#Snow Slip and Fall Expert

[swensonconsulting]

Snow Slip and Fall Expert

If you're dealing with a snow slip and fall expert incident due to snowy or icy conditions, Jeremy Swenson is a specialized expert who can offer valuable insights and analysis. With extensive experience in snow-related accidents, Jeremy Swenson provides expert testimony and consultation to help determine liability and safety standards. His expertise is crucial for legal cases involving slip and fall injuries related to winter weather conditions.

[pucksandpower]

What’s the Worst That Can Happen?

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: Charles convinces his unathletic girlfriend to join him for his annual winter training ski trip … what’s the worst that can happen?

Warnings: description of ski injury and mentions of surgery

Based on this request

“Pretty please?” Charles begs, giving you his best puppy dog eyes.

You let out an exaggerated sigh. “Oh come on, you know I’m hopeless at anything athletic. I’ll just end up faceplanting in the snow the whole time.”

Charles grins, wrapping his arms around your waist. “That’s what I’m here for, to catch you when you fall.”

“Yeah until I drag us both down a mountain,” you retort.

He laughs. “I promise I won’t let that happen. We’ll start nice and easy on the bunny slopes.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Bunny slopes? Mr. Formula 1 driver wants to ski the bunny slopes with his clumsy girlfriend?”

“Hey, everyone has to start somewhere,” Charles protests. “Even the great Charles Leclerc was once a beginner. And the bunny slopes are the perfect place to learn together.”

You snuggle against his chest, still not convinced. “But it’s so cold there. You know I hate being cold.”

Charles kisses the top of your head. “The hotel has an amazing spa with hot tubs and a sauna. We can warm up in there after skiing. I’ll even give you a massage if you’re sore from falling down too much.”

“Gee thanks,” you laugh. “But what if I really am hopeless at it? I don’t want to ruin your trip.”

“Impossible,” Charles declares. “You could never ruin anything. This is about us having fun together, not about expert skiing. Though I have no doubt you’ll be shredding the black diamonds in no time.”

You smack his chest playfully. “Okay now you’re just lying to make me feel better.”

“Never,” Charles gasps in mock offense. “I have complete faith in your yet-to-be-discovered skiing abilities.”

You bite your lip, smiling shyly. His enthusiasm is adorable, even if misplaced. “Well, I guess it could be fun to try something new together ...”

Charles pumps his fist in excitement. “Yes! That’s my girl, up for an adventure!”

You hold up a finger in warning. “But I get to pick my own skis, and a helmet with a cute design on it. If I’m going to be falling a lot, I at least want to look stylish doing it.”

Charles grins. “Of course, whatever you need. I’ll take you to the best ski shops in town. You’ll be the most fashionable beginner skier on the mountain.”

You smile, shaking your head. “You’re crazy, you know that? Most guys wouldn’t want to deal with their girlfriends being accident-prone novices who will just slow them down.”

Charles takes your hands in his, gazing into your eyes earnestly. “Most guys are idiots then. I don’t care if you’re the clumsiest skier ever, I just want to experience new things with you. We’ll take everything slow, stop for plenty of hot chocolate breaks, and I’ll catch you every time you start to slip. The most important thing is being together.”

Your heart flutters at his words. You lean in for a tender kiss. “How did I get so lucky to find a man as sweet and patient as you?”

Charles smiles, pulling you close again. “I’m the lucky one. Now come on, we better start packing if we want to make our flight tomorrow morning!”

You wrinkle your nose. “Tomorrow? As in, the day after today? Don’t you think that’s rushing it a bit?”

“Why wait any longer to start having fun?” Charles counters enthusiastically. “Unless … you’re trying to back out already?” He pouts accusingly.

“No, no, I already agreed!” You insist. “It’s just, my suitcase is a mess and I’ll have to dig through my winter clothes and shop for ski gear and ...” Your protests trail off at the amused look on his face.

“Excuses, excuses,” Charles teases. “Admit it, you’re trying to stall so you can change your mind.”

You smack his shoulder again. “I am not! I promise I’m not backing out. I’m just … nervous. I’ve never skied before, what if I really am a disaster?” You bite your lip anxiously.

Charles tilts your chin up. “Hey, you’re going to do great. I’ll be with you every step of the way. But if you really aren’t comfortable, we can rethink this.” His eyes search yours with concern. “I don’t want you to feel pressured into anything, even from me. We can pick a different winter trip if you would rather do something else.”

