#I will try my best to release Chapter 1 on CHRISTMAS | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jooniperbonsai · 6 months ago

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Penalty Shot (pjm) | Part 1

Pairing: professionalhockeyplayer!jimin x minorleagueplayer!reader (afab)

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 22,512

Release Date: December 24, 2024

Genre: Smut, holiday romance fluff, angst, hockeyau, holidayau, comedy, slight rivals to lovers

Summary: He's the worst hockey player on the worst team in the national league, with an awful attitude to go with it. You're the best player in the local chapter, but turned down your chance to go pro. After a scandal benches him for part of the season, he recruits your help to get him ice ready by the New Year.

Warnings: mentions of threesome, Jimin is bi, probably inaccurate ideas about hockey, Jimin is an asshole, swearing, misogyny in sports, slightly homophobic comments, hometown trauma, arranged marriage, corny Christmas references, holiday party stress, mentioned death of minor characters, teen pregnancy, abortion and discussions of abortion processes, emotions, and characteristics of shame angst, misunderstandings, Y/N is a self sacrificial person, fighting and threatening violence, alcohol, sexual innuendos, omg look it's Shinee's Minho as the role of bff, mention of random kpop artists on y/ns team, groping, oral (f receiving), hand jobs, unprotected sex, creampie, rivals but not, friends but not? Who knows, Christmas is all around and the cheer is in the air idk

a/n: It's here! I mean, kind of! Here's part 1 of what has become a monster of a fanfic. I just have 1. Learned so much about hockey it's ridiculous, and I feel like I need more time with these characters. To all who celebrate, Merry Christmas. I hope everyone enjoys this fic. Be easy on me with the proofing errors. I rushed the proof a bit to get it out on time.

“That’s it, babygirl; Cum on my cock. That’s it. Fuckkk.”

“No no no, what did I say? Did I say you could ride me? No. On your knees. Mouth open. Just your mouth, not your hands. Be a good boy or you won’t get my cum. There we go. Open. I said open. Do you want my cock or not? There we go. Ah-ah, swallow. That’s a good boy.”

“Fuck, Jimin, my turn, please please please.”

“What did I say about begging? There’s plenty to go around.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake. Close the damn laptop. I’ve seen enough.”

The sharp, wet slapping sounds and deep, guttural moans echoing through the conference room cuts off as the laptop is snapped shut. As if rehearsed, all bodies in the room turn toward the subject of the scandal, expectedly awaiting a very different response from the one they’re given.

“What? Everyone has sex, it’s not new,” Jimin says.

“Yes, everyone has sex. But not everyone is filming a sex tape, much less an orgy, and putting it out onto the internet,” Sophia, the public relations manager says.

“I didn’t put it on the internet. I’m not that stupid. And, it was a threesome, not an orgy.”

“Well, clearly you are stupid, if you thought attending, much less filming, your not-so-private sexual exploits wouldn’t come back to haunt you. And yet, shocker, they have, and we are swiftly becoming the top headline in every tabloid magazine on the planet. You seriously thought none of these participants would want to brag about how they bedded the bad boy of the UHL?”

“Park, you finished off last season being one of the most famous people in the Universal Hockey League, and not in a good way. Need I remind you that we just spent the whole summer trying to implement a marketing campaign to improve sales of your jerseys since manufacturers don’t even want to make them? That after ‘Park the Park’ became a trending hashtag on every social media site, you suddenly caught attention as the ‘Hottest But Worst Player in Professional Sports’?” Coach sighs heavily into his hands, clenching his fists as if he needs to punch something.

It’s very much the Coach way. It’s not unheard of for him to be taking swings at the punching bag during gym training days. Clearly this is how he releases steam.

Only the problem is, the steam is channeled directly at Jimin.

“I thought any press is considered good press.”

Sophia snorts and rolls her eyes. “That is a load of bullshit that PR reps say to make shitheads like you feel better. But I’m not here to soothe your ego. I think it’s been stroked enough, based on what we all just saw.” She clears her throat, shaking her head. “The point is, JImin, you’ve cost this team a lot, and at this point, I can’t advise the staff enough to let you go. You’ve caused fights on the ice that almost turned lethal, you have the worst stats, and the highest lien we’ve had to take out after you damaged the rink in LA and caused them to end their season early. In any other job, you’d be fired by now.”

Sophia scoops her laptop up off the table and places it in her bag. She stands, hastily collecting her other things. Her assistant-slash-lackey, some nameless, anxious young woman, follows suit, clattering her impressive collection of color-coded pens across the conference table. She bows in apology, shakily attempting to collect her things. No one, including Sophia, moves to help.

“I have to go, because I need to figure out some way to spin this story now that we are receiving hundreds of requests for interviews, quotes, and extra footage.” She fake gags, as if Jimin and the debauching act on the screen is repulsive to her. “Stay off social media. Do not make a single claim unless advised by your lawyers. We are petitioning the website to take the video down. I know it’s out there forever, but I think if we act fast we can reduce views and hopefully end its virality quickly. Once I hear back from the firm I’ll send you an update.”

The door shuts behind them slowly, but once the final click ensures that no one outside can hear what’s being discussed, Jimin turns to see the deep set frown of Coach and Assistant Coach Jay sharply aimed toward him.

“Do you. Have. Any fucking idea. How bad this looks?” Coach’s voice is clipped, fury piercing through his staccatoed breath. Gone is the negotiator, the collected cool that he’d worn while Sophia was here. Instead is the same anger and resentment that Jimin has gotten used to experiencing in the locker room before and after every game, as well as his many meetings as of late.

“It only looks bad because people take shit way too seriously. If this was a threesome with two women, I’m sure it wouldn’t be blowing up right now. But add a man into the mix and all the homophobes come with their torches and pitchforks. This’ll all blow over in a few weeks, or days even depending on what new scandal the tabloids decide will get the most clicks. Really, Coach, it’ll be okay.”

A vein protrudes from Coach’s neck, and he huffs a heavy sigh. “You’re missing the point, Park. It’s bad because it’s gay or bisexual or pansexual or whatever the hell your generation is calling things now. But that’s only part of it. All those celebrity gossip pages have been reporting on you for months as is, detailing your explicit sexual appetite and partying with celebrities. You’ve built a reputation for yourself as a playboy, and they’re eating that shit up. And maybe that would all be fine and fun and you could be the next Travis Kelce of the world toting around your celebrity fuck buddies, but there’s one thing Kelce’s got that you don’t.”

“…Taylor Swift? Whiteness? A mustache?”

“No you dumbass, talent. Travis Kelce is good at his sport, Jimin, and you fucking suck at yours.” Jay interjects. He reaches into his padfolio, pulling out a complex spreadsheet. “We’ve pulled the totals of all the stats. In the Universal Hockey League, you have the lowest stats out of every active player. Minor players are doing better than you. A hell of a lot better.”

Jimin reaches out and takes the page, scanning it, brows furrowed. “Okay, so I need to clean up my game a little bit. I don’t see how those two things are connected.”

“Then let me explain it to you, son.” Coach leans back in his chair, revealing the lower portion of his suit coat, stained from the bit of pasta sauce that dribbled down during his lunch. Jimin finds himself staring at it for so long that it takes Coach three tries before his attempts at calling Jimin’s attention actually works.

“Focus, Park.”

“Sorry,” he responds reflexively.

“Basically, what Sophia said in the meeting is true. I have been advised by her as the official Public Relations Director to fire you. You’ve caused significant risk in various ways. And what I didn’t tell her is that the manager of the Bells and team owner both called me this morning worrying about the integrity of the team. Your little bullshit behaviors have been adding up. Not only are you impossible to market to Bells fans, you’re untradeable and undesirable to any other team. No one wants the Scarlet A you’ve tainted the team with.”

Jimin raises an eyebrow. He didn’t know Coach was so familiar with classic literature.

“The point is, investors are backing out. Brand deals are falling through. The capital gains of our team are dwindling because we have a shitty player with an even shittier attitude.”

It feels like a brick has been launched at Jimin’s chest. A hot, crumpling feeling washes over him, and the very cool and collected nature he’s kept fresh this whole meeting has now taken the backseat.

“I don’t know what happened to you, Park, but you weren’t always this way. When I scouted you and signed you onto the Bells, you were just this young kid with a dream. You loved the game more than you loved the fame. I miss that guy. That’s the one who I wanted. I wanted the fresh energy of early morning practices led by a player with eagerness and potential. And you were that for a while.

“But all I’ve seen in the last two seasons is someone who cares about hair gel and being an A-lister for afterparties. When you’re supposed to be driving the net, you’re getting flanked. You can’t control your mouth so you start chirpin’ and hand every opposing team at least one power play, usually in the third period and leaving your team to handle the mess you created as you sit in the box.”

Heat floods Jimin’s cheeks. “Am I supposed to just let all those guys walk all over me? I’m one of the shorter players in the league, and they love to talk shit.”

“Of course they love to talk shit when you’re such an easy target! It's a practical strategy! If you target the hothead, they’ll take themselves out of the game! They don’t even need to be good to do that!”

“Isn’t that allegedly your strategy anyway?” Jay says, raising an eyebrow. “Doesn’t seem like a very good one.”

“Shut up, Jay,” Jimin retorts, blowing air sharply out of his nose.

“Don’t you two get started on me now,” Coach says, snapping his fingers. Jimin refocuses his gaze.

“So, what does that mean for me then? Am I fired? Just like that?” He folds his arms over his chest defensively.

Coach rubs a hand over his face. “I don’t know, son. It depends on what you want from this.”

This shocks Jimin. Is he seriously being asked if he wants to be fired? Isn’t the answer obvious? He opens his mouth to speak, but is cut off by Coach.

“What I mean, is that now is a good time to think about your goals. Do you just want to be a celebrity or do you want to be a player? A good one, one who makes his team proud.”

His chest twists with sadness. For nearly ten years, Jimin has been with the Bells. He’d been scouted by Coach himself at the age of 19, having just completed high school and graduating from his own league. During the try-out period, he’d been one of the best, and after a summer of ups and downs, he was offered a contract to be the rookie starter of the season.

“I want to play. You know that. You know how much this means to me!” His voice trembles as the pain in his chest spring tears into his eyes.

Coach gives him a sympathetic smile, nodding. “I do. At least, I used to. But now, I need you to prove it to me. To all of us. Which is why I think this break will be good for you to do so.”

He knits his eyebrows, counting how many days of break he’ll have over the holidays. Then he nods. “Sure. It’s not much, I know, since we have a game between Christmas and the New Year, and one next week, but I’ll come to the arena every day, morning ‘til night. I’ll do explosion drills and I’ll rework my stickhandling. Shit, I’ll even do one better. I know we’ve been struggling to get the puck out of our zone, so I’ll focus on drills that shift us into neutral position. I know Zelensky was complaining about that last game and–”

“Whoa, whoa, slow down kid. I’m glad to hear you’re taking this matter seriously, but it’s not going to correct itself in a matter of days. It’s going to have to be a change in attitude. You need to learn how to not let every little thing trigger you on and off the ice. That’s going to take some time. Therapy, maybe.”

“I’ll get a therapist. Right after this, I’ll call my friend Yoongi who can recommend me to someone and…” But already they’ve moved on, Jimin’s promise hanging in the air.

Coach opens the folder he has in front of him before digging into the pocket of his jacket to fish around for something. He produces a glasses case, and then pulls out his reading glasses, placing them on the bridge of his nose. “Let’s see here. What are you thinking, Jay?”

Jay careens his body to glance over at the schedule Coach has unfolded and laid before them. “Well, you already know what I think.”

Jimin and Jay haven’t always had such a sour relationship. They were friends once, before Jay was hired as the Assistant Coach. Before there was a significant power imbalance between them. Most days, they can get by without making snarky remarks. Some days, Jimin even likes the guy still. Jay is a good AC. He looks at problems with a square eye, knows usually before anyone else what strategy the opposing team is laying out. He protects and vouches for all his players in press meetings, including Jimin. But when he doesn’t have to be doing his job, Jay is ready to cut down anyone and everyone who gets in his way of going home early.

Jimin sighs, looking around the conference room. A framed poster from the 2000 season Choice Cup championship stares back at him. It’s faded, but he can see the beaming face of his favorite player: Lee Wonhyuk.

Wonhyuk is seen as a hockey legend, having more hat tricks than anyone in Bells’ history. Always a balanced player, he led his team to the 2000 Choice Cup Playoffs. Jimin was just a kid then, but that was what started his love for hockey.

“Hmm, well, then I think this is going to be the only option. Park, you’re suspended until late January.”

Jimin freezes. “What?”

“Suspension. I don’t want to see you on the bench in your jersey until the 23rd.” Coach marks the calendar with a thick black marker and nods. “That’ll give you enough time to start getting your shit together and maybe we will have cleared the air from this scandal long enough to recover some of our team’s reputation.”

Coach stands, gathering his folder and heading toward the door.

“B-but I said I was going to fix this! Did you not hear me promise I’d get a therapist?”

“We heard you, Jimin. That doesn’t suddenly erase everything you’ve done. How can we even be sure you’ll take it seriously? It doesn’t seem like you’ve taken much of your career seriously for a while now. You’re just lucky you’re not being fired,” Jay knocks his knuckles on the table, almost like a gavel from a judge.

“Don’t take this thing too much to heart, kid. A suspension is kind of like a break. A vacation even! Go enjoy Christmas with your folks and enjoy some eggnog. Watch one of those ridiculous Hallmark movies about the magic of Christmas making some uptight lawyer into a farm girl because of the hot ranch hand or whatever it is. Take a crash course in anger management, I don’t know. Either way, stay away from the team or else you might not be part of it for much longer.” Coach idles in the open doorway, wafting his hand for Jimin to leave. “Either way, let’s go, we need to go. Our time is up with the conference room and I gotta get home to the Mrs. to help make enough cookies to feed an army.”

Jimin deflates, grabbing his bag and shuffling out of the building and into the mild winter air swirling around him.

Christmas with his folks sounds like a nightmare. He hasn’t talked to them since the scandal leaked, despite the worried calls from his mother and the less-than-enthused follow-ups from his father who began calling on behalf of his mother.

He wasn’t planning on going home for the holidays. The excuse of his work schedule would keep him away another year, and he also suspects that the invite to attend Christmas is one that has no real urgency behind it. He hasn’t been home since his first year going pro. He was just a kid then, trying to balance this new life with the one he left and heal a broken heart. He had hopped on a plane home, only to have to turn around just after the Christmas dinner was finished. The entire flight he was nauseated from overeating.

The idea of coming home now, while being the biggest loser in the UHL just sounds like another way to rub salt in his wounds.

He drives home, calling Yoongi and getting a number for a therapist, only to realize that they would be closed until the new year. Of course they will. He turns the key to his apartment, he can’t help but feel like the place looks completely different even though it’s exactly as he left it a handful of hours ago: blinds drawn, warm-lit sconces on his display shelves in his living room giving everything a soft glow. Everything is pristine. Jimin values tidiness and control of his home. Of his life.

Which is why standing here with nothing to guide him for the next 30 days suddenly feels paralyzing. How is he supposed to become another person in a month? He’s not allowed at the arena for practice, and god, he knows everyone will recognize him at the next closest community one, though who knows if he’ll even be allowed in after how “inappropriate” his type of fame now is.

And it’s too warm here to skate outdoors. He checks the weather app on his phone. No snow is forecasted for the next two weeks. It’s looking to be a warm Christmas this year. Meanwhile, he knows from the location settings that his hometown he’s saved into his favorites is reporting frigid temperatures and at least a foot of snow by the end of the week. Which means the pond he spent so many winters on with his father learning the rules of hockey and practicing on will be frozen solid. A safe place to anonymously practice.

“Fuck.” He knows what he has to do. And as the phone rings one full time before an answer, Jimin tries not to feel the heat that floods to his cheeks in humiliation. “Hi, Mom. It’s me.”

“Okay, now drive through! Tighter, tighter! That’s it Y/N! Go! Go! GO!”

You weave through the blur of jerseys, somehow avoiding a tripping maneuver that would have had you crashing head-first into the wall. Well, barely. Maybe you’d be easier to trip if you hadn’t calculated their positioning early enough in the quarter.

You drive forward, just as you’re told, scanning. Where’s the weakest link in the defensive lineup? Ah, there he is. Number 55. The taller one who has already spent half of the game tailing you as if he’s an offensive player. The one that said shit on socials about your pussy being so tight because of how much you enjoyed being anal.

As if that made any sense. Encountering an entitled, hot-headed loser in the minor leagues is about as unique as a tiny, crusty white dog being named Bella. They exist in abundance. Lucky for you, these are always the worst players on the team, and it became immediately obvious to you who was going to be your target for the rest of the game.

As you redirect your position toward his direction, 55 seems to have plenty to say.

“Hey Baby, why don’t you leave the big game to the big boys?” he coos, clumsily regripping his stick as he glides toward you.

“Mm, if this is a game for the big boys, then why are you here?” you say with a smile, cutting the puck around his right skate before tapping your stick against his. It clatters to the ground.

“You fucking bitch!” he yells, but you’re already well past him, leaving just the rookie goalie between you and the goal.

He tightens up when he sees you barreling toward him, the puck guarded tightly behind your stick as you weave it, turning slightly to your side to make it seem like you’re going in for a slapshot on the left side of the goal post.

Naturally, the goalie floats to the left, creating a huge gap on the right side.

Suddenly, you pivot, shooting the puck to the right, where your teammate, Minho, has stationed himself perfectly to receive and slide the puck neatly into the net.

Easy. As the buzzer sounds at the end of the game, you high five Minho, solidifying the hottest win streak the Griffins have had to date. The teams line up, a slur of “good games” parroting from the mouths of each team member as you go down the line tapping sticks. That is until you reach 55, whose expression has soured significantly.

“Fuckin’ slut,” he mutters under his breath. You pause, turning to him.

“But I thought my pussy was so tight since I’m so anal? Now I’m a slut? Wow, I really got around fast,” you laugh, rolling your eyes. “Leave it to the worst player on the team to have the most unoriginal, misogynistic insults. Maybe if you practiced holding your stick properly instead of trying to craft an insult, you would have one less thing to suck at. I’m sure not knowing how to handle your stick isn’t just a problem on the ice either. Yikes.”

You feel a nudge on your back, knowing your team captain, Christopher, is bringing up the rear.

“Easy there, Y/N, don’t make the guy pop a blood vessel when the season’s barely started,” he says and you chuckle. “And for what it’s worth, I don’t tolerate the sexist machismo you’re carting around. You’re lucky you didn’t lose some teeth this game. If I hear you chirping more bullshit on the ice next time, I’ll personally make sure you have a dentist on speed dial, we clear?”

Christopher smiles with shiny white teeth, making his threat all the more menacing despite his usual golden retriever energy.

55 deflates, giving you one more loathsome glare before spinning on the ice and skating away.

“Bang, Y/N, hustle! We have a party to get to!” Your coach, Bee, curls one gloved finger in, her impatience apparent on her face as she waits at the end of the rink.

You and Christopher shrug at each other before racing across the ice, the high of the victory still swirling in your head.

“Oh, bullshit! You know for a fact that if given the chance he would rather be cameoing in some D list movie in LA than getting his shit together. I get that he was your idol, Chris, but times have changed.”

Jihyo takes a swig of her beer, jabbing a tipsy finger in Christopher’s direction.

“So he’s gotten a little big-headed with his team. It happens to the best of us. Jimin still remains a hometown hero and we should be grateful he put us on the map!”

“What map? No one has come here to scout talent since Y/N was being considered for the UHL. I still don’t get why you turned that down. Fucking moron.” Wonpil scoffs as he bites down into his pizza, effectively silencing Christopher, and well, the rest of the room.

“Ah yes, the awkward silence about me missing out on my once chance,” you snort, glancing around the room as the remaining members of your team devour the last of the team holiday dinner. Bee left not long after the party started, getting some phone call that appeared urgent. Slowly, your families and friends made their way home, leaving only a handful of you behind in the old bar.

Taeyon, one of the servers you’ve known forever, smirks at you as you gather some plates together to make cleanup easier.

“Why did you turn it down?” Soobin, the youngest and shyest member of the team asks.

Everyone in the room turns to you. Everyone in the room besides Soobin knows why.

“Uh, well, a lot was going on in my life at the time. I had a scholarship to go to college, but then I’d heard that some coaches were coming to scout for the UHL during the summer so I deferred the fall semester, just in case. I was up for consideration and offered a spot with the Bells, but um…I was…sick. And he only had room for one person on his team. While he’d told me I was his first pick, I don’t know, I was…sick, and the other player deserved it. He had a future in it, a need to get out of this place more than I can say I had. So I declined the offer and made plans to use my scholarship and go to school.”

“I didn’t know you went to college,” Soobin says, eyes wide.

“She didn’t. Finish the story, Y/N.” Minho says before shoving a tree shaped cookie into his mouth.

You click your tongue. “Honestly. It was no big deal. It turns out my deferment voided my scholarship, so I didn’t go.”

“So you gave up on both the major leagues and college? Who’s the other player?”

You wince at the question, knowing the storm that Soobin has just unknowingly unleashed.

“What do you mean who’s the other player? Who do you think? She’s talking about Park Jimin, dumbass. He’s the only pro hockey player from here.” Christopher says, delivering a light punch to the maknae.

“Oh, right,” Soobin says, blushing in embarrassment.

“And look at what he did. He’s fucking up his chance in this after everything Y/N went through. He knows how to rub it in.” Wonpil downs the rest of his beer. “Honestly, Y/N. If I were you, I’d want to beat that guy to a pulp for being such a loser when you were the one who was rooting for him the most, it seems. Bastard. Good thing he doesn’t come around here much.”

“Yeah, ha, well. He’s probably off somewhere warm and sunny and not thinking about anyone but himself anyway. It’s for the best, probably.”

“I never knew you were sick,” Minho says later that evening as you two gather the empty bottles of soju and beer and place them on the counter for the barkeeper to collect. “Bummer that was aligning at the same time that you were about to make it big.”

“Yeah, it was. Um, hey, my mom wants to know if you’re going to the caroling party,” you say, hoping to change the subject.

“Oh, uh, no sorry I can’t make it. I have a date.”

“A victory and a hot date? Well, Minho, look at you! Looks like you’re growing up.”

He rolls his eyes, chucking a wadded up napkin at you. “Shut up. She’s nice. We are going to that Thai place downtown.”

“Well, it sounds like we need to get you out of here so you can get your ass downtown. Are you even going to be hungry? You ate like, a half a package of those cookies by yourself.”

“I’m a growing boy! I need my calories! And yes, I’ll be fine, Mom. And I’ll remember to wear my coat and hat too.”

“Well, good. It’s supposed to be sub zero tonight. Not the night to be outside without the proper gear.”

You grab your purse, doing one last run of the room before you shove Minho out the door to prepare for his date.

“Fuck, I thought you said it wasn’t too cold, Mom!” Jimin climbs into the passenger seat of his mother’s car, his luggage practically owning the backseat.

“It isn’t! It’s just a cold snap! I thought you’d be used to it from spending so much time in the cold.” She clicks the turn signal, pulling them away from the curb while Jimin fidgets with the heat settings. A thin stream of hot air puffs out of the ancient sedan.

“I usually have tons of padding on me and am moving so much I’m sweating. That’s different from whatever tundra this is.” The heat finally kicks in. “Where’s the Kia I got you for Christmas last year? Don’t tell me you traded it in for the cash or something.”

His mother scoffs, merging into the freeway. “No, we didn’t trade it in. It’s in the driveway. You can drive it while you’re here.”

“Why aren’t you driving it?” Her annoyance is annoying him.

“Because it’s too complicated. Touch screen and Bluetooth and heated seats and cameras. I don’t need that. I just need to go from one place to another place!”

The old car roars as if it is in agreement. Jimin rolls his eyes.

“You could have told me you wanted something simpler. I would have at least gotten you a car from this decade. This piece of junk’s falling apart.”

“It does what I need it to. It’s fine. I didn’t ask for a car anyway.” The lights of the bigger city begin to fade. With a metropolitan city so close to where he grew up, it’s shocking how much Jimin’s mother is clinging to the outdated ideas of small town life.

The strained conversation dies out as his mother turns up the volume of the radio. As the final commercial clears the airwaves, the car is flooded with Christmas carols.

“It’s good to have you home, my little star.”

Jimin’s chest wrenches with guilt as he hears the term of endearment. His mother always called him that when he was a child. For a long time, he really lived up to it. Lately though…

I’m more like a fallen star. A star on its way to burning out.

He lets the music do the talking for the remainder of the drive, and as his hometown comes into view, he’s surprised by how little has changed in the time he’s been gone. Everything is just more worn, older than it used to look. The faded sign of the main grocery store still has the same design.

The bar where Jimin drank his first beer is still open, and he watches as two people leave through the door, a tall, handsome guy who is laughing and smiling while a woman with her hood up hits him with her purse, also laughing.

For some reason, his stomach churns at the sight. God, what a miserable place to be stuck in. How can anyone still want to live here? How can anyone smile about the idea of being outside in that frigid air?

He grumbles to himself and folds his arms, hoping to trap some of the heat back in his body while his mother drives confidently to the sounds of jingling bells.

In the near decade since Jimin has last been home (he doesn’t count the quick stop-ins during longer layovers at the airport or his grandfather’s funeral), his childhood home has gone through enough renovations to disorient him but still create the same pang of nostalgia.

He goes to hang his coat up in the front hall closet and finds that there no longer is one. Instead, it’s an inset wall with a set of drawers tucked away. His parents have a new dog, Bada, who isn’t even all that new. He’s five now, a full fledged member of the family. Bada growls when Jimin walks through the door, but barely lifts his head off the couch cushion to do so before falling back asleep.

“Are you hungry?” his mother asks as Jimin pads into the kitchen.

“I ate on the plane,” he replies. His mother turns to him, her face twisted in disgust.

“Ugh, that’s not food they serve on those things. It’s cardboard! Here, come sit down; I have some rice and mackerel from lunch leftover. And soup. You’re so skinny. It’s time we plump you up.”

“I’m not skinny. I have a very specific diet and exercise regimen in order to stay light and fast on my feet while on the ice.”

But his mother has already left to duck into the kitchen, the sounds of the rice cooker turning on making Jimin wonder if she really had leftovers at all.

When she reappears about twenty minutes later, she comes with an entire filet of hot fish, black beans, radish kimchi, a mountain of rice, some clear broth soup, and cut up pears.

“Eat! Eat my son!” she orders, and Jimin obeys, his full stomach betraying him over the promise of home cooked food.

He is about to ask his mother where his father is when he hears the door open, his father bundled up tight with a dusting of snow on his coat.

“Storm blew in earlier than I thought.”

“Oh, honey. Come sit. Give me your coat, I'll hang it to dry.”

With a grunt from his father, he settles next to where his mother was sitting before, casting his eyes across the table.

“So you finally made it home to see your parents, huh? When’s the last time we saw you in person again?”

“Uh, I think last summer. When you guys came to visit.”

A year and a half. That was the last time they’d been partially together as a family. His brother comes home much more frequently, though this Christmas he’s in Hawaii with his girlfriend.

Lucky bastard.

“Well, it’s good to see you. How was the flight?”

“Fine,” Jimin responds awkwardly.

He and his father haven’t been close since he moved, and he’s gotten used to vague and scripted questions his father often asks.

His father nods, slurping his soup from his bowl.

“So did they fire you for being a porn star or is something else bringing you home.”

His cheeks flood with heat. Of course his father would bring this up.

“Um no, just suspended for a bit. And I'm not a porn star.”

His father shrugs and continues eating. “Hey if it’s what you want to do I’m not here to judge. Just wondering what brought you back home after years of trying to convince you. Your mother was so happy to hear from you that she deep cleaned the house.”

A heavy weight of guilt settles in Jimin’s gut. He’s been gone for so long. And while he knows his parents will never wish for anything to be different for him and his career—well, up to this point— the fact still remains that Jimin has been distant and detached since he moved away. He looks over to the curio cabinet that has been filled with his sports memorabilia. A photo of Jimin when he was on his first team, the bulldogs, sits in the back, Jimin’s two front teeth missing as he gives a gummy smile to the camera.

“It looks great, Eomma,” Jimin says to his mother when she returns, not even blinking an eye to the fact that his father took her spot.

“Well, thank you. Now eat up, before it gets cold.”

As the dinner carries on, Jimin learns that his mother has agreed to go to some neighborhood caroling event tonight.

“Do you even know who is hosting it?” he asks when his mother fails to name anyone associated with the event besides her friend.

“I’m sure she told me her name but I’ve forgotten. Names are hard to remember when your friend of a friend invites you. Even harder to say no.”

“But isn’t there a storm happening?” He glances out the window, confirming the heavier sheet of snow blowing around outside.

“Sure, but that’s no problem. It’ll make it more festive. Walking in a winter wonderland and all that.”

“We’re already in one. There’s like, a foot of snow out there.”

Jimin looks to his father, who has since abandoned the conversation for a sudoku puzzle.

“Well, I need the exercise. If you’re so concerned, you can always come.”

No. Absolutely not. The idea of caroling in a blizzard sounds like the bottom of the list of his favorite things. That’s just above dying.

But as he watches his mother bundle up for the snow and move to grab the keys to her dying sedan, something prompts him to snag the keys for the Kia off the hook, and after a few minutes of painfully shoving his body into his former winter wear his mother kept all those years, he walks out into the snow, insisting to his mother that he drive.

“Hot chocolate has arrived!” you sing, carrying a large steaming carton to the drove of community members who have shown up to bring “Christmas cheer to all”, as your mother has claimed.

It’s freezing. You have heat packs shoved into just about every nook and cranny of your body. Even as you pour the warm, sweet liquid into cups to be passed around, you have to fight the urge to shiver.

“Don’t worry, everyone! Once we get our bodies singing and moving, we’ll be warm in no time!”

“I thought you said there would be a heat shelter we can go to!” someone says among the crowd.

“Well, not exactly. It’ll be my house! I have my husband getting the snacks prepared now. And a warm, crackling fireplace. So let’s get this carolfest started!” Your mother beams, unfazed by the sour mood that has fallen upon the group.

With a deflated woo, the carolers set off on foot from the parking lot.

You have been specifically instructed to wait ten minutes past start time in case anyone else shows up. But given how fast the clouds have rolled in to dump more snow on you, you don’t foresee anyone else coming.

Still, you abide by your mother’s wishes, pulling your hood over your hat and rewrapping your scarf over your nose, hoping that will encourage less heat to escape.

Just as your timer buzzes for you to ditch the greeter position and catch up to the crowd, you see a Kia pull into the parking lot, two people shuffling out toward you.

“Did I miss it? Is it over?!” the woman says, panicked.

