jesstopher is reading...

That tracks. Lorelai: I think I'm in touch with the other side. Rory: Republicans? Ba dum tsssh.

What are we doing, naming things we see in the room? Dead cow, dead cow, non paying customer, non paying customer, old timey scale, the only business proprietor in America who purposely tries to drive away his own customers by insulting their selections from his own menu... Lorelai has been having premonitions about her own death. How does she know about the script for my Gilmore Girls horror movie trilogy titled "Blood In The Hollow"?

No, Lorelai will get a much more dignified slaughtering in BITH (at the hands of Rory? Luke? Jess? Her mother? Crusty? Possibly even DEAN, her jilted lover? The script is still in progress).

Now you're just naming all the hilarious ways I've imagined Dean's demise. TWWGG is chock full of "Dean Forrester should get eaten by a ____" , Most recently, it was a pair of T-Rexes. I may have suggested Death by Turtle before, I can’t recall. I do know that when he wore this sweater I said he looked like a turtle anus.

Stars Hollow has never once rocked and or rolled. Lane's got dreams of rock superstadorm. Not if AmyShermanPalladino has anything to do with it. Rory wraps her half eaten burger (The fakest fake burger I've ever seen) in a napkin (this is not a thing) and R&R leave Luke's without paying. INCOMING!

Lorelai's face. Lorelai mutters that Shane is a freak. Because why...? Sure, she doesn't have the best manners with all this barging through the door stuff, but you wanna talk about ettiquite, Miss Dine and Dash? So what makes her a freak? The girl has (horny, horny) needs and she knows how to get what she wants. Shane doesn't play silly games. On a random Tuesday at 6:17 pm, Shane thinks, "I want Jess Mariano's tongue in my mouth" And then she goes to the diner and gets that tongue in her mouth. That doesn't make her a freak, that makes her an example R&R should take after. Shane is a role model. Shane is Rock and Roll. Shane is a modern woman. Shane is a GOD DAMN HERO. SHANE IS SWAN FOOD (soon).

Nobody in the diner even blinks while this is happening.

There may not be any rock and roll in Stars Hollow, but there's certainly free porn, and Rory's going to grab a popcorn and watch the show.

"That was my intention, Uncle Luke"

Introducing for the first time, Zack Van Gerbig and Brian Fuller. I don't have any dog in this fight of "Which boyfriend was better for Lane". Well, maybe I do have a dog, but she's a sleepy bassett hound who can't be bothered to choose because anything that happens after season 4 (aka Lane's life trajectory after high school) doesn't affect me in the grand scheme of things. Alright let's briefly rate the members of Hep Alien: Zack: Lane's first sexual experience with Zack is a complete disaster. Zack enters into a teenage marriage with Lane, buys cheap off brand condoms and knocks her up with twins on their honeymoon, derailing her entire life and destroying her rock and roll dreams. (People on this show need to stop getting married right out of high school, for the love of all that is holy. And stop sleeping through Sex Ed! You live in a blue state where sex ed in school might actually be adequate and available! CHERISH IT). Zack is cuter than Dave. Zack is the lead singer, but I tend to crush on band members that are not the lead singers. Lead singers are trouble. That blond floppy hair is trouble. He looks like he might not shower that often. Dave: Dave didn't do any of those things. Dave definitely takes showers. Maybe too many showers + Impeccably clean, geeky clothes. Did you know Dave read the entire Bible in one night to impress Lane's mother? What a guy. He has curly hair which means he's a good guy. Got sucked up by the Male Gilmore Girls Character California Wormhole but unlike Jess and Max, She liked him so much she never spat him back out. Brian:

Lane gets a taste of the rampant sexism inherent in Rock and Roll when her suggestions for improving the band's sound are totally ignored by the men. Lane's paranoia about her mother is incredibly annoying and stifling to the other members of the band, and they almost walk out, and I'm not saying it's right to ignore her...I'm just saying, I understand.

In my gritty unrated Gilmore Girls spinoff with cursing and nudity and realism titled the Hollow no one would be shielded from perversion. At one point, Kirk apparently had a rock band called "The Kirk Gleason 5" who played covers of Queen songs and Mrs Kim put the kibosh on them.

The people of Hartford to the people of Stars Hollow: Please stop coming over here. There are other cities in Connecticut you can visit if you want to escape The Bubble. What about Stamford? We're full. Lane has to find a way to make it to band practice in Hartford 3 nights a week while still under the watchful eye of Mrs Kim. Rory and Lane try to brainstorm how she might get away with this Super Secret Band Thing, even though Lane has no money, no car, and no instrument.

A circa 2002 Karen (real name: Debbie), calling the Gilmores. Lorelai doesn't remember Debbie-Karen because Rory can only describe Karen-Debbie, the mother of a former classmate, as blond haired and average height. We find out Rory actually had another childhood friend of sorts besides Lane, Debbie-Karen's daughter Kathy. Rory would frequently go swimming at her house. Lorelai claims she can't remember any Stars Hollow Moms because they all look the same, except for Mrs.Kim and a woman with a glass eye. I guess that's Lorelai's way of saying Mrs Kim and Mrs Glass Eye are the only two minorities in Stars Hollow. That tracks. Lorelai doesn't even know Dean's mom? Things might get awkward when Lorelai and Dean have to write out their wedding invitations. Karen-Debbie: The PTA likes to ask prominent locals in business to talk to the students, you know, someone who knows about how much hard work it takes to run a business, and we thought of you. Bahahahaha. Lorelai, a hard worker. Don't make me laugh. Oh wait, I already did. I will laugh some more. Bahahahaha.

The Gilmore Girls California Wormhole is about to claim it's first female snack, Kathy. Things Googled While Watching GIlmore Girls We Owe You Nothing (first tried I Owe You Something because I couldn't see the cover), major cities in Connecticut, Brian's last name (it's Fuller)

#gilmore girls #lorelai gilmore #rory gilmore #luke danes #denise rewatches gilmore girls #Gilmore Girls Season 3 #OGCTOOD #wormhole #zack van gerbig #hep alien #lane kim #dave ryglaski #Shane

[kimmyluvg]

Treat You Better

Summary: Your abusive boyfriend or your best friend who is secretly in love with you? It’s hard… But you know that Camilo can treat you better.

I am so sorry for those who looked forward to ‘Agent Jackson’ series but it just didn’t cut out for me. So to make up, I created this mini series with a lot of angst and fluff!

Warnings: abuse, Camilo being mad, swearing, angst and fluff.

Enjoy!

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Camilo knows…

He knows that you have been seeing Andrés Valdez from Encanto’s famous builders. And he knows that Andrés is about to ask you out on a date… But why? Why is he having this bad feeling about his nature?

“Camilo!! Andrés just asked me out on a date! Isn’t that exciting?!” You exclaimed as Camilo only chuckled then ruffled your hair, “It is. Make sure that guy treats you right.” Camilo said as you nodded. He didn’t know that this will be the last time he will see you smiling.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Weeks have passed and Camilo haven’t seen you nor Andrés around. He looked around town, after finishing his chores, he saw you and Andrés talking to the boy’s friends with Andrés arm around your shoulder. Camilo smiles painfully, seeing his love in the arms of another. He wanted to talk to them but he stopped when he saw your actions… It was kinda off. He saw you slightly pushing Andrés arm away from your shoulders as that arm trailed down to your hips with what seemed to be force.. And your face says it all… You look uncomfortable, and he didn’t like the way Andrés is making you uncomfortable. So he decided to have a little talk with you. When Andrés left for work, you turned to the side and saw Camilo waving at you. “Y/N!” Camilo called but this made you saw Andrés with an angry expression that made you turn and walk away. Camilo was baffled, he never been ignored by you before, “Hey Andrés, wanna skip stones with us by the river?” Camilo heard Andrés’ friends behind him. He slightly turned his head and low and behold, Andres Valdez is behind him. Camilo gritted his teeth. He is now going to ask the boyfriend of the relationship.

He found the opportunity to talk to him in his family’s shop. “Andrés? I want to ask you about something.” Camilo said as he looks around the shop, making Andrés believe that he is looking for a model for a new birdhouse for Antonio’s birds. Andrés smiles softly, “Sure Camilo. What is it?” Andrés asked innocently. Camilo looks at him then glares, “What did you do to Y/N?” Camilo bluntly said as Andrés shrugged, “I don’t know what you mean, Camilo. Me and Y/N are definitely fine.” Andrés said as an eyebrow of Camilo’s raised up. “I know you’re doing something to her… Otherwise, she wouldn’t ignore me like that.” Camilo said as Andrés approached Camilo and stared at him. “Look, amigo, what I do with my girlfriend is none of your business… So would you be so kind to get the hell out of my shop.” Andrés threatened Camilo, who glared at him deadly before getting out of there.

Later that night, Dolores asked Camilo about what had happened with him and you. “Sis… Y/N’s boyfriend, Andrés… is bad fucking news.” Camilo said as Dolores hushed him, “Camilo, don’t say swear words aloud! Mami could hear you.” Dolores whispered as Camilo sighs. “Dolores, Y/N has been ignoring me for weeks now.. Do you have any idea why?” Camilo asked his sister as her eyes went from calm human to an alert deer in seconds. She squeaks, indicating that she knows something. Camilo squinted his eyes and stare into Dolores’ averting ones. “Kids! Dinner!” Bith siblings heard their mother as they sigh, “I’m going to get the truth out for sure.” Camilo swore to Dolores before going down for dinner. Boy.. That scared Dolores..

At the table, everyone is having a usual time when Dolores just squeaked, making everyone stop. “Dolores, are you alright, sobrina?” Bruno asked his niece as she rapidly nodded then going back to her food. “So, Camilo, have you talked to Y/N lately? I haven’t seen her for weeks.” Pepa said as Camilo sighs, “Mami, she’s somehow avoiding me…Ever since she started dating Andrés, I haven’t got the chance to talk to her…” Camilo said as Mirabel lowered her utensils. “Y/N… is dating Andrés Valdez?!” Mirabel said as Camilo looked at her, “Yeah, ¿Por qué?” Camilo asked as Mirabel bit her lower lip,

“There’s something you all should know…”

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

The series that replaced ‘Agent Jackson’ because my big ass self can’t do action!! 🙃

But this is much better… I like Angst, on a ‘sometimes’ basis…

Taglist: @dai-tsukki-desu @itsmesmileyface

#camilo x reader #camilo madrigal #camilo madrigal x reader #camilo my beloved #camilo x y/n #camilo x you #camilo imagine #encanto #camilo angst

[tallys-train-blog]

Can you please make some dating headcanons for the Star Tugs, please? (You can do the Z-Stacks later if you want to)

*screaming* IM BACK

I've been working on this for like 2 months, it sat in my drafts box for about a month and a half with just TenCents' and then Big mac was added like a month ago LMAO

Why not make it an even longer post?👀

Star Tugs, Z-Stacks character relationship headcanons

Sorry about the massive post ya'll hope you enjoy

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Star Tugs

Tencents

General

Very loving throughout the whe relationship but can be very hardheaded/stubborn.

Will bring you flowers when ever he can or leaves notes on your door/office.

Loves to cuddle and watch movies at night.

Favorite dates are sitting at the end of the doc and talking with you.

Beginning of relationship

Thought that you would never like him or want to date him so be kind of acted cruel when feelings arose.

And then something happened

You were pushed off one of the tugs once and without thinking TenCents dove into the frigid water after you and pulled you out.

He held you in his arms until medical personnel could show up and he broke down when you left in an ambulance.

He showed up to the hospital the next day with flowers and when he saw the tubes and wires he cried

Throughout your stay he cringed a little as tubes and such were taken out.

He stayed by your side and held your hand until you woke up and kissed you the minute he could.

He told you how much he loved you and how he felt so bad for being such an ass and he ended up spending the night curled up in your hospital bed with you.

Oj and Hercules still have the photos

Big Mac

General

Veey sweet man

Loves to tease you though so be prepared.

Will give you kisses on the cheek as a way to show love or as a goodbye if he's in a rush.

Kind of protective, specifically when it comes to the Z stacks.

Beginning of relationship

You never expected him to have feelings for you. Not because he does what TenCents does, but because he shows his love in ways that you really have to look for.

You work with him? He'll help you and work with you whenever he can.

You live with the fleet? Will try and help you with meals or cleaning or just keep you company.

He vents to you a lot and thats another way you can tell you've learned his trust.

When he asks you out it's more or less a "would you like to see a movie together?" Or something along the lines of that.

Your first "date" was very sweet and he did did his best to spoil you and make you feel comfortable.

The first time he said i love you, you bith looked at eachother stunned and then smiled

10/10 amazing man.

Otis Jones (O.J)

General

Very sweet and traditional lover.

Will compliment everything, your eyes, your smile, your laugh, you hands, anything he can compliment he will atleast twice.

Is traditional in the sense that you aren't officially dating until he takes you out a few times

Holds your hands and give you kisses on your knuckles whenever

He also does this little thing that if your hands are scuffed or dried he'll put lotion on them for you.

Beginning of relationship

Very upfront with his feelings as he knows that keeping them hidden can only hurt your relationship with eachother.

Very politely asks you while making dinner or cleaning the dishes with you.

Doesn't want to tell anyone until your officially together and comfortable with it.

As i said before he wants to take you out and test the waters a few times to see how you feel about dating.

Brings you daisies and always holds your hand when showing you something.

Top Hat

General

Shows his love through buying gifts and surprisingly, dancing!

Is like Otis in the sense that he wants to take you out a few times before being official.

Little side note, your first kiss was on the stern of his boat as the sun went down to the song You Send Me by Sam Cooke during a party.

Beginning of Relationship

Grampus and Billy were the first to find out and Tophat was slightly pissed.

His love language is very much physical touch and buying gifts so things like slow dancing, soft touches, and new jewelry.

Kind of rubs that whole thing in Hercules' face

Doesn't want kids but very much loves yours if you have them or your nieces and nephews.

If you have siblings he will definitely have a drink with them and have long conversations with them so long as they are smart and can be sarcastic.

You have a promise ring with it, it's a thing for if he ever has to go out to sea you know he's with you.

Plans on marrying you as you are the only person he's been very attached to.

Warrior

General

Very much a himbo but he loves you so much.

Fell very hard very very quick and Big Mac kimd of teased him for it but definitely cheered him on.

Very very in love with you and was the first to say I love you.

Beginning of relationship

Isn't good at dancing or with his words so he told you he loved you by writing it out in a letter.

Walks down the docks while you take about your day and how you're feeling are his favorite "dates".

Loves to hear you laugh so very much, it never fails to make him smile.

Will give you kisses randomly and that's how the rest of the fleet found out.

He had a job with SunShine and as a way to say good bye he ran up to you, grabbed you, and kissed you and ran.

50/10 very loving and genuine man.

Hercules (my most developed character LMAO)

General

O h t h i s m a n i s a f l i r t .

Lives to make you flush.

Gave you a necklace with a photo of him and TenCents in it (TC is basically his son).

Gave you little hints that he was smitten with you right off the bat.

Wasn't afraid to ask you to dinner but you weren't official as he wanted to test the water bc past relationships went to hell.

Everyone knew he had actual feelings for you, he was sweeter on you and seemed to trust you more, and smile at you more than the others and is always more goofy around you.

Beginning of relationship

Took you to a bar to go dancing and the song Sh-Boom - Life Could Be A Dream came on and when he dipped you at the end of the song he kissed you and held you close as the next song came on, foreheads pressed together.

Definitely sleeps with you in his arms every night and his two cats sleep with you. (TenCents and Sunshine have konked out with guys a few times.

Dates where you lay out a blanket in a field and read or look at the stars are very common (he does this thing when if you're on your stomach reading he'll lay his head on your thighs or ass)

Again, lives to make you blush and he'll do basically anything to make you turn as red as TenCents' Scarf.

Loves to dance and sing.

Dusk is sometimes spent dancing on his boat.

Loves to dance to hound dog with you

Sunshine

General

Relatively mature lover.

Very gentle and sweet on you and loves to make you laugh and smile.

Could be covered in grease or dust after work and would still bring you flowers or a sea shell he found if he got the chance.

"Oh boy, here comes lover boy Sunshine!" -tophat

Big mac definitely soothed him into telling you about his feelings.

Beginning of relationship

Very nervous to tell you and stuttered a little when talking to you.

Grabbed your hand by accident one day and thats when you turned to him and told him you had feelings for him.

Poor man almost passed put and fell into the water out of pire relief.

Nights spent watching movies or sitting on the beach talking about dumb things together are his favorite ways to spend time with you.

Z-stacks

Zorran

General

Oh god you never thought he had feelings for you.

He was a complete asshole and seemed to live pissing you off.

So when he asked you out you were stunned and almost turned him down, but decided you would give it a shot.

Very difficult man, but he was a lot softer on you after a little while.

Beginning of relationship

This relationship definitely started by you snapping at him over something hime dod and him leaning down to your face and saying something like "well aren't you a cutie"

You just about smacked him and then it settled in that he was basically flirting with you.

First date consisted of a walk down the streets of San Francisco (yes this au is in SF CA bite me.)

He took you into a shop and pointed out a cat stuffie that you said looked like one you had when you were little and he bought it for you with a red bow on it a few days later.

His love language is definitely gifts.

Zebedee (my love)

General

Absolutely lover man

Basically the Hercules of the Z-stacks just a little harder to read.

Has a son. His name is Zip. You are a parent now.

Zebedee was brought up in a weird house hold so he works very hard to make sure you are comfortable and he doesnt make the relationship miserable.

Beginning of relationship

Was quite open about the whole thing and surprisingly practically cussed out Zorran when he started with his shit.

Very much a sweetheart and would do anything with you if he could.

Zak

General

Dickwad. Doesn't know how to show his love for you, but it's there.

Shows his love by being protective and always being aroune basically.

Very rarely actually smiles but when he does cherish the fucking moment.

Beginning of relationship

"Sir wtf everyone thinks you hate them" kind of vibe.

Thought he just wanted to get to know you but now you're a week into the relationship and holy fuck i want to get married.

Wants to hold your hand most of the time and just hear your voice.

Zug

General

Little bit of an asshole but tries his best

Buys you little things like journals if you like to write or seeds if you have a garden.

Wears ties and always has you pick them out and if you aren't around he wears the one with your favorite flowers or colors on it.

Beginning of relationship

Teases you and acts like a big man when you first get together but then he realizes how much he loves you and becomes a big softy.

Loves to cuddle randomly and Zorran is a little piss baby about it

Loves everything about you, especially your eyes and he always makes it known.

Zip

General

Kind of a ditz but you have to love him for it.

He was a stuttering mess when he told you he had caught feelings and held out a single sunflower for you to take.

Loves to lay his hedon your lap as you play with his hair and talk or watch a movie.

Likes to write stories, a lot of them involve you, and he reads them to you! He's a very good writer and so many of his characters are really well developed and beautifully designed.

He has a little brother named Zacary (Xacary?) and his brother often helps Zip set dates and such up

Beginning of relationship

I have a little headcanon that Zip might have partial autism but he has ADHD and he was abused as a kid so the relationship is a little rough for him at first.

Adjusting to the whole thing of hey they love me, i love them, i can trust them.

But as he warms up he helps more, and dances with you more, and begins to really thrive in the relationship.

Is definitely in love with you even if he forgets to tell you some days.

He's trying his hardest, give him a little time

Zorran definitely had feelings for you qnd was pissy when you fell for Zip and Zip fell for you

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Gonna add Boomer, Lillie, Billy, Grampus, and Cappy on later in a reblog.

#bella speaks #childhood #humanisation #star tugs imagines #tugs tencents #tencents #star tugs #star fleet #tugs big mac #big mac #tugs oj #oj #otis jones #tugs tophat #tophat #tugs warrior #warrior #tugs hercules #hercules the ocean going tug #hercules #tugs sunshine #sunshine #tugs zorran #tugs zip #tugs Zebedee #tugs zug #tugs zak #bella writes

[stellarune]

ok but

we all love human aus

and high school aus

so i raise you

elwin, who is the school nurse, and his husband, huz, who is the school therapist

keefe, who has been coming in more and more often over the weeks to see elwin

he isnt injured, or sick, he just. comes in, grab and blanket and sleep on one of the cots

or sometimes on the floor, even though there are free cots

and obviously, elwin is worried, because this 16 years old kid, who he sees everyday because he says hello and goodbye, and sometimes needs a place to hide or an alibi after a prank just. doesnt do that anymore. bot really

he looks exhausted, and elwin has tried to talk to him about it to know if hes sleeping ok, if hes not working himself too hard, but he never got an answer jeefe just flashing him a smile and coming up with some excuse

he wants to help, but hes afraid that if hes just straightforward with him keefe would lose the safespace that is the infirmary and he doesnt want to take that away from him.

one day, keefe walks in, not saying hello, just looking particularily rough, deep bags under his eyes, blotchy skin like hed been crying.

he falls face first into the cot, and elwin can see he isnt sleeping, still.

and he wants to do as he said he would to let h come at his own pace, and all that, but fuck he looks like he really needs a hug

elwin sits down on the cot, and keefe pushes himself up to sit besides him.

"do you want a hug ?" keefe nods and buries his face in elwins chest, who holds him tight for as long as he needs to.

keefe doesnt talk about why this is happening, but from then on, he just goes straight to hug elwin if he needs it (and elwin isnt like,helping someone) (if he is, keefe just crashes on the bed, and elwin comes to see if he needs like, cuddles or something as soon as hes done)

(just. parental elwin ok)

if he needs to be with someone, because on a whim, elwin gave him a key to the infirmary

he hopes keefe doesnt have to use it outside of school, but sometimes you gotta be prepared for the worst, and he still doesnt know exactly what is going on

keefe doesnt talk much about anything when hes in the infirmary, just dozes off so

anyways, he meets lord and lady sencen during the aprent teacher thing, and everything clicks

he runs into them in a hall, while theyre talking about just how bad keefe did that year, only "scraping a 97 in some classes" and he doesnt know exactly what these people have been telling keefe but hes this close to punching them right then and there

he makes a point of letting keefe know just how smart his teachers knew him to be, and that most of them didnt mind him not being in class if he was bored, as long as he did the tests and turned in his assignments, which he did

also how all the pranks that had been pulled on alina had become a running joke amongst them. how she was the only one who didnt know it was keefe pulling the pranks, but everyone else found them hillarious

fintan, bronte tiergan prentice come in sometimes as well

fintan is deseperatly trying to get keefe back on his play, prentice finds keefe to be the only one worthy to talk with him about art, and bronte and tiergan are just here by proxy

(and to keep their husband/brother in check)

(they went to school with keefes parents, and honestly theyre all this close to coming beat thel up in their sleep, but fintan and prentice are just a bit closer to actually dping it)

one day, what elwin really didnt want to hapen happened. keefe was already ther when he opened the infirmary

he could have just come in eatly or whatever, but he was wearing the exact same clothes as the day before

and he knew keefe had friends that would take him in if he asked them to, but he also knew keefe probably didnt want them to know somethi g had hapened

"do you want to caome stay with me ?" he asks when keefe blinks awake.

he didnt really mind keefe sleeping in the infirmary, even though it was proably forbidden by the school or whatever, but the cots were kinda uncomfortable

hes surprised keefe agrees

he drives them to the sencens first, so keefe can grab clothes, phone, laptop, and anything else he needs, then to his place

thankfulky he has a guest bedroom

keefe seriously cannot stop thanking him and he really doesnt need to elwin tells him, he offered after all, and he wouldnt have done so if he didnt want keefe to be there

what was probably supposed to be a few days turns into a month, then two, and honestly elwin doesnt mind (at all)

just, lzt this boy heal in peace

gisela wants to get him back, though, after a while

and she would have the upper land, both legally and emotionally if keefe sisnt just straight up refuse to see her

and she knows she doesnt have that many chances to win a lawsuit if keefe hadnt been home in 2 months and is testifying againt them

so yeah, elwin just recieves a bunch of death threats, but he can deal with that, and he has cameras installed that send a live feed to his friend tinker wjo lives a few states away so he feels pretty safe knowing they wouldnt be able to destroy the tapes

keefe doesnt come in to the infirmary nearly as much these days, and he looks less tired as well

he joins the school play, and prentice reports that hes been using the art room a bunch as well

fintan helps him prank alina again

bonus :

the first time keefe calls elwin dad was as a joke

"okayo daddy-o"

neither of them aknowledge it , but they bith know it happe.ed and honestly they arent mad about it

the moment it really starts to be a Thing for them though, is the next year, at the parent teacher conference, when keefe gives him the invite.

"you know, since.... youre basically my dad now."