You shake your head, smiling softly. “No, it’s okay. You’re right, it’ll be fun to try something new together. I’m just psyching myself out cause I’ve never been skiing before. But with you there supporting me … I can do it.”

Charles’s face lights up. “Yeah?”

You nod, leaning up on your toes for another lingering kiss. “Yeah. I trust you.”

“You’re the best!” Charles shouts gleefully, lifting you up and spinning you around. You cling to his shoulders, laughing.

“Whoa there, save some of that energy for the slopes,” you tease.

Charles sets you down gently, though his eyes still sparkle with exhilaration. “I’m just excited, that’s all. This is going to be such an amazing trip.” He kisses your forehead. “Thank you for agreeing to come. It means the world that you trust me enough to try this with me.”

You smile, running a hand through his hair. “Of course. Any chance to spend time with you is worth facing my fears and clumsiness.”

Charles grins. “Remember you said that when I have to stop every ten feet on the bunny slope to help you up.”

You smack his chest playfully. “Hey! I might not be totally hopeless.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” Charles says seriously. “For all I know, you could be a secret skiing prodigy.”

You snort. “Yeah right. But I promise I’ll try my best not to plow into too many innocent bystanders.”

“That’s the spirit!” Charles encourages. “We’re going to have the best time.”

You smile up at him softly. “I know. Anywhere with you feels like an adventure.”

Charles’s eyes shine with adoration. He leans down for one more lingering kiss. “I love you so much. Now come on, we’ve got packing to do!”

He grabs your hand and you let him lead you excitedly down the hall, butterflies swirling in your stomach. You still feel nervous attempting something so out of your comfort zone. But Charles’s childlike enthusiasm is contagious. And you know without a doubt that by his side, you’re ready to try anything.

What’s the worst that can happen?

***

Famous last words.

This is the only thought running through your head as you stand at the top of the beginner ski slope, knees knocking together nervously. Charles had seemed so confident about this yesterday. But now, staring down the gentle incline covered in packed snow, you’re starting to realize how insane it is to strap slippery sticks to your feet and careen down a mountain.

Beginner slope or not, you’re certain to make a fool of yourself.

Charles must notice your trepidation, because he squeezes your mittened hand gently. “You’ve got this, mon amour. I’ll be right by your side the whole time.”

You smile weakly, comforted by his presence. At least when you inevitably crash and burn, it will be into his strong, steady arms.

Charles grins at you eagerly. “Ready to give it a try?”

You take a deep breath, willing your knees to stop quaking. “As I’ll ever be.”

“That’s the spirit!” Charles says brightly. He turns to address the small crowd behind you — his performance coach Andrea, best friend Joris, photographer Antoine, trainer Nico, and friend Antonio. “Okay guys, let’s start nice and easy so she can get the hang of it. We’ll take turns skiing slowly beside her.”

You feel a rush of gratitude for Charles’ patience and consideration. The other men cheerfully voice their agreement. With so many experienced skiers guiding you, surely you can handle gently sliding down this minor incline.

Charles volunteers to go first, expertly snapping into his skis and gliding to your side. “Just stay relaxed, bend your knees, and focus on keeping your tips pointing forward. The snow will do most of the work, you just have to guide the direction. I’ll stay right here if you need me.”

You wobble forward, mimicking Charles’ athletic stance as best you can. The slope doesn’t look nearly as gentle anymore now that you’re staring down it. But with Charles’ coaxing, you slowly push off.

For a moment, you feel triumphant. The icy wind whips past your face as you coast downhill, skis sliding smoothly. You’re doing it! This isn’t so hard after all.

But your small victory is short-lived. An unexpected bump jolts you, throwing off your tenuous balance. You pinwheel your arms frantically as the ground rushes up to meet you.

Before you can taste snow, Charles’ strong hands grip your waist, stabilizing you back upright. “Whoa there! I’ve got you, just regain your balance.”

Your heart pounds against your ribs. But the reassurance in Charles’s voice helps settle your nerves. With his support steadying you, you manage to get both skis back under control.

“Thanks,” you sigh in relief. “That would have been a quick first run.”

Charles grins. “What are ski instructors for? You recovered nicely. Want to keep going to the bottom?”

You eye the remainder of the slope warily. But so far with Charles’ help, you’ve managed not to cause a complete disaster. “Okay, but stay close please.”