“No, no, they just got started. They’re just down here.” You pull out your mother’s hand-drawn map she passed out to all participants at the start, and point to the one block your mother marked with a star for newcomers. “We will be able to catch up to them easily.”

“Ah, thank you! Thank you! My son is visiting from out of town, so I was a little late.”

“It’s no issue, really, this is a volunteer activity. I’m just glad you made it in this snowstorm. Would either of you like some hot cocoa? Or hand warmers? I have some extra.”

“Oh, you’re so sweet. Nothing for me, really, but maybe my son would like some.” The woman pivots her body toward her son, who is still idling by the car, bundled up from head to toe and appears to be staring at you. “Jimin! Come here!”

The second you hear the name, you freeze.

No. There’s no way he’s here. Because he never comes home for Christmas. He’s always playing hockey around the holidays. But then you remember. He’s suspended. So where would he be able to hide and wait for his scandal to blow over. Where else could he hide but here?

Slowly, the bundle moves, shuffling his way toward you. You’re prepared for an awkward conversation, for some unenthused hey to leave his lips, but instead he says nothing, just looks at his mother.

“What?” he asks. His voice is velvety and soft, just like you remember. Even annoyed, it’s a powerless annoyance, one without much heft to sting.

“Hand warmers. Hot cocoa.” His mother gestures, forcing his gaze to follow her hands and over to you.

“No thanks,” he says flatly. When his eyes meet yours, they’re empty, and something about how impersonal it is sours your stomach.

Jimin’s mother sighs before turning to you and smiling. “Is this the way we go?” she asks. You cock your head, confused.

Before you can ask what she’s talking about, Jimin interjects. “Yes, Eomma, it’s this way. Come on. Let’s get this holiday bullshit over with.”

His mother trudges forward and for a moment you’re too shocked to move. You stand there as the snow continues to float down onto your coat and bare hands, until Jimin speaks again.

“Uh, hey. You comin’ or…?”

You blink up at him, still seeing no recognition in his face, no anger, nothing.

“Oh, uh yeah,” you say, quickly depositing the leftover hot z cocoa and maps into your car and matching your pace to Jimin’s. “So, um, how have you been?”

You don’t risk looking at him, insteading focusing on placing your feet carefully into the snow.

“Fuck, it’s cold,” he says, not quite answering your question.

“Oh. Yeah, it is.” You pull a heat warmer out of your pocket. “Here, take this.”

He eyes it for a moment, then relents, taking the heat pack from your warm palm. “Thanks.”

The crunch of snow under you sounds loud, an occasional crack as you step on a patch of ice fills the silence.

“So, you’re home for the holidays?” you ask lightly.

He snorts. “Something like that. Although you’ve probably heard everything on the news already.”

“Something like that,” you parrot, turning the corner of the parking lot to head down the side street you know the carolers will be on. Mrs. Park has outpaced the both of you, already joining the cluster of people on the far end of the block.

“Are you home for the holidays too?” he asks and you frown, clearing your throat.

“Oh, um, not really. I live here. Well not here, here, but in town.”

“Right. Hm. Well…cool. And you grew up here?”

You stop dead in your tracks, turning toward him.

“What?” he asks, facing you. His plump lips look even more rosy in the cold, and his nose has gotten red to match.

“Don’t do this. Don’t pretend you don’t know me.”

His eyes flick across your face and he furrows his brow. “Why?.”

“What do you mean why? You know damn well why.”

He kicks at the snow under his foot. “Well, I mean we were good at pretending we didn’t know each other for so long, Y/N,” he says sharply. “So you’ll have to forgive me if that’s an old habit.”

Your heart sinks, and you shove your tongue into your cheek. “Right. Forget the fact that you were the one who initiated it. But the truth is that I do know you, Jimin. Your mom seems nice, by the way.”

His head snaps up and he glares at you. “Are we just going to pick up on the same argument from a decade ago? I might have initiated but you’re the one who shut me out and never let me know what was going on. I think then, maybe it makes sense to say I don’t know you. And you may have read everything the tabloids have said about me, but let’s make one thing clear. You don’t know me, anymore, Y/N. You know nothing about me at all. So don’t start acting like you do.”

His voice is cold, this time a true seething annoyance and anger leaking out of his words.

You blow air through your lips. “Wow, yeah I guess I don’t. The Jimin I used to know wouldn’t jump down my throat the second that I ask him if he’s home for the holidays. Some hot headed macho temper you’ve got there.”

He rolls his eyes. “Whatever, Y/N.”

He begins to stomp off toward the crowd, but clearly thinks better of it as he waits for you to catch up.

“Temper tantrum over?” you say sarcastically, and he grumbles under his breath. “What was that?”

“I said it wasn’t a temper tantrum. You’d be pissed too if your hockey career was pulled away from you because someone couldn’t keep shit to themselves.”

Your mouth drops open, and while your stomach churns, all you can do is laugh, your laughter forcing you to misstep in the snow and land right on your ass, which only leads to more laughter.

“What is wrong with you?” Jimin says, his eyes cast down on you judgingly.

“Oof, man, I haven’t had a laugh like that in forever. A good joke coming from you of all people.”

You pull yourself up from the snow, ignoring his outstretched hand in front of you.

“I don’t think it’s all that funny.”

“Yeah, well, you really should learn to lighten up,” you say, dusting the clods of snow from your legs. ”And work on that temper of yours.”

“You sound like my coach,” he says, lifting his eyebrow. “Did he send you to watch me?”

You squint your eyes at him. “Huh?”

“Forget it. Let’s get this shit over with so I can go dethaw in the comfort of my own home.”

“Oh yes, heaven forbid Mr. Heatmeiser is out in the snow for any longer.”

Jimin is pretty sure that he’s a lost cause when it comes to redeeming himself as a somewhat decent person.

He’s not sure what compelled him to lie and pretend he didn’t know you. Maybe it’s because when he stepped out of the Kia and he realized it was you, his throat dried up. Over the last decade, he’s distracted himself from thoughts about you and what happened when he left home. How much it destroyed him when you stood in front of him during one of the last days of warm weather and called it all off.

He was so in love with you. So in love even though you were his biggest competition. Someone who had just as much of a chance at going pro as him. Maybe even more so. And while your town was too big to know everyone, but too small to not recognize people, Jimin had always known you. Had watched you on the rink practicing for your figure lessons while he waited for junior hockey practice. And how slowly your movements became less dainty and more powerful, less whimsical and more fierce as you dashed around the ice to be faster than everyone else.

One day you were tossed into hockey with him, but as you both grew older and your bodies shaped themselves around different figures of puberty, it led to the eventual discontinuation of co-eds.

His mother wouldn’t remember you. Because Jimin never told his strict parents that he was breaking the rules and went to your home games when his schedule allowed it in high school. That in the spring of his senior year, he finally got the guts to ask you out after he heard you’d broken up with your shitty boyfriend. That nearly every night after the first date he spent sneaking in through your bedroom window or driving you around in his car with the windows down.

When he said he was going to practice, you always were in the parking lot waiting for him, your skates and gear ready for you two to practice drills and place bets on who could win in a shoot-out, only for him to buy you a blue raspberry slushie an hour later as you glowed from your victory, poking your stained tongue out at him to tease him.

He loved that flavor when he tasted it on you. How many of those sweet kisses had turned hot and filthy, leading to your little whimpers and cute little sighs as he thrust into you in his back seat when everyone had left for the night?

You told him you hadn’t told anyone you were together either. Not because your family wouldn’t understand, but because if word got out in this town, the chances of someone telling Jimin’s parents would mean the end of your relationship. It was easy, you said, to let things be private and just for you.

Which is why the breakup felt like an unexpected death sentence when it happened. You’d both been scouted by Coach, and Jimin was certain you were going to be the one signed to the Bells.

But then you’d both gone to a grad party for a classmate in August. And much like every other social event, you’d agreed to not be too friendly together, to not rock the boat of parental expectations or be a part of the town gossip. So you went to the party with your separate friend groups, danced around each other but never with each other. When one of the girls drunkenly stuck her tongue down Jimin’s throat, you watched without jealousy. And when Jimin begged on the walk to his car for you to forgive him, you’d laughed and said easily that there was nothing to forgive because he didn’t consent to the kiss.

But after that night, after you showered him with plenty of kisses in many places he did consent to and closed the door to his car, everything shifted.

Suddenly, you were absent from try-outs and had texted Jimin saying you were sick. When he offered to come over, you replied that he needed to stay away for a bit. He’d tried to talk to you, but you often left his texts on read. After two weeks of pseudo ghosting, he had finally had enough.

This wasn’t what you did. Something was clearly wrong. And after hearing that day that he’d officially been selected to contract with the Bells, he needed answers. He drove over to your house and snuck into your bedroom when your light was on.

You were sitting on your bed, hair neat and dressed comfortably, with no signs of ailment despite what you’d said before.

“So you’re feeling better I see. You don’t look very sick,” he said, bewildered at how normal you seemed.

“It wasn’t that kind of sickness,” you’d replied, teeth gritted as you turned down the volume of your TV.

“Why didn’t you tell me? Why did you lie to me?” His anger had started building, lifting the volume of his voice to above the whisper-level policy that you’d both implemented.

“Shhh, my parents will hear you.”

“Fuck it! Let them hear me! It’s stupid to keep this shit a secret anymore!”

Your jaw had dropped. You had looked at him with venom. “I was only keeping it a secret for you!”

“Why? Why then was that a secret you could keep between us but you couldn’t even tell me what’s been going on! Are you mad about the party? About that kiss?”

By that point, both of you were talking loudly, and Jimin had heard your parents call up to ask you who was in your room.

“Don’t worry about it!” you called back, returning to your argument. “I can’t believe you think I’m mad about that when I told you it was fine!”

“What do you expect me to think when that’s the last time I saw you? The last time things were normal between us, Y/N?”

“Nothing between us has ever been normal, Jimin.”

“What do you mean?”

“We’re rivals. Competition for each other. You really think that this would hold up if either of us went pro? How would that work? The sore loser just carts themselves behind the other and sits on the sidelines despite their dream being crushed?”

“What? Baby, that’s crazy. Is that how you would feel if I was signed?”

“Maybe, but maybe you’d feel that way.”

“Y/N, I wouldn’t. I would be so happy for you. And maybe I would still have my chance too. To get signed for another team or–”

“And then be on opposite schedules in different places? Really? You think that would work out?”

“It could! Why are you being this way? Did you fake being sick because you’ve been rotting in here thinking about things that haven’t even happened yet?”

You shook your head. “No, I was sick but it’s whatever now. Anyway, I know you were signed today. Coach called me.”

An early fall breeze blew through the open window, settling the heat between you.

“I haven’t signed yet,” he said quietly.

“You will.”

“Maybe I won’t!”

“Oh be serious for one fucking second, Jimin. All summer you’ve talked about this. This is your dream. This has always been your dream.”

“Yeah well that was before you! Before this.”

“What is this?”

“Love! I’m in love with you. I want to spend every day of my life with you, don’t you know that? Since we were kids on the ice, when you were a failed ice skater because you were too gruff. Don’t you love me?”

Tears had welled up in your eyes, but you didn’t move from your bed.

“You can’t give up on hockey Jimin.”

“I’m not going to, Y/N. Now tell me, do you love me, too?”

He sat down on the edge of your bed, looking over at you sadly. He wanted so badly to hold you, to wipe away your tears, but he knew if he moved any closer, you’d be sure to kick him out. He sat anxiously as you silently looked at him, more tears spilling forward.

“You need to leave.”

“Then tell me you don’t love me. If you say that, I’ll climb through that window and I promise I will never bother you again.”

“Stop it. Please, just go home.”

“What is wrong? What happened? I don’t understand. We were fine. Please, tell me.”

The desperation in Jimin’s voice cracked him open, tears falling down his face too.

“It’s over, Jimin. I’m breaking up with you.” You didn’t look him in the eye as you said it. Instead your eyes were fixed on your shelf above your dresser, decorated with trophies, team photos, and medals from your years of hockey. Noticeably gone from that shelf was the stuffed purple whale he’d gotten you from an arcade that summer.

When he looked around, that’s when he noticed every trace of him was gone from your bedroom. The little things you’d put there as symbols of your relationship like postcards he’d written love letters to you on the back of, a small picture you kept by your bedside of your reflections in the water, and the dried flowers from the field off the highway he’d picked for you the day his car stalled on your way into the city. Almost like every trace of him was gone.

“Y/N? I’m coming in.” The sound of your father opening your door pulled Jimin off your bed, wiping his tears as he turned toward the window.

When your father saw him –and as Jimin assumed, you– he cleared his throat. “I think it’s time for you to go, son.”

With one glance back, Jimin looked at you, pleading for you to return his gaze. And as he for the first and last time walked out of your bedroom door, you looked up at him. Your eyes were filled with an agonizing sadness. One that answered every question he asked that night. You loved him. But that somehow, didn’t mean anything.

Now, as he stands in the deep snow looking out across the frozen pond in his parents’ backyard, Jimin can taste the memory on his tongue. Not just of you, even though since he’s gotten home from caroling with his mother he’s been obsessively replaying the memories he thought he put to rest. But he also is remembering his first time skating on the pond.

Back then, it felt like it stretched on for miles, but back then Jimin was also about half his height and terrified the ice was too thin. Over time, he’s learned how to get a better idea of the ice’s thickness and safety, but even if he fell in, the water in the pond is only 4 feet deep.

Carefully, he takes the shovel to the surface, trying to scrape away at the layer of snow that has caked over the ice. He knows by tomorrow the snow will just be another layer of thicker ice to reinforce itself, but he can’t wait.

After shoveling, he returns to the bank and props himself on the old log bench his father put on the edge of the water, replacing his boots with his skates. It feels so natural and right to lace himself back into them, though the missing bulk and weight of his padding feels out of balance. Still, he pulls himself up, shuffling over to the pond and shifting his weight forward to feel it out.

It takes a moment to get used to the rougher ice. It reminds him of the time the zamboni driver was on paternity leave and the roughed up edges from practice after practice made it harder to glide across. Yet this is the pond he first learned to skate on. He knows its bends, how to steady himself among it. And once he feels the ice glide easier under him, it feels like a giant weight has been lifted off his shoulders.

“Do you think they’ll want wreath cookies or tea cakes? Or those ones with the snowmen cutouts! Ooh, we should get those while we’re here, too, just in case.”

Your mother has been leading you down aisle after aisle of the grocery store, nervously questioning every decision she’s made for her Christmas party. After the lackluster turnout post- caroling, she decided she wanted to try again, and for some reason has decided that the selection of cookies was the reason for low turnout, not the record-breaking snowstorm occurring during it.

Unlike yesterday, when you were forced to carol alone, you managed to lie to Minho about needing to get a few things from the store and wanting to hear about his date, waiting until he got in the car to inform him that you would be meeting your mother at the store.

You sigh as you turn the heavy cart around, back in the direction of the dairy section from where you just came. “They’ll be back here. I’ll go get them.”

But her attention is focused more on the list in front of her, so you wheel the heavy load through the masses of shoppers, Minho grumbling behind you about how much he hates you.

“Listen, now that we’re away from my mother, you can give me all the juicy details. How was the Thai food? How was downtown? Did you kiss?”

“I don’t think you deserve to know,” he pouts, pretending to stall at the discounted advent calendars.

“Look, I have stuff to tell you too, so let this be an equal exchange of tea.”

“Y/N, I don’t want to hear about whatever some loser said to you on a dating app about hat trick record holders.”

You arrive at the section with the pre-cut cookie dough. Minho snags two boxes and holds them up, trying to make you pick between the Rudolphs and the Christmas trees. After a second deliberating, he puts both in the cart, knowing your mother will be pleased with his decision making.

“It’s not about dating apps. It’s about Park Ji-”

“Hi!” A bright voice chirps close by, and you jump, focusing on the source. You whirl around to see Mrs. Park waving with a tree shaped butter mold in her hands. Standing behind her at the handle of the cart is Jimin.

“Oh, hi Mrs.Park,” you say, your voice strained. “How are you?”

Mrs. Park smiles at the question. “Good! Please tell your mom I had a fun time yesterday. Lots of good singing! Especially you. Are you a professional?”

Minho snorts behind you, causing you to elbow him in the stomach.

“No no. I’m really not good. I’m not a professional by any means.”

“Oh, I see. Well, what do you do for work then? Is this your husband? He’s very handsome.”

Your eyes widen in horror as you realize she’s talking about Minho.

You try not to look at Jimin, but you do, and he still wears the same blank expression from yesterday, only his jaw is set and the tips of his ears are red. He looks back and forth between you and Minho, almost like he’s trying to imagine you two together.

“Oh, you’re really sweet, but, no. I’m not her husband. Neither of us are married.” Minho pipes up, his hand gently rubbing up and down your back. Somehow, you know he has pieced what you were about to say together, and the comfort of his touch makes you feel a little less like running at full speed out of the store.

Jimin’s blank expression has turned into a glare.

You clear your throat, not only drawing his gaze up to you but also his mother’s.

“I, um, I own the ice arena. So I am usually there, sorting out bills and repairs. Or driving the zamboni. When I have downtime I play offense in our hockey league.”

This seems to draw Jimin’s attention. “You own the arena?”

“Yeah, the Lee family who owned it? Both of them passed away a few years ago. None of their children wanted it, so I bought it from them about two years ago.”

Jimin frowned. “Oh no, that’s so sad. They always gave me extra time to practice and always had those licorice laces at the food counter. Remember the time we–”

His mouth snaps shut as he realizes his mistake. His eyes flash to his mother, who is looking between the two of you. “Oh! Then you must know each other!” she says ecstatically.

You raise your eyebrows at Jimin expectantly. What narrative is he going to choose?

“Yes, Eomma. Y/N and I went to high school together. And we saw each other a lot.”

“Yeah, something like that,” you say, quietly challenging him even now to say the whole truth. He responds with a shake of his head. His mother doesn’t notice.

“Oh, how nice! Such a shame my son never mentioned knowing you before. He could be the one shopping with you now if he had gotten you sooner instead of your husband! But, my son was always so focused on sports. Do you know the UHL? He’s on a team there!”

Something twinges in you at the mention of the truth. You know Jimin never mentioned you, as that was part of your arrangement. But the thing his mother says about getting you sooner really throws you.

“She knows, Eomma. She of all people will know about the UHL. She had tried out during the same trials as me.”

“Is that so? Well, a pity that he beat you then. He’s always been so talented. I guess fate really made things work out for both of you then.”

You find yourself folding your lips into a thin line, trying to avoid spilling the details about her son’s talent. But just as you wrap your hands around the cart rails until your knuckles pop, you feel MInho reach over you, loosening the cart from your grasp.

“Hey, uh, you know, your mom is probably looking for us,” he says, introducing the bait that you can take to escape the increasingly painful conversation.

As if summoned, your mother appears, rambling on about how long it has taken before she recognizes who is standing in front of her.

“Oh, well hello there! It’s great to see you again. Thank you for attending yesterday, it was wonderful having you. Too bad you missed the post-caroling cookies!”

You sigh, knowing that your mother is sounding passive aggressive to anyone within earshot.

“Oh, yes, I’m sorry we couldn’t attend. My son had just flown in earlier in the day, so we went home after so he could rest.”

Your mother’s smile falls a little, no doubt from the guilt.

“Of course! Well, no harm done. In fact, I’m having a soirée on Christmas Eve, and you should attend! Bring the whole family!”

You glance back at Minho, whose mouth is pursed to hold back a laugh, much like yours. A soirée. Sure.

“I don’t know Eomma, we still have–”

“It sounds amazing!” Mrs. Park interrupts, shooting a harsh look at her son. “We would love to attend, thank you.”

“Perfect, I’ll email you the details then. Well, we should get going. These cookies won’t bake themselves!”

As you peel yourself away from the Parks, you take a deep breath.

“Well,” Minho says, “I don’t think I need to hear your story anymore.”

“Well, there’s something more I need to tell you, but not here.”

When you first met Jimin, you were seven, though you don’t remember him. While he once claimed he’s known you for forever, it wasn’t until you were both teenagers before you actually remembered him.

In high school, you’d laid low, avoiding just about every social event that you possibly could. Your focus was on academics and the ice, with 5am wake times to get to the arena to practice, and late nights doing extra cram school sessions to keep your grades in shape despite your busy schedule. You had friends, but they were ones who lived in different cities, most of them commuting to your traveling team. Because co-ed hockey wasn’t an option and your high school had only invested in boys’ leagues, Park Jimin wasn’t someone on your radar.

Until you’d learned that you were on his.

It started in the early spring. Rumor had it that major league coaches were scouting for new recruits. Of all genders. There was a special trial process, and the trials would happen during the summer, with a potential for newly contracted players to begin their rookie season as soon as the fall.

You’d tried not to get too excited. With an early decision college acceptance under your belt, your future was already looking bright. There was even an athletic scholarship attached. You could play on the women's team. But the potential of playing for the UHL, to be scouted and live out your dream to play hockey professionally was still filling your stomach with butterflies.

So you kept yourself chill until the rumor became official, and marched into the arena you knew so well with your head high, ready to take on the other recruits.

It was then that you and Jimin officially met.

He was a bit scrawny looking then, his mop of black hair almost shadowing his face. It was hard to believe that this kid was the one you knew to be the MVP of the boy’s hockey team at your school.

But once you saw him move, you understood why. Jimin had the form and movement almost of a dancer, with his build keeping him strong but light on his feet to race forward and snake around even the most complex of defense measures. He instinctively knew how to bend his body and stick away from a targeted maneuver, and cut swiftly enough to throw off the goalie and score. He would have made a great figure skater.

You, however, were different. From the start, the grace of figure skating wasn’t with you, with your skates sloppily digging into the ice so you could chase after the object of your affection. A little brutish, you were also cunning, and the strategy of hockey and the game board that laid before you made it all the more satisfying. Your patience and ability to unfold a game play before it fully manifested often led to your team’s win.

It also made playing against Jimin all the more intriguing.

Because during each scrimmage, shoot-out, and obstacle you faced for the try-outs, Jimin was often neck-in-neck with you, somehow knowing your own plan of attack, and sliding the puck out of your hold as if he was plucking a feather from a pillow. It appeared so effortless, like he’d studied you for so long and knew your every movement. When he would shrug and give you an angelic smile during his wins over you, it made you all the more angry.

One day after a scrimmage, you were stressed and hormonal and pissed. Some of the other players had gotten under your skin, shit-talking you for being the only woman on the team.

“You sure you aren’t on some steroids or some shit? Performance enhancement can happen to everyone.”

“I’m sure your daddy taught you quite a bit when you played on your little ponds, sweetheart. But this is the big leagues. There’s guys out there three times your size who will ruin that pretty little face.”

“Are you sure you’re cut out for this? The position of Puck Bunny is open. If you want to experience hockey with the pros, might as well be safely bouncing on my cock to do so.”

The sexism was rampant in hockey, and you knew it. But that was a day where it was too much. With graduation on the near horizon, just breaking up with your boyfriend, and the scouting day schedule being released soon, your nerves were as tired as your body.

When Jimin found you crying in your car outside of the arena, he’d gently knocked on your window, a light smile warming his face as he held up a protein shake and a Kit Kat.

You’d let him in, and from there, your whole world shifted.

The days grew longer, the sun warming parts of your life you’d forgotten winter took away. Jimin was there to listen, to sit and strategize plays with you, to eat Subway sandwiches after practice and walk you to your car after school.

“Hey, so, there’s this movie coming out. It’s a documentary, actually, about my favorite player, Lee Wonhyuk? Would you, uh, like to see it with me?”

You knew that was his favorite player. He mentioned Wonhyuk nearly every day, and wore his jersey when he wasn’t in his own padding. You also had learned other things about Jimin during this time, like how the tips of his ears would turn red when he was embarrassed, and that his parents had a no dating policy because he was supposed to have an arranged marriage some day. He dreamed of leaving the town you both grew up in, wanting more for himself and hoping the distance from his family would allow for him to be more himself than simply fulfilling the dreams of his parents.

He wanted it so badly he repeated it like a mantra to you often, it sometimes sounding like a plea to the heavens as tears fell from his eyes.

He had a tooth that was a little crooked, and sometimes when he was tired, his voice would lisp a little. When he laughed, it was often with his full body, a cute giggle that scrunched up his face and folded him nearly in half with joy. He was allergic to cats but loved them. He had a brother. He learned to skate on the pond in his backyard.

But he never bragged. Never let his anger get him on the ice. Was respectful to you and held open doors or carried your equipment bag when your shoulder hurt.

So of course you said yes to the date. Of course you let him tuck your hair behind your ear and kiss you in the warm night, his breathy finally he sighed when your lips broke apart ensuring you’d made the right call about him.

“So you were seeing each other in secret,” Minho says, drinking his Americano smoothly, like it isn’t a pile of caffeinated sludge.

“Yes,” you respond, the cinnamon on top of your gingerbread latte making you cough slightly.

The café’s window is foggy, but you can still make out the figures of bustling shoppers. For the sake of discretion, you agreed to Minho’s suggestion to go into the big city for “decent coffee and the ability to be strangers in a larger public”.

He was right. Everyone is either deep in their own discussions or blocking out the world with headphones as they work on their laptops. The soft jazz Christmas music makes it feel safer to speak your secrets into the air.

“Well, then what happened? What led to you breaking up? It sounds like you two were in love.”

“We were…I think” you say, correcting yourself immediately after.

“You think?”

“Can you be in love when you’re nineteen?”

“Uh, yes? Nineteen is young, but have you seen the teens these days? I think they have emotional maturity.”

“Well, I didn’t, I guess. Because that summer was so intense. We graduated, but we were already together. And then we were hanging out with our own friend groups and trying to balance things. But we saw each other just about every day. And then it was almost like an obsession. We were unable to go a singular day without each other. He would sneak into my room to be with me at night and then leave before either of us had to get up to go to practice. We didn’t want to get caught, so we would makeout behind the movie theater in his car or drive to a more secluded part of the woods so we could…you know.”

“Have sex? Come on, Y/N, don’t get all shy on me now when I know you were eating up the details about me taking my date the other night and eating her out while she–”

“Shh!” You look around, but if anything, your shushing is the thing that drew attention.

“You’re such a prude,” Minho laughs. “Anyway, go on. So you would sneak around, make love, and spend every hour with each other possible. Sounds like you were being nineteen.”

“Well, it was intense. And once the coaches came it was rigorous and terrifying. Jimin was getting better and stronger, but I was constantly getting slower and I felt weaker. At first I thought I was just tired, like I’d overworked myself, but then I was getting more anxious and nauseous. So I just assumed that it was nerves. But I was playing pretty good and I was drawing attention from the coaches in a great way. Well, one in particular. The coach for the Bells. He was the only one who seemed to be interested in signing a woman.”

“Well, yeah, because we live in a hellish and misogynistic society and you kick ass!” Minho says enthusiastically, pounding his hand onto the table.

A woman carrying her tiny Pomerainian in her purse whips her head over. “Do you mind? Snowball is trying to get her beauty sleep.”

“Sorry,” you both say in unison.

“Anyway, yeah, I was so excited about the opportunity. And so was Jimin. He kept going on and on about playing on the same team as his idol. But Coach approached me one day after practice and told me that despite there being another three weeks in the trial period, he’d already made his decision. He wanted to sign me on for the fall season. And he would see through the process to be fair, but he had already contacted the legal team to begin drawing up my contract.

“And I had to keep it a secret. While it’s kind of known that coaches do this, they usually keep it to themselves. But Coach said that he hadn’t seen the strategy his team needed in their play execution for quite some time and I would be a huge asset to the team. I’d asked about Jimin, too, out of curiosity but he kind of skirted around the details, saying that there would only be one recruit for the team from this area.”

“Oh my god, that’s incredible! So why didn’t you go through with it? What did Jimin say when you told him?”

“I didn’t,” you shake your head, fiddling with the cupsleeve of your latte. “I couldn’t. Not only was I sworn to secrecy basically, but how was I supposed to tell the person who adored the Bells that he wasn’t going to play for them? How could I crush his dreams like that? He needed this. Not only because he wanted it, but he was good at it. As much as I hated to admit my shitty opponents were right, I physically was going to be one third of the size of my competitors sometimes and there is a danger in hockey.”

“Okay, but it’s not like Jimin is some massive dude.”

“No, but you’ve seen how graceful he is. He slips out of the hold of the other team fairly easily. I’ve only seen him get body checked recently, when he got whatever that temper is he now is known for. He wasn’t like that at all when we were younger.”

“Did he find out? Is that how things ended?”

You shook your head. “I never told Jimin about this meeting. Maybe he knows now and that’s why he’s always pissed whenever he sees me, I don’t know. But there’s multiple reasons why I didn’t sign on, and yes there’s that part I just told you about, but there was more to it than that.”

Minho sips his coffee, gesturing for you to continue.

“So, as the week went on, my stomach was hurting more and more. And with all the stress and nerves but all the crazy workouts, I’d been skipping my period for a few months. Jimin and I had been safe for the most part, but not always. Sometimes we were too hot and heavy and we’d do the pull-out method instead. But I didn’t ever make the connection. A lot of the time, female athletes who are super physically conditioned have lighter or missed periods. It had happened before, but that was before I was sexually active. Stress, too, can sometimes make you miss periods. So one night Jimin and I went out to this party. Nothing really important happened but some girl threw herself at Jimin and he was worried I’d be upset. I wasn’t, but all-too conveniently I was super sick the next day. I missed practice. And that’s when I started putting the dots together and bought a test that was clearly positive.”

“Oh my god, Y/N. What?”

“Yeah,” you chuckled, taking a deeper sip of your drink. “Pregnant. And for a little while actually. When I got into the clinic and they took the blood tests and ultrasound, they suspected I was about 8 weeks along. Which means I had been drinking, getting body checked, and all sorts of shit during that time. But, they said it was still viable.”

“Did you want it to be viable? I mean, how did you feel? Scared, I can imagine.”

Your lips curve into a soft smile. “I don’t think I really gave myself much time to decide how I felt besides that I was terrified and that this was happening at the worst possible time. I asked for an abortion right then and there. So they sent me home with the pills, and I just waited. It takes a few days, and god, honestly it was awful to experience alone. I didn’t tell anyone, because if I told my parents I was afraid they would ask whose it was, and I didn’t want that to get back to Jimin’s parents. So, I just spent about a week at home, saying I had a really heavy period this time, experiencing heavy cramps and crying and letting it pass. The following week I had to go back in and make sure it worked, but in that time I just laid low and didn’t talk to anyone.