"ill be there son"

keefe sends him a 10 hour loop of the "you are my dad" vine for fathers day

they dont really bother with guardianship, because keefe will be 18 the year after, and his "parents" havent tried anything in months

even the threats stopped

elwin definitely walks keefe dosn the aisle

#kotlc #keefe sencen #elwin #kotlc headcanon #look im #soft for parental elwin #is that a tag ? #parental elwin #hes the onfirmary dad #vague implied abuse #just the gisela and assius stuff #and also death threats but real quick #the others arent in this just mentione #also very background #tiertice #pyren bros

[scourge-sympathiser]

idk how to ask questions pls just info dump me if ur willing

I GET THT

ok uhhh letz talk about.... wht MIGHT be wht happenz in the blurry area??? itz not 4 sure like ive got a few ideaz so this might end up fully thrown out but bssically:

with brokenstar dead, tigerclaw doesnt hav the opertunity or evn idea to use the roguez to kill bluestar [pluz with the thorn in his side tht is beetlebite he haz an evn stronger hatred of non clan catz] hez able to kill her another way [current main idea: crushed by a rock at sunningrockz much like her ex] and ascendz to leadership.... only whn he goez 2 get his 9 livez... starclan Refusez him.. hez not the true deputy

he is LIVID but with no other optionz he Liez

back in the clan he deeply loathez yellowfang but is unable to get rid of her due to the fact shez the only medicine cat [cinderpaw continuez 2 train as a warrior, pushed by beetlebite who at this point haz learned a great deal about deadfoot thru mudclawz conplaining]

as for fireheart he knoz the cat had proved himself too much to simply push him out with no reason... but with all the rumorz tht beetlebite running away [thy nevr find his body. tigerclaw pushez it out of his mind. pretendz he isnt deeply desterbed by it] bcuz non-clan catz Just Arnt Suited To Clan Life.... well itz easy for tigerclaw to capitalize on this, feed more into it.... turn the catz against fireheart, and ravensong in addition for Betraying the clan- after all! isnt it agasint the code to date non-thunderclan catz? itz no wonder thy were friendz with greystripe, an infamous traitor

he pushez, hard, for any of the apprenticez to become a med cat apprentice so he can dispose of the shadowclan trash as soon as he can

meanwhile itz near impossible for tigerclaw or any thunderclan cat aside from yellowfang to get to moonstone bcuz simply put. Mudclaw Is Fucking Pissed- hearing the rumorz whn he KNOZ how much beetlebite lovz his clan & how much hez done for the ungrateful rabbit brainz........ and, well, it feelz better to be angry thn it doez to be horribly worried.....

fireheart of couse, is kinda having a bit of a breakdown, his older brother figure dissapeared without a word, on top of tht his nephew haz been taken by twolegz to god knoz where, his mentor & mother figure is DEAD, and the guy hez been warning her about for AGEZ is the LEADER......... so. it doesnt feel Great...

eventually it getz to the point where, tho he knoz he haz som support in the clan, he feelz in danger- and more importantly to him he feelz ravensong is...... so. thy leave, thy dont rly kno where else to go besidez the house of princess & violet- who cant let thm into the house but CAN lead thm to violetz brother who thy can stay with

barley, who mainly huntz in the gardenz of princess, violet, & their friendz, is happy to have company! he livez in a forclosed building with a few other catz, inculding hoot & jumper who come & go pretty frequently... fireheart & ravensong stay in contact with whtz going on in thunderclan

thingz in thunderclan stay weirdly consistent for a while- tigerstar blamez the fact tht becoming leader didnt fill the hole in his heart like it waz supposed 2 on him not being able to gain the 9 livez- but hez left without somthing to plan on, on the occasionz hez able to actually speak with thm starclan refuse to tell him why he cannot receive thm........ tigerstar still keepz movong with his planz, in talkz with bith the hunger weakened riverclan & sickness weakened shadowclan.......

hoot and jumper, on an occasion whn thy r home, r overheard talking about the weird cat met by bone [who thy hang around bcuz hez cool n big n tough] whn he waz captured by a spay and release program..... a little black cat with a white paw calling himself a weird name, like, who the hell namez their kid beeltebite? itz almost as weird as the namez fireheart and ravensong lol.... said catz being so !!! thy dont evn register the insult n r EMMDIATELY like WHERE WAZ THIS

cue a prison break

beetlebite challengez tigerstar to face off with him in a one on one fight to be leader, tigerclaw scoffz n is like well ive already got my 9 livez so- n beetlebite interruptz him bcuz he knoz this is a lie thnkz 2 yellowfang, prompting tigerclaw to attack out of anger n once again. just decimated by the cat otherwise known as scourge

#askz #thingz tht dont fit in this is tht im either gonna hav cinderpaw stay fireheartz apprentice & make cloudpaw beetlebitez & thn sandstormz #or hav cinderpaw be switched to beetlebitez apprentice since he haz more experience thn fireheart & hav him still be cloudpawz mentor #wht happenz with cloudpaw is tht i guess the house he ended up in waz the farmhouse at barleyz barn? thought it waz a random house but.. #so. bcuz barley isnt there.. thy need a barn cat... the ppl who were feeding cloudpaw were the kidz of the rancherz #n thy were like oh perfect a kinda feral young cat! so thy take him n lock him in the barn until it seemz like he wont run away n he. doesnt #he missez the clan life of course but he adaptz well to the barn & becomez the loner cloud... whn thingz settle down he reunitez with evry1 #n endz up staying at the barn since hez lived there for a long time well thingz were to chaotic to go find him #but now he haz vistrz n shit!! #this is also part of why whn squirrel & boe [leaf] show an intrest in clan life princess is like well.. since cloud is in the barn now

[currentfandomkick]

Bio! Dad Strange Part 9

Jason returns, may be a 2 parter to cover tim getting kidnapped and the aftermath. Will let you know at the end. We are getting to Marinette dealing with Ladybugging soon.

Marinette wasnt sure what to think this year. She met The Barry Allen last year. She also figured out 2 heroes pre-flash revelation and two more after—in her defense Hero Stalker’s old theory on The first Robin did Batman in. it is not her fault 5 founding members have the multiple-persona game of a booger.

She was also Tetch (Mad Hatter. Doesnt deserve the name) and Mr. J’s, Jerimah’s, last victim before they died. Then some idiots revived Jerimah. She hates his cult a lot, okay.

Everyone was on high alert and trying to keep her inside. The thing is, she hates being inside. She’s inside for designing, sure. Research? She’ll live.

But 24/7 inside time?

Never a good combo with her.

Rose’s plants may be snitches, but they seemed to agree on the over coddling. She’s ten, can break phones by tapping them, and is defiantely more off her stickers than on at the moment.

The one on her was uring her into some alleyway. If she was reading the movement pattern right, a gang fight.

Lovely, she usually did these with some sort of supervision but they were all being rude and she needed time outside.

She checked her belt, a few pairs of ball weights tied together with one chain each to make bolas clipped to back. She has a taser in hand, and a few rubber bullet loaded gun on one hip and a stun gun her size in the other. She had a packet of zipties and rope up each sleeve. Easy to giftwrap and humiliate bad people, like Batman does.

She blinked once when she saw—new player? In a bright red full face helmet that looks horrible. And he’s holding that gun make all wrong to max out usage. Ugh, amatuers.

Some part of her groaned about a potential run-in with Batman and his new Robin—she was pissed about Tim not telling her still—and decided this was as good an anger management as any. New vigilante, maybe the sirens would help him find a team.

She snuck up behind a few members, quick to grab the guns and move them out of reach. No need to give anyone playing possum an easy out, right—she saw a mix of her people in with the gang. She needed to teip this guy up before he hurt the RKC street kids and honoraries tangled up in this.

“Hey helmet, if you’re gonna shoot them you’re holding the gun wrong.”

Helmet turned to see her. She didnt grab her usual harley-knock off outfit for helping today. She wanted to be Pixie Pop for a bit. And if the Rogues forgot that she’s Pixie well, better for her, right? Pixie just wore her hair like Tinkerbell and wore a bit of green.

The guy he was aiming at made to run.

Marinette grabbed a makeshift bolas and threw it at his knees. She recognized him from one of the RKC hit lists—human trafficker. He fell with them wrapped around tight and defiantely injured bith his knees with how the weights hit him.

“I, Pixie Pop?” Weird, no one had seen her as Pixie in two years. How’d he know it was her?

“Yeah. Havent been around much lately.” She threw another bola at another guy. “You new?”

“Talk after i kill these guys.”

Marinette rolled her eyes, because really?

She threw a knife to screw his aim into non-lethal on one guy. “Kick their ass first, some RKC are in here.”

Helmet oddly did as she said, switching from guns to—is that. A. Sword?

She twisted to punch the guy sneaking up on her. Helmet threw a sword and landed it in his shoulder.

“Thanks!”

“Holy shot you’re really here this time.”

“Did you get hit with feargas as a baby or something?” Her partner being prone to dellusions and good with weapons was a bad thing.

“Just came back from the dead is all.”

marinette hit the guy going for helmet with her stun gun.

“That’ll do it!”

Helmet turned to one of the guys, gun at the ready. She had a feeling Helmet needed a lot of help, or else one of Rose’s agents would be down.

“If you know about pixies, you should know she got an upgrade to having some trust dust.”

Marinette walked over to the guy, letting her tracker plant take a look. The flower bloomed and he got a face full of ‘filter-less pollen’ that’s as close to a truth serum as Rose could make. After all, people can turn sides.

“Truth pollen?” Helmet was staring at her closely.

“Yep.” Marinette turned to her victim. “Are you helping the traffickers?”

“Does infiltration and killing them count as helping?”

Helmet stared at them then.

“Which team?”

“HKT ma’am. How did you get rose to give you one of those?”

“Think for a minute who she gives these to.”

“Comanding officers of the the RKC reconn and interigation but there’s only 15 and i met them all when i joined in the fall.”

“Im the summer help when theyre not puppy gaurding. Now, i have to do zipties on the traffickers, think you can help?”

“I lost coordination from the pollen.”

“Of course you did.”

Marinette turned to see Helmet staring at her. Like she should be dead, not the new revival guy.

“Good enough.”

“I thought only Poison Ivy could do things like that.”

“I have a badass team, well, when they aren’t going overboard. One week kidnapped and suddenly im made of glass.”

“Pixie you are what, ten?”

“So? Two of my best friends went missing becuase no one stepped up, one of them resurfaced as an idiot a year later but still.”

Helmet stopped then. “Two?”

“Hero stalker went after our big brother vanished.. he came back as an idiot.”

Helmet paused. “Hey, you check the others and i’ll help you drop off the good ones at a doctor or something.”

“Zipties are at the ready. Mind doing your share?”

Helmet did as she asked, working with her until all was squared away.

“Okay, my tracker gave off a signal to the RKC to gather our guys here, and—why are bleeding?”

Helmet looked up at her then. “I am?”

“... you’re coming with me since i dont know if you need a transfusion, but i know a guy who can help.”

“I’m driving.”

“On what?”

“Motorcycle.”

Marinette let him walk her to it, and she got on first. He ‘drove’ them while the plant told her when to turn. They ended up at her dad’s clinic as ‘Mr. Smith’. He was so grounding her.

“Smith, i need help,” she tried.

Her dad came out and paled when he saw her carrying Helmet. Before he passed out he let her take it off. “Red hoodie... oh god he said he was revived.”

Her father worked out the blood bags while she checked the wound, bullet still in there. She got it out with tweezers. No major damage to the muscles and shit. How many scars did he have? Pre or post revival?

When he came to she turned to her father and said one thing.

“So this is my new brother. Dont try to get out of it, he kept me alive when i was comstantly pixie, and you said if he was in a bad place then you’d take him in, no questions asked.”

Strange sighed, nodded, and went back to fixing Helmet up.

The next day he was forced moved into an extra room by hers. Somehow there was already clothes his size and style in it.

“Pixie...”

“Im determined and my honorary aunt is a cat burglar.”

Helmet hugged her.

“So for the documents, what do you want to go by?”

Helmet said he didnt want it to be obvious, given who he was before.

“Its not like you were robin.”

“I was.”

“.... i know two robins now, pre-robining. What is my life?”

“ you are ten, calm down. And you knew dick?”

“Met him as Nightwing, not very friendly. But uh, remember hero stalker?”

“The idiot who followed me and B?”

“Yeah, so funny thing, it was a thing that he wanted to be Robin when you went off from Gotham, and then he somehow managed to convince bats to take him on.”

“That Child is Robin.”

“Will be another hero soon if he knows what’s good for him—he’s too easy to make.”

“Wait, you know who he is-is or—”

“I know 5 secret identities and want to lodge a formal complaint about heroes having no secret identity game.”

“Youre ten. I refuse to let you deal with legal things.”

“But illegal is still on the table?”

“I am a vigilante, of course it is.”

“Good, so can we tlak about how dumb Supes secret id is? I photoshoped glasses on as a joke and looked at my file and knew.”

“Wait have they found you yet?”

“No? I dont think so. Not the mom and step dad or father one yet.”

“But its.”

“I know, but i can keep multiple secret identities. They cant handle one. What is this bull they drop in my lap? No masks for two of them, and the three with cant even manage a basic gait switch?”

“I am so glad you noticed too.”

“Also we need to intervene with Hero Stalker.”

“Does your father know-know or...”

“Knows i know, but knows im not telling even in death.”

“Fair. So, heads up i am going to yell at the JL after killing B for impact.”

“How about beating him up instead and kidnapping Hero Stalker? Bats is fine just needs an adult working with him.”

“Maybe. If my mind wasnt so fucked i’d send the Dick a text or something about this, but i think he hates me so that probably wouldnt work.”

“We have planning time, that’s what my house arrest is good for. Now name.”

“... i want to go by Jay.”

“James work?”

“Sure.”

“James “Jay” Smith then. And we are fixing your vilagante outfit.”

“What’s wrong with it.”

“Your helmet has a nose. And the who this is shit for discreet armour. I’ll get a rant in fifteen on armor history from a fashion obsessed friend and make something for you using that, ok?”

“Do i have a choice?”

“I am your little sister offically. resistance is futile.”

—

So the long awaited return of Red Hoodie/Red Hood/Jason Todd.

For refrence (as age is weird here) Jason looks 14/15 here, but due to dead years is technically 18

Tim is 12

Marinette is 10

Dick is 20something.

Bruce is 30something

Heads up, this will be a two parter for this summer. As i love the next part but need sleep.

@ilovefluffbutsmutisalsogreat @emeraldpuffguide @dast218 @weird-pale-blonde-person @mystery-5-5

#maribat #maribat au #ml au #my au #my idea #marinette strange dupain cheng #marinette strange dupain cheng part 9 #bio! dad au #bio!dad strange #bio!dad au #this was so long guys #jason is back though #next one is chaos and tag-teaming and so much #its a ride and then we get ladybugging after

[trashforeverythingdotcom]

Wanderlust

A/n: wow, two posts in one day? Who am I? Word Count: 3400

Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

Marisol cleared her throat and swallowed her spit, shuddering at the disgusting after-taste her vomit left behind and flashing a small smile when she delivered her next line, “I’m better than ever.”

Aurora scoffed, “yeah, whatever.” She crossed her arms, “don’t you have something to say to me?”

“To you? No, not really.” She shrugged as she bent down to pick up her bucket of sick from the floor.

If Aurora weren’t already enraged before, she was definitely furious now. She clenched her fist and spoke through her teeth, “no? Nothing at all?”

Marisol shook her head and repeated what she said moments before, “no, not really.” The moment she finished speaking, her stomach acid shot back up and out of her mouth and into the bucket her hands desperately clung to. She could tell her twin didn’t like her nonchalant response, but for some odd reason, she couldn’t bring herself to care at all; considering there were more pressing matters occurring right outside of her room that she couldn’t attend to, as well as her own issues occurring within herself at that very moment.

When she finished she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and looked up to find that Aurora had moved from the doorway. Had moved from the doorway to stand right in front of her, towering over her sister. With one swift movement, her fist met the girl’s chin, knocking Marisol back and causing her to accidentally bite her tongue.

“Ow?! That hurt, athhole!” Mari yelled, she slurred her words as she waited for her tongue to heal itself while she rubbed her jaw.

All Rory said was, “good,” before she made an attempt to grab her by the hair. Marisol used her foot to trip her younger sister. As her sibling fell down, she grabbed a candlestick, got on top of her and landed some blows to the face with it. As a result of that, some of Aurora’s teeth were knocked out, “you bith,” she coughed, finding it a bit difficult to articulate her words.

“Yhanks.”

Aurora growled and sucked in a breath, the feeling of her teeth growing back into place hurt like hell. After she finished teething, she pushed her sister off and stood back up, kicking her while she was still down. Twice in the throat, once in the face. Then, she picked her up by the hair and threw her out the window, jumping out right after her. Marisol made attempts in grabbing something to hold onto and stop the fall out of habit, momentarily forgetting she was a vampire. Aurora pressed her arms to her sides and closed her legs to catch up. With one swift punch, Marisol was sent crashing down the forest, Rory flying in pursuit.

Once they landed, the younger dhampir started landing blows on her sister again, using her telekinetic powers to throw rocks and dirt at her while she did so. Marisol wasn’t willing to lie down and die now; she had long changed her mind about her plans.

“Mari,” Aurora called, her voice oddly soft considering the circumstances. “Stop fighting back,” her voice shook and cracked, “you’re making it harder for me to give you what you want.”

“And just want do you think I want?”

“You want to die, and you want to take me down with you.”

Marisol’s eyebrows knitted together, “no.”

Aurora sighed, and looked up at Marisol; who looked right back at her. The eldest twin hadn’t really noticed it until she looked, but Rory’s eyes were red, the surrounding skin was puffy and her lips were quivering. This was the first time that she’d seen the girl cry without having any clue how to cheer her up. “I can’t believe, even now, you’re denying it when there’s no need to.” Rory’s pale right hand clung onto something on the left side of her shorts’ waistband. Between the hand and the yellow crop top that covered it, Marisol couldn’t see what the damned thing was until her younger sister pulled it out and held it up in all its shaking glory, thanks to the girl’s nervous hand. “It’s okay, though… I made my peace with this months ago…” The object in her hand was a wooden stake. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what was happening. “You’ve dug your grave, now it’s time to lie in it.”

“Ror–”

Aurora swung and missed; her stinging eyes and gathering tears didn’t let her see clearly. She tried again, and again, and again, and again; sometimes missing, other times managing to stab her in the shoulder, or her breast. Not quite reaching her heart. Marisol tried as hard as she could to get away but when she tried to make a run for it, she realised she was blocked in with a barrier spell. So when leaving didn’t work, she switched tactics and made attempts at stealing the stick. The woman tackled her attacker onto the ground. They scuffled, each of them fighting to get on top of the other. It was the younger one that ended up on top when Marisol begged for her life. “It’s either you or me. If I let you live, you’ll just kill me and everyone I love, and then you’ll kill yourself anyway. I’m okay with dying, but I won’t let you kill my friends.”

“I won’t.”

“Somehow, I still don’t believe you.”

“I– RORY!”

Aurora had made an attempt to plunge the stake into her heart but was stopped when Marisol’s hands caught hold of hers. They fought each other for the object. One gaining the upper hand on the other before falling back again. “Please don’t kill me.” Marisol begged, gaining no sympathy from her current attacker. Her little sister wasn’t going to double down. That was something she just couldn’t let herself do. Too bad Marisol wasn’t planning on backing off, either. The moment the stake landed back in her hands, she stabbed her sister in the chest.

Rory gasped, taking in a sharp breath before she collapsed on top of her sister. Her icy blue orbs and the white that surrounded them turned pink with tears flowed out of her eye sockets. Marisol’s eyes stung as tears escaped her own eyes. She sniffled, the tears coming out quicker and quicker as the seconds passed. “Rory?” She called, not bothering to move the girl’s body off her. When she didn’t get a response, she called again. And again. And again. And again.

And the sun rose. Marisol held her sister, the girl who wasn’t breathing, in her arms. The tears that fell down her face were now dried, she could still feel them there, the clear streaks that fell down her cheeks. She cleared her throat, “it’s time to head back,” she said to no one in particular. Carefully, she cradled Aurora’s body in her arms and stood up, carrying her sister back to the castle with her.

Having been stuck outside with her sister under unfortunate circumstances, there was no way for her to know for sure who one the war. But, given those unfortunate circumstances, she couldn’t care less what the results were, she just wanted to get back, bury her sister, and crawl into a hole and die. The walk back to the castle felt long and dreadful. And when she got to the castle, it was no better. She opened the gigantic doors to the building silently. No words were needed for everyone in the vicinity to understand what had happened. Aurora was dead. Sypha, Trevor, and Alucard were joking around before she arrived; the dhampir had been showing good face before he looked over and saw the love of his life, dead in his sister’s arms. It took all of his energy not to collapse onto the floor below him. He felt as if he were dying the most painful and slow death imaginable.

Sypha was the first to break the silence, “i-is she dead?”

Marisol choked up, that was enough of an answer for them.

Trevor sighed in defeat, “I can’t believe this shit.”

“You,” Alucard looked at his lover’s twin. “You did this. You killed her. This is all your fucking fault.” He made his way over to her and took Rory’s body out of her arms. “Why did you have to be the one to live?”

Marisol teared up, “I’m sorry.”

“Yes, right, well. Saying sorry won’t bring her back, will it.”

Sypha reached out and touched his shoulder, “Alucard, she’s her sister.” “What does blood have to do with it? She’s the reason Aurora… Aurora’s gone.”

Marisol let out a pained scream, her hand immediately flew to her stomach. The stinging pain she felt was enough to distract her from keeping the cloaking spell on, revealing her giant belly. And the water that stained her pants made it very clear that this baby was coming out right then and there. “You’re having a baby?” Trevor questioned.

“No shit!” Marisol groaned, “I’m gonna go.” She said through clenched teeth, turning toward the main doors of the castle.

“No, the forest is no place to have a child, come with me. I happen to have some experience with childbirth.” Sypha said in her ‘matter-of-fact’ tone of voice. Under normal circumstances, Marisol would’ve rejected the help; however, she was in no position to so, therefore she didn’t bother arguing. As she walked away, she looked at her dead sister and her mourning boyfriend. Sypha called Trevor, asking for his assistance, leaving the poor dhampir by himself with a corpse. Or so he thought. Holding her tightly in his arms, he cried and cried and cried, and he continuously expressed just how sorry he was about her passing and how upset he was about it being her.

Aurora’s eyelids moved as her eyes shifted behind. Slowly, she opened her eyes and groaned, “it’s too damn bright in here. Can someone turn the lights down? Goddamn.”

Adrian’s eyes opened wide, he was in disbelief, and quite frightened. He was afraid he’d been going mad like his father. It was only when Trevor had stepped out momentarily to complain about how 'crazy shit was’ in the other room, that Alucard realised she was really alive and that he wasn’t hallucinating.

The male dhampir hugged Aurora tightly, “um… Al? Can you like, let go. I can’t breathe.”

“Right, sorry,” he quickly dropped his arms.

“Do we even need to breathe though, we’re half-dead? I mean, then again, we’re half-alive, so do we need to breathe half the amount of oxygen as normal humans do?”

“It’s nice to see you haven’t changed at all,” Trevor rolled his eyes, feigning annoyance. But he was happy she was alive, very happy. She was like a younger sister to her.

“Dafuq do you mean by that?”

“Aurora, do you not realise you died?”

“I’m sure I didn’t die.”

“You died.” He repeated dryly.

“Then how am I still here? Don’t vampire bodies turn to ash once they die?”

“Well, for one, you’re not a full vampire. Secondly, you’re half-witch, meaning your family could’ve cooked up some of their special witchy woo to preserve your body should you die so you could wake up whenever and wreak havoc on humanity.”

“Okay, Treffy. Whatever you say,” Aurora said dismissively.

“'Treffy’?” Trevor repeated, taking a few seconds to process the fact that the girl had heard the conversation he had with Sypha long ago. “Oh you nosy bitch, you were listening in on our conversation?”

“No duh.”

“Under normal circumstances, I’d beat your ass. But given that you just came back from the dead through your satanic methods, I’ll let it slide.”

“If you see me leaving my room at three in the morning, be afraid. Be very afraid.”

“I’ll be long gone by then. Sypha and I are leaving today.”

Aurora smiled, “gonna go on more monster hunting adventures?”

“What else would we do?”

“What time are you guys planning on leaving?”

“When your sister’s done giving birth.”