“My parents didn’t suspect much, but Jimin was freaking out, thinking I had some infectious disease and threatening to come over every five minutes with soup or a Hazmat suit. I didn’t want him to be there, though. If he knew I was pregnant, I knew it would throw him off. He’d be worried about me even more and start thinking about us having babies together and getting old and staying in this town.”

“I can understand why you didn’t tell him, I do. But I do wonder what’s so wrong about letting him think about those things too.” Minho reaches his hand out gently, stroking his fingers on the back of your hand. “I’m not saying what you did is wrong in any way, Y/N. It’s your body and always your choice matters the most. But based on how you described him to me before, do you think he would have thrown it all away or tried to make you keep the baby? Do you think that your decision and his wouldn’t be aligned in that way?”

You think for a minute. “No, I think he would have been on my side. He was really adamant on letting me be independent and pursuing what was best for myself. I just couldn't give him the option at the time. I was too focused on making sure things went right for him.”

Minho smiles softly and nods. “I just hate that you went through that alone.”

“I do too. But I’m glad I can finally talk about it. I did end up telling my parents, about a year or so later, that I had an abortion. I didn’t say whose it was, but my mom cried for like three days because she was so sad for me that I went through it alone.”

“Is that why you turned down the offer, then? Were you okay after?” Minho furrows his brow with concern.

“Oh, I was fine after about two weeks. I felt completely back to normal. And it wasn’t really that reason that I turned the offer down. I mean, it was a part of it, obviously, but mostly when I was having the abortion and was alone at home I was thinking about how fucked up life is. I was a normal teenager and then shit I was pregnant. I was in love with someone but oh god we were almost parents. We were breaking rules despite being adults. We were living in secret and baby or no baby, life was going to change for us and soon. If I was signed to the Bells, I would be leaving home, but what about Jimin? Would he come with me, stay back? Would he get other offers and we’d play on opposing teams? If I said no and he said yes, would he seriously be okay coming back and seeing me or trying to figure things out while I was away at school?

“Keep in mind, at that time, I didn’t realize my deferment was me rescinding my scholarship. I just suddenly felt like the world was so, so big and the tiny, romantic solitude we’d coveted was not going to work out. So I made up my mind. I turned down the offer for the Bells. I told Coach the world wasn’t ready for a woman in professional hockey and told him about Jimin and his drive and passion and dreams. I told him to sign him instead. Or at least I hoped I told him. I was really laying it on thick,” you laugh.

“And then you broke things off with Jimin,” Minho finishes. You frown softly.

“Yeah. And it was awful. He begged me not to. He didn’t know where all this was coming from. He told me he’d only leave if I told him I didn’t love him, but I couldn’t do that. Eventually my dad busted into my room and sent him away. And that was it. That was the last time we talked or saw each other.”

“Until now.”

“Until now,” you confirm.

‘Well fuck, Y/N, that’s one hell of a story.”

“I’ll say.”

Your head pivots to the Pomeranian lady, who is turned toward you and Minho, sipping her coffee indulgently.

“You were eavesdropping that entire time?” you ask.

“Well, it’s not like you were being discreet. Either way, honey, these kinds of places absorb everyone’s biggest secrets. That’s what makes the coffee so good.”

When Minho dropped you off at your house, you felt like a huge weight had been lifted off your chest. After years of holding onto something that wasn’t necessarily shameful but still heavy, someone else knowing the full story was relieving.

However, one question he asked before leaving has been popping around in your head, taking up a residence that you weren’t quite expecting, even as you unlock the doors to the ice arena the next morning.

“Are you going to tell him?”

Had Jimin not been only mere miles away from you at this very moment, you would say no. There’s no point in bringing up the past if it’s never around to haunt you. But it seems like Jimin is determined to make your small town feel even smaller.

When he walks through the doors behind Bee, you can’t help but feel like you manifested him.

“So, Y/N, here’s the deal.” Bee always tells you news this way. A deal, a situation. This is her way of telling you she’s made a decision and you’re probably not going to like it.

“I got a call the other day from the Head Coach of the Bells. I don’t know how, probably Jay gave it to him since he’s the AC but whatever.” Bee suddenly admitting that her long distance boyfriend, Jay–the Jay she has baby talked to multiple times after a game loss– is the Assistant Coach for the Bells is shocking. But not as shocking as what next comes out of her mouth. “He wants us to rehab Park. Drill him, get him back to his roots and all that shit. He’s hoping some time on a familiar rink will help him shape up. So starting today, he’s going to be training with you.”

You blink silently at Bee, wishing you could communicate “I want to strangle you” through the pattern.

“What?” Jimin says incredulously. “I thought I was just going to be training with the space, not with her specifically.”

Bee cocks her head at Jimin. “You got a problem training with women, Park? Because if so, I would be happy to call Jay and let him know you’re not complying.” She smiles viciously.

Jimin sighs in resignation. “No, ma’am.”

“Bee,” you say. “That’s not fair. If he doesn’t want to train with us, he doesn’t have to. I have some opening slots since the junior teams and figure skating lessons are on hold until after the new year. He can just come do drills during those times if he wants to.”

Bee flicks her gaze between you and Jimin, raising an eyebrow. “What’s with you, Y/N? You’ve never disagreed with my plans before. Are you guys ex lovers or something?”

You suck in a breath, ready to deny the accusation, but Jimin beats you to it.

“Yeah, actually. We dated in high school.” He says it calmly, with no malice or venom. It actually shocks you a bit.

“Oh. Well...do you think you two can make it through the holidays without killing each other?”

Jimin laughs lightly. “I don’t know, you’ve seen her slapshots. I think you know how lethal she can be.”

Bee smirks, nodding. “Fair.”

You knit your brows together. Jimin making light jokes to Bee? What reality do you live in?

“So, Y/N? Can you not enact Kill Jimin at this time?”

Despite yourself, you find yourself smiling, allowing a light laugh to fall from your lips.

“Yes, I promise I won’t kill Jimin.”

Practicing with you feels like a weird dream Jimin is walking through. Familiar because the arena looks about the exact same as it did back when you were teenagers. Only now, you are both older, and when Jimin gets a good look at you without a giant winter parka over your body, he can’t help but notice how good you look.

Your body has filled in, with wider hips and strong legs that lunge forward with ease, carrying you as you slam the puck into the goal post, chiming in the air before it pivots in. Your ass has gotten bigger, too, and it looks perfect in your leggings you’ve chosen to wear for practice. He can’t see much of your arms due to the bulky hoodie you’ve chosen, but he can tell by the way you bodycheck one of your teammates that they are far from weak.

It’s almost enough to get him hard. Until he hears you laugh, and then he remembers how long it’s been since he’s experienced your laughter, and the empty ache of his past drags his sulky mood back up.

Being home sucks. Seeing his parents is great, but he’s been coddled since he got here, being sent off with homemade lunches from his mother and warnings from his father not to stay out too late. He’s almost thirty and he feels sixteen. This morning his mother woke up even before him just so she could corner him in the kitchen and ask if he’d reviewed any of the potential matches she sent him so he can also go on a date while he’s home.

He’d said not yet, but what he wanted to say was “No, Eomma, because marriage couldn’t be the furthest thing from my mind right now when my career is dying in front of me.”

Now, witnessing you be still so much of yourself after nearly ten years, Jimin can’t help but feel even worse about himself.

“Park, you’re up.” Coach Bee whistles for Jimin to begin his drill, handling the puck quicking between a set of cones. It’s a familiar drill he’s done hundreds of times with the UHL, but this time there’s a twist: he must avoid the agitator, a player who will skate behind him tightly, not only trying to intercept the puck, but also piss him off.

Naturally, you’re the agitator.

“Before we do this, no low blows,” he says as you glide up to him. “Treat me with the same knowledge any other player would have. Nothing too personal.”

“Oh, uh, I wasn’t going to, but sure,” you say softly.

When Coach Bee blows her whistle, he begins, curving his body along the cones, with you right behind him.

“Pussy,” you say, which catches Jimin off guard immediately, throwing him into a laughing fit and knocking a bunch of cones down.”

Coach blows her whistle. “Reset! Come on Park, Y/N, be serious.”

“I am being serious!” you shout back, but Jimin is still laughing hard.

“Oh come on! Pussy? You’re kidding me!” Jimin wheezes. Your lips twitch.

“Okay, fine, I haven’t gone into my zone yet. Give me a break.”

“I know you can be mean,” he says. Your face falls.

“I don’t want to be mean.”

“Well that’s your job right now isn’t it? To agitate me? So just suck it up and do it. Or are you a pussy?” He raises an eyebrow. You clench your jaw.

This is how he knows he’s got you. All it ever used to take was a little bit of a challenge to rile you up. And Jimin knows just what buttons to push.

“Reset your shit and let’s go,” you say.

He smirks.

This time when Coach Bee blows her whistle, you’re practically on top of Jimin, careening your body so your stick is just millimeters away from his.

“You know, you used to be hard to crack. What’s wrong? All that fame get to your head? Or was it the fake orgasms you gave that girl in your little sex tape?”

“Oh, baby, you of all people should know those orgasms were real.”

“Hmm, I don’t know. You were going awfully hard on the poor girl with your needle dicking. Does being shitty at hockey now amount to being shitty at sex these days?” You smack his hockey stick, causing it to rattle uneasily in Jimin’s grasp.

He chokes up on the handle, reshaping the curve of his arm so the puck tucks behind the stick when you go in for another slap.

“Aw you’re asking about sex? Has no one fucked you since me or are you just having awful sex?” he retorts. You scoff. With a twist, Jimin begins the second set of cones, this time with a more fluid movement that feels natural to his body.

“So interested in my pussy, aren’t you. If you were maybe more attentive to the other people you fuck, you wouldn’t be the worst player in the major league.”

“As opposed to what? The best player in the minor league? I’m not the one stuck at home.”

He feels your skate sliding between his legs, the force of your body checking, almost knocking him to the ground. He steadies, glaring at you as you coast behind him gracefully.

“Oops, sorry. Did I almost trip you?”

“You always played dirty,” he spits. “Come on, babygirl, give me your worst.”

You roll your eyes and fall into position as he passes the puck back and forth between his stick.

“Being awfully quiet back there. What’s wrong, big boys got your ego down?”

“Hardly. I think you’ve got enough ego for the whole fucking town.”

“And how did I get it, hmm? It didn’t come from sucking, Y/N, it came from talent. Something you didn’t try hard enough for.”

“And you did? I’m sure Coach really loves to tell you all about your talent.”

“He does, he said I had drive and passion and that’s why I needed to come back here. To show how far I’ve come from this shithole. How skilled I am and how much I deserve to be there instead of here.”

“Well lucky for you to have been the top contender.” Your voice drips with anger, and Jimin peers back to see your eyes piercing through him. You drop your stick, shifting to Coach Bee.

“Bee, I’m done. Send in someone else to agitate.” You skate off the ice, whispering angrily to her as you jab your finger in Jimin’s direction. She nods, blowing her whistle.

“Alright, reset! Let’s get this show on the road. Wonpil, you’re with Jimin. Minho, go take goalie position. Hustle! It’s Christmas Eve, we all want to get home!”

Everyone resets, and the player named Wonpil pulls up behind Jimin. As the fellow players begin their drills, Wonpil immediately jumps in where you left off.

“God, I can’t believe they let an asshole like you in here,” he says, leering over Jimin’s shoulder.

Jimin snorts, focusing on his positioning.

“Seriously, you’re the scum of the entire UHL and you really think you’re the shit? Embarrassing.”

“Well, at least I have a contract. How's a dinky rink going for you, bud?”

“You know you only have that contract because Y/N turned it down, right?”

Jimin grips his stick harder. “Nice lie, you almost got me with it.”

Wonpil laughs, empty and cruel. “Oh you don’t know do you? Your coach scouted her for the Bells. She only turned it down because she was sick and felt bad for you.”

“You’re lying,” Jimin said, teeth gritting.

“Sure I am. Keep telling yourself that. But facts are facts, Jimin. You playing like a piece of shit is a disgrace to not just yourself, but everything she built for you too.”

“Stop. Lying.” Heat flares through Jimin’s body, and he pivots on the ice, slamming his body into Wonpil.

“Oh, I’ve wanted to do this for a long time,” Wonpil says, teeth sharp as he smiles at Jimin. “Someone really needs to put you in your place, and I’m more than happy to do it.”

Jimin grabs Wonpil’s shoulders, jerking him into the barrier. “Go for it, bud. Show me how cool you think you are.”

Wonpil jerks his arm up to bring his elbow down onto Jimin's face, but something stops him. A hand squeezes his forearm, and as Jimin follows the limb, he sees you.

“Stop it, Wonpil. That’s enough.” Your voice is soft but ragged, and Jimin realizes you’ve been crying.

Somewhere in the background, the whistle is screaming through the arena, and the entire team of the Griffins are streaming forward to break up the fight. But it’s your touch, your voice that seems to break Jimin from his fury.

“Are you okay?” he asks, but the question confuses you, and you stand there staring at him, your body only looped through one arm of the hoodie, your skates untied.

You don’t answer, instead skating back off the rink, grabbing your equipment bag and disappearing behind a door marked for employees.

Jimin doesn’t see you until closing time. While practice ended hours ago, he stayed, doing drills, eating a hot dog from concessions, and most of all, waiting for you.

Your hair is messy, eyes puffy and red, but when your eyes land on Jimin, you don’t look fazed by his presence.

“I saw you on the security camera,” you say softly.

“Ah,” he responds. Your arms are crossed, the long sleeves of your shirt confirming the muscle definition he suspected before.

“I assume you wanted to talk to me?” you ask.

Jimin clears his throat, nodding awkwardly. “Um, yeah. Your teammate, Wonpil. What’s his deal?”

“What do you mean?”

“Does he have it out for me or something?”

You shrug. “I’m not sure what you mean. Besides you trying to beat the shit out of him. Did something happen?”

“Well, I didn’t try to beat the shit out of him for nothing. The guy has a screw loose or something. He was saying all sorts of shit.”

“Didn’t you tell me that this is what the agitator does? Of course he’s going to say shit. Come on, follow me. I need to lock up.” You lead him through the various lobbies and areas around the arena, checking bathrooms and corners for anyone who might be loitering. Jimin saw the last people leave about an hour ago, but he doesn’t say so.

“Yeah, but this was crazy stuff.” You duck your head into the women’s bathroom.

“Mhm.”

“He said that the only reason I’m contracted with the Bells is because you turned it down. Isn’t that nuts?”

You freeze, your hand on the key that turns off the lights to the south side of the arena.

“Oh.”

Jimin watches you. Your voice sounds shaken, and when you turn to him, you don’t meet his gaze.

“Y/N,” Jimin says.

“Yeah.”

“Look at me.” You obey. “Is that true? Did you get a contract for the Bells?”

“I did,” you say.

Jimin’s chest clenches but he forces a deep breath through it anyway.

“And did you turn it down so I could go?”

“Yes,” you say. Tears well up in your eyes. Jimin blinks in disbelief.

“Why? Why the fuck would you do that? It was your dream and you just threw it away!” Anger pulses through him again, making him flushed and hot. “Why didn’t you tell me? What the fuck, Y/N?”

“You wanted it more than I did, Jimin! You needed it more than me. What was I supposed to do? Leave you behind?”

“You were supposed to tell me! You were supposed to be honest so I could figure things out for myself! If I wasn’t the first pick, I deserved to know! Now I know I was the pity pick? All this time I was thinking I was chosen because I was wanted, but I wasn’t even good enough for that?”

He rubs his eyes with his hands, trying to stamp out the burning he feels in them. Despite himself, his throat tightens, and the hot lick of tears begins to fall in mirror to your face.

“Of course you were good enough! Why else would you have been contracted! He saw in you what I saw!” you yell, a ragged cry leaving your chest.

“So that’s why you dumped me all those years ago? Was it guilt for what you did?”

“No! No, it was because I couldn’t be the one dragging you down, Jimin. You spent that whole summer telling me how badly you needed to escape. You talked about your dreams, everything. If I went and played for the Bells, would you have been happy for me? Would you have been okay with letting your dream go?”

“Of course I wouldn’t Y/N! Because you were my dream. You never seemed to get that! All along you were playing with my future like I was your puppet on strings. Did I live up to your expectations? Hm? Is watching me fuck strangers in a threesome that has since ruined my life been a dream for you? Has watching me become the loser that I am been satisfying for your sick idea of reality?”

“No, it isn’t. It’s been sad, Jimin. It has been absolutely awful to watch! And keep in mind, there’s no way for me to be a puppeteer if I’m not around to pull the strings. You became who you are now by your own hand. Not mine. Yeah, it was wrong of me not to tell you, I know that now. I’m sorry. It wasn’t fair to you. But I’m not responsible for your career failing. That’s all you.”

You turn the key to the set of lights, shutting the arena down into darkness.

“Now, excuse me. I have a Christmas Eve party to get to.”

You manage to get the swelling of your eyelids to go down with some cold spoons your mother shoves into the freezer when she sees you arrive at the party.

You know you’ll have to face Jimin again tonight, but some resolve has washed over you in the time since you left the arena earlier this afternoon. You’ve had time for a shower, and thrown on some makeup so no one can ask you why you’ve been crying.

With Minho here, things are feeling a little less stifling, as he instinctively knows how to assemble a killer charcuterie board while also wearing a dashing smile on his face when your aunts ask him if he’s single. He’s good for the distraction, giving you more time to mentally prepare for when Jimin walks through the door with his parents, wearing a white button-up shirt and open suitcoat.

He looks good. Put together, unlike earlier when he and you were crying and screaming at each other. Composed in only the way a celebrity with PR training could.

“Oh, hello Y/N!” his mother says as you greet them at the door, taking her pea coat into your hands.

“Hello, thank you for coming. My mom will be happy you’re here.”

“Thank you, dear. It’s our pleasure to be here. Jimin, help Y/N with our coats while we go put the tapenade on the table.”

Mechanically, he obliges, taking his and his father’s snow-dusted coats and following you to the spare bedroom down the hall that has become the coat room.

“You look nice,” he says, nodding in your direction. You chose to wear a sparkly black dress with shooting stars on it. It was one of the few things in your closet you could deem festive enough without being tacky. The only downside is that it’s shrunk in the wash, making your breasts spill over and your ass practically falls out the back when it rides up.

“Thank you,” you say, trying not to notice too much that his eyes are glued to your chest. You feel a light jolt of warmth in your stomach. “You do too.”

Jimin flushes, looking down shyly. “Thanks.”

Without much effort, you turn toward the door, falling back into the warmth of the party. Your mother clinks her glass, drawing the attention of others.

“Thank you all for attending this party at the last minute,” your mother beams, clearly pleased with the turnout.

“That being said, we have lots of games at the ready, song sheets with lyrics, and plenty of eggnog and mistletoe to help you feel some holiday cheer.” She looks at you and winks. “So, enjoy! And cheers!”

The partygoers cheer, and some swingy, festive rendition of “Deck the Halls” kicks on. You retreat to the designated bar table, where Minho is pouring a heavy glass of something.

“What’s ailing you?” he asks.

“Jimin,” you scoff, gesturing for him to pour you a shot of vodka. He goes to top it with cranberry juice, but you shake your head.

“You sure you want to get wasted?”

“Absolutely. I can’t imagine getting through any of this sober,” you grimace. Minho laughs.

“Fair point. Cheers.”

You clink your shot glasses, downing the alcohol quickly. The burn pulls down through your chest, warming you instantly.

For the next two hours, you and Minho take turns pouring each other drinks before jumping into games like Christmas Pictionary, where your father draws the worst reindeer you’ve ever seen in your life, looking more like a group of sausages on a grill.

Jimin hovers around, refusing to partake in the fun, and his Grinchy attitude is still weighing on you too.

When your mother passes out her caroling sheets and your father shoves someone over to the piano, you find yourself stuffed into the corner with him.

“Having fun yet?” you ask, the alcohol giving you the guts to feel daring enough to speak to him.

“Is this supposed to be?”

You frown. “God, you’re such a grump. You better be careful, or you’ll be visited by the ghosts of Christmas past, present, and future tonight.”

“I’d say that I’m already experiencing it,” he says, gesturing toward you. “You get to be all three it would seem.”

You roll your eyes, putting some distance between the two of you.

At some point, you’re stuck together again. This time near the snack table and you try to pad your stomach with something other than alcohol. As you load your plate with salami roses and lots of different cheeses and vegetables, Jimin reaches over you, grabbing the bag of potato chips and depositing some of his plate.

“Here,” he says, when he sees you struggle to balance your stash, and he carries it into the kitchen so you can eat against the counter in peace.

“Um, thank you,” you say, and pop a tomato into your mouth.

“About earlier,” he says. Something in his voice sounds less tense than before, and it prompts you to look at him, taking in the softness of his face.

“Yeah?”

“I was being an asshole,” he finishes. “I’m sorry. I just…it was a shock is all. And a bit disappointing.”

“It’s okay to be upset,” you say, dusting your hands off on a napkin. “And I’m sorry, too. It wasn’t right of me. I know it’s not an excuse, but I was really young at the time and I was scared.”

“I was scared too,” Jimin says, lifting his eyes to look at you. “God, leaving here was terrifying.”

The room is warm from all the crockpots still heating the various delights your parents have encouraged others to serve. Jimin’s face is rosy, and he looks almost like a teenager again.

You nod. “I can only imagine. A new place to start from scratch. Trying to get a hang of everything and be independent. You were practically a kid.”

“I was,” he smirks. “We both were.”

“Yeah,” you smile.

“I do have another question, if that’s okay,” he says quietly.

“Sure.” You bite down on a piece of cheese, chewing softly.

“When you broke up with me, you said something about how if you got the contract you were worried that I would be miserable. Was that why you did it? Didn’t take it.”

You sigh. “It was more complicated than that.”

“How so?”

In the living room someone whoops as the partygoers sing along to “Jingle Bell Rock”.

“Not here, let’s go somewhere more private.”

He follows you into the guest room where you left your coats earlier. The room feels colder than the rest of the house, since the door has been closed despite the groups of people warming the living room.

You sit. Jimin sits, too, though on the far side of the bed.

“Well, I guess that me worrying about you was part of it. But I think looking back, I was also worried about myself. We had such a hot and heavy summer and this contract felt like a huge question mark over both of our futures. And we’d never talked about it. While I was at home, I just kept twirling the idea of how things would work out over and over in my head.”

“Did you skip trials because of it? I had no idea you were so anxious. When I saw you and you didn’t look sick, I thought you’d lied. I never considered that you would have made yourself sick with all of that.”

“Um, well that wasn’t fully it.” His composure takes you by surprise. “The week of the party. The one you assumed I got mad at you for? I was kept after practice by your coach. He said that while the try-outs weren’t done, he had made his choice. He picked me. And I had to keep it a secret from everyone. Including you.”

Jimin folds his lips into a line. “Ah, I see.”

“But, I also had been feeling really shitty. Nausea, heightened anxiety, stress related stuff. Missing periods and stuff, which I know I told you some about. But the day after the party, I felt really bad. And then I finally realized what was wrong. Um…I was pregnant.”

Jimin’s eyes flare wide. “What?”

“Yeah. Turns out a lot of my symptoms were signs of pregnancy. And you and I weren’t exactly careful a lot of the time.”

Heat floods to Jimin’s face, and you watch as his ears turn pink. “No, we weren’t.”

“I knew I couldn’t have a baby. I wasn’t really thinking what you would want in that but–”

“What I would have wanted doesn’t matter.”

You smile, some warmth spreading to your chest over your instinct being right. “Well, thanks. I got an abortion. And then I turned down the contract. I was going to go to school but I guess my deferment resulted in me losing my scholarship.”

Jimin stares at you, unmoving.

“You okay? I’m not shocking you too much?”

“It’s not that it’s just. Holy shit, Y/N.”

“People keep saying that,” you chuckle.

“Because it’s a holy shit situation. Were you okay? Did your parents take you?”

“No, I just did it alone.”

“Fuck, god. And I was just off dicking around on a rink while you were going through that”

“Which is what I wanted you to be doing, Jimin. I didn’t want you worrying about me. You had to focus!”

Jimin rolls his eyes. “God, you are ridiculous. You were all alone having an abortion by yourself, going through that pain by yourself. Something of which I caused and you were still thinking about me instead of yourself?”

Your mouth opens to speak, but no words come out. You never thought of it like that.

“I’m not mad you didn’t tell me, just so you know. I don’t think I really have a right to be mad because it’s not my body that had to go through it. I just…I would have wanted to be there for you through it. More than anything. You were my world, Y/N.”

“But I couldn’t be. I needed you to be your own world. I needed you to go make something of yourself that wasn’t just because of me.”

He snorts. “But it was because of you that I made something of myself. I got contracted because of you. I played hard to not think about you. I kept myself busy for nearly a decade with my career so I could forget about you.”

“Well, did you get close?” you ask carefully. The alcohol has made your head feel a little fuzzy, but the conversation has sobered you up.

He picks up a throw pillow and tosses it at you. You laugh. “No, of course I didn’t. It’s you, for fuck’s sake. You were my every wet dream of my teenage years, do you think I would just forget you like that?”

“Well, you tried to pretend you didn’t remember me.”

“God,” he runs a hand over his face. “I think I was just shocked, honestly. I thought you would have left here. Gone away to college and got your sports physiology degree and I would run into you one day in LA after a bad injury and I could convince you to fall in love with me again.”

You scoff. “Oh is that the dream?”

“Well it was. I really didn’t think I’d see you ever again, actually.”

“I hope it’s not too much of a disappointment.”

“Well, we’ll see…it wasn’t because you were pregnant that you broke up with me, was it?”

“Oh my god, no. You’re obsessed with this like there’s a singular reason but there wasn’t. It was a culmination of everything. Besides, I’d had the abortion during the time I was home. When you showed up, I had just gotten clearance from my doctor that it was a success.”

Jimin frowns. “Were you sad about it? The abortion? Not that you had to be.”

“I was sad that I was alone. I was sad that I felt like I couldn’t tell you. I was worried that if I did, I would be the reason for you not getting contracted. It was a lot of worrying for you. But also for myself. I worried I wouldn’t be okay. And I worried I would regret it somehow, that I would wake up one day wondering what could have been.”

“Did you?”

You look down at your hands. “No, I mean, not really. I have since, I guess, but it’s less wondering what life would have been like without an abortion and more what life would have been like if I didn’t call everything off. That decision hurt me. And it never felt completely right. But my fear of things ending kind of ruled over me. I was so in love with you that I couldn’t imagine a lifetime where things would work out. Not when you had an arranged marriage you’d someday have to fulfill, or one of us would go pro and have to figure out how to make both our dreams work.”

Jimin nods. “Well, thank you for telling me. I’m glad you made the decision that was best for you at the time. It gives me some closure.” He scoots closer to you before reaching over and squeezing your hand. “And I hope that if you ever go through something like that again, you have someone by your side so you feel less alone.”

“Thank you,” you say.

The warmth of his hand comforts you both as you sit in the room. Your mother squeals in the other room, shouting at your father for allegedly grabbing her ass.

“Come on, babe! It’s Christmas!” he replies.

You and Jimin burst into laughter.

“You know,” Jimin says behind gasps of air. “I don’t think I hate being here as much as I thought I would. Sure, it sucks being under my parents’ roof again, but god, the sound of a holiday party is a welcome change from a bunch of locker room groans.”

“You smell better too,” you add. You sniff the air between you too. “I always liked that cologne on you.”

He smirks. “Remember when I ran out and you drove your car, broken A/C and all, into the city to get me a replacement?”

You groan. “God, my car was truly an oven that day. When I finally got home I thought I was melting like an ice cream cone.”

“I remember that.”

“I have a question for you now,” you say. Jimin blinks a bit, taken aback by your abruptness.

“Oh, sure.”

“Why are you home? Why didn’t you stay at your place and just see your celebrity friends? Why come back here which is clearly full of bad memories and feelings and experience all of this?” You gesture around you.

He takes a sharp breath. “Well, it felt like something that I had to do. First of all, I’ve been instructed by our PR team not to be seen out with any of my celebrity friends. I’m not supposed to be seen anywhere near Bells Arena, so practicing locally was out. And with it being too warm there to skate on a natural body of water, it seemed like home was the only option.”

“That sucks,” you blurt. “I mean–”

Jimin laughs. “Yeah, it does suck. But home isn’t the worst place to be, and I feel like there hasn’t been a lot tying me to anything lately. The last few years have been rough. Threesome notwithstanding, but my life hasn’t been exactly private for a while. And I guess that kind of presses you to become someone else.”

“Like a prick?”

“Am I really that much of an asshole?”

“Uh, yeah. You lost your drive because you’re too busy chirping on the ice and not focusing on the game.”

“You’re sounding like Coach again.”

“Well, he had a good point. Do you have your gear with you by chance?”

“It’s in the car, why?”

“Go grab it and meet me out back.”

“Why?”

“Just do it,” you roll your eyes and stand up, smoothing your dress. When you turn to face Jimin, his gaze moves from your ass.

You pretend not to notice.

“You have a rink in your backyard?”

“Yep, Dad built it back when we were trying out for the pros, thinking that during my break times I could come home and practice.”

Now knowing the truth, Jimin can’t help but feel an ache in his chest for you and the dream you left behind.

“It’s incredible. But are you sure that you’re not too drunk to skate?”

You balk at the question, laughing. “You think I haven’t skated absolutely wasted? Come on now.” Fair point. “Besides,” you add, “I feel fine now. The fresh air is nice.”

You’ve traded your tiny little dress he was admiring in the bedroom for a more sensible outfit. “Now, lace up your skates, Park. Let’s get to drills.”

An hour later, Jimin is sweating through his button down. He didn’t have an extra outfit with him in the Kia, just his skates, so he’s been sweltering in the stiff button down. A little perspiration is beading your forehead, but you still have a healthy glow to you, and are not nearly as out of breath as he is.

“You’ve gotten sloppy with your passing,” you say nonchalantly.

A lick of heat prompts Jimin to argue, but he shoves it down. He’s supposed to be working on that, after all.

“Just a tiny bit,” he says.

“You’ve got a long way to go if you’re going to be ready to hit the ice in less than a month.”

He pouts a bit, despite himself.

“Oh come on, you used to love the challenge of beating me on the rink. Did time change that much?”

“Well, there was a pretty good incentive for winning. Like seeing you naked.”

“Is not being kicked off your dream team not enough incentive?”

“I mean I’m a guy, Y/N. Of course my career is important, but I’m just saying, sex was always my best motivator. And if I remember correctly, yours too.”

You look away from him for a moment, thinking.

“Well, then, fine, let’s give you an incentive then. If you beat me in a shootout, I’ll let you see my ass.”

Jimin stalls. “What?”

“I know you’ve been checking me out like, all day. It’s obvious. So, you beat me in a shootout, I’ll show it to you.”

Jimin chuckles.

“What’s so funny?”

“Y/N, I’ve seen your ass. And while I’m absolutely sure it’s even better than I imagined, I hardly consider that a motivator.”

“Fine, then what do you propose? What is it that you would like to do?”

Heat pools into his stomach. As much as he doesn’t want to admit it, Jimin can’t ignore the intense attraction he still has for you. It’s like 10 years hasn’t changed much about his body chemistry.

He skates up to you, putting his hand on your waist, testing the limits of what in his desires he truly is allowed to ask for. As his hand works up your side toward your breast, you let out a small gasp. And that’s when he sees it in your eyes: arousal. Unmistakable, just as easy for him to spot as it was all those years ago.

“Do you remember that time we went to the beach? And you got vanilla ice cream all over your bikini because it melted before you could even eat it?”

You cocked your head to the side. “Yeah?”

“And so I licked every inch of you? That’s what I want.”

“Jimin!” you gasp, but as his other hand loops around your back, you don’t fight his touch.

“You tasted so sweet,” he whispers, his mouth hovering over your neck.

“Stop.” But it’s a weak gesture, mechanical.

“You fucking loved it, didn’t you?”

Your heart beats a little faster. “I did.”

“What else did you like, hm? When I fucked you that summer.”

Jimin’s voice lowers, a deeper, seductive tone replacing his usual, cheerful one. It’s the same one he used to use on you, and the pressure building in your core tells you that it’s having the same effect. A hand finds its way to the curve of your ass, and you melt into his body.

“Jimin,” you rasp.

“Yeah?”

“Fuck.”

“Tell me,” he whispers. “What used to make you come so hard that I had you screaming?”

“God.”

“Do you think about that as much as I do? Do you think about the little whimpers you made when you came all over my lap that day? Do you think about how hard my cock was for you? How desperate you were for it after I told you you’d have to wait?”

“You’re such an asshole,” you heave.

“I know. But if I win, I want you under me again. I want to lick every inch of you until all you can think about is me.”

He pulls away, ignoring the hardening of his cock, rasping a deep breath. You blink at him, confused, before taking in his form as he sails the puck into the net.

“That’s one, babygirl. Now show me what you’re made of.”

Sex, it turns out, is Jimin’s greatest motivator. Which is why after he wins in the shootout up to ten, you end up naked in the guest bedroom.

“Your nipples are so hard,” he says, sucking one into your mouth. “That’s how I always knew how needy you were. How badly you needed to be fucked.”

A moan escapes you. He squeezes your thigh again, his other hand roaming up your side.

“You were always so sensitive there. I’m glad to see that hasn’t changed.”

Your hands lurch forward, digging into the open ends of his jacket, pulling him closer.

“When was the last time someone fucked you good, Y/N?” he asks, and your brain searches through your list of ex lovers, turning up empty handed

“I don’t know,” you groan, hissing when you feel his other hand land on your breast.

He clicks his tongue. “You poor thing. Tell me, what do you need, hmm?”

“I don’t know,” you say again. Your thoughts are jumbled, how you got here, stripped naked while he still hovers over you fully clothed, your focus faltering as you clench your thighs. Jimin pulls away, grinning down at you. .

“I bet you’re just as sweet as I remember,” he says. “I bet you still get so wet that when you get fucked the nastiest little sounds come out of you.”

“Fuck, Jimin, god.”

“I told you I would like every inch of you. Do you think I was joking?”

“We can’t,” you say, your eyes flitting to the door.

“Does the door lock?” he asks.

“Yes, but–”

“Then lock the fucking door and come sit on my face.”

Heaven. Jimin has died and gone to heaven. As he laps at your clit again, he can’t believe this is really happening.

“Fuck, harder,” you order, and he finds himself grinning, sucking your bud into his mouth hard. Your legs immediately squeeze around his face, and he reaches up, forcing your thighs down harder, pressing himself deeper into you.

You really shouldn’t be doing this. He has no idea how long you’ve both been away, but all he knows is that they’ve finished singing the entire “12 Days of Christmas” and someone has been getting your friend Minho to do a rendition of “Santa Baby” that hopefully everyone is too drunk to remember. But he can’t help himself. Couldn’t help the electric feeling when he squeezed your hand, couldn’t ignore how your tits spilling out of your dress had him rock hard the second you gave him a knowing look.

And now, knowing what Jimin knows about you, about your past and why things ended, he can’t be mad. While yes, he’s frustrated by your positioning of him as the priority in your life, even seemingly now, he isn’t mad. And whatever happens after tonight, he hopes you’ll both be able to talk about it so you can reframe the future.

Until then, he really, really wants you to come on his face.

His fingers leave your thighs. You lift off of his face, gasping as you look down at him.

“Do you have a death wish?”

“Yes, now smother me with your pussy.”

You roll your eyes, lowering yourself back down onto him. He laps at you again, this time flicking your clit with his fingers before rubbing them through your slick folds. “Fucking missed this pussy. Do you know how many times I think about this? How much cum have I spilled thinking about this?”

“God, you’re such a perv,” you say. But he can hear the lightness in your voice, knowing that despite the slight embarrassment, you’re also flattered.

“How tight is it, hmm? Do you ever fuck your toys thinking about me?”

“Not often,” you tease before you wail as he bites your ass.

“Liar.”

“Ugh, fine. I think about your cock a lot, okay?”

“Yeah?”

“Yes, now are you going to make me come or not?”

“You know, I could, but now I can’t stop thinking about you thinking about my cock and fuck, I’m so hard.”

Jimin feels you leaning forward, your hand roving down his toned chest until you reach the tent in his pants.

“Please, babygirl, don’t tease me too much,” he warns and you chuckle, tugging at the zipper and clasp and reaching into his pants.

Your hand dips into his briefs, tugging the elastic and pants down his hips to free his throbbing cock.

“Fuck,” you say, sliding your hand up and down his leaking shaft. “Were you always this big?”

Jimin groans, sliding a finger into you. You moan. “Shit.”

“You used to take this cock like such a good girl,” he says, sliding a second finger in. “Though I’m not sure how with such a tight little cunt you have. I think I need to fuck it open.”

“Oh.”

“You like that, baby? My fingers fucking you open so you can take my cock? You’re so wet, god, listen to you.”

The room fills with the wet sounds of his fingers fucking into you, his tongue returning to your clit and sucking hard.

“Shit, shit, we need to change positions or I’m going to collapse on your face.”

He obliges, pulling his fingers out so you can lie on your back. You watch as he sucks your juices from his fingers, your mouth slightly parting as he moans.

“So sweet.”

“Fuck,” you say suddenly, your eyes once more turning toward the door. “We gotta hurry. Once we get to the cookie shots, it’s only a matter of time before my dad makes us do round two of competitive games, and they’ll be looking for me.”

“Aw, but I was just getting started,” he whines.

You roll your eyes. “You can fulfill your fantasy later. Skip the foreplay and fuck me already.”

“I don’t know if you’re warmed up enough for that–”

“Jimin, I promise you the second I feel your cock slide into me, I will be ten seconds from cumming because of how good it feels. Now you can take your time with me later, but if you don’t fuck me right now, I might lose my goddamn mind.”

He feels precum dribble from the tip, and he looks at you. “Shit, okay. Well, um, I don’t have a condom.”

“IUD. I’m clean. Please,” Your voice cants into a whine, which makes Jimin feel delirious.

“Okay, lie back down baby, I’ll take care of you.”

Despite your desperation, he moves slowly, sucking your nipples back his mouth, giving a little bite to one that makes you whimper.

“Please, Jimin,” you beg again. He reaches down, taking his cock in his hand and rubbing it through your slick entrance. As the head of his cock dips in, your eyes meet his, and a sigh leaves your throat.

“Yes,” you say when he seats himself to the hilt. You pulse around him, and Jimin hisses at the tightness.

“Shit, watch it babygirl or I’ll come right now.”

“Just feels, so good, fuck,” you pant, your body convulsing around him once more.

He pulls out slightly and thrusts back in, his cock tapping your cervix. Your whole body quakes and you moan loudly.

“Shh, do you want to get caught?”

“Kiss me, then,” you say and Jimin being the fool that he is, he does.

Your lips meet, and you taste like a peppermint candy cane. He licks along your lip, trying to get more of the taste in his mouth. Your lips part, welcoming in, his tongue tangling with yours as he thrusts fully into you.

You moan into his mouth, silencing yourself as his pace increases, sharp snaps of his hips making you curl and clench around him, your wetness coating his pelvis and balls as it drips down your thighs.

On a particularly hard thrust, you come, your body shivering and pussy spasming around him. Your nails dig into his back as you seat him deeper into you, riding out the aftershocks.

“Holy shit,” you whisper.

“Mm, feel good baby?”

“Yes. You’re so big; It feels so good.”

He kisses your nose.”Well, I want to make you come one more time before I do, so hold on.”

He rolls you over, propping you up on your knees.

“When I saw you earlier at practice in those leggings, I was imagining this moment. My cock deep in you while I watch your ass bounce on me. Do you think you can show me that, Y/N?”

You moan a yes, thrusting yourself back onto him as he pounds into you. The flesh of your ass bounces against him, and Jimin is hypnotized by it, his hands repeatedly slapping to spank your cheeks as you fuck yourself on him. With each slap, you clench harder, and as he places his hands firmly on your hips and bucks into you with speed and precision, it’s only a matter of time before you’re face down in the pile of coats, moaning freely as he thrusts into you. With one final gasp, you come, legs shaking violently as you succumb to your orgasm. Jimin follows behind, is cock pumping a heavy load of cum into you. You sigh satisfied, holding your hand under yourself to catch it while Jimin watches it leak out.

“Jesus, Y/N. That’s so hot.”

“Well, hot and practical. I’m not spilling your cum onto all my guests’ clothes. Now go get tissue from that bathroom over there. I need to clean up.”

Despite Jimin fucking you within an inch of your life, you manage to make your reappearance with your guests fairly easy, a glass of some concoction your mother has named Jingle Juice in hand.

“So,” Minho whispers after your father divides up the room into teams. “Are you creaming of a white Christmas with Jimin?”

“Ew, Minho! No! That’s disgusting!” You slap him on the arm. “How did you know?”

“Well, first I saw you two go out back and grope each other on the ice. And then you practically ran into the guest bedroom. After about thirty minutes of not seeing you, I figured I’d come check. But then I heard you and that confirmed my suspicions.”

Your cheeks burn with embarrassment. “Were we loud? Oh god, does everyone know?”

“I think everyone was too busy drinking or eating or singing to notice. But to answer your question, my god, Y/N, you’re so loud. He should put a muzzle on your or something.”

“Shut up. Besides, this is no big deal. A little Christmas stress relief. A one time thing.”

“Sure it is. Well may Santa bring you more stress relief very soon because you’re glowing from the orgasm he gave you.”

“Two.”

“Huh?”

“Two orgasms. With the promise of a third later if I meet up with him."

Minho looks at you uneasy. “I want to be happy for you, but I’m honestly not sure what to think. I thought you hated him. Or at least wouldn’t fuck him at your parents’ house.”

Heat floods your cheeks as the reality of your decision begins to set in.

“Yeah, uh, I don’t know.”

Minho takes a final sip of his drink, grimacing as he sets it down. “Well Merry Christmas to you, Y/N. Maybe you can fuck him into a better attitude while you’re at it. Because you’ve only got a few weeks before his suspension ends and if he isn’t ready by then, he can kiss his professional career goodbye.”

“I think he can do it. We have plenty of time.”

“I hope you’re right. Not to ruin your post-fuck glow, but be careful. People don’t change overnight. While I’m glad you two had a fun little reunion romp, there’s still a lot of work to be done with Park Jimin.”

#bts smut #bts fanfic #jimin x reader #park jimin #jimin fanfic #jimin smut #christmas fanfic #park jimin x reader

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anacdoce · 6 months ago

Text

New Beginnings

Chapter 1 - New Year's Eve

The beautiful screenshot above is from @iizven, and I'm so in love with it!

Pairing: Astarion x you (f!reader, implied sorcerer with no magic anymore)

Rating: T

Word count: 6.4k

Warnings: post game events; fluff; Astarion is trying his best; a bit of angst to spice it all; sequel of "I wish" and so Astarion is mortal again.

Summary: After your recovery you decide it's time to move on and follow Astarion's plans. Neverwinter awaits you, as does the end of the year that is almost upon you.

Will this new beginning go as expected?

a/n: I confess, it was not my intention to make a sequel from my first fic "I wish", but a dear friend of mine, inception me with some ideas, and here I am, sharing on the last day of the year the continuation of a story that is very special to me.

As a thank you, I gift this small sequel to @iizven, not only because she is responsible for it, but because she has been a true friend, giving me the support and motivation to keep writing.

This is for you, my dear. Hope you like it. <3 (a late Christmas gift if you want).

To wrap up my ramblings, I just wanted to mention that what was originally meant to be a short one-shot ended up being much longer than I anticipated. As a result, I decided to split it into two parts.

Now please, enjoy it.

Happy New Year to everyone!! ❤️

Next chapter

Read on oa3

The end of the year draws near, and you’re preparing to leave Waterdeep to reach Neverwinter before that.

It’s been a few weeks since you had Shadowheart’s blessing for your departure. Your wounds have healed, your body is mended and nothing holds you in Waterdeep anymore. There is no hope to recover your lost magic, so everything that could be done has been done. And despite Gale’s continuous pleading, you feel it’s time to leave. Not that you’re uncomfortable or anything, nothing like that, because there is no better host than Gale—he really makes you feel at home—but you know Astarion is waiting. He never tells you he wants to leave, always placing your well-being above all else, but since you heard from Shadowheart’s mouth that you no longer need her by your side as a cleric and that you are released from her hands, he started to gather things—making your packs, collecting maps and goods for your future journeys together. And you don’t want to delay that any longer, because the more you wait to leave, the more he’s growing impatient.

And finally, that day has come.

“Are you sure you want to travel at this time of the year? The winter in the north can be harsh.” Gale tries once more to convince you not to leave while he’s helping you to put your backpack on.

“It’s not that bad in Neverwinter. You know that, wizard.” Astarion replies with a dramatic roll of his eyes.

“Well… I know, but…” Gale mumbles, clearly unwilling to give up his fight. “But it can be very windy!”

“It’s fine Gale. We’ll be alright.” You try to reassure him for what feels like the tenth time on that day.

“Oh, Darling, he’s not really worried about me.” Astarion remarks dryly.

Gale snorts, darting Astarion with a deep and hurted glare. “That’s not true. You know that.”

Astarion clicks his tongue and turns to fetch his cloak, and Gale seizes the opportunity to get closer to you, holding your arm, and lowering his voice just for you to hear. “Stay until the Wintershield celebrations. At least until then. You would make me very happy if we could celebrate the start of the new year together.”

“I know you would… But, and after that? You would ask me to stay until the end of winter. And after that, until the snow has melted, and after that until the flowers have bloomed…” You state as he shakes his head in denial.

“No. I promise. I won’t ask you that.” Gale insists.

“It’s fine Gale, it’s time to leave.” You smile at him, staring into his eyes trying to make him realise that you’re ready to move forward with your life. You need this.

“But… your magic? I haven't given up on that yet.” He nervously adds. His eyes, restless replying to your stare.

“Let it go Gale. I’m fine. I have accepted it. You should too.” You place your hand over his, holding it affectionately.

It’s not entirely true, you think about it everyday, because you miss it… desperately. But there is nothing you can do about it, and there is no point to dwell on that any further.

“Never.” His face, serious.

Shadowheart approaches, pulling Gale gently to her side. “Alright, that’s enough. This is not a goodbye, is it? We’ll see each other again, shortly. I’m sure of it.” And Astarion huffs from behind you, displeased. Shadowheart ignores him and continues, “I’ll stay in Waterdeep a while longer, and we can celebrate the new year together.” She places her arm over Gale’s shoulder, making him smile at her gesture.

“We’ll keep in touch. And it’s like Shadowheart has said, we’ll be together in no time.”

“Yes, yes, that’s all very touching.” Astarion interjects with an exaggerated sigh. “Now, shall we go?”

You nod. It’s time.

Hugging them both, you remember the last months together. They meant so much to you. They're truly your friends, and you’ll miss them dearly. “Thank you for everything.” You mutter. “No words are enough to express my gratitude for both of you. I will never forget everything you have done for us.” You squeeze them against you.

“Oh shut up…” You swear you can hear Shadowheart sob. “You’re going to make me cry.” And she releases you breathing deeply, trying to control her emotions.

Gale, on the other hand, holds you tighter. “Please, take care of yourselves. I’ll always be here if you need me.” He presses a soft kiss to your cheek before stepping back.

Astarion approaches you, wrapping an arm around your waist. “Have you said all your goodbyes, my love?” He whispers in your ear.

You glare at him and smile, your vision beginning to blur as tears gather in your water line.

They wave their hands at you, and Astarion does the same, almost awkwardly, wanting to go unnoticed. Then he holds your hand firmly and waits for you to take the lead on the first steps of your new adventures together.

After a big deep breath, you turn around and step forward, moving away from your friends. A few tears escape your eyes despite your best efforts to hold them back. After all, many things happened in the previous months, and if you’re here today it's because of them.

“Sweetie, are you alright?” Astarion asks, concern flickering across his face. “We can stay if you want…”

“No, I don’t want that.” You bring his hand to your mouth and kiss it. “What I want is right here by my side.” You smile at him tenderly.

“I promised to make you the happiest woman who ever lived. And I intend to. I will fulfill my promise, Love.” His words spelled with confidence.

“Oh, my Star, but you already do.” And nothing in this world is more true than that.

You intertwine your fingers on his, brushing your thumb on the back of his hand, and you proceed your path, leaving behind the sweet and sour memories of the past months of your life.

—

Together, you decide to travel along the road near the coast, taking the shorter route to Neverwinter. You feel more and more excited with the idea of traveling around Faerun with Astarion, the more distant you are from Waterdeep. You need something like this. You both do.

When he was gathering all the things for your journey, Astarion packed a book about Neverwinter—filled with maps of the city, its traditions and costumes, and some important history facts. Each night, as you settle to rest, you read a bit of it, and you finally start to understand the fascination Astarion has with this particular city. You can’t wait to arrive there.

In the meantime, you’re enjoying each and every day of this new adventure together. You missed those days, alone with him. Only the two of you, as friends, as lovers. Never was he so tender with you, something you thought it wasn’t possible. Maybe the events of the past few months left their marks, because… well, let's just say that your near-death experience is something still very present in his mind. There are nights that you catch him hovering over you trying to hear your heartbeat, to make sure you’re alive while you’re sleeping. You can’t blame him. You would do the same… He still worries about you, and you’re sure he always will, as you will with him.

For some time now, he has been trying to teach you how to use a dagger, because now that you don’t have your magic anymore you have to use something else to defend yourself, but you’re a menace with it. He tries to conceal his despair when he teaches you a simple move with the blade, but you can see behind his twitching eyes that the frustration is there. So one day, you suggest trying a bow instead—perhaps you can learn it more easily, which he promptly agrees to. And how joyful he is when he sees that at last you found something you can learn and be good at it. Since then, he has been more relaxed and less alert with everything around you, because now you can defend yourself. But despite all that, in each archery lesson he always ends up confessing: “Even so, I would prefer if you knew how to properly use a dagger…” To which you always retort, “And I would prefer if you acknowledged you’re not a vampire anymore and stopped playing with your knives so recklessly like you do every day…” Because honestly, Astarion’s mortality has given you new worries to care about. This elf is like a wild child on the loose, and sometimes you’re almost sure he forgets he’s not a vampire anymore… and Gods! How your heart wants to jump out from your mouth… Things he always did and never were an issue to you, like playing with his daggers, now gives you shivers all over your body. Your husband enjoys the thrill of danger, a trait you’ll have to learn to deal with, because that will not change. Not now, not ever.

On one stormy evening, you find shelter in a cave somewhere in the Sword Mountains. After setting up camp, you grab your Neverwinter book again, and curl up in Astarion’s lap on his bedroll, as he drinks a hot cup of tea. You read it for a while, gently cradled by his free hand on your head, brushing strands of your hair with his delicate fingers, and every now and then his hand strays to your neck, stroking the scars, the scars he gifted you some time ago. He often touches them, sometimes without even realising it, sometimes longing for the taste of your blood in his mouth, and sometimes because he needs the reassurance that you’re not going anywhere, that you love him, and that you chose to spend the rest of your life with him. Even after all you have done he still doubts himself… and you believe that will never really change either.

And now he’s doing exactly that—caressing the two dots his not anymore sharp fangs left in your skin, in what seems to be a lifetime ago…

Discreetly you look upwards, to his face, trying to examine his expression. “Is everything alright, Star?” You inquire, not sure of what’s happening inside his mind.

“Oh, yes. Everything is perfect, Darling.” He flees, as his hand, retreating to your hair.

“Are you sure? You know you can talk to me about anything, right?” You insist, leaving his lap to sit beside him.

Astarion smiles, and you sense some gloom on it. “I know.” He answers. Then, he spreads his legs open, reaches for your hand and pulls you closer. “Come here, my love.” He snuggles you against his chest, wrapping his arms around your tummy. “Now tell me… what did you learn about Neverwinter today?” And he rests his chin against your shoulder, tilting his head towards the book in your hand.

Flipping the book open, indulging him, you clear your throat dramatically before speaking. “So, today I learned about the Feast of Lanterns.” And you try to give your voice a mysterious flourish to intrigue him.

“Uuuh, the Feast of Lanterns? What is that?” He asks, tickling your belly at the same time.

Giggling, you try to escape his tickles, and when he stops you bring the book closer to his face. “It’s a celebration of the New Year. See?” You explain, pointing to an illustration of the city illuminated by lanterns. “Everyone makes a lantern, every living soul in Neverwinter makes a lantern. And on the evening of the new year, they light them, filling the city with a warm glow and making wishes for the year ahead.”

Astarion pulls back from you, frowning, one finger waving in the air in front of your nose. “No, no! You promised!”

“What?!” You query, confused.

“You’re forbidden to make wishes, remember?”

“Oh, come on! Are you serious about this?” You exclaim, incredulous.

“Of course!” Then he leaps over you, making you tumble onto his bedroll, his perfect warm body over yours. “You can’t wish for anything else in this life. I was the last wish you could spell with your soft silky lips.” He purrs into your ear.

“Is that so?” You chuckle, running your hands down his back, until you reach his shirt waistband, pulling it slightly over just so you can touch his bare skin.

“And since your last wish was fulfilled—because I’m here, very, much, alive—no more wishes for you, Love.” His nose, caressing your cheek, slowly reaching to your lips. “But…”

“But?...” You gasp, feeling his breath invading your senses.

“But…” A soft kiss. “You could always…” Another kiss. “Just ask.” And another.

Your hands slide back to his shoulder plates, but this time inside his shirt. “So, I can’t make a wish, but I can ask for something. Is that it?” You try to nibble his lip, but he leans his head backwards just in time to evade your attempt.

“Correct.” He confirms, his voice like velvet, while he unbuttons your shirt, cupping your breast contained in your bra with his hand next, making you arch your back in response to his touch. “As long as I am what you'll ask for, my love.”

“Oh, my shining star…” You hold him tight against you, murmuring, “You will always be everything I’ll ask for.”

His eyes glitter, reflecting the light of the candles nearby, staring into yours. “Promise?”

“I promise.” One of your hands leaves his back to tuck a strand of his hair behind his ear.

He keeps just staring at you for a while longer, probably absorbing everything you just said. And from one moment to the next his expression changes, and he’s no longer bearing his soft and reverent beautiful smile, reserved to you when he’s lost in his love for you. That smile turns into a mischievous one, and you know he’s plotting for something. “Well, I could always open an exception.” His voice, provocative.

“An exception? To what, I may ask?” You play his game.

An open, victorious smile, spreading in his lips. “Yes. I will let you wish for only one more thing, at this precise moment.”

“Oh, how generous of you!” You lead your hand into your chest, feigning surprise.

“Darling, you know I can be a very generous man.” He purrs. “Now, if you want, and I know you do want to, I’ll let you wish for a kiss. A warm and breathtaking kiss from the most perfect elf you have ever met.” His tone, turning into a seductive one. “But be careful.” He warns. “You have to formulate this wish very wisely, or the elf may flee and you’ll be miserable, wondering forever how the most unforgettable kiss of your life would have been.”

Such a bastard. You think for yourself, letting out a giggle at his smugness. “Gods… I can’t let that happen. I would be heartbroken… I can’t let this perfect elf escape. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity.”

“I thought so, Sweetheart.” His two fingers, running across your chest to your right shoulder, tucking aside the strap of your bra.

“Alright. Lets see…” You stray your eyes from his, looking at the ceiling of the cave, pretending that you’re thinking, while he starts to trail small kisses on your shoulder all the way up to your neck. “This is very… hard… indeed…” You confess, your body reacting to him, butterflies invading your stomach. Even after all this time, this man is still capable of making you feel like a teenager waiting for your first kiss.

“Very hard, Love.” He teases you, pressing his body against yours. “Now tell me your wish.” He demands.

“I wish…” You start, moaning in the middle of it, feeling his tongue on your ear. “I wish to be kissed by the most perfect, beautiful elf that have ever walked on this earth. I wish to be kissed by the one and only owner of my heart.” You pause, holding his chin and making him look at you, painfully interrupting his magical ministrations on your ear. “I wish to be kissed by you, Astarion. Right. Now.”

“Very good, my dear. I think I can make that happen.” He blows the candles near you, letting the cave be only illuminated by the dim light of the almost extinguished campfire a few steps ahead from you. Then he closes his face to yours, muttering into your lips. “Let's make this wish come true.” He whispers, claiming your lips.

And he wasn’t lying, he never lies to you. He gives you the most perfect kiss ever. Like he always does in each kiss he gifts you with.

It doesn’t matter how loud the thunders roar outside, it doesn’t matter how strong the rain falls, or how cold the wind blows… in reality nothing matters when you’re lost in his arms, when your bodies are entangled like one, celebrating the love that unites you. Everything else vanishes… It’s just you and him. And you really wish it will always be like that.

—

A week later, you arrive at Neverwinter, a stunning city in the north, divided in two by the Neverwinter River and now painted in white by the snow that began falling some days before. It’s a really impressive city, facing the Sea of Swords. It brims with energy—very lively but not chaotic like Baldur’s Gate, and very well organized. There are merchants in every corner, showcasing the most exquisite jewels you have ever seen, because these folk are masters in the craftsmanship of jewelry and glass. Their gardens are a marvel too, with their flowers blooming every year round, coloring the beautiful streets of the city.

Nothing feels out of place here, and despite all the torments the city has endured, it stands resilient, rebuilt time and again with an indomitable spirit. Perhaps it’s the hardiness of these people, of the people from the north, used to surviving harsh winters, that has shaped Neverwinter into one of the most prosperous cities in Faerun. And you’re really impressed by it, as is Astarion. You can see how mesmerized he is, how his eyes glitter, especially when you pass through the jewels merchants…

“Darling, look at that!” He points to a silver tiara adorned with emeralds and diamonds. A very impressive piece of jewelry. “I would love to see it in your head, my love.”

“It’s way too expensive, Astarion. And I do prefer the crown of flowers you usually make for me… that is too much.” You try to dissuade him, seeing how enchanted he is already.

“But it would be perfect for you to wear tonight. You would look like a queen, can you imagine?” He leans closer to you, lowering his voice. “And no one said that we should pay for it.” He winks, smirking.

You open your mouth to protest, but before you can utter a word, the merchant approaches you, all charm and good manners. “Ah, I see you liked it.” The man gestures towards the tiara. “You have good taste. It’s one of our most intricate works, and it would look stunning on you, miss.”

“Yes, it would.” Astarion agrees, stepping behind the man and making gestures with his hand pointing to his pocket, trying to provoke you.

With your eyes wide open you keep glaring at him, shaking your head discreetly. “Thank you, sir. It really is mesmerizing.” You say with a polite smile. “But I’m afraid it’s a bit too extravagant for my taste.”

“Now, now, my sweet. You should try it at least.” Astarion insists, and you know that by now he’s just trying to annoy you.

“Yes, of course! Allow me.” The merchant removes the tiara from the display case and carefully places it in your head. “There. Beautiful, like a princess. Let me fetch a mirror so you can see how astounding it looks on you.” And the man hurries to the inside of the store leaving you alone outside.

“Stop it!” You huff seeing how Astarion instinctively observes his surroundings, studying a route to flee.

“It’s the perfect opportunity, Love.” He notes, still smirking.

“Astarion, we just arrived! Are you trying to get us arrested on our first day in Neverwinter?” You object, harshly.

“But—”

“No.” You cut him short.

Before he can argue further, the merchant returns from the shop and gives you a hand mirror. “Please, miss, take a look.”

Reluctantly, you lift the mirror in front of your face, keeping your gaze fixed on Astarion, darting him with your sternest glare ever, while he pouts displeased.

“It’s really stunning.” You admit, finally looking at your reflection. But at the same time you take the tiara off of your head and return it to the men’s hands. “Thank you, once again. We will think about it.”

“Of course, miss. It was my pleasure to assist you.” The merchant bows his head and takes his leave.

“Oh, you can bet we will think about it.” Astarion mutters.

You pull him to get back on the path, wrapping your arm around his. “Forget it, Love. I will survive without it.” It’s obvious by his face that he’s not going to let this go. You adore him, more than anything, but you have to admit that this obstinate side of him sometimes picks your nerves. You roll your eyes, giving yourself a deep breath. “Now, let's find an inn for us to stay. I need a bath, and we still have to find some lanterns.” You remark, proceeding forward.

“And a warm meal. I’m starving.” He adds, while peeking behind his shoulder to the store you just left.

—

You both knock on every inn door you encounter in the city, but as expected, every one of them is fully booked. No rooms, no lanterns, nothing.

Astarion senses your growing despair as you follow a tip from the keeper of the last inn you tried. You’re getting tired, he can see by the way you drag your feet over the ground, and you’re probably starting to believe that you won’t be celebrating any New Year’s Eve tonight. But he’s still hopeful. He knows you will find something. Won’t you?

By the end of the day, you arrive at the Driftwood Tavern, far from the city center but with a stupendous view over the sea. And fortunately they have rooms to spare. No wonder why, with those ridiculous prices for one night! He thinks to himself, not wanting to share his thoughts with you this time, sparing himself another of your infamous eye rolls followed by a snort.

The rooms are really cozy. At least that. He throws himself to the bed, kicking off his boots, and watches you undress your traveling clothes.

“I’m going to take a bath.” You announce with some weariness. “We can look for something to eat afterwards. Want to join me?”