Aurora’s hand found Adrian’s, her eyes widened, “when she what?” Her sister was pregnant? Her sister came here, knowing full well she was pregnant to end the world?

It was as if Adrian could hear her thoughts because right after those thoughts crossed her mind, he went on to explain that vampire pregnancies didn’t last as long as human pregnancies. While human pregnancies would last nine months, vampire pregnancies only took three. He also explained that those children grew at a faster rate than human children. Aurora scoffed and rolled her eyes, letting go of Alucard’s hand so she could place both on either side of her head. How the hell did she find the time to fuck someone and get pregnant when she was so hell bent on ending the world? She heard Trevor say. Except, she didn’t hear him say that, because he didn’t actually say that. He thought it, but he didn’t physically say it. Rory didn’t know if she should have laughed or if she should have been weirded out by that, so she stayed quiet.

Sypha came strutting out of the makeshift operation room, extremely proud of herself. “Okay, who wants to see the baby or should I say,” she stopped in her tracks. “Aurora?”

“The one and oh–” Sypha had pulled her into a tight hug, “hi, how are ya?”

“I thought you were dead.” She then turned to the males in the room and pointed at the only other female in the group of friends, “I thought she was dead!”

“Yes, so did we.” Trevor and Adrian answered simultaneously.

“So my sister’s done pushing the little shit monster out?”

“Er… yes, would you like to see?”

Aurora nodded and walked followed Sypha into the room. Marisol was asleep when they walked in, her hair was a mess, the sweat that escaped her skin when she expelled the baby from her body was still wet on her face. Aurora looked over at the crib. “She had twins?”

“Yes, I thought I mentioned that?”

“No, you were like, 'omg guys, check this shit– Rory, oh em geeeee!’”

“Erm… Yes. Right. Well, they’re twins.”

“I think I kind of gathered that much, Sy.”

“A boy and a girl.”

“I have eyes~”

Sypha gave a small smile, “she has yet to name them. Maybe she should name her daughter after me.”

Aurora snorted, “she should, you helped her give birth, after all.” They stayed quiet for a bit, admiring the babies. “Thank you, by the way.”

“Of course.”

“No, seriously, Sypha. Thank you. I owe you.”

“You owe me nothing but your undying friendship.” Aurora smiled and hugged Sypha, “you can’t say you didn’t expect me to help a woman in labour. What type of person would I be if I hadn’t? Granted, I didn’t really want to help her, she almost killed my best friend… but,” she sighed, “she happens to be my best friend’s sister… and babies. Babies are cute,” they giggled.

“I just hope whoever that whoever their dad is… isn’t ugly, cause I don’t want no ugly ass nieces and nephews. Got me fucked up, el em ay ohh.”

“El em ay oh?”

“Sorry, it’s a habit of mine to use text speech out loud. It started off as a joke and kind of stuck.”

“Okay?”

“Anyhoo~,” Aurora sang.

“Why are you so damn loud?” Marisol groaned, slowly sitting up on the bed. She turned on her side and watched the other two women from where she was.

“What’re you naming them?” Rory asked her.

“Not sure yet, Nina. I’m thinking of naming the boy Hector Luís Romero. The girl, I’m not so sure. I was thinking of Angelina Narcisa Romero. Or something like that. I dunno, what do you think?”

“I think those are nice names…” Aurora answered absentmindedly as she gazed at the sleeping newborns.

Sypha cleared her throat and made for the door, “well, I’m going to step out.”

The chubbier dhampir crossed her arms and leaned against the wall behind her, facing her sister. “So…” Marisol began.

“So…” Aurora repeated for no reason at all. “Who’s the dad?”

“His name is Hector.”

“Uh-huh…”

“He was my boyfriend– is my boyfriend,” she corrected herself. “If he isn’t dead.”

“You don’t know?”

“Well, he wasn’t in the castle when y'all brought it here, so… I don’t know.”

“Uh-huh…”

“Do you think you can help me look for him later?”

“Okay…”

“Why… are you so quiet? You always have an opinion about everything, so why don’t you just get out what you really want to say?” Aurora bit her lip, tears were slipping out of her eyes like a pipe with a leak. “Oh my fucking God, why are you crying?”

“Why did you do it, Lan?” She sniffled, “why? What made you want to come here and fuck with fate? Why? Just why? What were you thinking?”

“I was just–”

“Just what? What reason did you have for doing this?”

“I didn’t want to live anymore. It hurt. Walking around everyday, pretending everything was okay, seeing that people didn’t care–”

“And you don’t think I go through that? That there are times where I don’t want to be here, there, anywhere? That I hate myself and everyone around me? That I get so angry I could rip the head off of the first person that talks to me? You don’t think I know how you feel?” Her voice shook, “and yet I don’t go around killing people, trying to end the world, trying to kill my sister. Because as much as you piss me off, I love you enough not to act on my impulses.”

“You don’t know how it feels, you don’t know what I’ve been through.”

“I don’t? You think I don’t know what Jonathon did to you when we were little?”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t play stupid,” she snarled. “And don’t tell me that I have no clue what you might be feeling or what you’ve been through. Because I do.”

“You wouldn’t though, you weren’t the one he–”

“He fucking did it to me too, you fucking bitch,” she sobbed. “You think that all those days he didn’t hurt you he wasn’t getting his fill? Trust me, that bastard was living in paradise while making both our lives hell. All those times he said he was taking me to the park and left you home alone, he–”

Marisol took a sharp breath and fiddled around with the pillow case, sniffling a few times before opening her mouth. She didn’t mean to interrupt her sister,  "Why didn’t you tell me?“

"Because I didn’t want you to worry about me. I didn’t want you to hurt more than you were hurt already.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were feeling that way?”

“It wasn’t important.”

Mari shook her head, “it is important.”

“It’s not.”

“It is. Look what holding it in did to me. It made me hate and it made me hurt and it made me push away people that had nothing to do with it. It made me push away and hurt the people I love and the people that loved me. You didn’t deserve to be treated the way I’ve treated you and I’m sorry. I want you to know that I’m genuinely sorry. There’s no amount of apologies I can give to make anything go away, to change the fact that I did what I did and take away the pain that it caused. But I can offer you change and help. Whatever you need from me, I’ll provide. I should’ve done that our whole lives, but I’ve been selfish and I see that now.

"I see that, Nina. And I want to change, I don’t want to be selfish anymore.”

Aurora wiped her eyes, hiccuping a few times, her heart was physically and figuratively in pain. Marisol had never seen her sister like that, so damaged. It was one of the things she was always jealous of, the fact that Rory 'was always happy’. That Rory had 'never faced any hardships’. It was then that she realised she never really knew her little sister at all. Marisol stood from her bed and pulled Aurora into her embrace.

The younger twin rested her head on her older sister’s shoulder, letting her tears fall onto the girl’s skin.

#Castlevania #alucard castlevania #hector castlevania #castlevania hector #dracula castlevania #trevor belmont #sypha belnades #castlevania netflix #castlevania fanfiction #castlevania fanfic #alucard x oc #castlevania alucard #hector x oc

[gukyi]

ice prince | jjk

⇒ summary: when, due to inexplicable and total clumsiness, your reliable, talented ice dancing partner of five years breaks his leg right before the largest competition of your life, desperate times call for desperate measures. and for a brief, brief moment, you think that everything might actually end up not-that-shitty, until you find out that the aforementioned desperate measures go by the name of jeon jungkook.

⇒ figure skating!au, enemies to lovers!au

⇒ pairing: jungkook x female reader

⇒ word count: 22k (when will she (i) stop)

⇒ genre: fluff, very minor angst that probably shouldn’t even be listed

⇒ warnings: mentions of bruising + stuff from falling

⇒ a/n: i honestly don’t know what’s wrong with me. one day i’m finishing up a 28k jungkook enemies to lovers fic and suddenly two weeks later i have another 22k jungkook enemies to lovers fic on my hands. tagging @cinnaminsvga​ and @workofteaguk​ as a thanks for the support and my relentless screaming!

⇒ DISCLAIMER: i am not a professional figure skater and this does not accurately represent the lives of professional figure skaters. it’s a fic, for fuck’s sake. don’t take the logistics of it seriously.

check out the post-script drabble here!

It starts with a broken leg.

For someone so skilled at figure skating, so easily able to do leaps and twirls and lifts, Kim Taehyung is one hell of a klutz. He can’t walk without tripping over himself at least once on a good day, so imagine combining that with black ice on the roads from a terrible snowstorm the prior day. It’s the bad kind of snow, too, the kind that turns into slush when it hits the pavement, dirty slush that freezes over in the night to wreak all sorts of havoc.

Kim Taehyung texts you, two months before the biggest competition you’ve ever had in all of your years of ice dancing, and says:

[9:59 PM] rice dancer #1: remember how i was gonna go on that date after practice today?

[10:01 PM] you: o my god yes!!! how did it go!!!

[10:01 PM] rice dancer #1: it went pretty well rice dancer #1: he’s rlly cute and sweet n he wants me to teach him how 2 figure skate

[10:02 PM] you: dam bith look at she go!!! (she is you)

[10:03 PM] rice dancer #1: well,.,. on the way back.,. uh.. rice dancer #1: you know how it’s rly slippery rn

[10:04 PM] you: tae wtf did u do

[10:05 PM] rice dancer #1: i may or may not have slipped on the ice and broken my leg and currently be in the hospital getting a cast

[10:07 PM] you: TAE!!!!!!!!

And that’s the story of how all of your dreams shattered into a billion pieces right in front of your eyes, much like the bones in Taehyung’s leg.

The next day, you skip practice (much to Namjoon and Hoseok’s chagrin, you already know it) to go to the hospital during visitor hours. Taehyung told you he’d only need one day in the hospital before he’d be back on the one foot he’s allowed to use, so you’re making the most out of your visit. You pick up a bouquet of white roses from the local supermarket on your way. Once you register as a guest at the hospital, they bring you to his room, drab cinderblock walls lining the hallways on the way. When the nurse opens his door, you see him happily camped out in the hospital bed, bright orange cast elevated by fifteen pillows as he channel surfs through the hospital’s five different television stations. Taehyung sees you walk in with a murderous look on your face and quickly fumbles to turn off the TV.

“Y/N!” He cheers, though you can easily make out the fear in his eyes. “What… what brings you here?”

“I brought you something,” you say passive-aggressively as you waltz over to him, bouquet hidden behind your back. Taehyung’s face lights up at the notion of the gift, until you pull the flowers into view and hand them to him.

“White roses?” He asks, concerned as he looks down at them. “Don’t these symbolize death?”

“Yeah,” you say, nodding. “Because you’re fucking dead to me, Kim Taehyung!” Storming over, you start beating him with your fist, pounding his shoulders and forehead and chest as he curls into himself, shouting. You take all of your pent-up frustration out on him, not that he doesn’t deserve it.

“Stop! Stop! Y/N! I’m injured! How dare you!” He shouts in between your assaults, hands going up to protect his face from any more damage. You finally release him, standing up and exhaling heavily. You dust off your fingers before your arms cross in front of your chest.

“You deserved that,” you tell him honestly. “You little piece of shit.”

“I’m sorry, alright,” Taehyung says, wincing in pain as he adjusts himself so that he can sit up in his bed and face you properly. “Believe me, this hurts me just as much as it hurts you. And not just physically.”

“God, Taehyung,” you say, sighing deeply as your palms come up to your cheeks. You have no idea what the hell you’re supposed to do now that Taehyung’s incapacitated. Nationals is in two months and Taehyung, your ice dancing partner since you were fourteen, has a broken tibia. “What are we gonna do?” You ask him as you collapse onto his bed.

Taehyung leans over to rub your back. “We’ll be alright, Y/N. Everything’s gonna be okay.”

Everything is not okay. You walk into the ice rink, helping Taehyung hobble around on the crutches he claims are outrageously uncomfortable (even though when offered a wheelchair, he had declined and said he needs to keep being mobile), to some very concerned coaches. Taehyung’s still got a bright smile on his face, one to match his fluorescent orange cast, but it’s obvious that the both of you have had a rough twenty-four hours, and it’s about to get even rougher.

“Look at you guys,” Namjoon says as he walks over, baseball cap on his head and clipboard in his hand. “Such good sports.”

“Hey, Coach,” Taehyung says awkwardly as you walk him over to a nearby bench. “Sorry about the, uh, unexpected turn of events.”

“It’s okay, Taehyung,” Namjoon says, patting his back with the wood of the clipboard. “It’s not your fault.”

Taehyung turns to you with his eyebrows raised, petty look on his face as if to say, “see, at least someone knows that I’m not the one to blame.” You scoff, hitting him lightly in the shoulder. It’s definitely his fault. What a klutz.

“What do we do, Coach?” You ask desperately, turning to Namjoon.

His eyes scan from you, to the rink, to Taehyung’s cast, to his clipboard. “It’s up to you, really.”

“Can we still drop out of the competition?” You ask, eyes wide.

“Drop out?” Taehyung asks, brows knitted together. He shoots up, nearly toppling over on his shattered leg and grabbing your arm for support. You jump at the contact, hands darting out to steady his body so he doesn’t break anything else.

“Yeah, drop out,” you repeat, nodding as you hold onto him. “I don’t wanna do the competition when my partner’s in a cast.”

Taehyung gapes at you like you’ve just suggested you perform your ice dancing program in the Mars polar ice caps. “But you’re so close! Nationals is two months away!” He says, seemingly outraged at the fact that you want to leave the competition despite the fact that his leg is literally wrapped up in plaster.

“Nationals is two months away and you can’t even walk!” You exclaim in return, making a show of the crutches he’s hobbling around on. “I don’t wanna do the damn program without you. You’re my partner.”

“But you could win this year!” Taehyung insists, tugging on your arm in desperation.

You nod. You could win this year. The program that Namjoon and Hoseok have come up with is gold-medal-worthy. And the fact that Taehyung is standing in front of you with a cast on his leg and crutches under his arms makes tears well up in your eyes. It’s like running through a tunnel without the end ever appearing in your view. It’s like climbing a tree and never being able to reach the highest branch. It’s like seeing the finish line within your grasp but never getting there.

“I know, I know,” you say dejectedly, looking down to your feet. “But there’s always next year, when you’re better.”

Taehyung looks scandalized.

“Hoe, don’t do it,” Taehyung says, grasping onto your arm and looking hopelessly into your eyes. It’s easily the most romantic thing that the two of you have ever done together, and you’ve been ice dancing together for five years.

“Hoe, I’m gonna do it,” you say in response, placing your palm atop his. “I don’t want to perform without you.”

“You have been working really hard these past few months to perfect your routine,” Namjoon supplies unhelpfully, his reason getting the better of him. Can’t he just let you mope around about your lost gold medal in peace? “I would easily be able to recruit someone to be your partner in his place.”

“But—” You say, already knowing fully well that you’re eventually going to cave into their requests. The look on Taehyung’s face is too heartbreaking for you to have to keep staring at it, even if competing in Nationals means you won’t do it with him. What will he do without you? What will you do without him? You know each other’s bodies, motions, touches like the backs of your hands, you skate together so effortlessly, as if you were a single person. What will happen when that sense of security is removed? When you skate with someone foreign, a feeling you won’t recognize.

“Seriously, Y/N. You have a real shot at getting gold, and if not, at least being on the podium,” Namjoon continues. “You’ve never been more prepared for something like this.”

“But if I don’t compete, we’ll have more time to prepare for next year?” You suggest, grimacing as you hunch your shoulders. Taehyung, if possible, looks like he’s about to take his hand off of the crutch keeping him in place just to sock you in the side. It’s clear that you’re about to cave in and that any last-ditch efforts to drop out will ultimately fail, but there’s no harm in reaching for the unreachable anyway.

“Y/N,” Taehyung says, frowning. He’s staring at you with that disappointed look on your face, the one he always gives you whenever you make a terrible pun about ice skating or tease him about his love life. “Do it.”

“Why are you so adamant about this?” You ask him, a final attempt to see if you can sway him. “Your leg is broken and you can’t compete. What’s it to you if I do?”

“You’re my best friend, Y/N,” Taehyung says, as if he thinks you need some sort of reminder. You’re not gonna forget the fact that the two of you have been glued at the hip for years now, before you even became ice dancing partners. “You’ve been dreaming for years about getting gold, and it’s right in front of you. I’m not gonna stop you from achieving your goal.”

You look to him, shoulders sinking. You know you’ve lost, you know that Taehyung’s good-hearted nature, Namjoon’s sage words of advice, and your unrelenting desire to win are all keeping you in this competition, even without the one person you couldn’t replace if you tried.

“Fine,” you say, sighing as Taehyung and Namjoon high-five each other. “I’ll stay in the competition, but only because I know you’re gonna be whining about it for the next twelve decades if I don’t.”

Taehyung smiles. “Works for me!”

“I guess I need to go get geared up then, Coach?” You ask, your hand coming down to pat the duffel bag on your shoulder. You come prepared. “Who’s gonna be Tae’s replacement?”

“Go get changed,” Namjoon says, motioning to the locker room across the rink. “I’ll figure something out.”

“You’re gonna kick everyone’s asses, Y/N!” Taehyung calls as you trudge off, already regretting this decision. “Mine included!”

The pale blue door to the locker rooms opens ten minutes later as you walk out, skates and practice clothes on. On the other side of the rink, you see Taehyung and Namjoon talking with an indistinct third person, who you are assuming is going to be your partner for the next two months. You can’t quite make out who it is, but as you walk over, you quickly rack your brain for all of the other ice dancers that might be Namjoon’s choice, though you can’t come up with any that match the person in question.

Slowly, you approach the group, watching as Taehyung laughs to something that said indistinct third person has said. He must be an ice dancer, since regular figure skaters don’t know some of the tricks that ice dancers engage in and pairs skaters are too busy trying to throw themselves around on the ice to pay attention to ice dancing.

And then, he comes into view.

“Y/N!” Taehyung cries as he pulls you into his body, wrapping an arm around you as you’re pressed up against his crutch as it digs uncomfortably into your back. “Namjoon’s got your guy,” he says happily, motioning to him. “This is—”

“Jeon Jungkook?” You ask as your mouth drops open, eyes blinking wildly at the offending figure in front of you.

He’s standing there with his arms crossed in front of his chest, like him having to ice dance is such an inconvenience to the rest of his daily activities. You didn’t even know he could ice dance. For as long as you’ve known him, he’s always been the company’s top male figure skater, so skilled on the ice because his heart is practically made out of it. All of the awards he’s won have gone to his head at this point, and you make an effort every day you are at the rink to not have to interact with him in any way.

“Don’t look so disappointed to see me, Y/N,” Jungkook drawls, making you roll your eyes. This is why you try to avoid him at all costs, and here he is, as your future ice dancing partner. “I’m doing this for you.”

“You’re doing this because Coach is forcing you too, but alright, whatever helps you sleep at night,” you respond, avoiding his gaze.

“I’m willingly giving up my time as a figure skater to help you at Nationals and you don’t even care? Some partner you are,” Jungkook says, scoffing as he turns away from you. He’s tapping his guard-cladded skate on the floor in disinterest, each click slowly rapping away at each rational thought in your brain.

You exhale, turning to stare up at Jungkook with fire in your eyes and rage in your heart, and you storm out of the rink, marching off in anger since you know that any more time spent with him and you’ll probably explode. The biting cold of the winter air has no effect on you as you cool down outside, letting your breathing come to a steady beat as you close your eyes, taking in the breeze.

Of course, out of all of the people in the world, you had to be paired up with Jeon Jungkook. Your luck’s always been rotten. First, Taehyung breaks his leg, second, your replacement partner ends up being the one skater at the company you make conscientious efforts to avoid whenever possible. Sometimes, Life’s funny that way, how she teases you and makes you think that everything is going swimmingly before she dumps a whole bunch of oil into the water. That’s what this is, having to work with Jungkook or kissing your medal goodbye. Oil in the water.

You don’t hear the door open, too consumed in your own thoughts to care, until you feel a hand on your shoulder. Whipping around, you half-expect it to be Jungkook, coming out to give you some snooty remark about giving up before prancing back to his solo activities. But instead, it’s Taehyung.

“You okay?” He asks, a soft hand placed on your shoulder as the other clings onto his crutch for dear life. He’s still getting the hang of using them.

“I’m a little salted,” you say bitingly.

“A little?” Taehyung says skeptically, eyebrows raised as he takes in your vengeful expression. “Dude, you’re practically boiling over with N-A-C-L. You might want to tone that down a bit.”

“I just—ugh!” You cry, kicking the air with your skate and hoping that your guard hasn’t broken from the force. Nothing is going right, it seems, from Taehyung breaking his leg to you being coerced into staying in the competition to finding out that of all people on this godforsaken Earth, you’ve been re-paired up with Jeon Jungkook, Ice Prince. All you can do is resort to physical aggression as you punch and kick the world around you as a big “fuck you” to whatever higher being is up there, fucking with you. “This sucks ass. I wanna drop out again.”

“Y/N, come on,” Taehyung says, soft hand on the small of your back. “You don’t wanna do that.”

“I do,” you say, nodding. Maybe you’re being too impulsive, but right now you and Jungkook can’t even have a conversation without the biting ice breaking through his words, and you don’t necessarily think that’s the best way to build trust for a sport so reliant on teamwork. “I can’t fucking stand him, Tae. I didn’t even know he could ice dance! Since when would anybody want to work with him?”

“That’s it, Y/N,” Taehyung says in his best group therapist voice. He rubs your back to keep the rest of you grounded as your head flies off into outer space. “Get fucking pissed now so you won’t later.”

“Tae, I wanna pull a stereotypical pop-punk band member and drop out,” you whine, clutching onto his arm as you begin to sink down into a sad squat.

Taehyung tugs you up, his strength even with a broken leg as he balances two crutches much heftier than yours. “You don’t really wanna drop out though, do you?” He asks sincerely even though he already knows the answer. “There’s a reason Coach picked Jungkook. It’s because he’s a god on the ice, you know that. With him, you’re guaranteed a medal. Don’t you want that?”

“But is a medal worth all of the suffering he will inevitably put me through? Because if I skin him alive before we can go to Nationals, he’s gonna die and I’m gonna have to deal with the repercussions,” you remind Taehyung.

“Please don’t skin him alive, he’s got a hoard of fangirls swarming him and his social media on the daily,” Taehyung says, mildly alarmed especially considering your slightly sarcastic yet also totally serious nature. Sometimes, he can’t tell if you’re joking or not, and that’s kind of the best part. Like right now. “They’ll murder you in an alleyway and I’ll never be able to see your dumbass face again.”

“This is all your fault, you fucker,” you tell him sharply. “If you weren’t such a clumsy little—”

“It was slippery and he was cute, alright? He asked me for my number. That’s important,” Taehyung says in return, staring you down. “Are you saying that you would rather me die than get a love life?”

“I’m not not saying that.”

“He’s not that bad, Y/N,” Taehyung says, sighing. “You can get through the next two months with him no problem.”

“Don’t you dislike him just as much?” You ask, thinking back to a multitude of prior occurrences where Taehyung has voiced his disdain for the self-proclaimed Ice Prince, when you were walking out of practice, watching him on the rink, passing him by at regional competitions. This is why it’s so peculiar to see him encouraging you to follow through with this heinous plan, because it’s not like Taehyung likes Jungkook any more than you do.

Alright, maybe a little more. You don’t know what it is about Jungkook but his entire existence just rubs you the wrong way. Cold, aloof, entitled, and kind of a major asshole.

“He’s not as bad as I once thought he was,” Taehyung says warily, finally realizing that maybe he should be careful of what words he chooses to use in front of you when discussing whatever relationship you share with Jeon Jungkook, for the sake of his own safety if nothing else.

You smack his shoulder, mildly offended. Taehyung gasps, unable to rub his shoulder due to his inexperience with casts and the fact that he will definitely fall on his ass if he removes his hand from the aluminum. “You’re taking his side?”

Taehyung frowns. “I’m taking Coach’s side.”

If there was a way for your eyeballs to roll so far back in your head you would be able to hear them jingling around, loose in your skull, it would have already happened by now. “Don’t get all philosophical on me, Tae. It’s not that deep.”

“But Coach says that—and I agree with him—if you don’t do this, it’ll turn into a lost opportunity. You’re gonna regret this for the rest of your life if you don’t suck it up and do it,” Taehyung says softly, looking at you with delicate eyes.

You sigh, shoulders sinking as you slouch. “But he’s such a dickshit, Taehyung,” you whine, unable to come up with a better excuse for your desire to drop out once more.

“Damn, I don’t even think you’ve called me that,” Taehyung comments mindlessly. “Come on, Y/N,” he says, and he’s starting to get that antsy tone in his voice again, like a child begging their mother for a 25¢ gumball from the machine in the corner of the supermarket. “Please? I wanna see my best friend get a medal.”

He’s wearing you down and you know it, too, but you cross your arms and look away, refusing to give into his pleads.

“Pretty, pretty please? With a hazelnut Pirouette stick because I know how much you hate those candied cherries? For me?”

It’s always Taehyung that wears you down. He could, with enough whining, probably convince you to kill a man. Maybe this is a sign that you should stop being best friends with him, because you turn into putty in his hands every time he opens his mouth and he is a terrible person who abuses that knowledge and utilizes it to his advantage as much as possible.

“You’re a little piece of shit,” you say, but Taehyung knows you well enough to know that that’s code for “I give in, Taehyung you asshole,” and so he cheers.

“Yes!”

“I swear to the lord Jesus Christ and all of his dudebros that when you get out of that cast I’m beating you the fuck up,” you hiss, and Taehyung simply giggles. He knows you’re not serious, as menacing as you can be with glittery purple skate guards on your feet.

If Taehyung didn’t have crutches under his arms and a cast the color of a creamsicle on his leg, he’d probably be happily skipping into the skate rink. Reluctantly, you follow him inside after opening the door for him and spot Ice Prince and your coach chatting by the rink, Jungkook already geared up and ready to go.

“Got her!” Taehyung shouts loudly, causing several heads to turn to him as he meets Namjoon’s eyes with a crinkly grin. He motions to you, and you can tell that the contrast between his enthusiastic expression and your begrudging one must be amusing, if Jungkook trying to disguise his chuckles is anything to go by. “We got her, Coach! She’s in!”

“Shout it louder, would you? I don’t think enough of Antarctica has heard,” you say sarcastically, earning a teasing nose-scrunch from Taehyung in return as the two of you march up.

“Caved in?” Jungkook asks, sly smirk on his face as he looks you up and down, takes in your twitching features and glares back with as much force as you are him. “I suppose I’m not as repulsive as you thought I was.”

You scoff, brushing right by him as you tug off your skate guards and hop on the ice to warm up. If you’re gonna do this, might as well bite the bullet. “Oh, that’s sweet,” you call as you begin to skate figure-eights across the rink. “You think I’m doing this for you.”

Jungkook chuckles to himself, taking your arrival on the ice as something akin to a challenge. He removes his skate guards and joins you, gladly whizzing around on the ice alongside you as the two of you already find yourselves in a competition of sorts. This is precisely why you can’t work with him.

“Babe,” Jungkook says, catching your attention as you slow down ever so slightly—not enough for him to actually notice you paying attention to what words leave his lips—to listen to him. The pet name falls from his mouth with ease and sends shivers down your spine. “I don’t give a shit about whether or not you’re doing this for me, because either way I get another National medal to add to my collection. How many times can you say that about yourself?” Jungkook grins a shit-eating grin, and it makes you want to skate over and sock him in the jaw. “Oh, that’s right, none.”

You’re going to murder Taehyung once he gets out of that cast.

It’s obvious from the getgo that you and Jungkook cannot work together. Namjoon and Hoseok, your gracious and talented choreographer, had held out hope that you would be able to put aside your differences for three hours every day just so he could learn the routine and you could both move on with your lives, but it’s clear that’s not the case. Because the second time the two of you meet on the ice, you are forced to skate around holding hands to get a feel for the other’s touch, and you are stiff and cold the entire time.

Jungkook’s touch is too foreign for your taste. He is too foreign for your taste. He doesn’t feel like Taehyung, lacks his over-moisturized hands and the warmth that radiates from his body. He holds your hand with tension in his body, unnatural and distant. He doesn’t hold it like he’s supposed to, like how boys are supposed to hold girls’ hands, like how ice dancers are supposed to melt into each other’s touch. He holds it because he has to.

It doesn’t take a genius to note that the two of you are talented in your sport. You can both skate flawlessly, gliding around on the ice without clashing blades. It’s not difficult for the two of you to skate in time, in rhythm, but that means nothing if you cannot skate together.

And that is what Namjoon is thinking as he voices his concerns to Hoseok right next to him, as the two of them watch you and Jungkook skate gracefully yet emotionlessly around the rink.

“Should we be worried about them, Hoseok?” Namjoon asks, eyebrows knitted together as he watches the both of you. You’re talking, but it’s strikingly obvious that you’re not enjoying the conversation in front of you. In fact, you both look quite disgruntled in the presence of the other. This does not bode well.

Hoseok heaves, not taking his eyes of the two of you. He looks down at the way the two of you are holding hands, how unrealistic it seems, how contrived it appears, and he sighs. “We might need to be, Joon. There’s no chemistry whatsoever. In fact, it doesn’t look like they like each other very much at all.”

“Shit,” Namjoon says, a hand coming up to rub at his temple. He’s worked tirelessly with you and Jungkook for years to get you into your top spots, and he refuses to see you crumble now just because of an accident. “What are we going to do, Hoseok? We can’t have ice dancing partners that hate each other.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” Hoseok says, and Namjoon can practically see the light bulb illuminating above his fading red hair. “We can use that raw emotion.”

“Don’t tell me you’re going to re-choreograph their entire routine,” Namjoon says, eyes pleading.

Hoseok grins, standing a little taller with his hands happily planted on his hips. “I am. But only a little. I need a new song…”

Namjoon watches as Hoseok begins to wander off, pointer finger tapping his chin as he contemplates how he’s going to edit the routine to make it fit the meshing personalities of you and Jungkook. He will admit, the fact that Hoseok has decided to change the program with so little time left before Nationals has him nearly on the floor, but when he looks up and sees you bickering away with Jungkook as you skate laps together, hands glued shut, he supposes it might not be such a bad idea after all.

“Oh my God, I can’t do this.” You sigh in anger, skating away from Jungkook so as to cool down. You reach your hands up to rub at your temples, eyes shut tight as you let your frustration subside. “God, do you even know how to ice dance?”

“Do you?” Jungkook counters, clearly just as exasperated as you.

The very fact that Jungkook is even insinuating that after nearly fourteen years of skating and ten years of ice dancing you still lack the necessary skills to, you know, ice dance, makes you want to remove your skate from your foot and chuck it at his head. You roll your eyes, throwing your hands up to the sky in anguish as you glide up to Namjoon, who looks like he’s having a mid-life crisis.

“Coach, I can’t work with him!” You exclaim. “I can’t! There’s no connection. It’s like working with a robot on ice skates.”

There’s the sound of ice being shredded, and when you whip your head around you see Jungkook coming to a quick halt across the way.

“She’s not much better, you know!” calls Jungkook mindlessly, earning a glare from you before you turn back to face your poor overworked, underpaid coach.

“Do you see what I have to work with?” You ask, motioning to Jungkook as he launches off into some quads and twists, only further proving your point that he is a self-absorbed, entitled dickhead who, if he’s so good at single skating, should just go back to the category he wins in rather than wasting his time with you.

“Calm down, Y/N. Don’t get so worked up about this,” Namjoon says patiently.

“It’s been two weeks since Hoseok showed us the ‘new and improved’ choreography—” You begin, making hand quotes around the words to show your budding distaste for change, “—and we can’t get a single one of the lifts down.”

“At least the two of you can do the twizzles,” Namjoon supplies unhelpfully, always like him to search for the silver lining in this trainwreck of a performance.

“Woohoo,” you deadpan.

“Listen, Y/N, I trust the both of you. I know that the two of you can do great things together. There’s a reason that I selected him to be your ice dancing partner. You’re capable of greatness,” Namjoon insists, only making you roll your eyes further.

“Am I being punished for Taehyung’s clumsiness, Coach? Is that it?” You groan, your head tilting back in vexation. You know Namjoon means well, he really does, but you fail to see where on Earth he thought pairing the two of you up for a national competition would be a good idea.

“You’re not being punished,” Namjoon tells you.

“If you want to win gold for Nationals, don’t you think that maybe you should spend more time practicing and less time shit-talking your partner?” Jungkook’s voice rings out in the echoey ice rink, and it makes you sigh. Turning around, you see him casually executing a catch-foot camel spin, and it makes you want to knock him right off his center of balance and watch him crash into the ice.

“He’s right, Y/N,” Namjoon says as you begrudgingly skate back over to Jungkook, willing yourself to just through the next few hours by his side before you can go home and take a much-needed bubble bath.

Hoseok joins you not much later, happily skating on the ice as he begins to coach you through the choreography. It’s much more technical than you’re used to, aimed at getting you the highest score possible, but it’s also filled with an overwhelming amount of raw emotion, something you tend to shy away from when dealing with programs. Hoseok’s always been known to step out of the box, though, so this really should come as no surprise.

With the feeling of Jungkook’s frozen hands on your waist, Hoseok guides the both of you around the rink.

“Five, six, seven, eight, one, two, up—!”

“Ow! Not there, you dumbass!” You cry when Jungkook pinches you a little too hard, causing you to stumble and fall on your knees. “Jesus H. Christ,” you say, frowning as you get up and dust yourself off.

“You okay, Y/N?” Hoseok asks, reaching out a hand as you skate to warm yourself up again.

“’M fine,” you say, albeit a little bitter.

“Alright, again, same spot,” Hoseok orders as you line up with him again.

Jungkook grips your waist too tightly at this part, the tension causing you to stumble on your next turn, but at least you can move onto the next major part of your routine without any more flubs or cries of indignation.

Almost the entire program does Jungkook touch you in some sort of way, whether it be a hand on your waist, hip, shoulder, fingers interlocked with yours, or holding onto you for a lift. You know that you’ll get used to it eventually, the feeling of his body heat radiating onto yours, but after five years of constant contact with Taehyung, it’s difficult to change course.

Still, he does not purposely attempt to make your routine any more unbearable or difficult out of spite. He can do that with his words, not his actions. At least he’s making a solid effort to get this routine down.

“Seven, eight, lift!” Hoseok says when the two of you are skating with such momentum as you approach the halfway-mark of your free-skate program.

Jungkook pulls you up, just as you had practiced before, and your skate finds purchase in the thick material of his clothing. You are both experienced enough in this skill to not cut right through his clothing (and perhaps his skin as well), a careful hand on your thigh as he holds you up, and you think you might actually be able to stick this landing…

Until, on the way down, his elbow accidentally knocks into your shin, and the two of you collapse in a puddle on the ice.

“Fuck!” He mutters to himself, swearing as he pulls at his limbs that are entangled in yours.

You sit up as well, rubbing your sore arms as you feel the bruises blossoming on your legs.

“Whoa, you guys alright?” Hoseok asks, brows furrowed in concern as he holds a hand out to lift you up. You gladly take it, pulling yourself back onto your feet as you begin to dust off the patches of ice that have gathered on your leggings. “That was some fall. And it wasn’t even the worst lift.”

“I’m fine,” you say bitingly, “we could probably get it, if it weren’t for Jungkook not knowing where to put his hands.”

“Oh yes, pile all of the blame on me, the nationally-ranked figure skater who made a simple mistake that he can fix in an instant,” Jungkook retorts bitterly, adjusting the sleeves of his fleece jacket as he skates off to cool down.

“Uh, if you guys are alright, wanna run that again?”

“I don’t know about his bruised ego, but I’m cool to do it again,” you comment, loud enough so that he hears you even from his position across the rink.

“Do you just have a thing for insulting me?” Jungkook asks. “Because that’s no way to treat the person who’s going to lead you to gold at Nationals,” he tells you pointedly, hands on his hips as the two of you prepare to rehearse the stunt all over again.

“Please,” you scoff, “I’m the reason you’re even going to Nationals for ice dancing.”

“Oh, yeah, your partner breaking his leg is a real achievement to boast about,” Jungkook retorts.

“Don’t fucking talk about Taehyung,” you spit.

“Okay, you guys, cut the chit-chat,” Hoseok says, probably more for his own sake than yours or Jungkook’s. “We’re doing this one more time, from the camel, and then practice is over for the day,” he says warily, skating over to the panel that controls the music and turning it on.

Everything goes much better the second time, the lift being not nearly as tragic as Jungkook carefully places you back down on the ice and you skate into your next trick. You actually don’t think it’s half bad, that is, until you hear the music abruptly stop and Hoseok skate up to you with a disappointed look on his face.

“Wasn’t that good, Hoseok?” You ask, maneuvering your way to the exit of the rink and grabbing your skate guards.

“It was okay,” Hoseok says, sharing a knowing look with Namjoon, who’s been observing the both of you this entire time.

“Just okay?” You ask, confused. “We landed the lift.”

“Just go get changed, Y/N and Jungkook,” Namjoon says, motioning for the two of you to head to the locker rooms. “We’ll talk to you guys about how you can improve your routines afterwards.”

You sigh, grabbing your coat from the bench as you make your way towards the locker rooms.

“This is all your fault, you know,” you say petulantly, eyeing Jungkook as you give his shoulder a rough shove.

“Excuse me? I wasn’t the one spewing out blame for a one mistake,” Jungkook challenges. “One!”

You sigh, deciding that continuing to bicker with Jungkook won’t change the outcome of the conversation you’re about to have with Namjoon and Hoseok anyway, and you head into the locker rooms to get out of your skates and calm yourself down. You can deal with Jungkook later. That is, if you have enough brainpower left to do so.

Namjoon and Hoseok have their Serious Faces on as you emerge from the locker rooms, Jungkook coming out of his at the same time, duffel bag slung over his bare shoulder. You wonder how Jungkook can be walking around in a muscle tee with his biceps on display for the world to ogle at (but not you, ugh!) in the middle of winter, but then again, he is the Ice Prince after all.

“What did you want to talk to us about, Coach?” Jungkook asks, tilting his head in interest as the two of you approach them.

“We were just discussing the trust factor in your program,” Hoseok says.

“What ‘trust factor’?” You say, wary of whatever criticism is to come.

“Y/N, do you trust Jungkook?” Namjoon says, getting straight to the point.

“No.” The answer is as easy as if someone were to ask if you supported cannibalism, or pineapple on pizza.

“Jungkook, do you trust Y/N?”

“Well, since trust is a two-way street, no,” Jungkook says. It’s the first time you think you’ve ever agreed on something.

Hoseok and Namjoon share a knowing look, one you couldn’t decipher even if you tried. Jungkook turns to face you and you shrug, happy to see that there are no hard feelings as related to the fact that neither of you trust each other despite literally being ice dancing partners. You don’t know what Namjoon and Hoseok were expecting when they asked you that question, especially given how openly you’ve voiced your opinions on Jungkook before. Were they hoping for a “yes”?

“That’s exactly the problem,” Hoseok says. “You guys don’t trust each other. What’s an ice dancing routine without trust? You have to rely on each other the entire time.”

“Well, we were able to do some of the routine today,” you point out, electing to ignore the part where the two of you just completely fell on top of each other. “Why would trust be necessary?”

“Your routine is… hmm, how do I say this nicely?” Hoseok begins.

“Emotionless,” Namjoon cuts in. “It’s emotionless. You might as well be animatronics,” he continues. “Trust builds not only the routine but it builds the emotion within it. You guys are very talented skaters but there is no way in hell that you will even get onto the podium without trust, passion, or emotion. The lack of chemistry is what will bring you down, and I know neither of you want to walk away from Nationals without even bronze.”

“How are we supposed to fix that?” You ask, hesitant. You dislike the path that this conversation is leading you on. “You can’t shove five years of experience and progressively-built trust into six weeks.”

“Exactly,” Hoseok says.

“Which is why we’re staging a Trust Intervention for the both of you. You hardly know each other as people, only as skaters, and we need to fix that,” Namjoon declares, blatantly proud of the plan he’s formulated. His confidence has your eyes wide in worry, and when you turn to Jungkook, it’s clear he’s not looking forward to whatever the two of your coaches have in store for you either.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask.

“You guys are going to get to know each other by going out on dates.”

Your jaw drops. Dates?

“And I don’t care how awkward it’s going to be, because you guys are going to do it anyway. You are going to go out on dates to coffee shops and restaurants and other places where you can actively talk with each other, and you are going to learn about each other,” Namjoon orders, and you know you don’t have a choice. Even if you faked it, Namjoon has the eye of a hawk and he’d easily be able to spot the lack of connection the next time you had practice together.

“You’re kidding,” Jungkook says, blinking profusely. He looks like he’s in shock. You can’t imagine you look much different.

Hoseok looks as equally pleased with the proposal as Namjoon. “You guys have more in common than you both might think, you know,” he says. “Before practice in two days, I want to see you out on one date. You could even drop by the coffee shop down the road before practice. I don’t care. But I need to see that you’ve been on one.”

“Wait, wait, Coach,” you say before Namjoon turns to change his focus towards his Little Skaters group that’s slowly filing in for their own practice. “A date? I don’t know how I feel about that.”

“Yeah, me neither,” Jungkook adds.

“They don’t necessarily have to have some sort of romantic connotation, calm down,” Namjoon says. “They’re just outings together. You don’t have to hold hands or kiss or hug, or whatever. Just talk. That’s all I ask of you. You guys are dismissed.”

Before you can get in any more questions, Namjoon and Hoseok are turning away from you, greeting the Little Skaters with their voices light and bright and the total opposite of how they were just speaking to you.

You turn to Jungkook in partial shock and partial disgust, already repelled by the mere thought of having to spend more time with him. You couldn’t think of a worse way to spend your time than this.

“Coffee shop, two hours before practice?” Jungkook asks, expressionless.

You shrug. “Fine. See you there, Jeon,” you spit, marching out of practice with a frown on your face.

You don’t know what Namjoon or Hoseok’s game is, but what you do know, is that if they’re expecting for the two of you to form some sort of bond through these forced dates, then they couldn’t be more wrong.

What kind of bond could be forged between you and Jeon Jungkook? Not even in your nightmares could you imagine putting your trust in his hands.

Two days later, you catch Jungkook in the coffeeshop as he’s waiting at the end of the line to order, staring up the menu above his head and tapping his foot to the beat of the soft pop that plays through the speakers that decorate each corner of the room.

“Ordering without me?” You ask, joining him, with an eyebrow raised. “So gentleman-y.”

“You were taking too long,” Jungkook responds curtly. “I don’t drink coffee anyway, so I wanted to see what this place has.”

“You don’t drink coffee…” you begin, “and we’re in a coffee shop?”

“They have things other than coffee.” Jungkook frowns.

“Alright, whatever you say,” you say distantly, rolling your eyes as the woman in front of you moves to the side to wait for her drink. “Hi, can I get a medium latte, whole milk? And light foam, please.”

The barista nods tapping away at the computer in front of her before motioning to Jungkook.

“Small hot chocolate,” Jungkook says quickly, grabbing his wallet from the back of his pocket.

“I can pay for mine,” you insist, fumbling with the loose bills shoved into your jeans, but Jungkook shakes his head, handing over his card without even giving you so much as a glance. You stand there, at a loss for words as Jungkook casually pays for your obnoxious drink without a second thought.

“This is stupid,” you say mindlessly as you wait for your drinks at the pick-up station. “I don’t know how Coach thinks anything is going to improve if we spend more time together.”

“If Coach really wanted us to loosen up around each other, he should have given us a bottle of vodka and ten minutes,” Jungkook jokes, making you laugh.

“Please,” you scoff, “I bet you have the alcohol tolerance level of a baby goose.”

“Is that supposed to be an insult?”

You roll your eyes, already finding yourselves falling into the distinct rhythm of bicker, bicker, bicker. This is precisely why you knew that whatever plan Namjoon had brewing in his brain wouldn’t work, because if you can’t get past petty insults and snarky comments, how are you supposed to connect with each other?

When you’ve got your drinks, you take refuge in a table by the window of the shop, giving you a glorious view of the angry pedestrians and angrier cars, hooting their way around town. What a sight.

Jungkook sips his drink slowly, savoring each sip. When he’s not drinking, he’s leaning back in his chair, tapping his fingers on the wooden table between you and avoiding your gaze, red scarf wrapped up neatly around his neck and complimenting the red buttons on his peacoat with ease. Without him opening his mouth and ruining the entire vibe of the scenery, he actually looks quite nice. But don’t tell him that.

Meanwhile, you are ungracefully downing your entire medium latte without another shot, craving each gram of caffeine that enters your body. Maybe it is two o’clock in the afternoon, but you are regularly awake until midnight and you also will need all of the energy you can get if you have to deal with a skating Jungkook for the next five hours.

“What’s your favorite color?”

“Excuse me?” You ask, coughing slightly as your coffee goes down the wrong pipe in surprise.

“What’s your favorite color?” Jungkook repeats, dead serious. “Coach said we have to get to know each other. Answer the question.”

You’ve never heard someone sound so stern when asking what your favorite color is.

“Yellow. Yours?” You ask, wiping the foam away from the corner of your lips with your sleeve.

“Red.”

“I probably could have figured that out,” you comment mindlessly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jungkook asks, quirking an eyebrow in offense as he looks at you.

“Look at you, Jeon. You’re covered in red from head to toe. It doesn’t take a genius to guess,” you say, motioning from his scarf down his torso. Even his cheeks are read, burning from the mixture of the heat from the coffee shop and the winter from outside.

“Well,” Jungkook begins, shuffling himself around with his hot chocolate cup held tightly in his hand. “I look good in it.”

“Is that your reasoning?” You ask, appalled.

“Do you deny it?” Jungkook retorts, smirk on his face as he watches your expression change from shocked to accosted. You’d never admit to Jungkook that he actually looks good, sitting in front of you with the bright red wrapped around him complimenting his skin tone, the shade of his eyes. You’d rather keel over and die in this very coffee shop.

“I—” You say, speechless.

“So you don’t?”

“Why do you care what I think about you? I thought you were just in this for the medal,” you counter, reminding Jungkook of his own words with a pointed expression.

“I never said I cared about if you think I’m hot, though it is nice to know that you do,” Jungkook responds.

“I never said that,” you say.

“You didn’t need to,” Jungkook says with a shrug, taking an extended sip of his hot chocolate while you sit there, racking your brain for an equally good, if not better, riposte to his obnoxiously self-centered comments. How have they left your mind empty? You had always thought it impossible for a man to leave you speechless, but clearly, you just hadn’t spoken to Jeon Jungkook yet. “What, no response?” He asks, teasing lilt decorating his words.

“Sorry, too busy thinking of all of the ways I can skin you alive after Nationals,” you say, fist up at at the ready. You reach over to punch him in the shoulder, but Jungkook’s reflexes are much too quick for your liking and he grabs a hold of your wrist before your hand can collide with his coat.

“Don’t get too excited, Y/N,” Jungkook warns, keeping his grip on you tight. “Maybe we’ll do so well at Nationals that you won’t want to kill me anymore. You might even want to keep being my partner, how about that?”

You scoff. “In your dreams, Jeon. You and I both know we wouldn’t be able to stand each other for more than a season at a time, if that.”

“Who knows,” Jungkook says, leaning across the table. The sheer proximity intimidates you, how his face is hovering hardly a finger’s length away from yours. This close, you can make out the golden specks decorating his irises, and the lines on his lips—

Shut up! What are you doing thinking about Jeon Jungkook’s lips?

“Things can change,” Jungkook hums, grinning smugly before getting up from his seat and taking his empty cup with him.

You’re left there, sitting in the dust as the conversation settles around you, unable to process even a single thing that just happened. Jeon Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook’s eyes. Jeon Jungkook’s lips.

Jeon Jungkook’s ego that is roughly the size of Madagascar.

You sigh, exhaling heavily as you gather your belongings and make to leave as well, tossing your empty cup in the bin on the way out.

Things can change, but how much are you willing to let them?

“There’s the happy couple!”

Your tired eyes light up at the sound of a familiar voice, and you turn to see Taehyung happily crutch-ing his way over to you. By now, he’s mastered the art of not falling while requiring the use of crutches, so you don’t have to baby him anymore.

“Tae!” You exclaim, happy to see the one person who is most definitely keeping you grounded during this time of torture.

“How’s it going?” He asks happily, not having been at the rink since the day you found out you’d have to be partnered up with Jeon Jungkook.

You turn to Jungkook, who’s already begun walking off in the direction of the locker with little demonstrated interest in the conversation you are about to have with Taehyung, for whatever reason. Taehyung shrugs at the two of you watch Jungkook trudge off, neither happy nor sad.

“What’s his deal?” Taehyung asks, pointing his crutch in Jungkook’s direction.

“He constantly has a gigantic stick up his ass,” you remark, making Taehyung giggle. “No, I don’t know. I guess he just wants to get to practice.”

“Wow, so dedicated,” Taehyung says, shaking his head. “How are you?”