“I would love to, my sweet. But we have to hurry, we still have to find at least one lantern for tonight.” He replies, placing his hands behind his head.

“Forget it. We arrived too late. No lanterns for us, Star…” You mutter, a hint of sadness in your tone.

Astarion raises his torso from the bed by supporting himself on his elbows to take a closer look at you. Tossing your clothes to the floor, you pass through him to the washroom, your face closed and not in the mood for jokes or funny stories. “We still have time, you know?” He tries to uplift your spirit.

But he doesn’t hear a word from you. Only the sound of your steps in the room next to him.

Getting up he reaches the door to the washroom and peeks inside just in time to see you pouring water into the tub and instinctively trying to warm it with your hands.

“Shit!” You yell, scowling. “I can’t even warm my own water!” You kick the tub, frustrated, regretting it right after. “Ouch!” You yelp, holding one foot in the air giving tiny jumps with the other.

Astarion predicts that this will not end in a good way for you, so he tries to warn you, “Darling, please, be—”

Too late.

You stumble on the bucket, now empty of water, and you fall to the ground. He steps towards you but stays put in the same place, as you wave a hand for him to stop.

“Let me have my moment of misery, please.” You hiss, holding your knees and hiding your head between your naked thighs, muffling your voice.

“Love, you don’t need to be miserable—”

“Don’t!” You snap. “Just… leave me for a while.”

And he knows too well that when you’re like this the better thing for him to do is just to let you curse all the Gods you need to recover your good mood. But he can’t help to tenderly smile watching you like that, sitting naked on the floor, infuriated. It’s obvious he won’t let you waste New Year’s Eve being sad. For him it’s a night like any other, but he knows it’s not like that for you… For you it’s a time for new beginnings, and he knows how much you need that. He will find you a godsdamn lantern and make you smile again. And maybe, on his way to find it, he can sneak into a certain store… Who can blame him for wanting to spoil the women he's deeply in love with? You will be the most beautiful and happy woman walking the streets of Neverwinter tonight.

But before he can go on his demand, he needs to take you out of there. It’s so cold and your skin is already prickling from the chill, and he can’t have that. You’re not getting a cold because of your stubbornness. Astarion grabs a robe, hanging on a chair nearby, and walks to you, covering you with it, kneeling beside you. You lift your head from your legs, ready to protest, but he doesn’t let you. “You can sulk all you want, but you will do it on the bed, in the comfort of the warm blankets and not on this frozen floor, my love.” Without waiting for your permission, he lifts you up from the ground, holding you in his arms. As he expected, you don’t resist, you let him carry you, wrapping your freezing arms around his neck and resting your head on his shoulder. Even against your will, you find solace in his arms, and he smiles again, leading his cheek to meet the crown of your head.

Placing you in the bed he tucks the blankets around you. “I’ll ask the innkeeper to send someone to warm the water for you. Then I’m going to get us something to eat and a bottle of wine.” He pinches your chin softly. “I’ll be back in no time.” Reaching for your forehead he presses his lips against it, murmuring. “I love you.” And he kisses you.

He basks in your small smile for a moment, and then he leaves you. He needs to hurry, there is a job that has to be done.

—

It’s already dark when Astarion leaves the inn, and there’s no living soul in the streets. Snow falls steadily, blanketing the cobblestones. It’s cold and it’s almost dinner time, so perhaps it is not that strange that he doesn’t see anyone but himself sulking the streets of Neverwinter at that time of the day. He buttons his coat all the way up to his neck, protecting his chest against the cold, and starts walking, the snow crunching with each step he takes. The tiara’s store is still far away and he doesn't have much time.

It's an easy and simple plan. He will get in and get out from the store without any setback, preferably with a particular tiara on his pocket, a well deserved gift for the one who makes his heart flutter every day. Oh, he’s picturing in his mind how stunning you’ll be with that jewel on your head, enhancing the preciousness of the real treasure that is you. And grateful, you will be very grateful for his gift, “Astarion! You didn’t need to! But I love it! Thank you, Love!” you will say hanging your arms around his neck. Yes, he can’t wait to see you smile again. He will give you plenty of reasons to smile again tonight. And in the meanwhile he’ll look for a lantern, of course. He can’t forget about that. Maybe he can steal one too, from someone. But he can’t return to you without—

Silence.

Only the sound of the wind and the snow falling around him. And it bothers him… Why in the sweet hells is this bothering me so much? Something is odd. Well, he already pointed out all the motives for the emptiness of the streets… but still, something isn’t adding up. He may not be a vampire anymore, but he’s a rogue after all, and his instincts are still very sharp.

Stopping in the middle of the street he looks around one more time, his eyelashes starting to become filled with the white snow, like his hair.

Nothing.

There is nothing stepping out from the ordinary.

When he’s about to start walking again his eyes catch a movement far ahead from him. A kid crossing the street, running at a fast speed. The sound of his steps echoing for a time after he disappears from Astarion’s sight. Was he scared?

Stepping away from the lamplights, Astarion turns his stealth mode on and walks silently in the shadows. And just a few steps before reaching the corner from where the kid appeared fleeing, Astarion stops again, hearing what appears to be the clanking of metal. Metal hitting metal. He recognizes that sound perfectly. The sound of armor.

What in the hells?

Now he needs to see what's happening. Why is he hearing like there is an army gathering around the corner?

More cautiously than before he crouches and approaches slowly. At the end of the wall he freezes, pressing himself against it, and holding his breath to let his elf ears catch all the sounds they can get. And just like he predicted, a group of men stands just around the corner.

“Remember.” He hears a man whispering. “We must stay together until we are inside the castle.”

“After that, everyone knows their role to play.” Another voice adds.

Astarion’s heart races, adrenaline flooding his veins. He shouldn’t be there. Nothing in this smells good. What are they talking about? What castle?

Looking into the horizon he sees the dark silhouette of the imposing Castle Never in front of him. No way… He widens his eyes. Who are they?

He tries to listen to more of their plans but the beat of his heart is bumping in his ears, like drums beating loudly, and he seems unable to concentrate. Mortality has its downsides it seems, and he's still getting used to it. But his curiosity makes him stay a little longer, and he ventures to peer around the wall. Counting them, he says there are about twenty men there, armed to the teeth, like if they’re going into a fi—

Whistles.

Dogs barking.

More armed men marching into them. Into him.

Fuck.

In a blink of an eye they are surrounded by guards, Neverwinter guards, probably.

“Greycloacks!” One of them yells.

And the chaos erupts in an instant. Guards rush forward, unleashing their dogs. Swords are drawn and the clash of steel fills the air, and he has stayed long enough. It’s now time to leave.

But when he spins on his heels a guard is behind him accompanied by a growling dog, his short sword pointed at him, the cold metal of it against the skin of his precious neck.

“Easy, easy.” Astarion protests, raising his hands in the hair.

“By order of Lord Neverember you’re under arrest.” The guard sentences.

“Me?” He asks in a high-pitched tone, incredulous. “But I have done nothing yet!” He exclaims with the continuous sound of men yelling and fighting around the corner as background.

“Kneel!” The guard commands, and the dog approaches Astarion’s legs showing him his dangerous teeth.

“Just wait a moment!” He waves his hands nervously in the air. “You’re arresting me on what charges?” Astarion tries to gain some time. There must be a way to get out of here. Mustn’t it?

“On the charges of conspiracy and treachery against Lord Protector of Neverwinter!”

Astarion laughs. And he laughs so hard that the guard seems to be confused, diverting the sword for a moment from his neck. “Oh, this was fun.” He catches his breath before speaking again. “Well, it seems this was all a very big misunderstanding. You see, I was just passing by. Walking down the street as a normal citizen of Neverwinter.” The clamour of the fighting is calming down, and by the protests he can hear, the so called Greycloacks are losing. “I’m just visiting, I may add. Me and my wife. Can’t wait to celebrate the New Year with you folks. Now, if you’ll excuse me I have to get back.” He steps aside from the guard but almost instantly the man reacts, throwing him against the wall and the dog starts barking in anger.

“If that were true you should be with your wife right now, and not wandering the streets alone. You’re a Greycloack, gathering here to conspire against our Lord!”

After the big commotion on the street has calmed down, people start to appear, opening the doors and windows of their houses to see what’s happening outside.

“I’m not! I told yo—”

“I said kneel!” The guard growls, exalted, and Astarion concedes that, maybe, this time is better to oblige than to try to dissuade him. He stretches his neck to the side, trying to alleviate the pressure from the sword that is there again, remembering him of his fragile mortality, lowering himself to the ground just as the guard commanded.

“Fine!” He agrees against his will, huffing.

Stupid son of a b—

“Astarion?” He hears a very familiar voice calling his name. He closes his eyes in the hope that when he opens them again everything was just a dream and none of this is happening. After a while he opens them, turning his head to the side, seeing the one he hoped had never left her room, standing there, staring at him with so many questions in her eyes.

“Why, hello, Darling.” It’s the only thing he can think about to say right now. Shit.

“Hello? But… What happened?” You ask, approaching him quickly.

The guard blocks your way to Astarion, extending a hand to you. “Sorry, ma’am, but this man here is under arrest for breaking the law. I ask you to not interfere.” He tilts his head upwards suggesting you to step back. “Now, move away please.”

“Well, I’m sorry, but this man is my husband! And I want to understand what’s happening!” You argue, stepping forward, defiant.

A small smile of pride tugs into Astarion’s lips, you can be a pain in the ass when you want to, he knows that too well. “See, this is my wife.” He mutters to the guard.

“Ma’am I told you to step away! This man is a Greycloack and he was caught conspiring against the Lord Neverember!”

“A what?” One more step forward. “You’re making a mistake, he’s nothing of that sort!”

“I won’t ask you again! Backwards!” The guard yells at you, spitting in his anger.

“Sweetie, please—”

“Shut up!” The guard orders, kicking Astarion on the leg.

At that moment Astarion knows that if you still had your magic your closed fists, alongside your waist, would be sparkling with electricity right now, because your eyes are burning and twitching, and that man would be doomed. But since you no longer are able to cast your spells, the only way you have to release that growing warth is to jump to the guard and start punching him the fastest you can. “You will not beat him in my presence!” You keep punching him, giving Astarion a window of opportunity to escape.

But when Astarion is about to get up from the ground and try to take the short sword from the guard that is clumsily trying to defend himself from you, other guards approach, stopping Astarion before he can do anything.

It takes three of them to stop your fury and to restrain you beside Astarion, your hands tied together.

“As you were so eager to join him—there! Arrested together!” The guard scoffs. “Some nights in prison will do you good to calm your temper, you crazy woman.”

“Hey!” Astarion scolds, frowning. No one is allowed to insult you in front of him. But the guard ignores him, moving away.

“And what about him? What is going to happen to him?” You inquire.

The guard turns once more and answers, shrugging his shoulders, “We’ll see if he’s a Greycloack or not.”

“He’s not!” You hiss.

“If he’s not he has a lot to explain. Now shut your mouths or I'll split you right now!” And with no more words the guard steps away, moving to reunite with other guards ahead from you.

Astarion hears you sigh deeply, and then you lean your head backwards, meeting his own.

“I’m sorry, Darling… I really am. I didn’t want any of this to happen…” He apologizes.

“Not now, Astarion. Please.” You retort, your voice laced with sadness.

His heart shrinks with your reply, because he truly means it. He’s truly sorry. The only thing he wanted was to make you happy, to make you smile, and he failed. Miserably.

Stupid. How could I be so stupid?

He holds your hand, squeezing it right after, and he waits. It takes a while, and he’s starting to get worried, but finally you hold his hand back, squeezing it softly too, tranquilizing his insecure heart.

Everything will be alright. I’ll make it up to you. I’ll fix this.

Watching the guards gathering the new prisoners, he hopes that they’ll get you out of there soon, because the snow is not giving signs to stop falling in the near future and it’s getting really cold. He’s getting really cold, and you, you’re getting cold too, by the way your hands are freezing already.

If you get sick because of me, I won’t forgive myself.

It’s enough already that he, with no right to it, had robbed you of the chance to properly celebrate New Year's Eve.

Thank you so much for reading my story. Likes, reblogs and comments are very welcomed!

Lots of love 🖤

#astarion #bg3 #astarion ancunin #bg3 astarion #baldur's gate 3 #astarion bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion fanfic #astarion romance #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x f!reader #astarion x f!tav #astarion x female tav #astarion x female reader #astarion fanfiction #cured astarion #ana writes bg3 fanfic

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choicesficwriterscreations · 9 months ago

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October Creator of the Month: Tessa-Liam

Please welcome this month’s Creator of the Month: @tessa-liam

Each month, CFWC highlights one of our talented fanfic writers or artists. The writer or artist is selected at random. More info can be found on the navigation page. Past COTMs can be found here.

Tumblr Blog Name: Tessa-Liam

How do you want to be known on Tumblr? Tessa

Quick Links:

Tumblr Blog

Masterlist

1- When did you start playing Choices? What was the first book you played?

Christmas 2017, I was scrolling FB and saw an ad for Choices featuring The Royal Romance Book 1. I downloaded the app and started reading TRR right away.

2- When and why did you join Choices fandom?

I was hooked on that series and was waiting for a new chapter to release. I was desperate for more and my sister suggested that I try searching Tumblr for fanfiction in 2021.

3- How did you pick your blog name?

Liam was my LI, so I joined his name with mine!

4- Pull up the first post in your archive, and tell us about it!

My very first post was the masterlist to @ao719's series ‘The Invitation’. I found her treasure trove of Liam Rys/TRR stories very quickly! I couldn't get enough!

5- Do you write fanfiction, create fan art, or are you one of those really gifted people who do both?

I write fanfiction. I wish I could draw…the best I can do is create moodboards.

6- How long have you been creating for Choices and for any other fandoms?

I started writing my own stories for Choices pretty much at the same time I found the app. Publishing those stories started with prompting and encouragement from Anitah [@ao719] & Emmy [@txemrn]. I posted my first on October 28, 2022, ‘October Weekend Retreat’. I have also written for ‘Game of Thrones’, ‘Twilight’ & ‘The X-files’. These stories are all published on AO3 with other pseudonyms

7- What is your favorite Choices book, and what is your favorite Choices book to create for?

My favorite book(s) to read and create for: The Royal Romance Series. Favorite = book 3

8- Share your first Choices fanfic or fan art that you posted with us. Do you still like it, or would you change it if you were creating it today?

I do still like it! The changes I would make…I would add more ‘Would You Rather’ questions and dialogue.😁

9- What is your favorite piece of fiction or art that you created?

My favorite: ‘All is Fair in Love & War’ …and I won an art commission (my center pic) for it from CFWC, by ArtbyAinna (IG).

10- Do you have a fic/art that you didn’t expect to be well received, but it was? What about one you expected to do well but found it could use a little more love?

I am always honoured whenever anyone takes the time to read, comment, or share my stories!🥰

11- If you could write only angst, fluff, or smut for the rest of your writing life, which would it be and why?

Definitely angst❣️ I love writing/drama about a group of characters in a series with various sub plots and relationships over time.

12 - Do you ever recognize yourself in any of your MCs or in your writing?

Yes! My OC Sophie Taylor from Marabelle.

13 - What element of writing/art do you struggle with most?

Writing…Definitely 😏 smut! ….but practice makes perfect, right!? 😉

14 - Do you have any neglected work you really want to finish?

Oh geez, so much!? My one drive is well stocked! 😂

15 - If someone you know in real life (who isn’t involved in fandoms) asked to see your work, would you let them? If yes, what would you show them first?

Yes! My sister. No, not necessarily…I know she reads AO3, cuz she posts there too!

16 - Are there any writers (published authors and/or fanfic writers) who influenced your writing? Are there any writers that influence you?

Anitah @ao719, my fellow Liam stan definitely inspired me to write TRR stories here on Tumblr. She is a phenomenal writer!💖

17- Which one of your stories would you most like to see as a movie/series?

Marabelle …it's still a W.I.P. right now and I have so much story to tell!

18- Do you write original fiction or create non-fandom art?

I have started a framework for a novel and have created storyboards for it.

19- What other hobbies do you have?

I love horses and am learning dressage. Reading, writing, politics.

20: BONUS - tell us anything you’d like (if you want to)

I adore royalty in real life and follow news on William & Kate. They toured Canada in 2016. I was in Victoria, BC on vacation when they were here, but I couldn't get anywhere near that area of the city. 🤷‍♀️

#cfwc creator of the month #playchoices #creator of the month #the royal romance #pixelberry #choices fic writers creations #tessa-liam

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domnorian · 6 months ago

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Just a quick word

Life has been a lot lately and not in a good way. Between work and school that are both not going well, I've slowly starting to exhaust myself and I recently noticed symptoms of depression coming back.

For that reason, I think I'm gonna close off my commissions for a while. I don't have the energy to draw right now and getting even busier that I am seems like a really bad idea considering my current state of exhaustion. For those who already paid for a commission, I will get to it as soon as I'm on vacation which should be around New Year's eve. Thank you for your patience.

But I want to thank all of you for your support and your kind messages. Know that when I'm down, I always look back to them to give me comfort and the energy to move on. You really bless my days.

On the matter of Superboy Hope Reborn, I have started writing it but can't find the time to actually finish it. I was planning on releasing the first chapter for christmas but I won't be able to sadly. Just know that it's underway and I'll try my best to get it done for new year's eve (at least the first part of chapter 1).

Again, thank you all so much.

#personal #superboy hope reborn #update

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thatsmzbitchtoyou · 7 months ago

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Fortuna Major Chapter 6

Summary: Steve Rogers came home from World War II shell shocked and overwhelmed by the place he once called home. After losing his mother he and his injured best friend Bucky decide to find a quieter, slower way of life to heal from the war. They head out west until they hit Fortuna, California, and get jobs in the lumber industry. Steve comes across a local lodging for miners and lumber workers, and falls head over heels for the female owner who takes no man’s shit.

Warnings: mentions of war; injuries, loss of limb; PTSD; talk of suicide; cat calling; sexual harassment; attempted sexual assault; eventual smut

Previous chapter Next chapter

Steve visited Y/N’s room every night from then on. Getting contraception was a bit of a task, but he was willing to be patient. As Christmas Eve and Christmas Day passed and the New Year was upon them, Y/N was in a melancholy mood. On the outside she was cheerful, but he could tell that she was struggling on the inside with the holiday season. There had been a couple of moments where either at night or when he would come with her to the clearing, she would grieve in private with him over not having any family, but wouldn’t let others see her struggle. She had made an effort and spent good money on getting gifts for every one of her tenants, decorating the lodge and he had helped drag a tree into the dining area so that everyone could have a traditional Christmas while they were away from their families or alone.

On New Year's Eve she was dressed in a black dress and heels, her red lipstick on and her hair tied up with a black scarf with curled pieces falling out of it, hosting with a bright smile. The men were raucous as they drank, the last hour of the year ticking down slowly. Bucky was all smiles and laughter, a sight that filled Steve with happiness as they joined in the partying, drinking, singing songs and dancing. Y/N was being passed around the men as she danced, trying not to trip in her heels. At 11:55 she excused herself and disappeared into the kitchen. Steve followed her a moment later as everyone else continued singing loudly.

He found her sitting on the counter, her heels on the floor as she rubbed at one of her feet. “You alright, babydoll?” Steve chuckled as he walked up to her.

Y/N glanced at him with a sheepish smile. “Yeah, I’m alright,” she sighed. “My feet are just killing me in those infernal things,” she said, pointing to the heels.

Steve laughed as he stood in front of her. He leaned against the opposite counter on the island across from her and lifted her foot, massaging it from heel to toe slowly. Y/N hummed as she leaned back on her hands watching and smiling at him. “Is that better?” he asked after a minute.

“Yes, much better,” Y/N breathed as he switched to her other foot.

They sat in silence for another minute or two until they heard someone shout out the minute countdown. Steve released her foot and stepped forward so he was in between her legs, his hands resting on her thighs. “Any New Year’s Resolutions?” he asked, leaning forward and playfully nuzzling her nose.

Y/N giggled as her hands lifted to his chest then up to the back of his neck. “Just to be happy,” she said simply. “You?”

Steve smirked at her. “Just one,” he said, nuzzling her cheek and kissing it lighty. “To be with you every waking moment I can.”

Y/N huffed a laugh as they heard the countdown from 20 seconds. “I’m not sure how achievable that is.”

“I’ll try my damndest,” Steve said.

“10!”

“9!”

Steve’s hands slid up her thighs to her hips, gripping them for a moment before going up her back and pulling her against him.

“8!”

“7!”

Y/N’s arms wound behind his neck.

“6!”

“5!”

“4!”

They smiled at each other.

“3!’

“2!”

“1!”

“Happy New Year,” Steve whispered to Y/N as the thunderous sound erupted from the other room.

“Happy New Year,” Y/N whispered back.

Every kiss he had with her always felt like fireworks, but this time was like the first time all over again, his heart jumping in his chest and his breathing getting heavy as he angled his head and deepened it. His hands moved all over her back as he pulled her impossibly close, a long sigh of contentment from him huffing against her face. Y/N’s arms tightened around him, her legs binding at the ankles behind his hips as she caged him to her against the counter. The noise in the other room was drowned out by the hurried breaths, the soft moans and the blood rushing and pounding in his ears as his mouth opened and she immediately opened hers so he could taste her.

They were interrupted by a yelling Bucky who bounded drunkenly into the kitchen. “Happy New Year!” he screamed, then giggled madly as they pulled apart to look at him. “Ope! Sorry,” Bucky laughed but still moved toward them. “Hey, where’s my New Year’s kiss?” he moped.

Steve and Y/N laughed as Steve stepped away from her but stayed close, leaning on the counter she was sitting on. Y/N lifted a hand out to Bucky. “It’s right here,” she said. Bucky’s eyes lit up as he took her hand and she pulled him toward her, gripping his jaw and kissing his cheek. “Happy New Year, Buck,” she smiled.

“Aw,” Bucky whined. “I wanted a real one.”

“Go find your own,” Steve grunted, which made Y/N laugh again.

Bucky smirked then leaned in and kissed Y/N’s cheek before cornering Steve. “Okay,” he said, then grabbed Steve by the back of the neck, pulled him close and kissed him on the mouth.

Steve yelped as Y/N laughed harder. He pushed Bucky away and looked at him incredulously. “What the hell?” he demanded.

“Thanks Stevie! Happy New Year!” Bucky called back as he walked nonchalantly out of the kitchen, joining in on the song the men were singing in the other room. “Let old acquaintance be forgot and never brought to mind–”

“Jerk!” Steve yelled at him before turning to Y/N, who was trying to hold in her laughter with a hand over her mouth. “Oh you think that’s funny?” he asked her, stepping back between her legs. Y/N nodded, a snort coming from her and she hung her face into her hands. “I see how it is,” he said before tickling her ribs. Y/N yelped as she tried to bat his hands away, her laugh echoing through the kitchen as they slightly tussled.

“Okay! Okay okay, I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Y/N shrieked, gripping his wrists.

Steve stopped tickling her, his hands resting on her hips as she caught her breath. “Be nice to me babydoll,” he warned.

“Or what?” she giggled with a wry smile. “You’ll sick kissy Bucky on me?”

They both laughed at that. Steve leaned in and nipped at her lower lip. “Or I might just have to take away your kissin’ privileges,” he said, arching his eyebrow at her.

Y/N’s eyes widened, her smile falling. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me,” Steve smirked.

Her eyes narrowed at him. “Oh please. You couldn’t go a day without some loving.” Her nails scratched down his chest to his navel, her fingers gripping his waistband. Steve watched her fingers move, his face twisted into a look of desire. “And besides, don’t you want your New Year’s present?”

“Present?” Steve asked, his voice hushed as she dipped a hand below the waistband and slowly wrapped it around his cock. His head fell back, eyes shut tight as she started to stroke him.

Y/N leaned in and kissed his throat, licking her way up to his jaw and nipping at his chin. “I got protection,” she whispered. Steve shuddered at the tone of her voice, his head moving back up to look at her through hooded eyes. “I was gonna let you fuck me,” she frowned. “But if I can’t get my kissing privileges–”

“No, no no no, please,” Steve stammered, his hands tightening around her hips. “I take it back, I take it back!”

Y/N smiled triumphantly, another hum passing through her lips as she stroked him a little faster. “That’s what I thought,” she said quietly. “You want me, loverboy?” Steve nodded, his hands moving to grip the counter as his knees buckled from a particularly strong stroke. She leaned forward, kissing his jaw then licking at his earlobe.

Steve shivered. “Fuck yes,” he groaned.

She suddenly let go of him and pulled her hand out of his pants. He gasped and looked at her in shock. She pushed him away and hopped off the counter, grabbing her heels and walking toward the exit. “Come on, then,” she called back, glancing at him and giving him a quick wink.

Steve almost ran after her. In the front room there was still a small group of men celebrating, the rest of them either going off to bed or passed out around the dining area in strange sleeping positions. Y/N just laughed at them before heading towards her room, Steve right behind her. She opened her door and let him in, closing and locking it behind him. She threw her heels toward the closet and walked around him to her record player in the corner, loading a LP onto it and letting it play as she turned to him. Ella Fitzgerald’s voice filled the room as she slowly walked back over to Steve. “Dance with me?” she asked.

Steve smiled and nodded, taking her hands and getting into position. They swayed back and forth, Steve dipping her back at one point making her laugh again. As the first song finished he leaned down and kissed her. It very quickly turned from a simple kiss to a passionate one, Steve backing her up until she was pressed against the wall. He was too excited. The anticipation of this day was getting the better of him as he nearly ripped her dress trying to get it off of her. “Slow down, Steve,” Y/N giggled, grabbing his hands in hers. She pushed him back a little to give her space, then slowly started peeling her clothes off one by one. He watched her intently, his heart racing as she revealed more of herself until she was bare in front of him. She then walked to him and started pulling his clothes off one by one until he was naked. Y/N eyed him appreciatively before pushing him back and he sat on her bed. “Just relax, lover boy, I’ll take care of you,” she said lowly.

Steve nodded as he tried to relax and steady his breathing as she kneeled between his knees. Y/N kissed his thighs before taking his cock in her hand again and stroking him before leaning forward and giving it a long lick from base to tip. Steve sputtered, his hands shaking as he softly held her jaw. Y/N hummed as she took him in her mouth, licking and sucking the tip before bobbing her head up and down on him. They had done a few sexual things together before, but this all felt new and it made him jittery. At one point she opened her mouth wider and nearly swallowed his cock, making his hips rut up into her mouth. “Fuck, babydoll you’re killing me,” he said.

Y/N sucked him so hard he fell back on the bed, shivering again as his hands fell to his sides and gripped her bed spread. She slowly raised her head and let off his cock with a loud pop. She reached into a box by the side of her bed and pulled out what Steve recognized as a condom. He’d seen them passed around when he was in the Army, the government not wanting the soldiers to do anything too stupid while stationed abroad. She rolled it onto him then sucked his cock with the condom on again, her spit lubricating it well before she popped off again. “You ready, honey?” she asked, stroking him with her hand. Steve nodded as he watched her. She pushed him so he was laying on her bed the right way before climbing on top of him. She grinded her hips over his cock for a minute before standing on her knees. “Hold yourself,” she instructed him.

Steve reached down and held his cock straight up and she swirled her hips until she was able to angle it just right that his tip dipped into her. She looked Steve in the eyes as she started to sink down onto him. He tried to keep his eyes open and look back at her, but the pleasure was so overwhelming that his eyes rolled back as she fully sat on top of him. He felt like she was pulsing around him, the warmth and tightness making it nearly impossible for him not to cum on the spot.

“Oh my god,” he breathed as he opened his eyes to look at her again. Y/N’s brow was furrowed, her mouth agape as she adjusted to him inside her. “That’s fucking amazing…are you okay?” he asked.

“Yes,” she whispered, humming as she leaned forward, her hands on his chest keeping her upright. “You feel so good, Steve…so full…”

Steve couldn’t help the smile on his face, a strange sense of pride making his heart flutter that he was making her feel good, too. After a moment Y/N leaned down and kissed him lightly. “I’m gonna move, alright?”

“Please,” Steve begged.

Y/N smiled at his tone then slowly lifted her hips and sunk back down on him again. He moaned loudly, his hands gripping her hips. Being inside her was one thing, but having her stroke him with her pussy was another. She continued moving up and down on him and he struggled every moment with not busting, his sanity being tested as she fucked him. Her nails at one point scraped over his nipples and he couldn’t stop his hips from thrusting up into her, making her gasp and her head fall back. “You like how that feels, Steve?” she asked quietly, her fingers flicking over his nipples again, his hips thrusting up again.

“Holy shit, yes,” Steve moaned again as she continued flicking them. “But…I’m gonna…I can’t….”

Y/N slowed her hips and gyrated on top of him for a moment. Steve felt like he was going to lose it any second. “You wanna try being on top?” she whispered, watching his face intently.

“Yeah…yeah,” he nodded, leaning up onto his elbows.

Y/N lifted herself off of him and he quickly had her lay down. He hovered over her, sliding his covered cock between her lower lips. “I…I don’t know if I’m gonna be able to last, babydoll,” he mumbled, feeling a little ashamed.

“It’s okay, honey,” Y/N said, taking his face in her hands. “Just fuck me real good and I’ll meet you there, whether it’s like this or you help me another way.” She guided him down and kissed him again.

Steve kissed her quickly before looking back down between them, aiming himself toward her entrance and slowly thrusting back in. She felt so good, and him having control over the pace was exhilarating. She squirmed beneath him, her hands lifting up to her breasts and playing with her nipples as he started to thrust over and over. “Shit,” Steve swore as he watched her, one of his hands lifting to join one of hers on her breast. He massaged her breast, flicking over her nipple for a moment, then moving down between them and flicking at her clit that he’d become well acquainted with over the last few months. That seemed to do the trick as her back arched, her hips trembling as he continued thrusting into her. “That’s it,” Steve said and hummed deep in his chest.

He kept up on her clit as he started thrusting faster, holding off on his release as best as he could. Y/N was shaking, her hands gripping his shoulders. At a particularly rough flick her pussy pulsed harder and he nearly lost it again. He whimpered and he snapped his hips faster, making her cry out. Steve wanted to hear that sound again, so he started thrusting harder and Y/N’s eyes rolled. He smiled at this newfound knowledge about her then gritted his teeth as he used his other hand to lift her leg up and around his hip higher to thrust deeper, harder and faster. Within seconds Y/N stiffened beneath him as she moaned loudly, a burst of liquid coming from between them, her body shaking hard as she came. The way her pussy gripped him was the most amazing feeling he’d ever experienced, and a few more thrusts later he was cumming.