“I’m okay.”

“How much do you hate Jeon Jungkook?” Taehyung rephrases his question.

“Very much,” you inform him. “Actually, only a lot much, now. It’s getting better,” you tell him regretfully, knowing how much he’s going to rub in your face the fact that he was the one who told you that it wouldn’t actually be that bad.

“See, I told you!” Taehyung exclaims, a “you should have believed me when I said so!” expression on his face. “I knew it wouldn’t actually be that bad. You’re just so fucking overdramatic, always have been,” Taehyung reminds you.

“Want me to give you another broken leg, Taehyung?” You threaten weakly, fist balled up with a teasing smile on your face. Taehyung pretends to wince before laughing alongside you. “God, I can’t wait for you to be able to get on the ice again.”

“Me neither,” Taehyung admits wistfully, watching as some of the other skaters practice gracefully on the rink, less advanced but just as devoted as you, Jungkook, or Taehyung. “I’m getting that itch under my skin. Or maybe it’s just because I can’t scratch this one part of my leg because of this motherfucking cast, and it makes me want to die.”

You chuckle at his comment. Taehyung always has a way of taking devastating situations and laughing about them, making them seem like they’re not really real.

“Have you at least gotten to talk to that guy again?” You ask him, interlocking your fingers with his. It doesn’t feel like Jungkook, with whom you’ve been holding hands with (for totally professional purposes) for the past two-and-a-half weeks. It feels warmer, softer. Like you could die in these hands and he would promise that everything would be alright.

“Oh my God, yes!” Taehyung exclaims happily. “Jimin brought me flowers when I got out of the hospital. And they weren’t death-symbolizing white roses. I think I want to marry him, Y/N. You don’t understand.”

“Way to rub in the fact that I don’t have a love life,” you say, grimacing. “But I’m happy for you! You deserve all of the love and appreciation in the world.”

“Y/N,” Namjoon’s soothing voice interrupts your conversation as he places the cool wood of his clipboard on your back. “Go get changed. Hoseok wants to run through the second half of the program with you and Jungkook today.”

“Alright, Coach,” you say mindlessly, waving Namjoon off as you bid goodbye to Taehyung. “You’re gonna watch us practice, right?”

“Totally! Knock ’em dead, tiger,” Taehyung says, already making his way towards the up-ramp onto the bleachers that give him a view of the entire rink. Hoseok’s beginning to clear out the leftmost rink for you and Jungkook to practice, and you wave to Taehyung as you jog towards the locker room, already wary of what Jungkook’s going to say when you are inevitably late to practice on the ice.

The second half of the program for the free-skate is much more comprehensive than the first. Sure, the first part has the first set of twizzles and the layback curve lift (that Jungkook dropped you during the first time you had rehearsed the stunt), but the second features an overwhelming amount of stationary twirls and two more lifts, both of which are significantly more difficult than the curve.

It’s a good thing Jungkook’s as dedicated as you. If, at gunpoint, you were forced to pick one quality you admire about Jungkook, it’s how devoted he is to the sport, and how he’s willing to do anything to secure the top spot. At least you have one thing in common.

“Five, six, seven, eight, camel!” Hoseok shouts as he skates away from the two of you as you begin the camel spin. Jungkook wraps his heavy hands around you, one on your waist and another on your outstretched leg, and you do the same with him, palm glossing over his stomach as you hold on tight. You’re careful not to press to firmly, mostly out of fear for yourself, because you know fully well that he’s got a decent pack of abs under that fleece jacket he’s wearing. You twirl together, your two bodies slowly becoming one, but it’s such a short period of time that you split almost as quickly as you come together before launching off into the next trick.

Jungkook keeps his hands on your waist for almost the entire second part, wrapped around your waist as you skate around the rink, making all sort of elegant gestures with your hands to the beat of the music.

“Dip!” Hoseok’s voice rings out in the rink as Jungkook, with your hands tightly interlocked, dips you down down to the ice, pulling you in a semicircle before lifting you back up with ease. You spin around to face him, gliding across the ice, attempting to be civil and smile his way, but he offers nothing in return. Asshole.

The first lift comes easily, a combination with you going from Biellmann position on his thigh to a reverse-rotational. You’ve been practicing this for a few days now, not enough for it to be flawless but enough for it to get the job done and for Hoseok to fine tune over the next few weeks as the competition approaches. Jungkook keeps a tight grip on you throughout the entire thing, pressing you tightly to his body as he spins with you in the splits position before gracefully dropping you to the ice. Hoseok claps happily once you’ve landed it, watching with glee as you skate into the next series of twizzles.

It appears that everything’s going swimmingly, and when you are midway through the second half of the routine, the thought flashes across your mind that you might actually be able to work with him on this routine, rather than against him like you have been for so long. It’s a foreign feeling, that thought, and a fleeting one at that.

The final lift before the finale approaches, and you feel Jungkook press his palm firmly on your waist before hoisting you up as you wrap your arm around his neck to hold yourself up. Jungkook spins with ease, watching your body carefully as you dance around him, going from the splits to a horizontal position, the only thing keeping you glued to him his hand around your waist. It’s almost perfect, but when he sets you down you both stumble, skates colliding as you trip over each other and fall to a heap on the rink.

Hoseok cuts the music, skating over to see what went wrong.

“You guys alright?” He asks, concerned look on his face.

Sighing, you stand up shakily, holding onto Hoseok’s arm for support. “Fine.”

“Jungkook?”

“I’m good,” Jungkook says, voice as cold as always.

“What happened there, guys?” Hoseok asks.

“We were just positioned incorrectly, ‘s all,” Jungkook spits quickly, skating around in a quick figure-eight before re-positioning himself so that you can work on the lift again. You dust yourself off and join him, hoping that maybe this time you can get it so you can move onto tweaks.

You don’t.

For the next four times that you attempt the final lift, you end up collapsing in a puddle together, your skates colliding, or Jungkook’s grip on you slipping, or your limbs being connected for a moment too long, something that happens not during the lift but on your way down that causes the fall. You and Jungkook are getting equally infuriated with yourselves and with each other, much to Hoseok’s chagrin.

“Your foot is always too close to mine when you put me down,” you accuse, after Hoseok’s dismissed the both of you from practice. “Move it into more of a 180 position so I have room to move.”

“You aren’t landing in the right spot,” Jungkook counters bitterly. “You need to constantly be aware of my position on the ice so that way you don’t crash into me.”

“Your hand is slipping as you put me down, it throws me off.”

“You’re putting way too much faith in me to do everything correctly, when you aren’t even in the correct form during the last part of the lift.”

You both exhale, exasperated from arguing and from practicing and from the bruises blossoming all over your lower body. Bickering will get you absolutely nowhere but it’s all you have.

Before the two of you leave, Namjoon stops the both of you.

“Dinner together before the end of next week. A decent restaurant too, not a McDonald’s. You guys need to build trust, and you won’t be able to do that by arguing,” he orders, much to Taehyung’s confusion as he exits alongside of you, rambling on about Jimin and his flowers.

You and Jungkook meet eyes for a brief second before turning back to Namjoon and nodding.

Winning gold isn’t all sunshine and daisies. Sometimes, it’s bruises and self-torture as well.

Jungkook meets you for dinner at a mildly posh restaurant in the center of town, where the food isn’t necessarily dirt cheap, but it’s also not outrageously overpriced. It’s a quaint place, The Yellow Dandelion, that serves exclusively appetizers that are meant to be shared rather than eaten separately. The aura is soft, like the ending to a fairytale, decorated with Christmas lights and candles lining the shelves on the walls.

Jungkook’s already sitting there when you arrive, face windblown from the biting winter breeze. It’s a thin restaurant, booths extending all the wall along the wall on the right and a little bar to your left, the kitchen hiding in the back. You spot him instantly, see him waiting patiently for you, and ignore the hostess entirely as you rush over to him.

“You look cold,” Jungkook deadpans when he sees you. He’s dressed in a pale blue button-down, tucked into some khakis with his bangs brushed neatly to cover his forehead, dancing along his eyelashes. He looks so much different than when you saw him in the coffeeshop, bundled up in a scarf and jacket with his hair brushed up, or in practice, sweaty and cozy and angry.

“You look warm,” you comment in return, noting the pink decorating his cheeks. Or maybe that’s just the hazy light of the restaurant.

“I already ordered us Cokes, if that’s alright with you,” Jungkook says as you sit down across from him, thankful for the table in between the two of you that allows the both of you to keep your distance. Though, knowing Jungkook, you don’t doubt him possibly leaning over the table to make some snarky and mildly sexual remark to you. You nod, taking a look at the menu. It’s a single list of a bunch of fancy, hipster foods that sound both appealing and revolting at the same time.

“What are you going to order?” You ask him mindlessly, eyeing the bowl of pasta with olives and grapefruit. Namjoon always did say you needed to eat more “healthy” carbs, whatever the fuck that means.

“The spinach and artichoke dip, and the garlic bread. I can’t go to a restaurant and not get garlic bread. It’s sacreligious,” Jungkook says, making you laugh slightly. “What about you?”

“I don’t know, will you let me steal some of your garlic bread?” You ask cheekily, not minding the thought of garlic bread very much at all.

“You’re going to steal some regardless of if I say yes or no, so, no, I don’t mind. Have whatever,” he offers.

“I’m not going to let you fucking pay for me this time, you asshole,” you warn him holding up your wallet as a reminder. “This place isn’t cheap.”

“You don’t have to—”

“Let me pay for what I eat, Jeon. I’m not taking no for an answer,” you declare, leaning back firmly in your seat.

“You’re so stubborn,” Jungkook comments to himself, sighing.

“Do you not like stubborn girls? Oh, what a shame! What will I do if the great Jeon Jungkook doesn’t like stubborn girls? Will I have to change my entire personality just so he’ll like me a bit more?” You plead dramatically, looking up to the sky with your hands clasped together. Jungkook frowns in response to your melodrama, an eyebrow quirked in disapproval. You smile pettily at him.

The waitress comes with your Cokes, and you’re happy to have something to occupy your mouth so you don’t launch off into another series of personal attacks on Jeon Jungkook. She takes your orders before disappearing off into the kitchen, leaving you and Jungkook alone with your thoughts once again.

“What’s your favorite time of day?” Jungkook asks, yet another stiff icebreaker (pun intended).

“Like, morning, afternoon, night? That kind of stuff?” You ask. Jungkook nods. “Midnight. Early morning. When the whole world is quiet and you can finally breathe. You?”

“The sunrise,” Jungkook responds, his answer catching you by surprise. He had always seemed like an afternoon kind of guy, when the sun is high and beams down on him with all its might, when its rays filter in through the windows at the top of the rink and illuminates the path on which he skates. Not the sunrise, the calm before the storm as the sky turns orange, purple, and pink.

“Really?” You ask, intrigued. “What for?”

“The only people who are awake to see it are the people who see as much beauty in it as I do,” Jungkook says softly. “I know you think I’m some cold, self-absorbed asshole who only cares about his medals, but I actually have a heart, you know.”

“Huh,” you say. “Who’d have thought.”

Once the food arrives, you and Jungkook spend the rest of the evening offering up the food on your plates to the other until there’s nothing left but crumbs and butter lining them. It’s a little infuriating, really, constantly being offered the other’s food, but when your stomachs are full and there is no room left for dessert, you find yourself pleased with the variety of dishes you’ve had. The bill has already been paid, and perhaps the two of you could just up and leave without another thought to this not-a-date date, but then—

“Why did you start skating, Jungkook?” You ask, playing with your fork as it taps the plate arrythmically. Jungkook’s been staring down at his food or his lap the entire night, but he finally looks up when you mention his name.

“I was four,” Jungkook begins. “And I was at the rink because my older brother had been invited to a birthday party there, and I had to come with. And I had wandered off while my mother was dealing with my older brother, gone to the senior level rinks. And I saw Kim Seokjin.”

“Kim Seokjin? Seriously?” You ask in shock. Kim Seokjin is only a legend to you and everyone else who attends your skating rink, a man who skates with so much elegance yet so much pizzazz, his talent alone earning him a silver medal at the Olympics.

“Seriously. He was practicing there, and it took my breath away. I had craned my neck and was standing on my tiptoes just to catch a glimpse of him as he leaped across the ice like a fucking swan, and I realized that I wanted to do that too. When he finished, he saw me watching him, and he gave me the brightest wave my four-year-old eyes had ever seen. I’ll never forget,” Jungkook says, shaking his head at the nostalgic memory. “I wanted to be just like him.”

The answer seems so unlike the Jungkook you know now (or at least, the Jungkook you think you know). You had always heard, always assumed that Jungkook began figure skating because someone had dared him to when he was little, and he had taken up the challenge with all of his might. You had always assumed that he skated not just because he enjoyed it, but because he was good at it, and because he knew he would always win.

“What about you?” Jungkook asks. “Why did you start skating?”

“When I was in kindergarten, all of my friends were good at something, be it sports, or school, whatever. They were all good at this one thing and I was just, kinda average. Not great and not terrible, either. But I was five, and I wanted something to be good at, something to be proud of,” you begin to explain. “And so my mom, the lovely person she is, signed me up for all of these different things to see if any of them stuck.”

“And then you found the rink,” Jungkook finishes, a knowing grin on his face.

You nod, repeating his words. “And then I found the rink.”

“Isn’t it weird?” Jungkook asks, twirling his fork between his fingers. You hum to show him that you’re paying attention, despite keeping your eyes trained on your twiddling thumbs. “How even though we hate each other, we have so much in common?”

“Like what?” You ask, not because you’re doubtful, or you’re unsure. You ask because you already know, already know that in more ways than one Jungkook is more than meets the eye, so much more than a first impression, but you refuse to let yourself believe it.

“Like how we both started out because we wanted to be something bigger than ourselves,” Jungkook says. “We don’t like the day. You like late nights, and I like the early mornings, because all we want is a little peace and quiet, a time of reflection and thought.”

His words make you wince, not because they are wrong, but because they are true. Because for as long as it has been, you and Jungkook have always been quite similar. You just wouldn’t allow yourself to admit it.

Jungkook continues. “We like bold colors. They’re statement colors, show off the parts of our personality we wouldn’t otherwise broadcast. We are passionate. And devoted. And determined to succeed.” He’s beginning to stand up, gather his belongings as his words make you shiver.

Jeon Jungkook had always been a beautiful horror story to you. Talented in every way one can be talented at skating, but rude. Aloof. Uptight. Not a heartbreaker, because he didn’t date, but a heartbreaker nonetheless, because he didn’t date. You had never imagined getting so close to him, let alone him becoming your ice dancing partner. They were two separate things, Jeon Jungkook and ice dancing, but now, they are one.

The thought straight terrifies you.

You mimic his actions, picking up your coat and your wallet and standing up across from him as you get ready to leave. Jungkook looks just as soft and hazy as he did at the beginning, fairy lights and candles illuminating his features. He smiles awkwardly at you, and you send him an equally tense grin in return.

He walks you to the door, and you leave the restaurant together only to be greeted with the brisk winter breeze, Jack Frost nipping at your nose and turning his ears a cherry red. It’s clear that he’s going one way and you’re going another, and so he smiles at you.

Maybe Namjoon was right. Maybe a couple hours to get to know each other was really all you needed.

You suddenly feel a lot safer, thinking about tomorrow’s practice, where you and Jungkook will spend the entire time working on the lift. You still have yet to land it perfectly, but you are getting closer. He’s only dropped you about a dozen times at this point. But now—though perhaps it’s just the food talking, the winter weather making your brain go hazy—you think you might actually be able to do it. You might actually begin to feel safe in his arms.

That night, Jeon Jungkook stays up for as long as he possibly can, staring lazily out of his bedroom window to the stars above, catching a glimpse of the moon between the branches of the trees. It is the very early morning when he falls asleep on his windowsill, dreaming of you.

That night, you set fifteen alarms to wake up before the sunrise, managing to get up five minutes ahead of time. You pull on your warmest jacket and rush outside in nothing but slippers, and watch the sky turn from a deep navy to a lilac, to cotton candy pink, to tangerine as the sun slowly creeps over the horizon, thinking of him.

Despite the strangely enjoyable dinner you shared, you and Jungkook cannot land the final lift. It takes all of your willpower to try, yet it is still not enough, and you collapse on the ice in a heap for what is probably the fifteenth time so far, spent only on this one stunt. Hoseok skates over each time and he has no idea what you are doing wrong, no idea how to the fix the mistakes he cannot figure out you’re making.

At least you’ve stopped blaming each other, though you can’t help the side-eyes you send his way each time you pull yourselves up from the ice to try again.

“That’s it!” Namjoon calls from where he stands outside the rink, “I’m staging another Trust Intervention.” He walks up, as close as he can get to the rink without actually stepping foot on it, and motions for you, Jungkook, and Hoseok to skate over to him. When you’re in front of him, he exhales. “We’re gonna do a trust exercise, and it’s going to be a lot of fun and you guys are going to learn how to depend wholeheartedly on the other person.”

“Are we doing trust falls on the ice?” Jungkook asks excitedly, much to your horror. A trust fall on ice skates sounds like nothing short of disaster.

“Not quite,” Namjoon says hesitantly. You and Jungkook share a wary look.

And that’s how you find yourself blindfolded with Jungkook’s bright red scarf and taking tentative steps onto the rink.

The whole premise of whatever fucked-up trust exercise Namjoon has spontaneously made up is that Jungkook, through voice and voice alone, has to guide you through this path that Hoseok has made on the ice, and you’re not allowed to see where you’re going. You’re just supposed to hope for the best and pray that Jungkook does his job the way he’s supposed to you.

“This is such an awful idea, Coach,” you say, worry lacing your words as you slowly stand your ground on the ice. Jungkook is with you in the rink, but he is not allowed to touch you or guide you with any part of his body other than his words.

“I don’t care, you’re doing it anyway!” Namjoon shouts.

“Okay, skate left,” Jungkook begins, and you take a stride left. “Nope! No, not that far left. A little to the right.”

A small step right.”

“Good. Okay, skate forward for two medium-sized glides,” he instructs. With nowhere to look and nowhere to feel, you follow his words carefully, though you aren’t so sure if the term “medium-sized glide” is as universal as Jungkook thinks it it. Regardless, you do as he tells you, and you don’t hear any objections.

It goes on like this for another ten minutes as you make a movement, hear Jungkook shouting at you that you’ve gone too far, or out of bounds, or you’re about to crash into something, and then carefully follow his next direction. You even feel yourself on the verge of falling a few times, even though your hands are outstretched for balance you don’t technically need since you should know how to ice skate with your eyes closed at this point. This is by far the strangest type of trust exercise that you’ve ever had to engage in, but you will admit that it is a lot of fun.

The scarf on your face smells just like him. It’s a strange thing to think, but when you see nothing but a shadowed red and you are relying entirely on Jungkook’s instructions to complete this nonsensical challenge, your mind’s stuck on him.

(It’s been stuck on him since the dinner.)

The scent wafts through the air that surrounds your clouded mind, and you take in his aroma. He smells like the rink, more than anything else, but he also smells like fresh honey, the kind that’s way too expensive for what it’s worth since honey never goes bad anyway. And he smells like movie theater popcorn, the over-buttered kind that reeks of preservatives and calories but you’ll happily binge on anyway. You wonder if Jungkook’s the type to save his popcorn until the actual movie starts, or eat half of the tub during the commercials and advertisements at the beginning.

And when his voice is the only thing that your ears register, smooth like silk, it begins to sound like music to you. When he’s not offending you or sending you a biting remark, it sounds gentle. It sounds like a literal song, voice light and airy and filled with laughter.

Perhaps it’s just because so many of your senses have been stripped from you, that the rest of them are heightened. Perhaps this is the only reason why Jungkook’s scent is so prevalent to your nose, why his voice makes your heart dance along to the rhythm of his words.

There could be no other explanation, right?

You finish the course successfully, and then it’s Jungkook’s turn. Hoseok rearranges the path  as you skate over to Jungkook with a grin on your face, the scarf balled up in your hand. He turns around so that you can blindfold him.

“This is kinky,” Jungkook says jokingly, nearly making you keel over with laughter.

“Don’t get too excited, Jeon,” you tease him, warning tone to your voice. “The rink’s locker rooms are terrible places to jack off.”

“You think I don’t know that already?” Jungkook asks pointedly, making you glad he can’t see the wide-eyed expression written all over your face. With his hand holding tight onto yours, you guide him to the beginning of the course.

“Forward for one big glide,” you instruct, again, unsure of the universality of the phrase “one big glide.” Jungkook follows your guide, and is one bad step from falling out of bounds.

“How’s that?” He calls out.

“Good! Turn right a little bit,” you instruct, even though the path leads left. What Jungkook doesn’t know won’t kill him.

He listens to your words like a fool because he is no better than one, happily turning to face the wall. You have to try absurdly hard not to burst into laughter.

“Okay, good, good,” you say, choking down your giggles. “Straight, keep going, keep going, stop!” Jungkook comes to a halt less than a foot away from the edge of the rink, teetering on crashing into the plastic. You don’t know if you want to be kind or evil.

“Am I on the right path?” Jungkook asks?

“Yeah, yeah,” you insist, muffling your laughter. “Straight a little more—!”

Crash!

Jungkook steps back wildly, falling on his ass as the scarf dislodges itself from above his ears, falling into his lap. You’re keeling over, slapping your thigh obscenely as you cackle, the sight of a poor, innocent, blindfolded Jungkook colliding with the wall under your instruction too good to resist. Jungkook stands up in indignation, pouting.

With the scarf in his hand, he points an accusatory finger your way. “This is why we can’t get the landing, Y/N! This is why!”

You’re still giggling, unable to wipe the smirk off your face even as Jungkook comes closer and closer, menacing and peeved yet on the verge of laughter as well. Once he’s close enough, he chucks his scarf your way out of anger, and you catch it before the two of you both burst into hysterics. Even the cold-hearted, self-proclaimed Ice Prince can’t resist a good practical joke here and there.

“You got me good,” Jungkook admits, shaking his head. “I was gonna do that to you, you know. But I didn’t, because I thought it was too mean,” he says, making you muffle down your giggles once more. “Clearly, I was wrong.”

“You snooze you lose, Jeon,” you say wisely.

Namjoon, with his skates on for the first time in a while, joins the two of you on the ice.

“Alright,” he says, clapping his hands together as Hoseok cleans up the path. “Obviously, that didn’t go as planned. But that’s alright, because it’s nice to see the two of you smiling together. It’s a good kind of change,” he declares, disappointed that his trust exercise failed but happy to see that he’s gotten something out of it anyway. “You guys might actually have a shot at gold if you land that ending, you know? You could do it.”

“Let’s get to it, then?” Jungkook says, taking your hand as you skate towards the middle of the rink.

Despite all efforts to improve, you and Jungkook still can’t get the ending.

Maybe another time.

Taehyung comes and visits another one of your practices a week or so later. He’s got four weeks left until his cast comes off and he can get back onto the ice (with discretion, of course), which means three weeks until Nationals, which in turn means three weeks to get this fucking ending down.

He watches happily as the two of you rehearse over and over, each attempt closer than the last to stick the ending and finish with a bang but not close enough, and you almost always end up falling or stumbling or tripping or all three. But each time you turn to look at him, he’s got this gleeful grin on his face, not the least bit discouraged by the fact that you can’t seem to land this damn trick. At least somebody is out here supporting you, even if you don’t know if you can support yourself.

“Ugh, God,” you say, pulling yourself up after having fallen for the nth time so far over these past five weeks.

“Again?” Jungkook supplies, dusting himself off and ignoring the pain that each fall causes to the bruises decorating his legs and arms.

“Again,” you say, nodding tiredly as you join up with him again.

“Wait, wait, before you guys start,” Namjoon’s voice interrupts the two of you as he skates over, handy dandy clipboard under his arm. “Do you guys still want to do this move?”

“What?” You ask, a single eyebrow quirked. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, can you guys still stick with it?” Namjoon asks, genuinely concerned. “Because it’s been five weeks and you haven’t landed it once. I don’t know, I was thinking maybe you guys could come up with an easier lift, one you’ll have less trouble landing. We can’t risk a mistake at Championships.”

“We can do it,” you immediately say, refusing to accept the loser’s way out. This move is your golden ticket to first place. Even if you can’t get it now, you know you’ll be able to later. You swear you will. “I know we can.”

“But you haven’t done it once yet,” Namjoon points out, as if you don’t already know that you’ve never stuck the landing for it. “And Nationals is in three weeks. And I don’t know how much more training you guys will be able to get in before then. If you can’t get it now, who’s to say you’ll be able to get it by then?”