“Holy shit–fuck, ah!” Steve yelled, a long grunted groan vibrating in his chest as he rutted against her. He couldn’t hold himself up anymore and fell on top of her, his breathing heavy and a sheen of sweat along his hairline as his face nuzzled into the crook of her neck. “My god, babydoll.”

Y/N was still slightly shaking as she giggled, her pussy still randomly fluttering around him. “You’re wonderful, Steve,” she praised him, her voice shaking. “That was so good…you made me feel so good…fuck…”

Steve smiled at the praise again, his pride making him feel almost dizzy from the pleasure. “Pretty sure that was all you,” he replied, and she slapped his back with a laugh, making him laugh with her. He leaned up on his elbow and gazed down at her. She looked properly fucked, a sight he knew he’d never get tired of seeing, and he leaned down to kiss her. She kissed him back deeply, her hum vibrating against his lips. When he pulled away he began to kiss her everywhere, small pecks around her face, jaw, neck, ears and into her hair and she burst into another fit of giggles. “God, I love you,” he breathed, then froze. Y/N looked at him with wide eyes. They hadn’t said it to each other yet. He wasn’t sure when was the right time or place to tell her, but apparently his mind had decided for him that it was right here and now.

Y/N looked back and forth between his eyes for a moment. “You love me?” Steve inhaled deeply then nodded. A small smile started to pull at the corners of her mouth. “I love you, too, Steve.”

Steve exhaled sharply as he dropped his head in relief and looked back up at her again. He leaned his forehead against hers as they sat there smiling and staring at each other. “Thank god,” he said simply.

Y/N cupped his face in her hands. “Happy New Year, loverboy.”

Steve’s smile widened and he kissed her again. “Happy New Year, babydoll.”

@slayerofthevampire

#marvel #smut #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #series fanfic #chapter 6

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eleventhhourfactor · 9 months ago

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Factor's Mario Fics

Realized that I wrote quite a few fics between this and Luigi's Mansion. Decided to make a sub-post for them that can be found on my pinned post so that when I do get around to posting stories for other fandoms, it's not a massive wall of text right then and there.

Anyway, here are my stories, with most recently released at the top of the list. I'll be using the tag #factor's mario fics to make it easier to find these as well.

Running Interference

Click here to go straight to AO3.

Status: Complete

Fandoms: Super Mario Bros., Luigi's Mansion, Mario and Luigi RPGs

Daisy and Peasley try to reach Luigi.

The Professor tries to intervene on his behalf.

Nobody can help Luigi when he's in his own head (or so he thinks).

Gifted to @itsavee4117, who was also so kind as to draw art of one particular scene.

So You Were Bitten By Dracula Himself

Status: In Progress

Fandoms: Super Mario Bros., Luigi's Mansion, Mario & Sonic, Sonic the Hedgehog

After being bitten by the vampire of all vampires, Luigi has to adjust to the changes that come along with that. Fortunately, the man in green has plenty of allies by his side—friends and family who'll do what it takes to make sure all's well for a bloodsucker.

Another one based on @profbastard's work, this time from the Castlevania AU. Still ongoing, but I wanted to see what could happen after the big battle with Dracula, and the potential a timeline with a bajillion crossovers.

I also miss the Olympic games. Sue me.

Tumblr posts:

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

S(t)ealing the Show on Christmas, Of All Days!

Click here to go straight to AO3.

Status: Complete

Fandom: Super Mario Bros.

Any number of things could happen at midnight. Marilyn Moretti hadn't counted on seals.

Or: a folklore dimension AU where Mario and Luigi become selkies and eventually have to break that news to their extended family.

For @loud-kid2 and their Folklore AU, which now has me obsessed with selkies.

Bowuigi Halloween 2024

Status: In Progress

A collection of short stories centered around the Koopa King and the plumber we all love to ship so much. No particular order; read them how you wish.

Light Reading for a Dark Evening

Click this link to go straight to AO3.

Status: In Progress

Fandoms: Super Mario Bros., Sonic the Hedgehog, Mario & Sonic

Amy Rose agrees to a tarot reading for Bowser. Her cards turn up quite a few surprises.

Tarot reading couldn't be done with @jayyydez and the Sonic Wikia Zone.

Prompts: bad luck, run/escape, fortune telling, transformation

Nightmares and Days Dreamed

Click this link to go straight to AO3.

Status: Complete

Fandoms: Super Mario Bros., Paper Mario Series, Mario & Luigi Series.

A nasty curse threatens an eternity of bad dreams to whoever dares to close their eyes.

While Kammy busies herself with a potion, and Kamek does his best to keep Luigi stable, Bowser takes on the task of keeping him calm from the inside.

Prompts: potions, bewitched

Worth a Shot

Click this link to go straight to AO3.

Status: Complete

Fandoms: Super Mario Bros., Luigi's Mansion

On the night of his fathers' big Halloween bash, Bowser Jr. summons a ghost in an effort to lift Papa's spirits.

The specter he calls upon has other plans.

Prompts: ghost, scream, summoning, costume party.

Out in the Rain

Status: Complete

Fandoms: Super Mario Bros., Luigi's Mansion

Luigi's been acting stranger than usual after a visit to E. Gadd's lab. Mario finds out why while they take a walk in the rain.

Written for @lu1g199's Plant Luigi AU, wherein Luigi gets into a bit of a lab accident that leaves him half-plant.

Another Point of View

Status: Complete

Fandom: Super Mario Bros.

After messing with a mysterious artifact, Bowser and Luigi have to seize the day without letting their differences get the best of them.

Done for a Friday the 13th Discord server challenge.

Aftereffects

Status: Complete (for now)

Fandom: Super Mario Bros.

After overcoming a powerful curse, Mario’s left with zero memory of what happened, but plenty of physical reminders that something absolutely did.

Based on @wahooitsamee's Ancient Koopa AU, where Mario's dealing with becoming a half-human, half-Koopa hybrid and the changes and insecurities that come with that.

Part 1: Tarragon, Tails, and Koopa Scales

Click this link to go right to AO3.

It’s been a week and a half since Kamek cast a terrible curse, and Mario’s still having a hard time feeling okay with himself.

What's a kingdom to do except lift his spirits?

Part 2: Literally Lovestruck

TW: sexual content

Click this link to go right to AO3.

It’s been a month since the curse was calmed, but Mario’s still holding Peach out at arm’s length when it comes to bedtime endeavors. What is a Princess to do, then, when her love wakes up feverish and clinging to her for dear life?

Figure out what's going on, of course.

Part 3: Sparks and Butterflies

Click this link to go right to AO3.

Time marches forth for Mario and the Mushroom Kingdom. He's finally marrying the love of his life, getting ready to rule alongside his Princess, and he couldn't feel any better. He's on top of the world and as comfortable as can be with himself.

Then Peach becomes pregnant, and some old fears come roaring back.

Revised on 08/29/2024.

The Fourth and Final Time

Status: Complete.

Fandom: Luigi's Mansion

Luigi takes a terminal spill, and Mario has to pick up the pieces.

Written in collaboration with @giddlygoat, originator of the Ghost Luigi AU.

Tumblr posts:

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Enjoy Your Stay at the Last Resort

Status: Complete.

Fandom: Luigi's Mansion

A weeklong stay at a faraway resort would normally be paradise. The idea really loses its appeal when there's ghosts involved.

Post-movie take on a Luigi's Mansion movie, with Luigi teaming up with some unexpected allies to save everyone and trounce the King of the Boos. Loosely based on @profbastard's Syncytium AU.

Off-Hours

Status: Complete.

Fandom: Super Paper Mario

Dimentio's endless interruptions normally keep Team Bleck apart. Throw in some snacks and a bad movie, however, and the jester just might have the stuff to pull them together.

Written for the Super Paper Mario Gift Exchange. Features a work of art by @snakeeyesdraws done for the collaborative nature of the exchange.

#super mario bros #smb #writing #factor's mario fics #elizastjames #my fics #archive of our own #bowuigi halloween 2024 #luigis mansion #mario and luigi #mario and sonic at the olympic games

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marilynthornhilllover · 2 years ago

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KINKMAS REQUESTED:FANFIC LIST AND HEADLIST.

( dates will not be included because I don't wanna say im gonna post a fic on a certain date then I don't because of certain circumstances)

Kinkmas fanfic #1

Name: snowball fights - larissa weems. Genre: fluff - 3/12/2023

Kinkmas fanfic #2

Name: Under the Christmas tree - alcina dimitrescu. Genre: smut 8/12/2023

Kinkmas fanfic #3

Name: I got what you need - marilyn Thornhill. Genre: smut 13/12/2023

Kinkmas fanfic #4

Name: good girl - Agatha harkness. Genre: smut - 16/12/2023

Kinmas fanfic #5

Name: Deep Breaths - larissa weems. Genre: smut - 29/12/23

Kinkmas fanfic #6

Name: magic breaks magic - Agatha harkness. Genre: smut, fluff and angst - coming soon.

Kinkmas fanfic #7

Spin the bottle - Agatha harkness. Genre: smut - coming soon.

Kinkmas fanfic #8

Name: mine - marilyn Thornhill. Genre: smut - coming soon.

Kinkmas fanfic #9

Name: stress relief - g!p larissa weems. Genre: smut - coming soon.

Kinkmas fanfic #10

Cause I'm heartless - alcina dimitrescu. Genre: smut - coming soon.

Normal kinkmas fics ( NOT REQUESTED)

One of your girls - vanessa shelly ( FNAF ) genre: smut - coming soon.

Christmas series name : I will carry you - farah dowling and reader. Genre : fluff, slow burn, multi- chapter. - coming soon.

This one was requested but I'm not sure if it's for kinkmas but I'll put it in. Kinkmas fanfic #11

name: lock me up and throw away the key - ghost!face Agatha harkness. Genre: smut - coming soon.

A/N: I hope you guys are as excited as I am for theses fics to be released! I'm gonna make sure you guys are fed! Just so you know I read Through all if your amazing request and I must say they were amazing and well writen, I love how far your imagination could go. I gaved each fic a unique name based on the context/detail you gaved for the fic! I also make cute Christmas themed poster instead of using gifs, so with that being said. Also I'll try my best to not make theses go over into January but no guarantees! I'm a busy woman! Lol love you guys and happy early holidays!<33🍾🎄✨️

#announcement #kinkmas fanfics 2023 #masterlist #headlist #fypシ゚viral #fanfic #marilynthornhilllover fanfics #Christmas

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strngehorizons · 9 months ago

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Lover, Leaver

Soooo I've had this story in my drafts folder since before DIG started... it's taken me an embarrassingly long time to finish/get the courage to post, so please be kind!

I'm planning to post it in chunks, probably 3-4 chapters at a time. The whole thing is about 80k words, so bear with me!

This story is Sam x OC, but some things happen at the beginning... There will be NSFW content in this story, so minors please DNI!

Chapter 1: 4.3k words

Warnings: None

ONE

__________________________________________________________

I reached out to the car stereo, turning the volume knob down as if it would help me to see better. I’d been driving for about five hours straight at this point, only just passing underneath the town gates that read “Welcome to Frankenmuth” while I breathed a sigh of relief that we had finally made it.

“Do you want to go to the hotel first?” I shook out of my thoughts as I looked at my best friend, Violet, who was asking the question from the passenger seat.

“That’s probably a good idea,” I answered. After sitting in a car for so many hours, I was in desperate need of a shower to freshen up. I put my blinker on to turn right, heeding the GPS directions, and followed the small residential street to the next turn.

“Ugh, I could use about five margaritas right now,” Violet blurted. She pulled her legs down from the dashboard and placed both feet on the floor, turning to look at me. “Okay so after the hotel….what’s the plan?”

I pondered for a moment, collecting my thoughts and trying to keep my excitement in check. This whole weekend trip had been my idea, so naturally Violet was asking me for a plan. I knew that she wanted to go to Bronner’s, the giant Christmas store in town, and she knew that I wanted to visit some of the sights that the guys were fond of in their hometown.

‘The guys’, as I so affectionately called them in my head, were the members of the band Greta Van Fleet. Three brothers - Josh, Jake, and Sam Kiszka - and their childhood friend Danny Wagner formed the band, and I had been a fan for about a year. So far, they had released an EP and one studio album - not a ton of material to listen to, but I played those songs on repeat pretty consistently. Consistently enough for Violet to complain on the trip to Frankenmuth, that was for sure.

“Hmm… Well, we could hit up Bronner’s first or just do some shopping in town,” I suggested. “There’s a restaurant I want to try for dinner that the guys have mentioned a few times in interviews, but that’s about it for today.” I knew we were both pretty wiped out from the drive and could probably use an early night of drinking together in the hotel room.

“Sounds good to me! You know I’m down to go to Bronner’s right away,” Violet said with a devious smile. This girl loved Christmas more than anyone else I had ever met, so it was no surprise that she was eager to accompany me on this trip.

We finally pulled into the parking lot of the Frankenmuth Motel, sighing in unison as I turned off the car and peeled myself out of the driver’s seat. Sitting for so long had left my legs incredibly stiff, so I relished in the feeling of stretching in the parking lot. We gathered our bags from the backseat of the car and trudged towards the blinking sign on the side of the building that read ‘Office’.

After checking in, freshening up, and a glass of wine, we headed out to Bronner’s where we wandered in a Christmas wonderland for about two hours. Violet was completely in her element, frolicking through the fake snow (as if we didn’t get enough real snow at home in Canada) and purchasing ornaments for everyone that she had ever known. By the time we left the store, it was closing in on 6 o’clock and I was more than ready to sit down with some food.

Back in the car, I plugged in the directions for a restaurant called ‘Prost’ - Sam had talked about it in multiple interviews, so I figured that it must be pretty good. We pulled up out front as I graciously slid into a spot normally reserved for parallel parking, thankful that I didn’t have to put my parking skills to the test. As I stepped out and locked the car, I took in a deep breath of fresh November air. The breeze that caught my long hair was quite cold, making me reach up to fold my arms into myself. I pointed my nose to the sky as I took another deep breath, closing my eyes temporarily. When I opened them again, I peered down the other end of the street, taking in the sight of trees wrapped in twinkling lights and shoppers bustling down the sidewalk. I had to admit, it really was a beautiful little town.

I heard a whistle to my right, and was snapped out of my observations by a shivering Violet. “Oh please, take your time… I would love to freeze out here all night!” she said with a sassy smile. “Let’s fucking go!” she exclaimed as she jumped up and down to warm up.

I walked around the back of the car and joined her on the sidewalk as we made our way towards the door.

The atmosphere inside the restaurant was warm and inviting, with dim lights and plenty of small tables that created an intimate experience. We were greeted by the hostess, who explained that we were welcome to have a drink at the bar while we waited for a table to become available. We happily meandered to the bar straight across the large room, taking a seat on two velvet covered stools at the end of the hightop. True to our typical form, I ordered a vodka cranberry with a lime wedge while Violet ordered a margarita. I rolled my eyes - this girl just couldn’t stay away from tequila, no matter how many times it came back to bite her in the ass.

The two of us sat sipping our drinks and chatting about the adventures of the day, barely paying any mind to the two girls that had dropped onto the stools next to us until one of them reached over to touch my arm.

“Sorry to interrupt you ladies, but I just HAVE to know where you got your bracelet from!” the girl closest to me exclaimed.

“Oh, no worries!” I replied as I turned in my seat to face her. I looked down at her hand connected to my arm, and began to explain, “It’s actually a moonstone, I picked it up as a raw stone and made it into this bracelet myself. I love moonstones, they signify - “

"New beginnings, right?” The girl finished for me.

“Yeah, exactly,” I said. My eyes finally flickered up to the girl’s face, and my mouth dropped open when I was met with familiar eyes and cheekbones. I had stared at those same features in countless photos over the past year, although the sharp angles seen in the photos were softer on this girl’s face. I quickly snapped my mouth shut to mask my surprise.

“Well, it’s really beautiful,” the girl continued. “I’m Veronica by the way. My friends call me Ronnie!”

“Penelope,” I said as I shook her hand. “But my friends call me Penny. Speaking of friends, this is my best friend Violet. We’re visiting from out of town,” I explained.

Violet reached across me to shake Ronnie’s hand. Ronnie gestured to the girl sitting quietly beside her before explaining, “This is Kenzi!”

After the four of us exchanged pleasantries, the hostess approached Ronnie in a whisper that I could hear from my position beside her. “Ms. Kiszka, your table is ready. Sorry about the wait.”

Ronnie and Kenzi stood up, about to make their way across the restaurant on the heels of the hostess. Ronnie turned towards Violet and I, extending her hand for me to take. “Please, join us! I’m getting such a good feeling and I believe this could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

As she turned and led us away from the bar, my stomach did a somersault. We were about to have dinner with Veronica Kiszka… the distance between the band and myself was unintentionally shrinking with every step I took towards the table, but who was I to argue with the twisted hands of fate? Violet cluelessly followed behind me, not recognizing anything alarming about the situation - including the panic that was plastered on my face.

We sat down at the secluded table, Kenzi and Ronnie on one side with Violet and I on the other. The hostess handed out four menus and promised to return with fresh refills of our drinks, for which I was immensely grateful. I wiped my sweaty palms on the legs of my pants, trying to will myself to act somewhat normal.

“So you’re here from out of town, right? Where are you from?” Ronnie asked while we sipped the remnants of our first cocktails.

“Yeah, we just wanted a little getaway before the holidays. We’re from a city just outside of Toronto,” Violet answered.

“Oh my gosh, no way! Canada? My family loves Canada!” Ronnie exclaimed as Kenzi nodded with a smile.

“It’s pretty great,” Violet agreed, “But we don’t have any huge Christmas stores up there…”

“Ah, so you’ve been to Bronner’s? A classic,” Ronnie replied as she took a sip of her gin and tonic. “What else are you planning to do while you’re here?”

“Well,” Violet started. My stomach flipped once again as I realized what she was going to say. “Penny really loves this - ow!” Violet exclaimed. I had kicked her leg under the table, admittedly pretty violently, to keep her from continuing her sentence. She frowned at me, taking in my wide eyes, and somehow understood what I was getting at. “Penny really loves this part of the state.” A lame recovery, but it was the best she could do with short notice and no context.

“Really? Middle of nowhere, Michigan? Whatever does it for you, I guess!” Ronnie said as she and Kenzi laughed. I blushed and looked down at my drink, shooting a sideways glance to Violet to let her know that I would explain everything later.

Before the conversation could take a more awkward turn, a waiter showed up with our drink refills. After distributing the drinks, he stood with his notepad ready to take our orders.

“Do you guys mind if I order for the table?” Ronnie asked. “I come here all the time, and they have this amazing thing where you can build your own charcuterie board…”

“Please, go right ahead,” I answered.

“We’ll trust your judgment,” Violet nodded in agreement as Ronnie began rhyming off a multitude of things to include in a massive charcuterie board.

Once our order was taken, the conversation progressed quite naturally. The four of us discussed things that we love about the holiday season, told some stories about exes, and even had a spirited debate about the merits of hockey versus football. As Ronnie had said when we were heading to the table, there was a good feeling between all of us. It felt as though we had known each other for years.

As we sat digesting our food, there was a lull in the conversation.

“So, how did you guys meet? Tell us your friendship story!” Kenzi said.

I looked at Violet to see if she would answer, but she simply gestured towards me. “Well, we actually went to the same high school and the same university but we didn’t actually cross paths until we started working the same crappy summer job a couple of years ago,” I explained. “We like to say that the universe knew we didn’t need each other back then, but we need each other now.”

“Guys… That’s fucking beautiful,” Ronnie replied. “The power of the universe is incredibly strong. Nothing is coincidental,” she continued.

“I completely agree,” I said as I sipped my drink. “How about you guys? What’s your friendship story?” I already had an idea of the answer, but I was working to keep up appearances of being clueless.

“Well, Kenzi is dating my brother’s best friend. We’re all super close, so she and I became really good friends over the past year,” Ronnie explained. “We’re the only girls that consistently hang around those dorks - it’s exhausting,” she continued.

I tried to keep my expression even as I processed the information that she was casually spouting.

“That’s so nice,” said Violet, cluelessly. “I can hardly stand my brothers, so good for you for being so close with yours!”

Kenzi and Ronnie shared a smile, and Ronnie raised her eyebrows as if to ask Kenzi a question. Kenzi bowed her head in a small nod, and they both turned to look excitedly at us.

“So, we have an idea,” Ronnie started. “My brothers, and her boyfriend,” she jerked her thumb towards Kenzi, “are in a band. They’ve been touring lately, but they’re playing a local show tonight at a bar called Jan’s - they used to play there all the time before they signed to a label. Do you guys want to come with us?”

I could see the lightbulb flick on in Violet’s mind as she finally understood who Ronnie was. Before she could say a word, I replied, “That sounds so fun! Of course we’ll come along.”

“Great! We have a car service coming to pick us up to take us there, why don’t you just ride with us? Our driver can take you where you need to go after the show, and then you can Uber back here to pick up your car in the morning!” Ronnie said excitedly, seeming to have already worked out a whole plan.

I looked at Violet, who was trying to hide a smirk as she stood up from the table to put her jacket on. “Sounds like a perfect plan,” I reasoned. “I’m just going to use the bathroom first. Violet, want to come?”

Violet rolled her eyes as she followed me towards the back of the restaurant to the bathrooms. Once we were shielded by the privacy of the room, I stood with my back pressed against the door and pulled Violet in close to me so that we could whisper.

“Why are you keeping it a secret that you know what band her brothers are in?” Violet asked in a hushed voice.

“Because,” I whispered back, “I don’t want to seem like a crazy stalker fan. And, if I want to have a chance of meeting the boys, then I have to play dumb and act like this is the first time I’m hearing about them. Obsessed fan-girl is not a good look in a situation like this,” I reasoned.

“You know this is not going to end well, right?” she whispered back.

“Look, all I want is one night of fun with these guys. It will just become a story I can tell at dinner parties when I’m older, or when they make it really big,” I replied.

“Fine, I’ll go along with it. But you owe me!” Violet whisper-shouted.

“I promise, Christmas tunes all the way home,” I said, holding out my pinky for a pinky swear. Violet took it in her pinky, and the bond was set. “Now let’s fucking go!”

We turned and left the bathroom, making our way to the table where Kenzi and Ronnie were waiting with their jackets on.

“Let’s bounce!” said Ronnie while checking the time on her phone. “We might be slightly late for this gig… oh well, you guys can meet everyone after the show instead.”

“Can’t wait!” I replied enthusiastically. Inside, my nerves were on high alert and I felt extremely nauseous. As Ronnie had said earlier, the power of the universe is incredibly strong, and nothing is coincidental… I just hoped that I was a good enough actress to cover my tracks for the evening.

The drive over to the bar hadn’t taken long at all, especially since the four of us were hitting it off so well. The more we chatted, the more horrible I felt for essentially using Ronnie and Kenzi to get close to the band. I tried my best to shove those thoughts out of my mind, reminding myself that nothing in this world happens by accident and that they were the ones that had invited us to tag along.

The driver pulled up out front of Jan’s bar to let us out. He and Ronnie confirmed details for the ride home, and the four of us quickly ventured inside to escape the cold November air. As I ducked through the open door, my eyes scanned the intimate space. We had seemingly entered from the side of the room, so the bar was on my right against a back wall and the stage - if you could even call it that - was on my left side. There were hightop tables scattered throughout the room with stools pulled up at awkward angles in order to fit the vast number of people that had packed into the space. My eyes fell to Ronnie who was standing just in front of me, and I watched her raise her arm up to wave across the room. She turned around and motioned for us to follow, which we did.

Music was thumping through the speakers that were hung around the room, which made it difficult to hear when Ronnie stopped at a hightop table right in front of the stage and began gesturing at the people sitting there.

“Guys,” she leaned towards Violet and I, “these are my parents, Karen and Kelly, and these are the Wagners, Danny’s parents. Danny is the drummer and Kenzi’s boyfriend!” She leaned down to have a close conversation with her mother, who presumably wanted to know about the two strangers Ronnie had brought to an intimate performance.

Violet and I each reached forward to greet both sets of parents as Ronnie and Kenzi scouted for available stools. They eventually found four empty ones, and they were brought to our table as the boys were taking the makeshift stage. It took everything in me not to freak out as I watched them file in, taking their spots at their instruments. The people watching the show tonight had relationships with the boys that went way back, and the feelings of love, respect, and admiration in the room were almost palpable.

I watched in awe, my eyes wide, as Jake took the portion of the stage right in front of our table. He had his dark eyes down, focusing on something to do with his guitar, and his long wavy hair was falling in front of his face. I knew that underneath the hair, he had the same high cheekbones and chiseled features as Ronnie. Those Kiszka genes were certainly strong.

Jake lifted his head slightly and shook some of the hair out of his eyes, hitting a pedal on the floor with his foot. When his eyes finally flickered upwards, they landed squarely on my own. In that moment, it seemed as if time had slowed down. The people around us were moving in slow motion - the sounds of the bar had faded, replaced by the thumping of my own heart. After what felt like five minutes, which was probably more like five seconds, I lost my nerve and looked down at the floor while I tucked a loose piece of hair behind my ear. I kept my eyes down for a few seconds longer, picking at some lint on my pants, until I heard the opening chords of Safari Song playing and I knew that Jake would be too preoccupied with the show to bother looking at me. Instead, I focused my energy on following Josh’s movements around the space as he belted song after song.

In the middle of the sixth song in the set, I felt Violet’s hand graze my arm as she leaned in to whisper in my ear.

“The one in front of us keeps looking at you, you know that right?” she asked. “Which one is he again?”

I leaned towards her, hiding behind a curtain of my hair. “That’s Jake,” I explained. “And no, I didn’t know he was still looking at me. I’m avoiding his eye contact. I’m too intimidated!”

Violet sat back up in her stool and rolled her eyes at me as the guys continued to play.

***

“Okay, that was amazing!” Violet squealed, turning in her seat to face the rest of the table. She slapped her hands down on the surface. “Those guys can rock!”

Everyone laughed, nodding their heads in agreement as they pulled their stools in slightly closer in order to make a closed circle. Karen and I made eye contact across the table, her welcoming smile beaming towards me as brightly as an afternoon sun catching the ripples on a lake. I smiled back sheepishly, blushing even deeper when I watched Josh march up behind his mother and place a hand on her shoulder.

“Hey mama, thanks for coming,” he said as he planted a kiss on her cheek. Karen pulled his arm around her and turned to reply.

“Joshua, we drove you here. We had no choice,” she replied, her laughter beginning to bloom before she had finished her sentence.

I watched with wide eyes as Danny appeared from behind Josh, walking over to wrap his arms around Kenzi while placing a gentle kiss on the top of her head. He rested his chin there while he looked around the room, smiling with satisfaction at the people who had shown up.

“Hey sis,” Josh waved to Ronnie from across the table, catching sight of Violet and I next to her. “Well, well...now who are these lovely young ladies?”

Josh let go of his mother and began to move around the table, getting closer to where we were sitting. He casually draped one arm over Ronnie and one arm over me, placing his head down in between our ears. Before he could speak, Kelly’s booming voice carried across the table.

“Fantastic job, son!” Kelly exclaimed. I looked down to where Kelly had extended his hand, and the one that took it in greeting was capped with a white sailor’s knot bracelet on the wrist. I knew that bracelet, and therefore that hand, belonged to Jake. I took a deep breath and swallowed the lump in my throat as my eyes traced up the hand, catching onto a stare that was already holding my own. I couldn’t hear what Jake said back to his father, as Ronnie began to introduce Violet and I to Josh, Jake, and Danny.

I held Jake’s gaze from across the table as Ronnie and Josh continued to talk. Jake’s eyes shifted to where Josh’s arm was placed around my shoulder, transitioning to a slightly darker shade of brown as they narrowed at the contact. I pulled my eyes away from Jake to return to the conversations happening around me.

“Where’s my baby? Did you leave him backstage again?” Karen was asking the boys, most likely referring to Sam. He was the youngest Kiszka sibling and she knew that he could sometimes get lost in his own little world.

“He ran into one of his old teachers,” Danny spoke up. “I think they went out to have a smoke together.”

“I really wish he would kick that habit,” Karen said. “You too, mister. I know it’s not just Sammy out there in the early morning hours…” She jabbed her pointer finger into Jake’s side, looking at him sideways and raising her eyebrows.

As Jake smiled sheepishly at his mother, I blushed and looked down at my feet. The fact that Jake smoked was new information for me - I tried to imagine how he would look in the middle of the night, face lit up by moonlight and a cloud of smoke circling his face on its way up to the sky. My stomach flipped at the beautiful image.

“Speaking of…” Jake said quietly, backing away from the group slowly. “I’m going to head outside for a minute. See where Sammy is…”

He turned on the heel of his chelsea boot, weaving through the crowd and walking out of a door on the opposite side of the room. I couldn’t help the sinking feeling in my chest as I watched him exit the bar.

“Well, shall we rock and roll? I’m exhausted,” Josh said, still standing next to me.

Karen nodded her head as the Wagners began to put on their jackets. “Where are you ladies staying?” she asked.

“The Frankenmuth Motel,” I replied after looking over at Violet.

“Oh, honey, no,” Karen shook her head. “I love the town with all my heart, but that motel is a dump! You’re more than welcome to come to our place. We have plenty of space, and I’m sure Ronnie’s clothes will fit you no problem,” she continued to ramble as she stood to put her jacket on.

Violet and I shot each other a nervous look. She puffed out her bottom lip and shrugged, leaving the decision up to me.

“Uh, sure, that would be great,” I replied. I looked over at Ronnie. “Is that okay with you?”

“Uh, of course!” she exclaimed. “Any time we can balance the masculine energy in our house is a good time for me.”

The plan was settled. Kelly and Karen had driven the boys to the bar in their SUV, and we had Ronnie’s car service returning to pick us up. Our group made its way to the front door of the bar where we said goodnight to Kenzi and the Wagners, then went our separate ways to our respective vehicles. As I made my way towards the car, I caught sight of a few silhouettes outlined on the corner of the building with puffs of smoke rising into the air around them. I took a deep breath of the chilly night air and ducked down into my seat to begin the journey to the Kiszka compound.

#greta van fleet #greta van fic #sam kiszka #jake kiszka

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etes-secrecy-post · 6 months ago

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Hi, before I explain my post, I want to say something important.

• What you see my blog has become a major overhaul. And despite the changes, I decided that my 2nd account will be now my artwork blog with a secret twist.

⚠️NEW RULE! (W/ BIGGER TEXT!)⚠️

⚠️ SO PLEASE DO NOT SHARE MY 2nd ACCOUNT TO EVERYONE! THIS SECRECY BLOG OF MINE IS FOR CLOSES FRIENDS ONLY!⚠️

• AND FOR MY CLOSES FRIENDS, DON’T REBLOG IT. INSTEAD, JUST COPY MY LINK AND PASTE IT ON YOUR TUMBLR POST! JUST BE SURE THE IMAGE WILL BE REMOVED AND THE ONLY LEFT WAS THE TEXT.