“We can,” you insist. “I swear we can. We’re not going to change up the routine just because we haven’t gotten it yet.” This is your one chance at glory, and you refuse to pass it up.

“Y/N, maybe we should listen to Coach,” Jungkook says hesitantly, following you as you skate back to the ending position, where the lift begins. “If we still haven’t gotten it, maybe we should try a different move—”

“No! We can do it, Coach, I swear. Have some faith in us.” You are persistent, relentless, stubborn. You know Namjoon’s just thinking about what’s best for you and Jungkook and the routine, but you won’t change your mind now. You’ve spent so long trying to do this, and you won’t give up. Hasn’t he noticed? You’re getting closer and closer each time. “Hoseok, hit play.”

Hoseok presses the stereo and the music begins to echo throughout the rink. You and Jungkook skate into the trick, slowly gaining enough speed and momentum so that he can continue to spin while holding you. Step by step, he pulls you into his arms, allows you to stand proudly on his thigh before looping your leg around him to morph into the splits, then hang loosely next to his body as he holds you by nothing but the waist, and then—!

Thud!

Jungkook loses his grip on your waist and the two of you come toppling down once more, his hand behind your head to cushion it from the hard ice. You sigh once more, sitting up together with dejected expressions.

“We can do it,” you insist as Namjoon skates over, saving him the trouble. “I swear, we can.”

“How was practice today?” Taehyung asks, as if he didn’t watch the entire thing, specifically you falling over. And over. And over.

“Fine,” you say gruffly, adjusting your duffel bag so the padding rests on your shoulder. Jungkook had told you that he’d stay back to get in a bit of solo practice, so he’s not walking out at the same time as you.

“You’re really working that reverse-rotational,” Taehyung comments mindlessly, referencing the final lift. “You almost got it.”

“But almost isn’t good enough,” you groan, exhaling heavily. The move will get you down, rest heavily on your already dampened spirits until you can finally execute it perfectly.

“How’s Jungkook?” Taehyung asks, changing the topic.

“I still hate him…” you tell Taehyung tentatively, “but at least he works hard. I think our routine is amazing, save for the part where we mess up at the end and fall into a puddle on the floor.”

“You should do that at Nationals, as part of the routine. People will think you’re mad. It’ll be great,” Taehyung suggests, though you know he’s kidding.

You scoff. “As if.”

“But you and Jungkook, you guys are okay, right?” Taehyung asks hopefully, looking at you with innocent wide eyes.

You turn around before you can exit the skate center, catch a glimpse of Jungkook skating to the beat of the rap music playing lightly through the shitty speakers of the arena. He’s not doing much, just a couple spins here and there, but he is so easily able to move his body in perfect time, capture the essence of the song with his movements. It’s mesmerizing, watching him. You think you might be able to do it forever.

“Yeah,” you say, letting your eyes linger on his figure. “I guess we’re alright.”

Two days before Nationals is the first time that you actually do it without falling, without tripping and flubbing up the rest of your routine and missing the ending pose. Twos days before Nationals, and Namjoon and Hoseok are on the verge of a quarter-life crisis because for weeks on end they’ve watched you try to get the final lift over and over and over, to no avail. They’re almost about to cut it from the routine entirely. But stubbornness has always been one of your most unbearable qualities, and you continue to insist that you can do it.

At this point, Hoseok is just trying to fine-tune any last minute things. Nationals is in two days and if you haven’t fixed it already, there’s no way you’ll be able to fix it before the big day. Now, it’s just him skating around the two of you, telling you to lift your leg higher or don’t forget to dig your toe firmly into the ice or grab onto her waist tighter.

What Hoseok, and Namjoon, and Jungkook, and you, are really worried about? The final lift.

If you haven’t gotten it by now the chances of you getting it at Championships are slim to none, so it’s now or never.

You run the program with ease, the music flowing from the speakers to the ice, up your body and through your bloodstream. You live, sleep, and eat the beat of the song, your heart thumps in time to the rhythm. Thank God you picked a song that you’ll never find yourself getting sick of, or you probably would have pulled a double Vincent Van Gogh by now.

The skills come easily to you now, muscle memory propelling you through the routine without so much as a second thought. Jungkook’s touch is not as foreign as it once was, your hands slowly but surely beginning to feel like they belong interlocked with his, the feeling of his palms finding a constant purchase on your waist no longer unnatural, uncomfortable. He is no Taehyung but he doesn’t need to be, not when this routine wasn’t choreographed for you and Taehyung.

It was made for you and him.

Jeon Jungkook is finally starting to feel less like a replacement and more like a partner. You have spent so much time with him these past eight weeks, more time than with Taehyung (and that’s saying a lot, especially considering the fact that the two of you are best friends), and it’s beginning to feel like he’s been your partner this entire time. That this performance you are about to give in front of thousands of people, professional judges, and live cameras, is one that you’ve been planning for for years instead of weeks. That you have been with Jungkook for years instead of weeks.

You don’t know why, but the feeling that Jungkook is slowly starting to melt into the position you once thought Taehyung had secured forevermore is frightening. It’s telling, too, telling you that you’re getting used to being with Jungkook, that your body no longer finds itself immediately repulsed at his touch. It toys with the thought that maybe, one day, you’ll be working him with permanently. It threatens you with the thought that you won’t want to let him go back to single skating, where he truly outshines every single one of his competitors. That you’ll pray he’ll stay with you, instead.

You easily clear the series of twizzles, spinning around on the ice in perfect synchronization not only with the beat of the music, but with each other. The twizzles are some of the hardest skills to master, especially considering that the placement of your skates has to be perfectly balanced so as to continue propelling yourself forward, and you can do them without batting an eye.

You come together right before the big finale, Jungkook reaching out to grab a hold of your outstretched hand and pulling you close to him. He holds your interlocked hands up high and spins you around as you glide across the ice, gaining momentum for the big lift. He places a hand on your waist and meets your eyes, and his hopeful brown ones mix beautifully with your own right before you jump into the lift.

It’s the curve lift first. Jungkook tugs you up and holds you by the thigh as you stand atop his, careful not to pierce his skin as you balance on him, arms outstretched for show. Then, you loop your legs over his shoulder, around his neck, as he begins to rotate in the opposite direction, beginning the reverse-rotational dismount. Your legs form the splits as he begins to pick up speed, and you swear that even over the heavy thump of the rhythm you can hear his heartbeat racing, hear every pound of the beat.

Or perhaps, that’s your own.

Finally, you loop both legs around him so that he is the only thing holding you close to him, back facing the ice as he holds you by the waist as he continues to rapidly rotate.

It all happens so quickly. The entire lift shouldn’t take more than ten, fifteen seconds maximum. Jungkook spins and he spins and he spins and he does not let go of you, keeps his grip as tight as he can as the two of you meet eyes in the midst of it all, staring at each other with such determination, such fierceness, such intensity. Your faces hover so closely to each other, hardly an inch or two apart, the heat of your exhales fanning out over each other’s skin. You hold your breath as you prepare for the dismount. Jungkook spins you around once more, holding onto your waist as your legs come out to rest underneath you, and you hit the ice with a little skip but nothing more, your toepick catching in the ice just barely as the two of you come to a screeching halt.

You’ve done it. You’ve done it and you haven’t stopped staring into Jungkook’s eyes and he hasn’t let go of your waist and you are both panting, panting, panting.

“I got you,” he promises, breathes into your skin as your foreheads rest against each other’s. It’s not even the ending pose, it’s not even the end of the fucking song, but you’ve landed it and you’ve landed it together and that’s all that matters. That’s what will win you the gold. “I got you, I got you.”

It is intimate. Too intimate for your liking, really. You have never been so close, never felt so much, with Jeon Jungkook. You wonder if he can hear how your heartbeat rings through your ears. You wonder if he can tell that with each touch of his fingertips on your skin, goosebumps pop up and a fire ignites.

You wonder if it’s the same for him, though you doubt it is.

You don’t know how long you stay like that, how long you stare into his eyes until you’re drowning in the chocolate of his irises, the caramel that decorates it. Death by sweetness is not the worst way to go, you decide, when you glance you at his lips, so close to yours. They are so tempting, the way they curve into a smile, but you resist for the sake of professionalism, for the sake of winning.

This is a strictly professional relationship. You are figure skaters, nothing more, nothing less. You are one-time ice dancing partners, nothing more, nothing less.

So then why do you feel like you’re missing something?

Namjoon and Hoseok rush over to you, pulling the four of you into a huge group hug as you celebrate sticking the landing, doing it perfectly.

“I told you!” You cry out, smacking Namjoon in the back. “I told you Coach, I knew we could do it!”

Namjoon nods, conceding. “I should have known that the two of you would have been able to pull it off.”

“You guy did awesome today,” Hoseok says as the four of you skate towards the exist. “Practice dismissed. Nationals in two days!” He says giddily, shooting you a thumbs up as you and Jungkook exit the rink, pulling your skate guards on before heading towards the locker rooms.

“Congrats, you guys,” Namjoon says, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him so elated. “I can’t believe that you’re so close to national fame. You’re gonna kick ass at Nationals, you know that? You’re gonna knock everyone’s socks off, blow their houses down.”

You smile, nothing more than wholly and completely relieved. Even though this is only the first time you’ve landed it, it feels like a weight has been lifted off of your shoulders, like you can finally breathe again.

“Light practice tomorrow, alright? I just wanna see that ending again, just in case I had been imagining it,” Namjoon asks of the two of you, and you nod happily in return. You never thought you’d be so excited to run through the final lift.

On the way back, you try to keep your distance from Jungkook, the mere thought of being any closer to him sending nerves shooting through your brain, sending shivers down your spine. All that you see every time you blink are his wide eyes, staring back at you, searching for something behind the haze.

“You did a good job today,” Jungkook says mindlessly, and oh God, the conversation has resorted back to ice breakers and small talk.

“Thanks,” you say softly. “You too.”

“What did you think of the lift?” He asks, clearly making a desperate attempt for you to just make eye contact with him, but you will yourself to avoid his piercing gaze. You stay silent for a while, the only sound near you the padding of your skate guards against the arena floor.

“It was good,” you comment quickly, gently, nodding your head slightly.

“It was our best one yet,” Jungkook says, continuing. It’s obvious that all he wants is for you to look at him, and you cannot even offer him that. “I’m telling you—” he says, and even though you are listening to him you wonder if he thinks that you aren’t.

You highly doubt that. Jungkook knows you too well to know when you’re not paying attention to him.

“—if we do it like that at Nationals, we’re guaranteed gold, don’t you think?”

You shrug unhelpfully.

He stops, causing you to do the same on instinct. Before you can turn away from him, he grabs onto your wrist, keeps your feet planted firmly on the ground and forces you to look him in the eyes. He looks so desperate like this.

“You just need to trust me, Y/N,” Jungkook says, gazing into your eyes and hopelessly searching for a response that is deeper than words alone. “Do you trust me?”

You’re scared that if you spend too much time looking into his eyes, you’ll drown in them. Without another word, you pull away from him, running into the locker rooms and not coming out until you’re sure he’s gone.

When you were little, just starting out as a junior skater, you would watch the televised championships broadcasted on your little box cable television in your living room, always turning around to tell your mother than one day, you’d be there.

Oh, how the times have changed.

You walk into the rink for practice before the big day, duffel bag resting carefully on your shoulder, and you feel the breath leave your lungs. You had only ever dreamed about being here, about standing on that rink and skating out in a national competition, but now you are here, and you will skate in a national competition, and it feels so surreal and overwhelming and you can feel your heart pounding and your mind racing.

Maybe it’s just the feeling of being here, of being so close to living out your dream, only a few more steps away. Or maybe it’s the feeling of being here with Jungkook, being on the verge of victory with him by your side. Both thoughts terrify you equally, though you find that when you think of Jungkook, instead of your heart racing, it stops.

Outside of practice, the two of you have not spoken since the day you conquered the lift, executed it nearly flawlessly with his hands on your waist and your lips hovering above his. During practice, the two of you hardly speak at all, only a few words exchanged here or there discussing the routine.

It’s strange. Two months ago you were hoping and praying that for rest of your time spent together, you would verbally interact with Jungkook as little as possible, and yet here you are, wishing you could do more than just avoid each other. It’s easy to see that something’s changed but it’s difficult to discern why, to sift through the practices and the programs and fake dates and look for something deeper. Maybe Jungkook really has always been like this, cold, aloof, distant, but after getting to know him so closely, so intimately over the past several weeks, you find that hard to believe anymore.

What should be more concerning to you than whatever peculiar relationship you currently share with Jungkook, you realize, is the fact that ever since your last practice back at your home rink, the scent familiar and warm and the scenery comforting, you have not landed the final lift.

In fact, it’s as if you’ve gone right back to square one, with you and Jungkook inevitably doing something wrong on that last turn, the final rotation before he puts you down and you skate into the finale. There’s something that’s changed, a reason why suddenly you’re not getting a lift you thought you had finally mastered, and not only is it stressing you and Jungkook out, it’s sending major panic waves to your coaches, who look like they are in a constant state of absolute crisis.

“Again,” Hoseok orders from where he leans against the edge of the rink, watching the two of you rehearse the move over and over.

You groan, stretching and cracking the bones at the bottom of your back, the muscles tight from so many contorted positions. You’ve lost track of how many times you’ve repeated it, attempting to land the lift to no avail. Turning your head, you look towards Jungkook, who is already skating back to the starting position with a solemn expression on his face, one of serious concentration and nothing else. He looks so different like this, empty and hollow. The life in his blood has drained out, leaving nothing but dust in its place.

You skate over to him, lining your feet up exactly so you can gain momentum with a couple of loops and diagonals before he is able to maintain the speed throughout the trick. With his hands placed gently on your waist, they no longer feel the way they used to. There’s something missing, something you cannot quite pinpoint, not even as Jungkook pulls you up onto his thigh and the stunt begins.

As per usual, everything goes swimmingly up until the last part, with your back facing the ice, your arms stretched out like an acrobat as he holds onto your waist and nothing else. When he pulls you back up for you to land safely, there is always a stumble, a trip, and then a fall, and the two of you come tumbling down within another second.

Ignoring the looks from the other skaters, the two of you get up and make your way back to Hoseok, who has been rubbing at his temples in worry the entire time. You don’t even want to think about what Namjoon is doing, who told the three of you that he would be going to the bathroom fifteen minutes ago. The poor guy might actually lose his mind.

“Want us to run it again?” Jungkook asks, an eyebrow raised in inquiry. He’s already beginning to turn around to go back to the designated spot.

“No, no,” Hoseok says, shaking his head. “You guys have run it enough. No point in trying any longer.”

“Coach,” you say, expression falling. Is he just giving up on you? Is that what this has come to?

“Really, I know you guys can do it. It’s too late to cut it out of the routine, anyway, so we shouldn’t even bother,” Hoseok insists, hand coming down from his forehead to grip the railing that surrounds the rink. “You’re probably really tired, too. You should get some rest before the competition tomorrow, since you’re gonna be putting all of your effort into it.”

“Coach, what’s wrong?” You ask, scurrying over to the exit to the ice rink, tugging on your skate guards and walking over. You’re only aware that Jungkook is following you because you can hear the distinct click of his guards being attached to his blades.

Hoseok takes a deep breath, exhaling the same way. He sits down on the bench nearby, closing his eyes and tilting his head back. You sit down next to him, concerned. What if you being able to do the trick the entire time was just a fluke? Dumb luck? What if you really cannot do it, and you fall in front of thousands of people and professional judges and live cameras tomorrow, kissing your gold goodbye?

Is it your fault? Are you doing something wrong?

Or is it Jungkook?

You cannot believe you are resorting to pointing fingers and placing blame, just like you had a month ago. You thought you had moved on from that, but the stress is getting to your brain and nerves jitter throughout your body and you don’t know how to stop them. You’ve been shaking for three days straight.

“Nothing,” Hoseok tells you, but you both know he’s lying. “I’m just… understandably worried about tomorrow. You know, because.”

“Is there anything we can do?” You ask.

Hoseok chuckles. “Yeah, land the lift tomorrow.”

You force a smile, looking up to Jungkook as he stands beside the bench, gazing out towards the rink with his arms crossed over his chest. You don’t know if you can muster up the courage to talk to him.

It’s like day one, all over again.

“We’re gonna try our hardest, right Jungkook?” You say, the sound of his name as it leaves your lips snapping him out of his trance. He turns to you with wide eyes, brown and big and beautiful, before shifting his view to Hoseok and nodding.

“We got this, Coach,” he says, that signature cocky lilt peeking in through each syllable. “We’re gonna fucking nail it tomorrow, nobody out there is gonna know what hit them.”

Though Hoseok looks hardly convinced, he cracks a grin nonetheless, getting up with a heave and bidding the two of you good luck, dismissing you from your final practice together.

It feels weird. The thought of this being your final practice before competition, your first and last one together. And then, Taehyung’s leg will have healed and he will be free to skate again, with some caution, of course. And Jungkook will go back to ruling the men’s single skate, collecting medals by the dozen, and he will forget all about the time he got dragged into ice dancing with a girl he barely knew.

You almost don’t want to leave, want to savor the moment for as long as you can before it disintegrates in your hands. Over the past two months, dare you say, Jeon Jungkook has become something of a friend. He has become someone you find yourself blindly trusting, someone you’ll put all of your faith into even if in the end he will steer you wrong. He has become someone you don’t want to forget, but someone you know you should. After all, this is a one time thing. When you return home from competition, with potential gold medals hanging proudly from your necks, you will part ways.

The next day, you will walk in with Taehyung by your side and begin to prep for next season, learning the new skills Namjoon will teach you and mastering the choreography Hoseok will create. And you will spot Jungkook at another rink, skating alone to music playing from his wireless headphones. He will come to a stop at the same time as you, and you will meet eyes and wonder what might have happened if he stayed.

And everything will go back to normal.

You begin to walk from the arena, making your way to the hotel across the street to settle in for the night and prepare for tomorrow. There’s a sheet mask with your name written all over it waiting in the bathroom in your room, and you want nothing more than to sink into a hot bath and cover your face in skincare products.

“See you tomorrow?” Jungkook asks casually once you’ve gotten to the door to your room. His room is just across from yours. His tone is nonchalant, distant. His words feel like an obligation, rather than a choice.

Just like the ice dancing.

You nod, hand on the doorknob as you begin to turn your back to him to head inside. “See you tomorrow.”

You make your way inside, shutting the door behind you quickly and peering through the peephole. Jungkook waits outside his door for a little bit, staring straight at yours for a moment too long before shaking his head slightly and retreating to his room himself. You wonder what he’s thinking, what’s going on in his mind.

Before long, all thoughts of Jungkook are forgotten as you collapse in your bathtub, letting the water wash over you like waves pulling you away from the shore.

Your entire life thus far has been preparing you for this one day, you decide as you stand in the sidelines, watching the other skaters glide gracefully across the ice as warm-ups. You and Jungkook are the last ones to go on for the free skate (having acquired the highest short dance score, thank God), meaning you will in turn be the last ones to warm up for it.

As Jungkook is adjusting the tights wrapped around his legs, Taehyung pulls you aside. He had accompanied your little herd to Nationals, quoting “moral support” as his reasoning for being there. Namjoon and Hoseok are too soft for him to reject him, so here he is.

“Y/N,” Taehyung says, and the serious tone tells you that he’s not about to tell you some lame joke about one of the other figure skaters.

“What?” You ask, glancing up at the digital clock floating along the rim of the seats.

“You haven’t been getting the lift with Jungkook,” Taehyung points out, and you are suddenly reminded that throughout all of the practices you have had so far at Nationals, he’s been watching every single one. Taehyung knows you better than anyone else, like the back of his hand, and he can typically tell when something is going wrong. “Coach Namjoon said you had been getting it a ton back home… what’s happened?”

“Not you,” you say with a groan, tilting your head back in exasperation. It seems that everyone around you is concerned with the lift and nothing else, each word placing another pound of pressure atop your shoulders. “Yes, we haven’t been getting it recently. Why?”

“Because you’ve gotten it before,” Taehyung says, “and I don’t understand what’s changed.”

Neither do you. “Nothing’s changed,” you spit quickly, already regretting how bitter the words sound as they leave your mouth.

“Why are you so stiff?” Taehyung asks, getting progressively more concerned. “You’re never like this before comps.”

You scoff. “I’m not stiff.”

Taehyung tuts. “You’re so stubborn sometimes. Look at you,” he says, motioning down to you. You’re tapping your guarded skate incessantly on the arena floor, your eyebrows are on a constant state of knitted together, and your arms are crossed tightly over your chest, wrists itchy from all of the glitter on your costume. “You’re all tense. Want me to massage you?”

Only Taehyung would offer a massage to you while in a cast, balancing on crutches. “I don’t need a massage, Taehyung.”

“Is it Jungkook?”

His name catches you off guard, as it so often does these days. “What?”

Taehyung leans in closer. “Is he making you feel this way?”

You’re rendered speechless. “I…”

Taehyung looks at you gently, searching in your eyes for an answer he knows you won’t give him outright. “If he’s giving you a hard time, just say something, Y/N.”

“That’s the thing,” you find yourself whispering, so quiet you can barely hear yourself over the thumping of your heart.

“What?” Taehyung asks, thoroughly confused with where you’re going with this.

“I don’t…” You begin hesitantly, hoping and praying that he isn’t listening in. “I don’t know how I feel about him, alright?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I can’t figure it out,” you say, and this might be the most honest you’ve been with yourself in a long while. “I just…”

“Do you like him?” Taehyung asks, finally beginning to connect the dots together in his mind. He’s got a little smile on his face, a knowing one that already tells you everything.

“I don’t know!” You respond, raising your voice out of pure stress. All of these questions are slowly driving you mad. All you want are answers, concrete things to feel and see and touch, but the thought of Jungkook is none of those things, and you find yourself left with nothing but more questions.

“Y/N,” Taehyung says softly. “Seriously, you don’t need to be so scared if you do like him.” He says, reaching out a soothing hand to rest on your upper arm. The touch makes you shiver, but maybe you’ve just been so deprived of human touch recently that everything feels foreign.

“I’m not scared,” you say sharply.

Taehyung frowns. “You look terrified.”

You make absolutely no attempt to mask what is definitely a frightened expression on your face. All you say is, “I’m not scared! I’m just…” you trail off, at a loss for words. “I don’t know what I am, Tae.”

Taehyung beams, seemingly having an answer to every single one of your questions. Maybe this is what he’s been doing these past few weeks he’s spent not skating, falling in love with that guy named Jimin and suddenly becoming the Local Love Expert, guiding you with a hand on your back. “You’re a talented ice dancer who may or may not be in love with her partner but it doesn’t matter because you’re gonna kick ass either way,” he promises proudly.

You crack a smile, perhaps out of desperation, perhaps out of relief.

“Taehyung,” you say, voice pleading. “What do I do…”

Taehyung holds both of your hands in his, looking intently into your eyes with the determination of a man about to go off to war. “You go out there and put all of your trust in Jungkook and give the best damn show of your life, that’s what.”

“Taehyung…”

“If you’re worried about Jungkook, Y/N, don’t be,” he promises softly, and you finally turn your head to Jungkook as he begins to walk towards the ice rink to warm up for your performance. He’s covered in sparkles from head to toe but his eyes glitter the brightest. “Have you even seen him? He treats you like a snowflake. Like one wrong move, and he’ll lose you forever.”

When the time comes for you and Jungkook to close out the show with your program, you find that the nerves in your body have been replaced by an overwhelming sense of dread, instead.

You dread the way he will put his hands on your waist or your cheek or your neck and the way you will melt into his touch, caving into the feeling. You dread the final lift, the one that not only the gold medal, but any medal is riding on. You dread the conclusion to your performance, when the crowd will cheer for a couple that is nothing more than a farce, a one-time deal, and you will pretend that it will be like this forever. You dread the feeling of nervous anticipation at the end, where you will be anxiously waiting for your score. You dread the arrival of tomorrow, when Jungkook will slip between your fingertips before you even get a chance to say goodbye.

Jeon Jungkook can promise you nothing more than what will happen in the next four minutes, whether it be good or bad, and while that sinking feeling in your chest tells you that it isn’t enough, your heart is willing to take it.

You meet up with Jungkook right at the entrance to the rink. He looks at you with a determination in his eyes and spunk in his wild smile, and you think that out of all of the Jungkooks you know, this one is your favorite. He takes your hand in his, holds it securely in his grip with a refusal to let you go, and the two of you skate onto the ice to cheers.