⚠️ SHARING LINKS, LIKE POSTS, REBLOG POSTS, STEALING MY SNAPSHOT PHOTOS/RECORDED VIDEOS/ARTWORKS (a.k.a. ART THIEVES) OR PLAGIARIZING FROM UNKNOWN TUMBLR STRANGERS WILL IMMEDIATELY BE BLOCKED, RIGHT AWAY!⚠️

😡 WHATEVER YOU DO, DO NOT EVER LIKED & REBLOG MY SECRET POST! THIS IS FOR MY SECRET FRIENDS ONLY, NOT YOU! 😡

Okay? Capiche? Make sense? Good, now back to the post…↓

Title: Christmas Gifts for my OCs

IMPORTANT NOTE: No #OnThisDay throwback post for this special date because... It's Christmas! 🎅🎄

Ho (3x) Hello, December! 🎅🎄 Tis' the season of giving once again! 😄 So, I'll try my best to make myself positive as I can. ☺ Also, I must apologize for a one person who didn't received a Christmas gift from my OCs and myself... As if... I have nothing to give ya, man... So sorry, but all I can say is 'Merry Christmas, you have a great moment'. ✌️ Nevertheless, let's get it on with the gifts shall we? And what better way than my OCs will do the talking? So, take it away! 😁

Frame 1:

• For Maxwell 🐰🖌️, May 🐰👊💥, and Sam 🦊⚽: A custom Smiling Critters plushie themselves (from Riya 🐰🏎️, Aace 🐶🐺⭐, and Cude 🐰🤖 respectively)

Frame 2:

• For Sammir 🐻⚡ and Shadow R. 😺⚔️: A custom Smiling Critters plushie themselves (from Miya 🐰🐻🔋 and Spot 🐶🏎️ respectively)

Frame 3:

• For Mikey 🐱🎧: Physical Vinyl Copy of Superliminal: The Lo-Fi Mix by 2 Mello (from Miya 🐰🐻🔋) • For Tory 😺🩰: A custom Smiling Critters plushie herself (from Riya 🐰🏎️) • For Caleb 😺🏀🏈: A Modern airless Basketball (from Aace 🐶🐺⭐)

Kids' Thoughts ↓:

Spot 🐶🏎️: Thanks, dude! 😁 What you seen here are the gifts that we've chosen, with the first three were customized 'Smiling Critters' style plushies! 🥰🤗

Riya 🐰🏎️: Yeah, sir! That's our idea! Why? Why not? Because the 'Smiling Critters' are become a trend character world wide web thanks with the released of 'Poppy Playtime Chapter 3'!

Aace 🐶🐺⭐: Ya huh! 😄 We do this because we can't fowget (forget) about our fwiendly monstew (friendly monster) DogDay 🐶☀️, who desewved (deserved) his fweedom (freedom), to this vewy day! 😥 And that's why we puwchased (purchased) ouw (our) owned DogDay pwushies (plushies)! I FWEAKING WOVE (FREAKING LOVE) HIM, SO MUCH! 😭🐶☀️🤗 By the way, I was gonna gift the same thing fowr (for) my new fwiend (friend), Caleb. Instead, I decided to gift him something that he don't need eywr (air) on his new basketball. 🏀⛹️‍♂️ *sniff (2x)* So, enjoy it, caleb my fwiend! ☺

Miya 🐰🐻🔋: *Patting on Aace's back* Awww hey, hey... Take it easy, big husk! *hug* 🤗 We loved DogDay, as much as the other 'Smiling Critters' like my three favorites, Hoppy Hopscotch 🐰⚡, Craftycorn 🦄🖌️, and Bobby Bearhug 🐻❤️! Though, the first one was Riya's favorite SC character, but hey I loved Hoppy, too ya know! 🥰

Cude 🐰🤖: Me as well, since I'm a bunny after all and I faved Hoppy! 😊

Miya 🐰🐻🔋: Sure ya do, Cude! And I bet you're looking at the new girlfriend!? EEEEEEE! KILIG ('Thrill' in English)! 😏🤭

Cude 🐰🤖: Nah, just faved her because I have Mayu 🐇✨ as my special admire. Which, by the way, she's still enjoying and learning about Christmas! 📖🎅🎄😉

Miya 🐰🐻🔋: Ah, I see, I see. Just saying, ya know. 😁 And Caleb wasn't the only one, though. 😉 Mikey had a different gift I sent him. Something, that he needs to listened a beautiful Lo-Fi music I've found! 😌🎶🎧 A physical vinyl copy of a 2-Mello album! 💿🎶 I bet, Mikey is gonna love his new music and firing up with his owned vinyl player (or something about musical instrument stuff). 😁

Spot 🐶🏎️: Nice choice, Mi! 😊👍

Riya 🐰🏎️: Yeah, and we have those too! 😁💿🎶 But, let's see if my parents had something to gift for their adult friends! 😃

Frame 4:

• Windy 🐰🎤, Debby 😺📱🖥️, Scottie 🐰📚🍌, and Paul 😺⚒️⚔️: Portable Electric Cooking Pan & Self Stirring Mug (from Rita 🐶🚺 and Bonn 🐰🚹)

Adults' Thoughts ↓:

Rita 🐶🚺: Salamat (Thank you), Riya my anak! (my child!) 🥰 Magandang pagpipilian ng mga regalo sa Pasko sa iyong mahal, mga anak ko! (Nice choice of Christmas gifts to your love one, my kids!) 😊👍 Now for our gift to our adult friends? Well, something they need for their daily lives! Right, Bonn my asawa (husband)? 😊

Bonn 🐰🚹: Tama ka (you're correct), Rita my asawa (wife)! 😄 We gifted each their owned 'Portable Electric Cooking Pan 🍳 & Self Stirring Mug ☕'! Both were required power, with the latter had a mini battery inside, so you don't need to plug in! 😉 However, when the battery is low then its time to charge it. Plus, it has a removable tiny whisk and hide it at a compartment holder, which is very handy! 😁

Rita 🐶🚺: Tama (correct)! 😄 Meanwhile, the 'Portable Electric Cooking Pan' is a multi-purpose cooking, meaning you can either cooked rice, making a nice homemade chili (like Debby is cooking), make a delicious banana cake (like Scottie did), and my favorite is making 'Chicken Sopas'! A traditional Philippine comfort soup! Sarap! 🍗🍲😋

Bonn 🐰🚹: When it comes to cooking a traditional Philippine dishes, it never beats your signature cooking, Rita! so sarap! 😋🍴

Rita 🐶🚺: Awww, salamat (thank you) Bonn my asawa! 😙🥰🤗 Nevertheless, I bet our adult pals are gonna appreciate our gifts, including mga anak (my children)! 😊🎄🎅🎁 So, as we say in the Philippines 'Maligayang Pasko at Manigong Bagong Taon'! 🌟😄

Bonn 🐰🚹: That's 'Merry Christmas and Happy New Year' , folks! 😁🎆

Yeah, that's all for now! Happy Holidays, to all! 😁

Sammir (HTF OC) - owned by sammirthebear2k4 Ramcat Family - owned by @shadowredfeline Rabbit/Fox Family, and Mikey - owned by @bryan360

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disappearinginq · 10 months ago

Note

Fic association: Wrong Side of Heaven

Ah, Wrong Side, my beloved...

Deleted scene:

I wrote and rewrote Chapter 9 like 13 times. Possibly more. I kept trying to include every aspect of their captivity, and I wanted - so badly- to have the scene where Thomas 1) sees the bad guy and 2) realizes that Hannah sold them out. But I could not fucking write it to save my life and it irks me to this day

So, have the part I kept:

Thomas had plenty of time to think. In the dark of the Pit, where time ceased and all he had were his own thoughts and he needed something to distract him from the worry about his friends, the ache that settled deep in his bones and made it impossible to sleep, he wondered why.

Why were they here?

Not in the cosmic sense, but…why them? Why here? Why like this?

If they were so concerned about Robin, then why keep them here, alive? The longer they were prisoners, the less any intel they had would be useful. Information they demanded was out of date, utterly useless in a matter of days, if not hours. Weeks? Months? It was pointless. Unless it was just an excuse to torture him, but…why bother with a reason, other than because they could?

Jesus, it could be years before they were released. Only one POW was ever successfully recovered between WWII and now, and she was rescued after only nine days, and it was only because she was taken to a hospital and someone reported her to the Americans.

So why were they kept alive? They weren’t being bargained for. In all the times they’d beaten the hell out him - pulled nails, snapped fingers, punched and kicked and hit until he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t move - they’d never demanded he renounce the United States. They never asked after anything except Masters. Even now, months later.

What the fuck did you get us into, Rob?

Thomas’s best guess was Robin caught their traitor on camera, with undeniable proof of their existence. But if they were concerned about their identity being revealed, why not kill them? Before it could be rationalized that they wanted information, but now…now that made no sense at all. What information could they possibly think Thomas had that would be of any value? If Robin was dead, any information he had died with him. If he was alive, he would’ve given up the evidence by now, and Thomas and the guys would be dead, and the Taliban wouldn’t give two shits one way or another where Robin was.

Thomas let his head drop back against the wall of the Pit, wincing as he found another bruise. God, his MRI was going to look like a goddamn Christmas tree.

Okay, he thought to himself. If Robin doesn’t matter, why do they keep asking?

Why would he keep asking a question he already knew the answer to?

To keep them from knowing what he was really after.

He felt a surge of something disturbingly close to hope stir in his chest.

Something that started with Robin, or they would’ve never asked about him in the first place. Maybe something they thought Robin shared with him? If that was the case, it was again back to but why wouldn’t they just kill us and be done with it?

Back to the drawing board.

Information he shared with Robin.

Did they think he’d passed information along to Robin? No - had to be something a little more than just sharing with him, because again, they were more of a hassle to keep alive if they thought he was the one with the damning information.

---

“Oh. Oh…” Jahingir leaned back in his chair, the corner of his mouth curling up into a genuinely amused half smile. “You haven’t put it together, have you? Given the stories I’ve heard about you, Lieutenant, and, honestly, considering the colossal pain in the ass you’ve been to my operations, you must not have all the pieces.”

Thomas blinked, struggling to make sense of what the man was spouting off about now. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Jahingir laughed outright. “You still don’t know why you’re here. Why it’s you, and nobody else.”

Thomas shook his head, not so much in denial, but because he had no idea what the guy was on. “Because we were with Masters.”

“Close,” the man said, clicking his tongue. “Very close. But not quite. You see…Masters is my primary target, that’s true. But only because he’s not here with you, and I don’t have any proof he’s dead elsewhere. No, Lieutenant, you’re here, with your friends, because you were poking about where you didn’t belong. Scratching at doors that didn’t need to be opened. You probably don’t even know how close you were to proving my existence. Well…” he shrugged, then amended. “Maybe you knew how close you were to me. You seem the type to have a sense about those things. But did you perhaps wonder…just for a moment…that I couldn’t have this empire of mine if I was alone? Who must have helped me, you think?”

Magnum didn’t dignify him with an answer. He’d suspected it many times. Too many pieces were just that – pieces. Loosely connected and hardly relevant. It was the argument he’d gone round and round with Greene about – having enough proof to justify a manhunt to rival that of the one for Bin Laden. The man seemed to enjoy the sound of his own voice – he would let him talk. Let him implicate Academi and Wert and his guns-for-hire private paramilitary group.

Jahingir’s grin broadened. “You think you know, but you don’t. Because if you truly understood how you came to be here…I doubt you would take it so gracefully.”

Thomas frowned. “Just spit it out. I’m working on my third concussion, so all trains of thought are currently being derailed, and I think I might pass out before you get to the point.”

Jahingir suddenly leaned forward, out of his seat until he was almost nose to nose with Magnum, hands slamming down on his forearms and gripping with bruising strength. “You did, Lieutenant. All of my greatest successes, I owe to you. In another time and place, you would be an honored guest at my table for all that you have done for me. This empire of mine would not be possible without you and your friends. It shames me that I must treat you so now, but I have struggled too hard and too long to let Masters and his fatal curiosity to risk it now, and you refuse to give me the information I need. This could be over, Lieutenant, as soon as you tell me where I will find that fduli journalist.”

Magnum knew he misheard. Maybe Nuzo was right about the brain damage. He struggled to form a coherent thought, a rationalization of what the man in front of him just told him.

He was too sincere to be lying.

But he had to be.

“What?”

“You have cleared my path of any obstacles, my friend. My enemies struck down by you and your team. I control everything now. All thanks to you and –”

“Hannah…” he breathed.

Jahingir smiled. “Yes. Hannah. Your lovely fiancé, if I heard correctly? Congratulations on this happy news. She’s made me promise to keep you alive, but as she hasn’t lived up to her end of the bargain, I see no reason why I should. So let me make this abundantly clear, in as few words as possible - tell me where Robin Masters is, and what he knows, and I will let you live. I might even be persuaded to let you go. Now, I’m not about to drive you up to the base gates, but I’ll give you a sporting chance - a half hour head start. I’ll even tell you which direction to head in. And if the locals don’t shoot you, or the dogs don’t tear you and your friends apart, and the vipers don’t bite you…you’ll have a fighting chance of making it home. You are a SEAL. I’ve seen what men like you can do.”

Thomas stared at him. He didn’t hear a single word the man said. The world faded around the edges, tunneling his vision until all he could see was Jahingir. The confident smirk on his face. The pristine white of his perahan tunban, the fine embroidery of his coat along the chest. Everything about him was perfect. Pristine.

And in that moment, Thomas wanted him to be as ugly on the outside as he was on the inside.

He was still tied to the chair, but only at his hands, which was stupid on their part, but good for him. Jahingir’s face was still only inches from his, and Thomas lunged forwards and savagely bit down on the cartilage and bone of the bridge of his cheek. His teeth sunk down through skin and muscle, the taste of blood filling his mouth but he refused to let go. Hands pushed and pulled against him, yanking at his hair forcefully enough he thought for sure it would give way and tear his scalp from his skull, but he didn’t let up. He sank his teeth down further, scraping bone, until suddenly the skin between his teeth gave way.

There is the possibility that this will still be included in a flashback, but this is the inciting incident as to how he wants up with the wound of unknown origin from the pilot, and why he stops talking around this time in the fic.

#asks answered #games we play #thomas magnum #magnum pi 2018 #my beloved #I still think of them often and with great fondness #and after spending the weekend at a veterans retreat I have THOUGHTS and IDEAS #wrong side of heaven magnum fic

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pebblysand · 2 years ago

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Hi Jo,

Huge fan of your work and I hope you’re enjoying the holidays, I was wondering if the Dursley’s will ever show up in Castles?

Canonically Harry and Dudley send each other Christmas cards and Harry even visits with the kids, so I was wondering if that is something will see happen or if you have your own thoughts on what if anything happens between Harry and the Dursley’s.

hi anon! this is such a great question and one i've dreaded one of you would ask for a while, now. 😅

long story short: this is one of my plot holes. oops. basically, what happened (which you probably can guess from the text if you squint) is that originally, dudley was supposed to make a "comeback" in act 2 (chapters 8-15). i laid all the ground work for it in act 1, with the interview that harry gives and giulia telling harry to send the magazine to the dursleys, etc. at the time, i had this story in my head of dudley replying to harry's letter and them just - i wouldn't say reconnecting, that would be a bit much, but harry sort of growing and forgiving and dudley growing and apologising. your classic dudley redemption story (which i love, by the way).

except, chapter 8 happened. and, following, every non-essential plotline just got pushed back to ... later. i don't regret it, i think committing to chapter 8 was one of the best decisions i made, but ginny/amycus was So Big and So Important that understandably, if you add the "wizarding admin" plotline of the trials + mia, etc. there just wasn't material space to add stuff about dudley. my chapters are already long enough as is. and, i do remember that i tried multiple times to make space for it, but it also just wouldn't work within the general themes that were being explored in that arc. it's hard to explain but: you know how the writing in castles sort of "spirals"? well, i couldn't find a free space within that spiral to hook the dudley story in a way that stuck.

when i got to chapter 17 last spring, i was like: here, this is my moment! 🤣. because, let's be honest, not much happens in chapter 17 (which is on purpose, i mean, that chapter is just #vibes) but then i wrote it and i finished it and it was 17,000 words already and fuck. now, you may have noticed that i did try. there's a moment where harry and ginny are talking about how dudley once tried to drown him in the toilet and this happens:

It gets easier, being with her, after a while. Being vulnerable around her. Letting her see him the way she’s let him see her. She’s not the only one with secrets in her closet. ‘I reckon Fred and George tried to throw Percy down the loo once,’ she pushes, gently. It’s a funny story. Harry smiles at it when he looks up to the ceiling. Thinks of stupid, childhood games and the way Molly probably ran upstairs to yell at them at the top of her lungs. ‘It wasn’t like that,’ he speaks. ‘I didn’t think it was.’ He breathes in. Out. Traces a line down her arm with his fingers. He thinks of things he’d rather not remember. ‘Not now,’ he whispers. She smiles, nods. Slowly and quietly moves to sit on top of him, straddling him. She lowers herself down for a kiss, her palms on either side of his face. His hands settle at her hips; he feels the heat of her against his belly again. ‘Okay,’ she just says. ‘“Not now,” doesn’t mean “never,” though, yeah?’ He smiles against her lips. Pulls her so close. ‘’Kay.’

you have no idea how many times i re-wrote that scene, trying to see if i was going to take that conversation further. but, honestly, it didn't feel right to do so. again, something wasn't working. so, i pushed it again, except chapter 18 was already "full" with the abortion story, chapter 19 was full for Obvious Reasons, and now... here we fucking are 🤣.

where i'm at now: full-disclosure, i lied when i said i wasn't writing before january. i couldn't stay away. so, yes, chapter 20 is on the way. having said that, i have been struggling a lot with it, so it probably won't be released soon anyway.

but one of things i have been struggling with, actually, is this. to me, it feels very natural to bring up the topic of dudley/the dursleys as harry is having children of his own. but i think one of the things i'm struggling with is also: what i want to do with this, exactly.

because, tbh, my take on this in castles has kind of changed, over the two years that it's taken me to get to this point. i'm going to correct one thing and say that the fact that dudley and harry are on christmas-card terms isn't canon-canon, it's post-DH JKR canon, which in my opinion isn't "hard" canon. i see the stuff that she's said after the release of the books on a "keep what you like, toss what you don't like," sort of policy. i've taken a lot of stuff from it (harry becoming an auror, etc.), and even took stuff from cursed child (albus being sorted into slytherin) but i don't consider myself bound by it.

and, idk. i think part of me now feels like this could be one of the topics in castles that remain a bit "unresolved". a lot of subplots will have tight bows wrapped around them, but i wonder if the topic of the dursleys could just be: harry deciding that actually, some things are unforgivable, and that, while he doesn't necessarily hold a grudge, he also doesn't want to give them the time of day in his life. the kind of thing where he'd meet dudley at the pub once, and decide that objectively, his life is better without these people in it. he doesn't owe them anything. so, that's what i'm kind of toying with at the moment.

it is proving hard to write, though. mostly because of bigger issues i'm currently having with chapter 20, but what i do know is that this does have a time constraint attached to it. if i can't fit something in chapter 20 or 21, this will stay unresolved. 22, 23 and 24 are frankly too packed for me to include anything else.

so, i suppose, stay tuned. you were right to ask, it's one of the very few (maybe the only?) castles plot points that i'm still undecided about! 😱

#castles #asked and answered

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sageking · 2 years ago

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!! GRUMBO SHOUJO MANGA UPDATE !!

IM SO SORRY EVERYONE IM SUFFERING FROM SUCCESS RN

(TL;DRs at the bottom)

I KNOW ITS LITERALLY BEEN MORE THAN A MONTH SINCE IVE ORIGINALLY ANNOUNCED IT WAS HAPPENING BUT OH MY GOD WHY DID I HAVE TO GET HIRED WHEN I WAS LITERALLY MAKING IT IM SO SORRY EVERYONE WHO HAS BEEN WAITING PATIENTLY AND EAGERLY IM SO BUSY NOW😭😭😭

————————————

(For easier understanding and typing, Grumbo manga = GM // Manga I was hired for = PM)

FOR COMPENSATION, HERE ARE SOME CONCEPT STUFF IVE BEEN WORKING ON FOR THE PM SO YOU ALL KNOW WHAT YOU MIGHT SEE IN THE GM!!!

IF YOU ARE STILL WAITING FOR THE GM, IM PREDICTING A JANUARY-FEBRUARY PART 1 OF CHAPTER 1 RELEASE (OR MAYBE EVEN CHAPTER 1 ALL TOGETHER)!! BUT PLEASE DO NOT TAKE MY WORD CUZ IM SO BUSY NOW😭

BUT EVEN IF I AM NOT ABLE TO DO THE FULL THING, I WILL TRY MY BEST TO GET THE FIRST CHAPTER OUT FOR ALL OF YOU!!!! AS A CHRISTMAS GIFT, I WILL BE POSTING THE SKETCH VERSION (w/o text to not give away story too much lol) OF THE FIRST 2 PAGES ON DEC 25 AS A BIG SORRY FOR THE DELAYS!!

————————————

TL;DR: I suddenly got hired to draw for a manga right after announcing I'm gonna start working on the grumbo shoujo manga, very sorry about it, heres some stuff from the manga I was hired to do, predicting a January-February 2024 release but do not trust my ass to actually pull thru cuz im busy and my autistic ass cannot manage time properly

TL;DR for the TL;DR: Im stupid and successful. Look out for the grumbo doujinshi early next year, but don't be too expectant lol

#shoujo manga #your crush on my persona #This is so unfair!—Why does my crush like my persona and not me!?#grumbo #hermitshipping #hermitblr

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ilightmytorch · 6 months ago

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My Year in Writing, 2024

I wrote 201,352 words in 2024. That was considerably less than the 300,000 I was aiming for, but is still a personal best. I have officially crossed the 1 million word mark!

Although I didn't win NaNoWriMo, November was still my most productive month. You can see the dip in the graph below related to packing and moving during July-September. Overall, I wrote 551 words/day, 488/day outside of November, and December 31 was day 2,871 of my write-every-day streak.

About 2/3 of the words I wrote were fanfiction and the other 1/3 was original fiction. I finished Electric Boogaloo (Jatp Season 2), Wrong Coast (an Arrow fanfic), and They Don't Know About Us (original fiction).

According to AO3, I published 268,014 words this year. However, 148,863 of those words are me re-publishing all of the individual fics for Electric Boogaloo in one fic, so it's really more like 120k.

Plans for 2025

I'm going to try again to use the same word count goals as last year:

I want to hit 50,000 for NaNo in November. For April and July Camp NaNos, I want to write 1,000 words/day, so 30k and 31k.

I want to take it somewhat easy in the three months after NaNo events, so May, August, and December - 600/day, or 18,600 words/month.

For the other six months out of the year, I’m going to try doing “NaNoWriWeek” or 1,667 words/day for the first week of the month and then 600/day for the rest of the month, which will get me around 25k per month.

All of this totals up to about 300,000 words.

With the caveats that 1) I might be moving again, in which case I'll have another 3 months of little productivity, and 2) I may need to spend more time on editing, revision, and marketing this year which might cut into writing time

Fanfiction

I trunked a couple of projects, so I only have 3 fanfiction folders left in my writing folder. I expect Battle of the Five Phantoms to be the only one I actually work on in 2025, though. This is going to be a totally new experience for me--publishing chapters of a multichapter while I'm still writing instead of waiting for it to be done. If I dedicate half my words for the year to fanfiction, I don't think I'll quite finish writing it by the end of the year, but I think I will have made substantial progress. I should have the first 30-40 scenes published--I'll aim for releasing at least 2 scenes/month, but I haven't been writing in order so I may end up with nothing to publish while I fill in scenes that I skipped.

Original Fiction

I'm aiming for February 2026 as the release date for Don't Date the Guitarist, my first book, which sounds like a long time from now but it's really not--I need to put a push on to finish the first draft so that I can do some rounds of revision, editing, and getting feedback. I need to do the same for my lead magnet, They Don't Know About Us, a ~10k short story in the same universe which I'd like to release sometime around September-October. If I can write about 150k in original fiction, that's all of DDTG and Don't Use the Bassist, the sequel. There's also a novella in this universe I need to work on sooner rather than later, so I may start that, too, if I have time. And I will most likely work on other books in this 'verse and/or Christmas in the City when I need a break.

Writer Stuff

Beyond writing, there's so much I have to do to prep for the book launch, including:

picking a penname

launching a website

setting up social media and posting regularly

figuring out processes for self-editing/revising

figuring out how to get feedback

finding a professional editor

going through a whole editorial process for TDKAU and DDTG

getting covers for TDKAU and DDTG

figuring out what kind of marketing to do

probably a lot of other tasks I don't know about yet!

And now I need to get to it! I'm meeting the local writing group at a coffee shop in a a couple of hours, so I need to get ready to leave so I can get started on my words for the year!

#my writing

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itsashowtime · 6 years ago

Photo

∞ INFINITE MONTH 2019 ∞

Guess what time of the year it is? It’s Infinite Month!

Infinite Month is a month where creators get together to celebrate the newly born Yu-Gi-Oh! GX ship named InfiniteShipping (or otherwise ancient-spiritshipping)- the pairing between Johan Andersen and Yūki Jūdai’s ancestors, Crystal Protector and Prince Haou.

You may draw, write, cosplay, etc!

How to Participate: Once you are ready to share your work, post on your own blog with the #InfiniteMonth2019 tag within your first five tags (and also tag Lunick at @itsashowtime!

Due to people experiencing burnouts last year, we are now creating content on only three days:

Nov. 8, Nov. 18, Nov 28

But you are free to post whenever you wish as long as it’s during November!

The prompts are as follows:

Nov. 8 - Marriage AU

Nov. 18 - Free choice! (refer to 2018 prompt list if you are lost)

Nov. 28 - Death

FAQ:

Q: Am I allowed to draw/write about other shipping alternates such as Vanguard x Haou?

A: Heck yeah you can!

#InfiniteMonth2019 #InfiniteShipping #let's get this started!#Also update on YGONT:#I will try my best to release Chapter 1 on CHRISTMAS #Or- the last day of 2019 #I want it to be amazing and I think Christmas would be the best bc #it'd be my gift to you all!#Anyways- apologies for the slow activity here #I got myself sick and I wanna do request Friday but I have so many projects and I'm moving countries... a ga I n #So I've been stressed #But I guess stressed is an understatement #nevertheless #I'm more active on twitter these days #hopefully I can dish out 5ds fan art soon bc I'm dying to draw Yusei

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something-tofightfor · 3 years ago

Text

Competing For Christmas 1: The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

Pairing: Modern Din Djarin x Female Reader

Word Count: 7,584

Rating: T/M: There’s some language. That’s about it.

Summary: As the holidays approach, it’s time to start seriously thinking about how you’ll spend them - and who you’ll spend them with.

After breaking the ice with your coworker Din, the future becomes a little clearer ... and you begin to see some of the possibilities.

Author’s notes:

It’s here! This is the first part of my 2022 Hallmark Christmas celebration. You voted and you chose this story as the winner - so I hope you all enjoy it.

I’m planning on releasing this in real time for each part to coincide with the dates of the events that take place in the story... but don’t hold me to that because as we all know, the holidays can and do - usually get a little hectic.

We’re playing a little fast and loose with some canon Mando elements - and I’m picturing Din as a little younger than he is in the show; early-mid 30′s. Reader will have no specified characteristics or age, aside from the fact that she is over 21 (legally allowed to drink in the US), celebrates Christmas, and she does/will have hair that is of a length that can be covered (you’ll see).

Questions, concerns, comments? My inbox is open! I tried to keep this brief, and yet again... was unable to. You should all know the drill by now.

To get alerted when I post new chapters/stories, follow @somethingtofightfor-shares and turn on post notifications - you can also ask to be added to my tag list (link in bio or at the top of my taglist reblog)

Thank you to everyone that’s showed interest in this so far.

Translations at the end!

Masterlist

The more you put it off, the clearer it became that you were going to have to swallow your anxiety and just do it.

And it shouldn’t have been difficult - not really.

He was a nice guy; the conversations that you’d had at work were always positive ones, even if they were short. You’d never seen him get upset, even when someone made an unreasonable demand of him. He’d even gone out of his way to help around the office, taking on tasks before anyone could ask him to do so, or spending extra time to make sure the older people working there knew how to use everything properly to do their jobs.

He is a nice guy, and if you didn’t ask, you knew that someone else would.

And it wasn’t just the people you worked with that you had to worry about getting ahead of - it was everyone single in your age group, too.

So on the Monday before Thanksgiving, you found yourself texting your best friend and asking her to wish you luck before taking off down the hallway and toward his office, fingers nervously trailing along the wall in your wake.

Everyone seemed to be busy as you passed, and you were thankful that no one stopped you or poked their heads out of their office doors and attempted to speak to you. One delay and I’m going to lose my nerve. I know it. By the time you reached his partially closed door, your nerves were much calmer, one hand rising so that you could rap your knuckles against the frame with no hesitation.

Or, only a little hesitation, if you were being honest.

“C’mon in.” He spoke before you’d finished knocking, and you did exactly that, pushing the door open and then sticking your head inside of the room, a smile unavoidable at the sight of him.

“Hey, Din.” Leaving the door open behind you, you stepped through the small space and dropped into the chair across from him at the desk, crossing your legs at the knee. “How’s it going?”

“Busy today, actually.” He sighed, running his hand through his hair and then gesturing to his computer. “I’ve closed a few work orders, and had to go and help Sandra log back into her computer. She forgot her password again, and couldn’t do anything.” Bet she didn’t really forget it.

As you listened to him speak, you let yourself stare at him, trying to decide what the best course of action was. Just ask. That’s what you’re here to do. “Didn’t you help her last week, too?” Wrinkling your nose, you rolled your eyes. “I know it’s not a good idea because of safety and all that, but you’d think these people would use simpler passwords, right? Things they can remember?”

“If they did that, I’d be out of a job.” Leaning back in his chair, Din smiled at you, a dimple appearing on one cheek, visible through his sparse beard. “It’s fine. It’s what I’m here for, and it makes the day go by faster.”

“If you say so.” Both of you went silent, and after about ten seconds, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath. “Look, I didn’t come here for computer help, Din. I actually… I have a favor to ask you.”

“Yeah?” Din sat up straight, leaning closer and then pushing the sleeves of his shirt up toward his elbows before resting his forearms on the desk, the keyboard between them. “What’s up?” His casual response put you even more at ease, and as you opened your mouth to clue him in, you realized that you weren’t anxious anymore - whatever was going to happen was going to happen. He’d either agree or he’d say no, but you’d never know the outcome unless you took the leap.

“So, you weren’t here last Christmas, but I’m sure you’ve seen the fliers for the events that happen over the next month.” Din nodded, his gaze still focused on you. “Christmas is a pretty big deal here, and -”

“With a town name like Mistletoe, I’m not surprised.” He raised a brow. “But go on. I’m sorry I interrupted.”

“Well, if you’ve seen the fliers, then you know that the events are all part of a larger contest, right?” He nodded again, the warmth in his eyes there but subdued, Din waiting to see exactly what you had to say. “I sign up every year, always have, and I did this year, too.” He nodded again, his smile still present but somehow smaller, staying quiet. “It’s… long story short, I signed up with James as soon as the site went live, and …”

“And now you’re not together anymore.” Din leaned even closer, saying your name. “I’m sorry about that.” You were surprised by the sincerity in his voice; you hadn’t even known that he was aware that you’d broken up with your long term boyfriend. But apparently, Din knew more than he let on. Just because he’s quiet doesn’t mean that he doesn’t see. “But that doesn’t … I can’t do anything about that, and if you wanted to remove your name from the list, I’m sure all you’d have to do is tell whoever’s in charge. I’m good with computers, that doesn’t mean I can hack into -”

“No, Din!” The laugh that spiled from your lips was one of the most genuine that you’d produced since your breakup a few weeks earlier, your accompanying eye roll only slightly exaggerated. “I’m not sorry about it. It was a long time coming. We wanted different things. He was ready to leave here and uproot his life and I just… wasn’t.” Not for him, anyway. “It’s better like this, but.” You held up a finger. “I don’t want to take myself off of the list, and I don’t want you to take me off, either. I … I was actually wondering…”

The nerves were creeping back in, especially with the way that Din was still watching you, the expression on his face much more interested than it had been only minutes earlier. Just ask. All he can say is no.

“I wanted to ask you if you wanted to pair up, Din. With me.” Wetting your lips, you paused and gave him a few seconds to let the words sink in. “It’s actually a lot of fun every year, and if you’re involved with it, it’s a great way to really experience a Mistletoe Christmas.”

“Aren’t there like five events? Doesn’t that take up a lot of time?” Cocking his head to the side, Din blinked slowly, a slight frown deepening the lines on his forehead. “We haven’t really spent much time together, so I’m not sure that I’d be a good partner. I don’t know you or this town well, so …”

“It’s one event a week leading up to the 23rd.” You reached into your pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper, sliding it across the desk at him. “Starts with trivia, and then there’s a baking thing and a snowman competition.” He reached for the paper, his fingertips briefly making contact with yours as he picked it up, unfolding it. “But the biggest thing is the scavenger hunt that’s the morning of the 23rd. That’s my favorite part, even though it’s the most difficult.”

You watched as his eyes scanned the sheet, his mouth lifting into a small smile at your words. “One a week?”

“One a week. A couple hours at a time.” Leaning back, you reached up to scratch at your chin, wetting your lips. “There’s other stuff to do on the days that there aren’t events, but it’s not … they aren’t mandatory. And no, we haven’t really spent much time together, but I think it could be fun, and we could get to know each other a little better.” You paused, thinking. “I never really see you out anywhere, Din. And you’ve met a couple of us for drinks after work once or twice, but …” You shrugged. “I know you don’t have family here, so I thought it would be a good way to…”

But as you spoke, you realized that you’d never even considered the possibility that Din would leave for the holidays - using his vacation time to travel back to wherever it was that he was from originally. Shit. I didn’t … that could be a problem. “You alright?” He set the paper down, his hand lifting to run his fingers through his hair again. “You got quiet.”

“It just occurred to me that I have no idea if you’re planning on being here for Christmas, and if you aren’t, then my plan isn’t going to work.”

“I’m staying here.” His tone hardened slightly for the first time, but it passed quickly, Din shaking his head back and forth. “I’ll be in Mistletoe for Christmas. Is there anyone else you can ask, though? I wouldn’t want to ruin your chances of winning.”

“There are a couple people I could ask. But if you say no, I’m not going to.” The look of confusion on his face made you laugh, and so you uncrossed your legs and then leaned all the way forward, pressing your palms on the top of his desk. “I’m pretty competitive, Din. And none of my friends really are. I take this seriously, and I think you would, too. I thought we’d make a good team.”

“Yes.” He was grinning again, excitement back in his eyes. “I will.” You will? You’ll take it seriously, or you’ll be my partner? “When is …” He looked down, consulting the list. “When is trivia?”

“Saturday.” You grinned back, rising to your feet. “And then the baking thing is the following weekend.” He took a deep breath, exhaling as he brought his gaze up to meet yours again. “Let me give you my number and that way we can coordinate for the -”

“I have a better idea.” He stood, too, pulling his phone out of his pocket and thumbing it unlocked. “Give me your number, and I’ll give you my address. You can stop over after work sometime in the next couple days and we can strategize.” What? The look on your face must have alarmed him because Din’s lips parted, his fingers tightening around his phone. “Or we can just talk at lunch or on break, that’s just as easy.

“I’m surprised that you’re inviting me to your house.” Pointing at his phone, you took a breath. “I figured you’d want to meet at a bar or restaurant or something.”

“I leave my dog alone all day while I’m here, so I like spending time at home at night when I can.” He grinned, the expression somewhat embarrassed. “I know it’s stupid, but I feel bad that he’s by himself for so long.” He handed you his phone and you typed in the number before replying, sending yourself a message that simply said “Din” in the text field, and then gave it back to him.

“No, I get it. And yeah, that’s fine. I’m free tonight and then tomorrow, so let me know what works best for you, alright?” Din nodded again, setting the phone down on his desk. “I really appreciate this, Din.”

“Don’t mention it.” He opened his mouth to continue, but was interrupted by a loud beep from his computer, eyes immediately going to the screen. “I should look into that. That’s the noise it makes when there’s an emergency.”

Telling him goodbye, you spun and headed out of his office, pulling the door partway shut behind you. That could have gone worse. The walk back to your desk felt shorter than the one to his office had, and by the time you’d settled back down, picking up your phone to save his contact information, you were smiling outright. Much worse.

The rest of the day was uneventful, and you worked methodically to clear out your inbox and get things done leading up to the long holiday weekend, the conversation with Din fading to the back of your mind as time passed.

But when your phone vibrated later that afternoon and you picked it up, everything came back - including your wide smile - at the words on the screen.

Here’s my address. How’s 6:30 tonight sound? I can order pizza.

You only hesitated for a few seconds before typing back a reply, trying not to let yourself get overexcited.

That works for me. I’ll see you then.

—

“Stace, there’s nothing else to it. We’re going to be teammates for a couple weeks.” You were pacing in your living room, phone held to your ear. “Yes, he agreed right away, but it’s probably just because he felt bad for me. He knew that James and I broke up, so it was probably just pity.”

“Nah. He doesn’t seem the type to do pity.” The woman’s laugh was loud in your ear, but her tone was serious. “And even if it’s just because he wants to experience a Mistletoe Christmas, that’s still a good thing, right? It’s going to be fun.”

“I hope so.” You sighed, checking the time. “I’m going over to his place tonight so that we can talk about the events, and -”

“You’re going over there?” She screeched the words, her surprise evident. “Oh, that’s really good. Just the two of you means that …” She kept talking and you sat down on the back of the couch, bringing your free hand up to pinch the bridge of your nose.

“Stacy. Yes, I’m going over there. He said he would have asked me to meet him somewhere else, but he doesn’t like leaving his dog alone all day and night. So it won’t be just us, the dog’s going to be there too.” She called you an idiot but you ignored it, continuing. “And even though it was the best thing for both of us, I did just break up with a long term boyfriend a couple weeks ago. I’m not looking for anything right now.

“Even with someone that looks like Din?” She’d seen him in person when she’d met you for lunch a few times, Din lifting his hand in a quick wave as the two of you passed him on your way out the door. Even with someone like Din. “You have to admit, he’s… nice to look at.”

“He is. But that doesn’t matter. We’re going to do some Christmas themed activities together, and that’s it. Maybe we’ll become friends, but I’m not counting on it.”

“We’ll see.” You stood again and moved into your kitchen, head tilted to the side to hold your phone in place as you pulled your jacket on. “Just give it a chance. You never know - you might be perfect for each other.”

“Or,” you countered while grabbing your purse and keys. “Or we might be really incompatible, this is going to be a mess, and five weeks of us spending time together will end really badly.” She laughed again, telling you were wrong. “Maybe. But I’ve already asked him, so now all I can do is see what happens.”

You hung up the phone after telling her goodbye and that you’d let her know how things went, scrubbing one hand over your lower face. Is she right? Am I right? Only a few minutes later, Din’s address was typed into your phone and you were on your way to a house not even ten minutes from yours, music playing softly on your car radio as you drove.

There were a few houses that already had their Christmas lights on and decorations up, but you knew that the number of them would only increase the following week, starting with the tree lighting ceremony on the day after Thanksgiving. You wondered if Din would go to that and decided to ask him while you were at his house that night. Might as well.

You felt no apprehension as you got closer to his place, and even when you parked in the driveway and turned the car off, that was still true.

But as you headed up the steps to the porch - he’d turned the light on for you - you felt a small twinge of nerves. And when you pressed the button for the doorbell and were answered with a series of barks from the opposite side, you sucked in a breath, heart rate increasing. I could leave. I could just go.

You saw the dog before you saw Din, its face poking around the edge of the curtains in the front window, and were so focused on it that you didn’t notice the door opening inward, Din standing in a rectangle of light that spilled out from the hallway and onto the porch. “Hey, sorry about him. He likes to bark, but he’s all talk, I promise.” He paused and your attention shifted from the animal to Din, who took a step back and gestured with one hand. “Come in.”

You followed him inside and shut the door behind you, and there was another quiet yip as the dog ran from the other room and into the hallway, Din bending slightly at the waist to grab for his collar. “Oh, it’s fine, he’s…” Unzipping your coat, you crouched down and then looked up, nodding. “You can let him go.”

Din did, speaking two words - Cuyir jate - and taking a cautious step closer to you as the dog closed the final distance, head held high and his nose working overtime as he sniffed at you. Look at how cute this damn dog is. “His name’s Grogu. Had him since I got here. I actually… found him.” You reached out, letting Grogu sniff your hand, and when he’d made the decision that you weren’t going to harm him and started to lick at your wrist, you let out a breath that you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. “Or maybe he found me. They tell me he’s a mix of a couple things, but that he’s mostly Shiba Inu and some sort of Shepherd.”

“He’s definitely cute.” Biting your lip as you glanced up, you nodded. “I can see why you wouldn’t want to leave him longer than you need to.” Scratching the dog behind the ears for a few seconds with one hand, you began to stroke over his fur with the other, Grogu plopping down into a seated position and whining quietly. “I love his ears.”

“Everyone does.” Din cleared his throat. “Figured we could order food and then you could tell me more about this contest while we wait and eat. I like it kinda cold in here, so I built a fire in the living room, but …” Standing, you gave the dog one more pat on the head and then moved closer to him, wiping your hand on your jeans. “If you wanted to stick to the kitchen, we can do that too.”

“Sitting by a fire sounds great, Din.” He led you into the other room and you followed, glancing around to get a look at the inside of his house. It was clean and organized, though it was smaller than yours, and as you walked, you noticed that there were very few personal touches scattered throughout. Maybe he’s a minimalist.

Grogu pushed past you as you stepped down into the recessed living room, the dog immediately jumping up onto an armchair next to the fireplace and curling up. He settled his nose into his bushy tail, bright eyes watching intently as you lowered yourself onto the couch across from him. You kept your eyes on Din as you did so, wastching as he stepped toward the fireplace and bending over to add another log before pulling the grate shut.

It was impossible to ignore the way the material of his shirt pulled over his shoulders - the waffle-knit texture of the dark Henley he wore tight over his back and arms - and so you didn’t. You let yourself look, leaning back against the soft cushions, and barely managed to avert your eyes when he turned to face you, pointing at the open laptop on the table. “I have the menu open for the pizza place I like. Pick what you want and add it to the order.”

As he settled down on the couch next to you - leaving plenty of space between your bodies, you leaned closer to the computer, fingers moving over the trackpad. I know this place. It’s one of my favorites.

It didn’t take you long to add your meal to the order, and when you gestured for him to finish, you reached for your purse, pulling your phone out. “What do I owe you? I can send it through Venmo, or if you want cash, I can give it to you at work tomorrow.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He clicked the “place order” button and then turned to look at you, lower lip pushed out in a small frown. “I invited you over here, so I’ll pay.” Thanking him quickly, Din ducked his head, turning his attention back to the screen. “Says it’ll be about 30 minutes. That’s plenty of time for you to fill me in, right?”

It was, but rather than just telling him, you decided to show him what he’d invited you over to talk about. “There’s actually a website, if you want to look through it. It’s got pictures and videos from previous years, and it’s how they keep track of teams and points, too.” He pushed the device closer to you again, and you typed in the address, opening up the page. “I’ll actually need you to add in your information, too, just in case we win anything. They need to have a record of who the prizes go to, so -”

“Wait, there’s prizes?” He was tapping lightly on the trackpad, scrolling through the main page. “This isn’t just friendly competition?”

“Well, yes and no.” Bending one arm, you rested your elbow on your knee and settled your chin in your hand as you eyed the website. “It’s pretty friendly all the way through. People are competitive, but they’re not ruthless, y’know? It helps to get us all in the Christmas spirit, but they like to reward the people that win, too.”

“What kind of prizes?” He clicked a video and kept his eyes on it as it played, the volume loud enough that you could hear it, but not too loud to keep you from talking. “Cookies and Christmas sweaters? Gift certificates? What are the stakes here?”

“God, no. We all get enough cookies and candy canes and all that bullshit from everywhere else. The Christmas sweaters … I can’t tell you no, because that might be part of it, but it’s more than that.” Pointing with one finger, you cleared your throat. “It sort of depends on who wins, too. There are some generic participation prizes, but for the teams that come in first, second and third, they personalize it a little.”

“Yeah?” A second video was playing, Din watching as people competed in a 3-legged race. “Have you ever won?”

“I’ve won individual events before. But I’ve only won a bigger prize once. It was the first year James and I were together, and we came in third overall. We got an overnight stay at a bed and breakfast about an hour away as our prize.” You swallowed hard at the memory, looking down at your lap. “I think that was still during the honeymoon phase of our relationship, you know? He was trying to impress me. After that year it always seemed like he was just going through the motions.”

Din was quiet for long moments and when you finally looked up, you sucked in a breath at the sight of a photo of you and James on the screen, both of you in winter hats and scarves. I forgot that was on there.

He quickly clicked to a different page and while it loaded, Din shifted on the couch next to you, obviously a little uncomfortable. “So it’s not just a couples thing? I know you said there were other people you could ask, but I figured it was just so you didn’t have to back out.”

“It’s not. I entered with my best friend a couple times. My college roommate was my partner once when she came back here for the winter break. As long as it’s a team of two and both people fall into the same age bracket, it doesn’t matter.”

“Yeah, it looks like there’s a separate contest for kids?”

“There is.” You leaned over, clicking on a different tab. “But that one’s just mostly fun. Races and making decorations, volunteering for the older kids. You have to be over 18 to sign up for the one we’re in, but there’s still plenty of stuff to do even if it doesn’t earn you points toward the competition. “You’ll see. It sounds a lot more complicated than it really is. All you have to do is show up for the main events and play, and you’ll be fine.”

“I can’t promise you that we’ll win.” He rubbed a large palm over one knee, sighing as he said your name. “Where I’m from, we didn’t have a lot of these traditions. My holidays were a lot of … structure. I’ve really only gotten to experience American Christmas a few times, and I’m still getting the hang of it.” The hang of it? It’s just … celebrations.

“That’s alright, Din.” Clasping your hands together in your lap, you shrugged your shoulders. “As long as you’re having fun, that’s what matters.”

“But you just said that you and James didn’t win because he wasn’t trying to.” He rubbed at his knee again, shaking his head. “I don’t want you to think …”

“There’s a difference between not trying and giving it a legitimate effort and losing, Din. As long as you aren’t just showing up and sitting there on your phone instead of decorating cookies, or complaining about having to trudge through the snow and getting your pants wet while we’re building snowmen, it’s fine.”

“I don’t mind the cold.” He let out a long sigh, the concern fading from his expression. “And Grogu and I really like the snow. He didn’t get to see much of it last winter, because we got here toward the end, but we took a trip over the summer, and he really liked it then.”

“Ah, so that’s where you went when you were gone for a week. Europe. There’s snow over there in some places in the summer, right?” You grinned at him, tilting your head. “You left so fast that some of us wondered if you were even coming back, and the little old ladies in the cafeteria were distraught at the thought they wouldn’t ever see you again.”

“Yeah.” He cleared his throat, eyes darting over to Grogu and then back to you. “Europe. It was a last minute thing, so I only had time to clear it with the boss.” His reaction was a little strange, but you figured that it was just the result of Din accidentally revealing too much to you after such a short time, and so you ignored it. He’ll tell me what he wants to tell me when he wants to tell me. “And I’m sure the cafeteria ladies were only distraught because I wasn’t around to help ‘em log into their email and update their order forms.” Doubtful. You snorted at that and were rewarded with another of Din’s bright smiles, the discomfort from a few minutes earlier all but gone. “The food should be here soon. Let me put Grogu outside so that he’s not trying to climb into your lap while you eat, alright?”

Nodding at the suggestion, you settled back as Din stood and whistled, calling out the dog’s name. Grogu’s head popped up in interest, and when Din headed for the back door, fingers closing sound the handle, he bolted toward his owner, tongue hanging out. “He’s adorable, Din.” You spoke as the door shut behind the dog, Din flipping the light switch on and keeping his eyes on the glass for a few seconds. “You found him?”

“Yeah. It was about two weeks after I got here, I was driving down the highway and stopped at a rest area.” He motioned for you to follow him up and into the kitchen, opening cupboards and then pulling out plates and napkins. “He was in a box next to one of the dumpsters, and I heard him whining when I walked by.” Din pulled his phone out again and scrolled for a few seconds, tapping once on the screen before he turned it toward you. “There was no way I was getting back in my car without him.”

You gasped at the picture he was showing you; Grogu but tiny, the longer fur near his ears matted and wet, his body tucked into a tight circle on a piece of filthy cardboard. “Of course you couldn’t.” Covering your mouth, you blinked back tears at the sight. “He was so little.”

“And all alone. I think there were others in the box with him at one point, but by the time I got there, he was by himself. Wrapped him in a blanket and put him in the car with me.” Din swiped to the left and the next picture you saw was of the puppy on the front passenger seat, wrapped in a tan, fur-lined blanket with only his head poking out. “Took him to a vet as soon as they opened the next morning, and they scanned him for a chip. Nothing came up. I said I’d keep him until someone claimed him or I could find him a home, and now…” Din trailed off, shrugging. “He’s not going anywhere.”

“They always know when they’re rescued.” Movement out of the corner of your eye caused you to turn your head toward the window, the sight of Grogu running across the snow-covered grass making you smile. “I bet he’s a terror sometimes, though.”

“Oh, definitely.” Din’s laugh was loud and genuine, and when he pushed away from the counter, tucking his phone back into his pocket, you followed, taking a seat at the kitchen table. “He’s a little shit but I love him anyway.” Before he could sit down across from you, the sound of the doorbell filled the house, Grogu’s response barks audible through the glass. “One second.”

He grinned as he walked away and you followed his motion with your eyes, gaze locked on the way his arms swayed as he walked, fingers curled into loose fists by his sides. Din was nice to look at - you’d thought so from the minute he’d been hired. His shy nature during his introduction to the company had made him something of a mystery, many of the employees - especially the women - going out of their way to attempt to get to know him. But I don’t know if any of them actually have.

He answered the door, greeting the delivery driver, and as he made conversation during the handoff, you kept watching him, chewing on the inside of your cheek. I shouldn’t stare, especially since we’re going to be hanging out so much. But you couldn’t help it, keeping your eyes on him even when he’d turned to face you again, boxes in his hands and using one foot to push the door shut behind him. “Need help?”

He assured you that he didn’t, and a few minutes later, the two of you were happily eating dinner, both boxes open on the table between you. “So tell me more about this competition. I know we looked at the site earlier, but …” He swallowed a bite of pizza, setting the slice down and wiping his fingers on a napkin. “How do they score the events? Is it easy to win?”

“Everything’s weighted differently.” Swallowing a mouthful of your own, you lifted your cup to your lips, taking a long drink of Coke. “For example, the teams that win trivia will win with that number of points, but they only carry over a specific amount to the second event.” He nodded, drumming his fingers on the tabletop. “There are judges for the snowman contest, and winners are ranked, and it’s the same thing; a certain number of points.”

“Do they count the number of cookies you decorate?” He took another bite, chewing thoughtfully. “Because I can tell you right now, I’m not going to be fast at that.”

“They do. But it’s not just the number with frosting, it’s the number that are complete. We don’t have to bake them, just decorate them. Every year, someone drops a full plate, or comes up with some lame method that they think is going to get them an advantage, but it never works.”

“What about eating them?” He raised a brow, swiping at his lower lip with one thumb and then sucking it clean, a breath catching in your throat at the sight. That’s definitely… something to see. “What happens if I eat the ones we frost?”

“I’ll be mad.” You wadded up your napkin and tossed it at him. “A couple is one thing, but there’s plenty of time to eat cookies after, Din. I promise, there’s hundreds of them that get made that night. You’ll have too many to choose from.”

“Fine.” He groaned and rolled his eyes. “Scavenger hunt? That seems like it’ll be the most competitive.”

“It always is. And it’s the best place to make up points, too.” Finishing your pizza, you pushed your plate away. “There’s the typical clues, and we have to figure them out and then go to each place and take pictures to prove that we solved everything. But there’s also a list of extra point opportunities.”

“Extra points?” He finished too, sitting straight up and then leaning back, his arms behind his head as he stretched. “What does that mean?” It took you a second to answer - the flex of his upper arms through the material of his shirt distracting you big time.

“There… there’s a time limit. If you get all five or six of the main clues, you earn a certain number of points, but if you take pictures with the other stuff on the list, you earn extra points.” His eyes widened. “The trick is that some of the stuff on the list is worth more extra points, and it’s all completely random. The people that are in charge are the only one that know until the end of the competition. They upload the list with the point values after everyone’s submitted.”

“So you really have to strategize.” He stood, beginning to clear the table. “Decide if you want to try for the extra points and put the actual clues aside, or -”

“Or play the game and pick a few of the extras and hope for the best.” As you moved through the kitchen with him, you were struck with how fluid it seemed - Din putting the dishes into the sink and rinsing them while you threw away the trash and combined the pizza into one box before sticking it in the fridge.

“Exactly.” Pausing with one hand on the countertop, you eyed him. “That’s why it’s last. Gives people a chance to decide how they’re going to play it.”

“Sounds like a lot of fun.” He had one hand on his hip, fingers spread out, the tips of two of them dipping into the front pocket of his jeans. “I’m glad you asked me to be your partner.”

“Are you?” He nodded and you felt heat rising in your cheeks, eyebrows shooting up in surprise. You then turned away quickly so that he couldn’t see the change in your expression. Shit. “I’m going to let Grogu in. He’s gotta be cold.” Din told you that that was fine but didn’t say anything else, and you took the opportunity to walk back downstairs, heading straight for the door. How do I respond to that?

You pulled the door open and Grogu dashed in, crowding up against your legs as you shut and locked the glass and then stepped back, laughing. Dropping to your knees again, you reached for him, the dog excitedly jumping closer and nudging at your chest and arms with his nose - which was much colder than it had been earlier.

Leaning forward, you used both hands to pet him, running your nails along his back and sides, his curly tail wagging back and forth at your touch. “He likes you.”

Din followed you downstairs, his arms crossed over his chest. Letting his words sink in, you smiled at the dog, scratching the space just behind his ears. “Yeah? Is he not usually this friendly?” Din sat down on the couch again and you heard a low whistle followed by another single word - K’olar. Grogu immediately went still at the sound and then headed for Din, bypassing you without another look. He jumped onto the couch and then settled down with his snout on Din’s thigh, his hand immediately moving to his shoulders. Ok, that’s impressive. “Din?”

“It usually takes him a little while to warm up, but I guess not with you.” He looked down at the dog and then back at you. “I don’t have people over much, so this is new for him.”

It seemed like an invitation and so you took it, sitting down on the couch again - Grogu between the two of you that time. “So you keep to yourself at work and after. You don’t have many people over. I’ve never heard any of the women in the office talking about going out with you for dinner or to a movie or for a drink, even though they all talk about asking. So why’d you agree to do this with me, Din?”

You weren’t trying to pry, but you still wanted to know, hoping that at the very least, he would tell you something that would help explain his decision. I shouldn’t question it, because I’m happy it’s happening. “I wanted to.” He said your name and turned his head, waiting until you were looking at him to say anything else. “You’re friendly with everyone. You make my job easy because you never really need anything from me. And…” He scratched Grogu between the ears again, taking a deep breath. “And you’ve seemed sad for the last couple weeks, so I wanted to see if I could cheer you up.”

“Din, I -” It wasn’t an admission of anything - not really - but it made you happy all the same, and you didn’t quite know how to respond. “Thank you.” You ran your fingers through Grogu’s fur, careful not to get in the path of Din’s hand. “Can I ask you something else?”

“Sure.” He was playing with the dog’s ears, the brown and black fur sticking out from between his fingers before he flattened them against the sides of his head. “Go on.”

“Was I the only person that asked you to partner up for the competition?”

“No.” He laughed and your head snapped in his direction. I’m not? “A couple of the girls from the sales team asked.” He met your eyes. “And so did Omera, the one from accounting?”

“And you said no?” Din nodded, his expression solemn. “Then why -”

“Because, I like I said…” He reached over, laying his hand on your arm and squeezing. “I want to cheer you up.” He cleared his throat. “And to be honest… you’re really good at your job, and you look like you know your way around these events, so clearly we have the best chance to win together.”

That made you laugh, too, your attention shifting to the warmth of his palm on your arm, the heat present even though the sleeve of your shirt. “I definitely do.” Lowering your head, you focused on his hand, Din squeezing once more before he pulled it back and resumed stroking over Grogu’s head. “Well thank you, Din. I appreciate it, and I hope I don’t disappoint you.”

“You won’t.” The room went quiet then, and even though there was plenty that you wanted to say, you chose not to, instead flexing your fingers and then leaning back in and reaching for the laptop.

“I’m going to log on now so that you can put in your information. If you enter in your email, they’ll send you instructions and updates about the events.” Once logged in, you navigated to the correct page and sat back. “All yours, Din.”

He typed quickly, entering in his name and address, along with his phone number and email. “Says I need a picture? I don’t have one on here, but -”

“It doesn’t have to be a professional picture. We can take one with your phone, or upload one using the laptop’s camera. It really doesn’t matter. They just want to be sure that no one’s trying to sub in someone for an event.”

He didn’t speak, but you watched as Din pressed a few keys and opened the laptop’s camera, ducking down so that his face was visible on the screen. He ran his fingers through his hair again but instead of taming the locks, he ruffled them even more, the man muttering something under his breath that made Grogu raise his head. Did he just call him lamb?

He snapped a picture moments later, and then with a few more taps, he spun the laptop to face you. “How’s that?” There was a picture of him and Grogu next to yours, and if you hadn’t been able to catch yourself, you would have said something embarrassing. Like telling him that that’s the best laptop selfie I’ve ever seen. “Figured even if people didn’t know who I was, they might recognize him.”

“It’s a good picture.” With a final pat, you pulled your hand away from Grogu and linked your fingers together. “Hopefully they don’t think that he’s my partner.”

“You wouldn’t have to worry about decorating cookies then because he’d eat every single one of them.” Din’s hands went back to Grogu’s face, cradling it between his palms. “Isn’t that right, you little womp rat?”

You couldn’t help smiling at the sight, but when your eyes moved up and you saw the clock over Din’s shoulder, you winced. “It’s getting late, Din. And we’ve gotta work tomorrow, so I should probably go. I don’t want to keep you up.” You didn’t want to leave but figured it was polite to do so, and when you stood, Din did, too. “You don’t have to -”

“I’ll walk you out. I have to lock the door anyway.” He held one hand out and spoke to Grogu again, his head angled down. “Gev, Grogu.” The dog relaxed almost immediately, putting his head back down on his paws and looking up at you, brown eyes wide and somewhat sad. “Oh, don’t look at her like that.” Din rolled his eyes when he caught yours. “He acts like I’m the worst when I’m just telling him to stay put.”

“He just wants to be around you, Din.” And I can’t blame him, especially after finding out he was rescued. You led the way back to his front door, reaching for the coat that you’d draped over the banister, along with your bag. “Thanks for dinner.” As you zipped the jacket, you met his eyes again, giving him a small smile. “If you have any other questions, that site can probably answer a lot of them, but you can always ask me at work, too. It’s pretty straightforward.”

“I figured.” He was leaning against the railing, arms once again crossed over his broad chest, the bottom of one socked foot pressed to the wall’s surface just above the baseboard. “And you’re welcome. It… I’m glad you stopped over tonight.” You are? Fighting back a smile as you zipped your boot, you turned your attention toward the door, reaching for the handle. “I’ll finish filling out that information when you leave, and see you at work tomorrow.”

“I’ll be there.” Sighing as the cool air rushed in when you pulled the door open, you looked back at Din over one shoulder, nodding. “Have a good night.”

“You too.” He followed you out onto the porch as you made your way down the stairs, Din still standing there by the time you’d buckled yourself in and started the vehicle. As you backed out, you noticed that Grogu had joined his owner, the dog sitting next to him, pressed close to one of his legs.

The radio still played softly as you drove, but you paid no attention to it, instead focused on the previous few hours - and what you’d learned about Din. Blowing out a breath as you sat at a stoplight, you stopped trying to hide your smile and let it free, grinning as you eased your foot off the brake.

It was going to be a long five weeks - but you couldn’t wait to see how they went.

—

Cuyir jate: be good

K'olar : come here

Laam: up

Gev: stop (stay)

- - -

Tag list coming separately!

#din djarin x reader #din x female reader #din djarin x female reader #the mandalorian au #pedro pascal character #din djarin modern au #IT guy din #star wars fic #hallmark christmas 2022 #competing for christmas #christmas story 2022 #grogu #din and grogu #but in a new way #choose your holiday 2022 adventure #christmas fluff #this one's going to have ALL the tropes

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