After doing a half a lap each, the two of you join in the center of the rink. You line up in the post Hoseok had instructed you so carefully to do, take in a deep breath, and the music begins.

Muscle memory, at this point, is what keeps your racing heart from thumping right out of your chest. You have rehearsed this routine so many times that it is practically engraved on the inside of your eyelids, embedded in your bloodstream.

Muscle memory is also what keeps you from thinking about Jungkook for too long, from thinking about the way he holds onto you like you’ll fly away if he lets go, the way he refuses to stop staring into your eyes as you glide across the ice like swans. Hoseok had choreographed your new routine with the intention of taking the anger you once felt towards him and turning it into passion. But now, instead of anger is something softer, something more delicate. But Jungkook refuses to give in, the fire igniting in his eyes with every turn he makes, and you realize that passion is what will give you the score. Love is what will give you the medal.

You skate along with ease, feeling the way you melt under his hot touch but doing nothing to stop it, not as he leads you through the first lift to a chorus of applause and hoots from the crowd. When you separate for the first series of twizzles, though you no longer feel his touch, the ghost of his fingertips dance along your skin, sending a lightning bolt to your heart as you spin in synchronization.

You wonder what you must look like to an outsider, right now. What the people watching see. Do they see a pair of ice dancers, shredding up the rink as they attempt to get the gold? Or do they see something more? Do they see the devotion in your eyes, the dedication you have for the sport? Or do they see the way your eyes never leave Jungkook’s, not unless they absolutely must. The way you lean into his touch despite it ruining your perfectly straight form. Can they see that, as well?

With the second lift successfully cleared, you begin to gain a little more confidence. There’s less than a minute left in your routine and you still have the last lift to go, the most comprehensive of them all. But even as the seconds tick down it feels like time stretches out, like you’ve been skating with Jungkook for years and this is just a measly four minutes, but it is so much more than that.

As you approach the final lift, your speed the only thing propelling you into his arms, time stops. It freezes entirely, leaves the two of you zooming forwards as it comes to a halt. Your surroundings seem to blur when he puts his hands on you, pulls you up onto his thigh for the first part of the lift. They turn to white in the second part, and suddenly Jungkook is the only thing you can focus on, the only thing you can think of. All that flashes through your mind as you loop yourself into the final hold is his name, Jungkook, Jungkook, Jungkook. He is the only thing on your mind. He is the only person who has your heart.

And you land, blades falling firmly onto the ice as you spin outwards, not a single stumble in sight.

The crowd suddenly reappears, and around you the setting becomes clear as day. The cheers are deafening but you can hardly hear them, not as you make eye contact with him and he smiles, grins, beams. Just in time with the music, the program ends with the two of you holding each other close, his arms wrapped around your waist and your palms holding his cheeks, foreheads resting against each other.

Perhaps you can make out Namjoon and Hoseok shouting from the sidelines, Taehyung yelling from his spot on the benches nearby, but all you can feel is Jungkook’s hot breath fanning out over your skin, and the warmth of his body as he tugs you in tightly.

Finally, after what feels like a million years too short, you part, nothing but the biggest and brightest smiles breaking out onto your faces. Customary to the tradition, you both bow to the audience, holding each other’s hands as you thank them, turning in each direction so as not to miss a single person.

He lets go of your hand so that you may begin to skate around yourselves, waving to the cheering audience. You skate around each other, getting every part of the arena. You look down into the sidelines and see Namjoon and Hoseok shouting for you, pumping their firsts up in the air. Your vision’s never been the greatest, but is that Namjoon crying?

When you turn back, you see Jungkook skating around as the audience showers the rink in roses and other celebratory flowers. He beams with the light of a thousand suns, and you wonder if you stare at him for too long, if you’ll go blind. And then you decide that even so, falling in love with him isn’t so bad.

After the applause dies down, you and Jungkook skate back to the exit, where Namjoon is happily holding your skate guards as he waits for you. As you step onto the pavement, he pulls you both in for a bone-crushing hug, words muffled from how excited he is.

“You did it!” Hoseok says as he comes bounding over, giving you a high-five that’s definitely going to sting for a while. “I’m so proud of you guys! I knew you wouldn’t let me down!”

You and Jungkook are both equally terrible at responding to compliments, and the feeling of them coming in by the dozen overwhelms you slightly. But, before you can walk over to the platform to receive your scores, you feel someone wrapping their arms around your torso.

“You just fucking murdered everyone!” Taehyung shouts, loud enough for the other couples to hear as they pass by you. “We’re all deceased! All of us!”

You laugh, pulling in Taehyung for the biggest one-legged hug you’ve ever received. When you part, he grins.

“I never thought I’d say this, but I’m so fucking glad I broke my leg,” Taehyung tells you, and the comment both horrifies you and flatters you.

Not a moment after, Namjoon is patting your back and motioning for you to join him and Jungkook on the bench at the platform where you will receive your scores, find out if you’ve won gold. You scurry over, taking a soft seat next to Jungkook as his hands instinctively come to grab onto yours, holding them tight as you look up at the scoreboard.

What happens next is mostly a blur.

You can only catch a quick glimpse of your names, being moved up to first place, before you hear Namjoon shout as he pumps his fist in the air. Suddenly, you feel Jungkook wrapping himself around you, pulling you in for the tightest hug of your life as tears suddenly begin to well up in your eyes. It all feels like it’s happening in slow-motion, like your life is a movie and this is the part where all of the music and dialogue cut out and there is nothing left but slow-motion film.

And then, Jungkook’s palms are on your cheeks and he meets your eyes with his crescent ones, and he kisses you.

In front of thousands of people, on national television, he kisses you. And you’ll be damned if you don’t kiss back. The audience erupts into cheers yet again, but you drown them out with the feeling of his lips on yours. He is warm and bright and wonderful, and his lips are as soft and as sweet as you had hoped. Jungkook kisses you on national television, in front of skaters, judges, audience members, and you feel like the world has stopped but you keep going. You feel like you’re floating off into space, and the stars are beautiful but so is Jungkook.

You part, heavy breaths and heaving chests, before Jungkook tugs you up from where you were seated on the bench so that you can wave once more. Not only are you gold-medalists in a national competition, but you are also lovers.

Though perhaps, you always have been.

(Later, at the medal ceremony, you and Jungkook are standing high on the top of the podium, unable to hold back your smiles. With bouquets in your hands and medals around your necks, you turn to Jungkook and he squeezes your hand tightly in response, and you feel like you can conquer the world.)

On the way back to the hotel room, the adrenaline rush slowly filtering out of your system with each passing second, you glance down to your interlocked hands and wonder aloud: “When did you realize you loved me?”

Jungkook seems caught off guard, pausing in the lobby of your posh hotel as he begins to think. You turn to face him, looking at him with curiosity lacing your features.

“I know,” he says, as if he’s just had a mental contemplation with himself to discern the moment in its entirety. “When we were doing that trust exercise, and you crashed me into the wall.”

“That was when you fell in love with me?” You ask in shock, mouth dropped open.

“Well, no, not really,” Jungkook reasons carefully. “I think I had fallen in love with you a while before then. But then, when I pulled off the scarf and saw you keeling over with laughter, I realized it.”

You hum, nodding at his response as you begin to slowly but surely make your way to the elevators. Ever since the win, it seems that time has just gotten progressively slower, like it’s beginning to cater to all of the lost time you and Jungkook share.

“What about you, hmm? When did you fall in love with me?” He asks cheekily, nudging your arm gently as he pushes the up button on the wall.

“Did I fall in love with you?” You jokingly say, furrowing your brows as you pretend to debate the topic. Jungkook pouts, and his face is just too cute to resist. “I fell in love with you the first time we had gotten on the ice together. Namjoon made us skate laps while holding each other’s hands, and while my mind didn’t initially register it, my heart realized that you were the person I had been waiting for.”

Jungkook grins at your answer, leaning down to nuzzle your nose gently with his own. The elevator door opens beside you, the familiar ding echoing throughout the end of the hallway.  Jungkook smiles, pulling you into compact space and pressing you against the wall as you gasp in surprise. Right as the doors close, he leans in close, his lips dancing over yours.

You lose track of time when you’re with Jungkook. The last thing you can remember is him tugging you out of the elevator once it reached your floor, your collarbones and neck already beginning to blossom with bruises—and not from falling on the ice—and pulling you into his hotel room, shutting the door behind you.

All that’s on your mind, all that is ever on your mind, is Jungkook. The softness of his hair as your fingers entangle themselves in it, tugging on the strands to pull him impossibly closer. The crinkles by his eyes when he smiles as he leans into you, soft pink lips grazing your own, teasing you. The curve of his body, the way you fit so snugly next to it, like two pieces of a puzzle meant to complete each other. He is the final piece of your missing puzzle, the piece you had always thought you’d lost, the one you almost give up on. That is Jungkook in every sense of the word, every electrifying feeling he leaves in a path of fire down your skin.

You kiss. For hours on end, you kiss, unable to get enough of the taste of each other, the feel of your bodies pressed together not in a lustful way, but in a loving way. You sit on his bed for hours and you just kiss, pressing your lips together and refusing to part. He is the air that you breathe.

It’s 2AM when something is finally done.

Namjoon, key card in hand, roughly and abruptly opens the door to his room, knowing fully well what the two of you are doing in there. You part like deer caught in the headlights, jumping back from each other even though it’s only Namjoon, but he’s seen you kiss enough today.

“Alright, out, Y/N,” he orders, much to you and Jungkook’s dismay. He pouts as you stand up, reaching an arm out to touch you a final time. “Stop canoodling.”

“Don’t leave me,” Jungkook begs.

Namjoon rolls his eyes. “You’re gonna see her in like, five hours. Calm down, Jeon,” he says, sighing as you make your way to your own room, still hazy from the high, drunk off of his touch. “You can canoodle whenever. You’re together now, aren’t you?”

Taehyung gets his cast off and by the next day, he’s back on the ice despite all warnings from his doctor to Not Do That. You tell him to listen to his physician and lay off the intense physical exercise for a while, considering the bone just healed, but Taehyung insists otherwise.

He’s not your partner anymore, for ice dancing. Obviously, he is not your partner, not when every day you walk in five minutes late to practice with Jungkook on your arm and a coffee mug in your hand. Your noses are always frostbitten from the cold, and you’re always smiling. Namjoon’s learned to accept it, especially since you’re his best ice dancing duo anyway. Taehyung had walked in the day after Nationals, took one look at the two of you, and happily gave up his position as your partner.

His reasoning? “You finally have a refutable love life, Y/N. I’m not gonna fuck that up.”

He’s a single skater now, and Hoseok says he is doing remarkably well for someone who has spent his entire ice skating career thus far relying on another person to do half of the work.

By now, everyone in the country knows who you are. Besides being the reigning national champions, apparently your relationship is just super adorable to a majority of the population, everyone obsessing over how #relationshipgoals you constantly are as you make too many posts about each other on your Instagrams and spend fifteen minutes during interviews talking about what you love about the other person. It seems, to the public at least, that the two of you simply cannot get enough of each other, and while that’s not necessarily true, it’s pretty obvious how infatuated you are with each other.

But hey, nobody’s complaining.

One question you find yourselves getting a lot, with each TV interview and radio show you do, is how you ended up meeting, especially since Jungkook had previously been a solo skater and you had been working with Taehyung. And each time, Jungkook shares a knowing smile with you, one that makes your heart burst into song, and he says, “Well, it all started with a broken leg…”

⇒ hmu with feedback or just talk to me here!

⇒ check out the post-script drabble here!

#sfwbangtan #bangtan bookclub #bangtanwriters-net #bts writing squad #jungkook fluff #bts fluff #jungkook oneshot #bts oneshot #jungkook scenario #bts scenarios #jungkook au #bts au #bts enemies to lovers #w: ice prince #I STILL CANNOT BELEIVE I WROTE LIKE 22K IN FOUR DAYS #HOW !! HOW DID I DO THAT #THIS AINT HAPPENING AGAIN I CAN ALREADY TELL U

[constellations-and-energy]

The first pic is Vodníc by Josef Lada and the second is Vodyanoy by unknown author🐸

So, as I promised, I'm here with the Slavic mythology! Today I will be talking about vodyanoy! Or vodník, in my language. In German it is hastrman! First I will talk about how my culture sees those creatures,because those are much less creepy than for example how the russians see them. Vodyanoys are generally a water male spirits, living in all freshwaterers - rivers, streams, lakes, ponds. In czech republic,my country, they are said to be old men with long green beard, and long green hair!(1)

They are called 'Vodníci(plural)' or 'vodník(singular). They have gills, they smoke wooden pipes and are also much friendlier and much more human like than Vodyanoys, which I will talk about in a second. Both of the interpretations of this water spirit can never dry, otherwise they would die! Vodníci have long coat, which always drips water, and they are dressed into red and/or green. They live underwater and keep the souls of their victims in cups, which if it gets open, the soul escapes as(2)

(3) Sorry I forgot abt this function xD

An air bubble. To drown their victims, they use different techniques, depending on the gender of their victims. For women, they tie colorful bows around their body of water, leading the unknowing girl closer and closer, and then he grabs her and drowns her. Or he does a similiar thing with river pearls, I think. Haven’t found anything about that on the net but I think at least in my folklore that is true. For men, if they let their horses go swimming, the Vodník turns into a horse, blends in with the rest and if the man sits on him, ge quickly gallops into the water where he turns back into his true form, and drowns him. For kids, if they go swimming, he just grabs their legs and pulls them underwater. As time went by and the folklore chamged, they became much more friendlier, so much they were even said to go to local inns, dring ale with the men and tell stories to children! They also like to sit on willows under the Moon, sing and sew any holes on their coats. Or they like to live in watermills, and depending on the relationship with the owner of said watermill, he either helps with creating fluor by helping the mill-wheel move faster or demages the wheel and ruins the flour.

Now, let’s look onto the creepier side of these creatures, the russian Vodyanoys. They are similliar, althrough they are said to appear as naked old men with frog-like face (ew) with algae growing all aver them, muck and black fish scales as well. Sometimes they are even said to have a black fish tail. As I said, creepy as fuck. Just google those idiots up. Scary They have similiar drowning methods, but this one is much more agressive. Anyone bathing after the sunset, at midday or on a holy day gets drowned! If they get upset, they damage watermills or any building close to the water.  Sometimes, when they get bored of drowning people, they will just drag them down underwater into their kingdom and make them slaves for eternity. I’d much reather get drowned, thank you.

That should be it! I will share a pic of bith of these versions, just so you see the difference better xD Hope this covers all the info, I will send offering ideas and stuff once I will have more personal experiences with them!  Blessed be~!🐸

#oh wow this is so cool!! #please don't bless me though! #but SEND MORE AS YOU LEARN #this is awesome stuff! #submission

[cultofthepigeon]

Connor glanced between the cup of coffee in his hand and the back of Reeds head in a way that might convey he was confused or nervous if Hank didnt know any better. "Lieutenant, I'm not sure that-" Connor began, cut off too quickly to get the full query out. "Look, you bucket o' bolts, either do it or don't, I don't have time for this shit," Hank stated gruffly, crossing his arms and leaning back against the counter. Though he was trying, he couldn't quite hide the mirth twinkling in his eyes. 1

"I'm not sure I understand. It isn't empty, lieutenant." Hank sighs wearily, reaching up to rub one of his brows before crossing his arms again. "Just do it already, Connor, for fucks sake." The androids brows furrow, the LED cycling yellow for a few moments, before finally clipping back to the calm, serene blue it usually was. The little light really was rather useful, Hank decided:He could tell what Connors choice of action would be almost before the android did. 2

Maybe that was wishful thinking on Hanks part, though. Hmm. He's brought out of his train of thought by the soft sound of Connor clearing his throat- Was that normal for androids? "This bitch is empty," Connor says, obviously a bit confused, bith at himself and at what he was about to do. Hanks heart jumps in his chest, and he straightens up from his slouched position, grinning like a loon. 3

He wishes he had thought to grab his phone, but he could barely figure out how the damn thing worked, and besides, how could he have known Connor would take the bait? It's almost as if He's watching a movie in slow motion- Reed going stiff in recognition, shoulders bristling as he turns back around from where he was walking away from Connor, the cup soaring through the air and somehow only spilling some of its contents on its fateful way to the bigots face, Connors impassive and rather innocent4 

 This must be the best day of his life. Suddenly, everything snaps back into its regular speed. Unfortunately, he doesn't see the hit: He's much too busy slapping at the wall, bent over at the waist, tears streaming down his face as he gasps for air. Hank? Laughing? Connor must have done something right.

ANON I DONT KNOW WHAT PROMPTED THIS BUT BLESS YOU    

#dbh #Anonymous

[spacyparker]

Unborn

MASTERLIST - PROMPT LIST

Request : “If you’re still taking requests could you do 27 and 33 with Tom?”

   + “Hey can you do a fic with #5 and #10 from your prompt list where Tom is the reader’s hubby and away on a press tour or something and she realized that she’s pregnant so she starts wearing his shirts he left bc she doesn’t was the media to find out before him?“ @karamelblobber 

+ “ooh prompt 10 with Tom?“

»  “Does he know about the baby ?“

»  “You’re paying a small price compared with what she’s going through.”

»  "Is that my shirt?“

Characters : Tom Holland x reader

Word count : 1.9k

A/N : I know one of the prompts is missing but its only because I will put it in part 2 (if you guys want one I mean ???). This is my longer imagine so far and it’s 1:00am and I’m tired so sorry if that’s kind of shit ! I hope you like it though !!! Don’t hesitate to send me asks or come talk to me, requests are still open. THANKS LOVE YOU

Keeping a secret was hard for you, especially when you were the only one knowing it, not having anyone to talk with about it. The more the days passed, the more you were desperate. And also the more your secret was becoming visible. You were expecting a baby, and it weight heavily on your cosncience. Hiding it to Tom was really hard, he had the right to know since he obviously was the father, but it just always felt like the wrong time to finally spill it. He was away for a couple of months now and you promised yourself you'd wait him to come back to you to tell him the great news.

You took a deep breathe before opening the front door. Going outside was always such a hard thing, you were always worried about what the paparazzi would get on their photos, a gust of wind and a good angle and your baby bump would be exposed in a few seconds. That's why you wore Tom's shirts since few weeks, it was large enough to not reveal your new curves. If he heard the news from magazines and not you, you didn't know how he would react. You knew it would be some sort of treason.

Paps' flashes were focused on you and you could barely see the way to your car. You tried your best not to put your hand on your belly, it was a reflex you started having since you knew you were pregnant, but doing it in front of these vultures was breaking your cover. You made it to your car, hoping none of the paparazzi got a revealing photo. Then you went to work all stressed as always.

Few hours after you came home from your day, ready to go to sleep and wrapped in your sheets, the reason of your stress called you on Skype. Tom's face appeared on the screen and you immediately smiled knowing it was hard for him to take time for you during his press tour.

“Hello darling.” He smiled at you and directly his dark circles became more visible. Your heart broke seeing him so tired, but his morning voice gave you goosebumps and the only thing you wanted was to wrap him in your arms to take a nap. “I thought I could say hi since I have few minutes before going back to work. How was your day, love ?”

You two were married for few months now, and you'd still blush each time he'd give you cute nicknames. “I worked all day, nothing interesting. Tell me about your days, they might be so much more exciting than mine.”

You saw Tom shrugged, his eyes focused on his screen seemed to read something. “Yes, I love learning about new cultures, but I hate that you're not here to learn with me.” You were going to respond but he cut you before you could. “Is that my shirt ?”

You instantly frowned. “Uhm, sorry what ?”

“There are pictures of you leaving the house. You look stunning but I look better in this shirt, sorry not sorry babe.” He giggled. Actually, his heart was warmed up by the fact you were wearing his stuff. He wasn't used to it, you only wore his clothes as pajamas, when no one was looking at you but him. Seeing you out in his shirt made him proud, and he was glad you did so. People wouldn't forget you were his.

You blushed, forced to lie. Well, it wasn't all a lie, because you felt that way, there were just some parts of the truth hidden in what you told him. “I've been missing you so much I wanted to have your smell wherever I'd go...”

Tom suddenly pouted. “Give me my shirt back you thief.” He joked. “The world needs to see how better I wear it.”

You laughed at him being such a little dork. You loved him, especially when he was starting to act like that. He seemed so vulnerable and childish. The man you fell in love with. “I love you even if you think you're better than me.” You admitted.

“I love you too. And... I already need to go. I'm glad I saw your face, darling. Can't wait to come back home !” He sent you kissed, and after new “I love you”s he hung up.

The day after, you took a deep breathe before opening the door. It was for sure a daily routine you couldn't wait to end. But now wasn't the time. Not having to go to work today, you decided to go on your yoga class. You joined the club few weeks ago, thinking you were stressing too much and knowing it wasn't good for the baby. When you'd found this class specialized for pregnant women, you didn't hesitate.

This lessons helped you very much, and if you could you'd go every day. You felt good there, not thinking about the reactions of everyone when they'd find out, plus you made some friends, which you were lacking of lately. Every woman was inspiring, with their own stories. It was really supportive to meet them once a week. You couldn't handle alone all of the stress you were getting from being pregnant, always asking yourself when to tell Tom since you didn't want him to worry about you and the baby while he was away. Anyways having a baby was the next step of your relation, you both never seriously talked about this before, you just jnew Tom wanted some kids, it wasn't surprising since he was from a happy loving big family. It was just that you were still young, he was always travelling for his work and you weren't sure you could take care of thebaby all by yourself.

You took care of keeping your secret in front of the paparazzi and reached your yoga class, saying hello to your friends and already feeling relaxed just by being there. 2 hours after you were home again, searching baby stuff on your laptop.

A Holland was on your screen again, but this time it was Nikki on your phone. You took it as it started vibrating.

“Y/N ! I heard the news ! Why didn't you tell me about it you secretive little thing !” You froze, there was no way she was talking about something else than your pregnancy, right ? “Congratulations sweetie ! I'm going to be a grandma thanks to you ! Oh my God, I just can't wait ! How long have you been keeping the secret ?!”

“What the... Where.. Where did you see that ?” Your voice was shaking of terror. If Nikki saw it, then the entire world could see it, including your dear hubby. “It can't be possible, you kidding right ? Please tell me you're kidding Nikki it can't be real !”

A silence took place between the two of you. You didn't mean to explain anything, Tom's mother immediately understood what was going on. “Does he know about the baby... ?”

“I'm so sorry Nikki.” Tears started falling down your cheeks. You told her everything, you told her the truth you were so afraid to admit to the world. Nikki didn't hesitate, she drove straight to your apartment as soon as she knew, glad she didn't call Tom first.

“I just couldn't tell him. You know how he is, he would... Nikki, I'm so sorry. It just never felt like the right time, I wanted him to be home, rested.” You couldn't stop crying, your hormones making matters worse. You were feeling like it was the end of the world. “He would have been worried, and now he's going to be both worried and mad at me ! I fucked up real bad, there's no way I can fix it !” “Well he's going to be a father, I hope he has the right priorities and will be more concerned about that than the fact you hid the truth from him.” Nikki's hand was on your shoulder, rubbing it to comfort you. She'd sometimes hug you, making you cry even more. She ws such a sweetheart, but you knew deep down she was mad at you too.

“He's so tired Nikki, I swear there's no way I can do well. He's all grumpy these days.”

“Anyways I'm here for you honey, if you need anything just ask. Thanks for carrying my grandchild, Y/N.” You nodded, and soon she left.

It didn't take long before your phone started vibrating again. You were in your bed, wrapped around your sheets, crying to death, but you managed to grab your phone. Without any surprise, it was Tom. You picked up the phone, shaking. Did he know ?

“Hey babe.” His voice seemed a little bith harsh than usual. Something was totally going up in his mind. “Is this for real ?” Your heartbeat suddenly stopped. “Are you really pregnant ?” He insisted on the last word, you could tell he was mad, and you figured he was creasing his nose while talking to you, trying not to explode.

“Tom.. Tom please listen I-”

“Listen to what, Y/N ?!” He cut you, understanding the rumor was true. “You lying to me again ? It's not the first time you hide such important things from me ! Haven't I told you to stop already ? I'm concerned ! I'm so fucking concerned, but it always looks like you put me off the important stuff when I'm away.”

It was hard to hear him say those things to you, acting like you didn't care about his opinion or like he wasn't anything to you. “Tom, darling...” Your voice was as shaking as your hands. You were so scared, scared of him being too mad he'd leave you. “I just wanted you to stay focus on your job...”

“And I wished I could have been here for my fucking baby ! Now tell me who knew.” Strict, he was so strict. You could tell your behaviour touched him deeply, his heart was broken because of you, because of your choices. Were you a bad person ?

“No one. It was only about me, Tom please, honey, don't be mad at me. Please I wanted to tell you myself, I didn't want it to happen this way.” Begging was the only think you could do now.

“I can't believe you hid it from me, Y/N ! You lied to me, you could have told me so many times but you prefered lying, again and again ! Seriously, Y/N, fuck you, you really ruined it all this time !”

You whined. What did he mean by that ? Was he leaving you ? You wouldn't be surprised if so, you felt like all you deserved was to be left. “Thomas, I'm sorry, I'm sorry !” You couldn't just let him go after that. “I'll make it up to you, please my love, please, I'll take the next plane si we can meet !”

There was silence before Tom talked again. “I don't want to see you right now.” Then he suddenly hanged up.

PART TWO

#tom holland imagine #tom holland #tom holland writing #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland prompt #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #peter parker imagine #peter parker #peter parker writing #peter parker fanfic #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker prompt #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #spider man: homecoming #spiderman #spiderman imagine #spiderman x reader #spiderman au

[harryfeatgaga]

aight, bith. listen. what if harry and his girl are expecting a baby and everything is going super well - harry's always there for her and he does anything he can to make sure she's comfortable and happy. She's never doubted him in their relationship and she knows how the media works and how tabloids are a load of bull, so she never believes anything that's said in them. So she's pretty far into her pregnancy (i guess 7 months?) and harry's at a morning meeting so she's doing her own thing (1/?)

in their home. and she stumbles across this article on a tabloid and there are pictures of harry and this random BITCH and normally, harry's girl wouldn't care because she knows how the media likes to twist images and make it seem like something is going on, when reality, nothing is happening. but in this photo, it looks as fishy as an unwashed pussy; he's super close to her, she looks super happy, he's smirking, etc. and his girl tries to convince herself that she's just overthinking (2/?)

it, but the longer she looks at the pictures and the text, the more believable it is, and at first, she's so sad because how could he do something like this? harry of all people? but then he comes home, happy as FUCK, when he has no right to be. and she doesn't even say anything, she just walks by him, shoulder pushing into him as she walks by and he's so confused. he's asking her what's wrong and she won't respond, but she's so close to blowing. she takes an overnight bag and starts (3/?)

throwing things into the bag and he's on the verge of tears because he doesn't know what's going on & when she sees that HE'S crying, that pulls the trigger & she blows the FUK up. she's all up in his face, jabbing his chest with her finger, pushing him by his shoulders, face red, eyes teary and she's starting to sweat. it gets to the point where she can feel an uneasiness in her stomach and it's painful & harry's trying to calm her down, but she won't listen. she starts sweating and (4/?)

crying, asking herself why she married a pussyboi and she's taking a bunch of low blows at him & he starts to panic because he knows this isn't good for her health, nor the baby's health and he goes "love, sit down, this isn't good for you or the baby" and she goes "my relationship with you isn't good for me or the baby" (LMFAO!) and that sets mr. pussyboi off & he's trying to control himself, but he starts taking jabs at her, saying that she's naive enough to believe such bs & he says (5/?)

that's a load of bull & that she should know better than this & she knows deep down that he's right and that the photos work in the way that the media wants them to but she can't stand to look at him so she goes to a friend's house for the night & harry starts to overthink, wondering if this career was a mistake and now idk where to go with this (6/6)

-

why wouLD YOU DO THIS??????? GIVE ME A HAPPY ENDING!!!!!!!!!!! AND BYE IM SCREAMING AT PUSSYBOI I HATE

[evilrevan]

For the meme. Tiamat: 2,4,6,13. Reyvanna: 3, 17, 19, 20. Vahita: 5, 8, 9, 25.

Describe Your OC meme

Under readmore because holy shit this is long.

Tiamat:

2.  Their smile

Tiamat’s smile is wide and… toothy thanks to her reptilian genetics. It’ll be slightly lopsided as she can’t quite get the whole smiling thing humans, dwarfs, and elves do right. She tries. Often times her smiles do come off as creepy with rows of her needle-like teeth sticking out like she’s about to tear into someone’s arm. Doesn’t help things when she tries to joke about humans, dwarfs, or elves tasting like gravel. 

4.  Their insecurities

Given her upbringing and past with her kin, Tiamat is heavily insecure being around others of her species. Many are high ranking individuals and even ones who are merely servants or slaves hold a higher standing than she does. Rejected even before she broke the shell, it shattered her self-confidence and self-worth. When faced with her kin she’s wary, guarded, and coarse. At least on the outside.

Inside? She’s a mess bubbling with nervous energy. Always fearful someone will figure out she was nothing but an unwanted hatchling. 

While it isn’t an insecurity she does have survivor’s guilt as well. Both from being the only one of her clutch to survive and surviving the Hall of Echoes (with a select few people). 

6. How they deal with grief

She doesn’t cry. Like many of her kin born without tear ducts. Instead, she pretends the pain isn’t there. Laughs, smiles, and tosses jokes around like fish leaping out of a quiet little pond. If they saw her in high spirits they would ask if she was ok. Wouldn’t suspect the pain carving her beating heart into bloody chunks beneath her scaled hide. 

Only the people who know her best will be able to tell she’s hurting, seeing the signs long before she ever puts her pain into words.

13. An embarrassing memory from years ago

Tiamat had limited exposure towards other species and therefore, would always find herself perplexed by their customs, lifestyles, and reproduction. 

While in her youth she robbed treasures from the houses in the Empire as well as liberated poorly treated slaves whenever she could. In the heat of things she never questioned the extra bits on the females’ chests. The weird protrusions the males had between their legs- or the fact both species could be both extremely hairy and smelly. 

However one night she had a breather as she escorted a small group of slaves to a contact of hers who would see them safely out of the Empire’s domain. Having arrived with plenty of time to spare at the meeting spot, Tiamat found she couldn’t quite keep her forked tongue in her mouth- especially when she saw one of the females had a far larger, rounded stomach similar to her kin expecting a clutch.

It began innocently enough. How many she expected. How long her hatchlings took to grow, and if they had any teeth or claws. She found out, rather swiftly humans/dwarfs/and Elves normally had one offspring (which to this day she doesn’t understand why they do or why ONE causes a female’s stomach to swell that much), spent sixteen to eighteen years with their parents, and had no teeth or ‘claws’ when they were born. And while Tiamat hadn’t asked she also found out babies, as they were called, were utterly defenseless and constantly needed food. 

It was around then with the face of shock and horror her contact decided to show up. Laughing loudly.

Reyvanna:

3. Their greatest achievement

In Reyvanna’s mind, her greatest achievement wasn’t when she slew Kyros. It wasn’t when she broke all of Kyros’ edicts. Nor the moment she managed to cause Graven Ashe to bow down to her and cede his control over his forces. 

Her greatest achievement was staring down the Archon of Justice, her head unbound of their facial/head wrappings, proudly defending against the accusations aimed to drown her in a sea of blood, with ease. Kyros’ laws had loopholes. Imperfections. Things which allowed her to do what she did with immunity. Or at least, excused her actions.

When she challenged Kyros’ logic- her flawed justice Reyvanna half expected to be killed on the spot. It never happened. Tunon merely glared at her icily while stating if she were anyone else he’d have them condemned for treason.

Not guilty. 

The Archon of Justice found her not guilty. 

Reyvanna’s great achievement in that moment was turning Kyros’ symbol of her rule against her. The Archon of Justice backed her. Archon of Shadows, Bleden Mark followed her. Graven Ashe ceded his army to do with as she wished. And finally, she had the oldest of Kyros’ under her control.

When he bent the knee to her, Reyvanna found it hard to breathe. Harder to comprehend the situation as it swirled around her skull, knocking her senses out the door as realization slammed into her: He chose her over Kyros.

17. Their ambitions

During the Conquests, Reyvanna’s only ambition was to live. Having survived Mark’s trials, forced to see her second family slaughtered (beast tribe), and endure this new world under a false ruler- she wanted to live. To prove her will was greater than their’s and overcome all challenges before her. It was simple.

After the conquest, she wanted to tear down Kyros’ carefully built nation until nothing stood. The conquest scarred her. Tested her morals and allowed her to see the rot plaguing what everyone claimed to be a perfect empire. It was fetid. Filled with laws made of lies and half-truths. 

Pre/Post Kyros Reyvanna wishes to be nothing like Kyros when her powers come to fruition. She wants to be better than her. To turn the people she forced into joining her against the overlord herself. Perhaps it is pride. Perhaps she secretly wants to be the one to bring Kyros out of hiding. Reyvanna doesn’t quite know the exact reason behind it.

All she knows is she feels a smug satisfaction when the Tiers fall under her control, the Edict of storms crashing over Kyros’ forces, stalling them for an undetermined amount of time.

19.  Their reaction to betrayal

Angrily. Violently. Gorey. Reyvanna isn’t one to tolerate betrayals at all. She gives people one chance not to stab her in the back. If they refuse it or do attempt such a thing, their life is forfeit. No more chances. No mercy. 

She’ll rip out their hearts and feed the bloody pieces to their accomplishes. 

Depending on the severity of their betrayal she may kill them somewhat quickly. Or listen to them scream as she slowly wrenches every limb out of their socket, snap off their fingers knuckle by knuckle, cut out their tongues, or (and this happened once) dig her sharp fingernails into the skin of their throat and tear out of their vocal chords along with their windpipe. If she’s feeling merciful.

20.Their reaction to a mystery love letter

Reyvanna (depending on where on her timeline she’s in) would most likely consider a prank and promptly, throw it away. Or out a window if she’s within the court.. or any building really.

I’d be a waste of time given she truly only has eyes for Tunon (lustfully not really love based. Not yet anyway) and one else would simply be a waste of time. If they wanted to have casual sex, she’s all for it. Let off some steam. Get the blood pumping. Sure. Love? No.

Vahita:

5. Their shortcomings

Vahita has plenty of shortcomings given her nature. She’s impulsive, fails to think ahead, self-absorbed, and bloodthirsty. Compared to her younger brother Vulmyss, she’s highly unpredictable and extremely dangerous whereas he is more level-headed and more logical. Vahita has no logic. Fueled entirely by emotions and self-interest befitting the norm of most sith.

8.  What they like to eat

Vahita tends to prefer spicy or sweet foods as they don’t upset her stomach. Sour or bland foods tend to leave her wanting to retch for some odd reason or another. Fruits and Meat-based dishes are the number one way to appeal to her… without getting stabbed in the gut.

9. Their theme

In general, she’s a psychopath. A bloody self-serving insane young woman born of two high ranking Sith (Darth Vowrawn and Darth Andraria) with a penchant to use force to get what she wants. 

25. Why you enjoy them

When I tend to write or create characters I always try to make them not the assholes or the murderer. With Vahita she’s all of that and more.

She’s a sith so you expect her to be a dick. And she is. She doesn’t apologize for her behavior, doesn’t take any lip from those lesser than herself, and is openly promiscuous. 

Vahita doesn’t feel anything for her family. Doesn’t care if they lived or died. Wouldn’t shed a tear if her mother was actually dead and not missing for the past five or six years. The only thing that keeps her from trying to kill them all was her mother’s warning. If anyone, Vahita or Vulmyss, decided to harm anyone in the family Andraria would hunt them down and personally ensure untold amounts of torture. While Vahita likes a challenge and gleefully delights in undermining others, she’s well aware her mother’s powers far surpass her own. So she ‘pretends’ to get along with her family.

All the while prodding her younger brother to get him to snap so he’ll be the one to die by her mother’s hands. Vulmyss knows better and frequently foils her plans to unravel his stoic, calm personality.

In truth, I just love how fucking batshit insane she is. She doesn’t even care if she’s screwing another alien so long as it has the parts to fuck. Vahita considered Kaleesh as fuckable. Trandosians. Bith…. I can go on. 

If nothing else if she fails to ruin and ends up like the other sith lords who were too tyrannical to live, at least she knows she fell as she was, and not a lie.

#Anon #Vahita #Tiamat #Reyvanna viper #Swtor #DOS2 #Tyranny game #Reply #oc ask meme

[crossbows-and-moonshine]

Anam Cara (Chapter 7)

(Chapter 1)

(Chapter 2)

(Chapter 3)

(Chapter 4)

(Chapter 5)

(Chapter 6)

When Connor arrived back home it was around 6pm and Romeo wasn’t with him, opting to stay and help his uncle with something. As he came through the door he saw Luna already dressed in her pyjama shorts and tank top, stood at the stove cooking dinner. Murphy was stood next to her helping, topless and just in his plaid pyjama pants. They were laughing and joking with each other and it warmed Connors heart to see his brother so happy with her.tank top, stood at the stove cooking dinner. Murphy was stood next to her helping, topless and just in his plaid pyjama pants. They were laughing and joking with each other and it warmed Connors heart to see his brother so happy with her.6pm and Romeo wasn’t with him, opting to stay and help his uncle with something. As he came through the door he saw Luna already dressed in her pyjama shorts and tank top, stood at the stove cooking dinner. Murphy was stood next to her helping, topless and just in his plaid pyjama pants. They were laughing and joking with each other and it warmed Connors heart to see his brother so happy with her.

“Evenin’ mo chroi  (My heart), hope Murph hasn’t been too much o’ a hassle t’ look after.” He grinned at them as he walked over to them.chroi  (My heart), hope Murph hasn’t been too much o’ a hassle t’ look after.” He grinned at them as he walked over to them.

“Shut t' fuck up Conn, we’ve had lovely day, haven’t we love?” Murphy smirked as Luna nodded to him with a beaming smile.

“We did, Murph really outdid himself.” She smiled. Murphy flipped Connor off looking smug as he kissed Lunas cheek. Connor went up to Luna and kissed her softly on the lips, his hand winding into her hair.

“I missed ye lass, I hav-“ he stopped abruptly when he saw the hickeys on the right side of Luna's neck. His eyes went wide and he snapped his head up to look at Murphy over her shoulder.

“An raibh tú gnéas léi?! (Did you have sex with her?!)” He asked defensively. Luna couldn't understand what he said but he sounded upset. Murphy stepped closer and put his hands on her hips, effectively trapping her in between them both. Murphy behind her, Connor facing her.

“Níl deartháir, is mian léi chun cainte linn sula ndéanann sí rud ar bith. Riamh Tá sí rud ar bith Connor. Ar chor ar bith. (No brother, she wants to talk to us both before she does anything. She's never done anything Connor. At all.)” He explained calmly as he looked directly into his twins eyes, trying to let him see the sincerity of his words. Connor visibly untensed and Luna was curious as to what was said, although it was obvious the marks Murphy had left on her skin was the catalyst. This just reminded her of the talk she wanted to have, but before she had a chance to bring it up Murphy started talking again.

“Ní gá duit a bheith deartháir éad, d'fhág l an taobh untouched do shon. (You don’t have to be jealous brother, I left this side untouched for you.)” He smirked as he gently swiped Luna's hair across her right shoulder exposing the left side of her neck that was still unmarked, Connors side. Luna shuddered at the feel of him touching her neck and her breathing picked up a little, a fact that didn’t go unnoticed by either of the brothers. Connors' eyes snapped onto Lunas as Murphy raised his eyebrow at him.

“Níl mé éad. (I’m not jealous.)” Connor said, his voice suddenly even deeper as his eyes never left Lunas.

“T'en ye don’t mind if I do t'is?” He smirked, suddenly switching to English again making Luna confused. Her train of thought was short lived though as Murphy started placing sensual kisses on her exposed neck, his eyes still on his twin goading him. He was always trying to get Connor to just go with his instincts, he needed a stupid fucking plan for everything, and that wasn’t a way to live in Murphy's opinion. He wanted Connor to just let go of his inhibitions, he knew Luna liked him, hell she liked them both, but he would wait forever and plan it instead of just going for it, worried of scaring her off. But by now Murphy knew she wouldn't scare easy. Connor tensed up as he saw Luna instinctively turn her head to expose more of her neck and her eyes fluttered closed at the contact.

Fuckin’ stop it Murph.

Make me.

Murphy smirked even more and slowly licked Luna's neck up to her ear, she mewled and she unconsciously grabbed onto Connors' hips to steady herself but she was too wrapped up in the feeling to care. When she opened her eyes Connor was staring at her, his pupils blown wide. The look in his eye was almost predatory and it made her stomach clench. Murphy continued his assault on her neck and ear pulling a louder moan from her when he started biting her neck gently. The noise went straight to the boys' dicks as their pants felt a little tighter.

“Dul duit a éileamh cad atá deartháir mise? (Are you going to claim what's yours brother?)” Murphy asked with a wicked grin as he looked over at his brother. Connor just glared at him, aware of what he was trying to do, trying to bring out that possessiveness that Murphy knew was there. Murphy shrugged his shoulders at him as he brought his right hand around her, gently gripping her throat to keep her still making Luna gasp softly.

“More fer me t'en.” He smirked as he started sucking her neck, leaving a mark behind on her alabaster skin. Luna moaned and her legs went weak, she could feel the wetness pool between her thighs.

“Fuckin’ move.” Connor growled as his resolve snapped. Luna looked at him startled, she had never seen this side of him before and she was worried that he and his twin might fight. Murphy chuckled against her skin and stood up straight, he removed his hand from around her throat and grabbed both of her hips, pushing her even closer to Connor.

Connor grabbed her face roughly with both hands and gave her a searing kiss. She was shocked by his force but she was enjoying it too much to care. Murphy was still pushed up close to her back sandwiching her in the middle, his hands started rubbing her hips and she hummed in appreciation into her kiss with Connor. Connor broke the kiss gripping her hair and pulled her head slightly to the side, revealing her neck. He started kissing her neck and then sucked on it, covering the light mark Murphy had made on his side. Lunas senses were in overdrive, every nerve ending was on fire. She had never felt desire like this, felt pleasure from just little touches. And although she didn’t regret saving herself for someone special she did question why she never did any foreplay. She had one hand in Connors hair and the other arm wrapped around Murphy's neck behind her, wanting to feel them both as close as possible. Murphy’s right hand made its way onto her stomach, slowly working its way lower and lower, wanting to give her enough time to stop him if she wanted too. His fingers slid easily into her shorts revealing that she wasn’t wearing any underwear. He slid them across her soaking slit causing her to gasp, Connor stopped his assault on her neck and looked her in the eyes, wanting to make sure she was ok with this, before glancing at his twin who was already staring at him.

She’s fuckin’ soaked.

Connor didn't need much more encouragement from Murphy and he gently cupped her breast, his tattooed hand curling around it perfectly, as Murphy's fingers found her clit. She bit her lip, slightly embarrassed at the noises she kept making, but the boys could tell she was holding back.

“Let us hear ye love.” Murphy purred into hear ear reassuringly as his fingers circled her clit.

She moaned at the sensation she had never felt before, already feeling insane pleasure from such a gentle touch.

“D’ye want us t’ stop Mo shíorghrá? (My eternal love.)” Murphy asked softly into her ear.

“No, don’t stop.” She moaned as she let the pleasure consume her body from the boys' ministrations. She didn’t care about the talk right then, it could wait. Besides they seemed to be sharing pretty well so far. She whimpered at the loss of contact when Murphy removed his hands from her shorts making him chuckle. He brought his head forward over her shoulder and brought his hand up to his mouth, licking clean one of his fingers.

“So fuckin’ sweet.” He groaned in appreciation, the sight and sound sending another flood of wetness in between her thighs. Murphy and Connor's eyes met in an intense moment and then Murphy brought his hand up to Luna's mouth.

“Open yer mouth love, ye gonna give me brot'er a taste.” He demanded as he slipped his fingers inside her mouth making her taste herself. Before she had time to process anything Connors' mouth devoured her own, sharing the taste of her juices on her tongue. He growled at the taste and deepened the kiss as Murphy's hand slid down her back slowly until it got to her ass. He slid his hand into her shorts and palmed her ass with his right hand. His left had snaked around her hip and onto her lower stomach to keep her from moving. His right hand slid between her legs from behind and found her soaked entrance, he waited for Connor though before continuing. Connors left hand travelled down her body at a painfully slow pace, when he reached her shorts his hand slipped in easily and he quickly found her clit, rubbing circles around it. She moaned again at the pleasure and then gasped when Murphy gently slipped a finger into her.

“Tá sí chomh daingean. (She's so tight.)” Murphy groaned as he slowly sunk his finger inside until it was to the knuckle. If it wasn’t for her hanging onto the boys for dear life she would have been in a heap on the floor. Connor started kissing her again and Murphy was sucking her neck, making sure to stick to his side. Luna was losing herself in the feeling and her moans were becoming louder and more frequent, much to the twins satisfaction. They broke away from Luna in unison, sharing a look once more. Making her whimper at how empty she now felt.

Switch?

Aye.

Without warning they spun her around, Murphy now in front and Connor behind. Murphy gripped her jaw and caught her lips in a bruising kiss whilst Connor grabbed her ass and kissed her neck. Connors hand snaked round her front and slid back in her shorts wasting no time with finding her clit once again. Murphy didn't take his mouth off hers as his hand also found its way back into her. Connors other hand was pushed against her lower stomach to keep her still and flush against him as Murphy found that special spot inside of her, which made her break away from his mouth devouring her and cry out, she grasped at them both as if they would anchor her and stop her from floating away.

“We're gonna give ye yer first orgasm lass.” Connor whispered huskily into her ear, sending a shiver down her spine.

“Aye love, let go. Cum fer me and me brot'er go hálain. (Beautiful.)” Murphy said softly against her lips. She started panting, unable to keep up with everything that was happening. Her body was trembling as Connor and Murphy continued their assault on her senses. She cried out as she came with blinding force, shaking and whimpering as the pleasure crashed through her body like a tidal wave. Her walls clenching down on Murphy’s fingers so hard he moaned and made sure to telepathically let his brother know just how much he wanted to feel that around his cock.

Murphy removed his fingers and licked them clean once more, flashing her a cheeky grin and a wink. Connor removed his hand too and wrapped his arms around her lovingly.

“How was t'at lass?” He asked her with a smirk. She just nodded and made content noise, not being able to talk just yet. The boys chuckled at her and Murphy gave her a gentle kiss on her lips. She went to reach for Murphy’s pants but he gently took her hands in his.

“Nay love, t'is was about ye, not us.” He smiled softly.

They stayed like that for a while until Luna had fully recovered, before she finished dinner. The boys set the table wanting to eat together properly and they all sat down to eat. Luna wanted to bring up the talk she felt she needed to have with them, especially since things just became a little more serious with them, for her atleast. The twins could tell something was on her mind were worried she regretted what happened, that they rushed her into it.

“Mo shearc (my love), what’s wrong?” Murphy asked when he couldn’t take it anymore, grabbing her hand across the table and rubbing his thumb across her knuckles. She bit her lip anxiously and looked away, causing Connor to take her other hand and squeeze it.

“I just...I need to talk to you both before things go any further.” She sighed.

“Ye can tell us anyt’ing Mo chroi. (My heart.)” Connor reassured. She took a deep breath, trying to gather together her thoughts and how to say them.

“I just worry about you both. I don’t want to come in between you like the whole kissing thing. That’s not the way I want it to be. I don’t want it to feel like I’m in two relationships with you. I want it to be one relationship with you both. Does that make sense? I don’t want jealousy and rivalry. I need you both to understand that’s its both of you or neither, and if that’s not something you can handle then it’s fine, but we need to end it now.” She explained.

The brothers looked at each other, their hearts swelling at her words, if it was possible she just made them care about her even more.

“Ye want t' both of us? Like a proper relationship?” Murphy asked shocked, his heart filling with hope. She nodded shyly at them and they both smiled at her.

“We'd be honoured lass, t’ing is, and we know ye’d understand t'is bein’ a twin yerself, we're like one soul in two bodies, aye? And no one has ever got t'at before, ever made us feel t' way ye do. Ye make us feel whole, as one. T'is is new territory fer us all but we bot’ want t’ make a proper go o’ it wit’ ye.” Connor admitted. His admission moved Luna and she started to tear up, both boys dropped to their knees on either side of her worried they had upset her, trying to comfort her.

“I do get it Connor, I really do. It was like that with me and Solis. I never felt so empty in my life when she died and I’ll never feel complete again. But...when I’m with you boys, I feel as whole as I ever will be.” She said through her tears. The boys hugged her close as they felt overcome with love for her. They knew this was a turning point for them all as things just got a whole lot more serious.

#murphy macmanus fanfic #connor macmanus fanfic #boondock saints fanfic #Anam Cara #murphy macmanus #connor macmanus #boondock saints