“Always,” Charles promises, sticking to your side like glue.

With Charles’ hand hovering protectively behind your back, you make it the rest of the way down the slope with only a few wobbles. At the bottom, you collapse into Charles’ arms, exhilarated.

“I did it!” You cheer. Charles sweeps you up in a hug, spinning you around.

“You were amazing!” He proclaims proudly. “A natural.”

You smack his shoulder. “Oh stop, I would have face-planted in two seconds without you.”

“But you didn’t and that’s what matters,” Charles insists earnestly. “I told you this would be fun!”

You can’t help but smile, caught up in his enthusiasm. As the rest of the group takes their turns skiing slowly beside you for a few more timid runs, you start to relax into the motion. Having skilled athletes guide you step-by-step gives you the confidence to slide a little faster, turn more smoothly, and keep your balance over bumps.

With each successful run, Charles’ grin grows impossibly wider. “Look at you go!” He exclaims after your latest effort. “You’ve gotten so good, I might have some competition soon.”

You snort. “Let’s not get carried away.” But secretly, you’re thrilled by the progress. Maybe you do have some hidden athletic talent after all.

On your next run, you’re feeling confident enough to wave Charles forward. “I think I can make it one time on my own now. Just stay ahead in case I start to wobble.”

“You sure?” Charles checks, poised protectively at your side. At your firm nod, he smiles. “Alright, you’ve got this! I’ll just be a few paces ahead.”

As Charles slides effortlessly downhill, you push off after him, a fierce look of determination on your face. For a few moments, everything goes perfectly. You whoop excitedly as you zip down the slope, wind stinging your cheeks. Charles cheers you on from where he’s stopped halfway down.

But right as you reach him, disaster strikes. Your left ski hits a patch of ice and skids wildly sideways. You flail your arms, trying to stay upright, but it’s too late. Your legs fly out from under you and you’re airborne, the white ground spinning dizzily.

You slam down hard on your bottom with a painful whump. For a second, stunned silence fills the air. Then Charles is at your side, helping you up as raucous laughter echoes from the group gathered at the bottom.

“You okay?” Charles asks, barely contained mirth dancing in his eyes.

You groan theatrically. “Only my pride is bruised.”

Charles wraps an arm around your shoulders, joining in the laughter. “It was an awesome run up until that point!”

You lean your throbbing head against him for support. “Laugh it up, superstar. We can’t all be pros like you.”

Charles presses a quick kiss to your helmet. “Even the pros take spills sometimes. Falling is part of learning. And you really are getting so good!”

From below, Joris cups his hands to shout encouragingly, “We’re proud of you!” The rest of the group gives thumbs up and cheers.

Their support, combined with Charles’ steadfast pride, melts away your embarrassment. This mishap was simply proof you still have more to learn on your journey to skiing mediocrity.

After a few more cautious runs under the wing of Charles’ companions, you regain the courage to try solo again. Each time you stay upright a little longer, recovering from slips with increasing agility. The sun reflects brilliantly off the pristine white slopes, making you squint against the glare. But with the Dolomites rising majestically around you, icy air filling your lungs, and Charles’ voice urging you onward, you feel truly in your element.

By afternoon, the group decides you’re ready for something more challenging. Charles leads everyone to the top of a longer and steeper slope. It’s still rated for beginners, but looking down the incline makes your stomach drop.

“You’ve got this,” Charles says as you stare uncertainly. “It looks scary, but you’ll build up speed gradually. Just remember everything you’ve learned.”

You take a deep breath and nod, encouraged by his vote of confidence. As the others line up to follow behind you, Charles gives your gloved hand one last encouraging squeeze.

“See you at the bottom, mon amour!” He snaps on his own skis and glides smoothly to the base to wait. Heart hammering against your ribs, you push off.

The acceleration down the hill is alarming at first, icy wind biting your cheeks. But focusing on keeping your skis parallel, you manage to control your speed, leaning into smooth turns like Charles taught you.

Halfway down the slope you chance a glance over your shoulder. The group is fanned out behind you, following your path and whooping encouragement. Their cheers on this more difficult hill send a thrill of pride through you. Just wait until you tell your friends back home that you, Miss Uncoordinated Klutz herself, skied down an actual mountain!

But in your moment of distraction, disaster strikes again. Your right ski snags on something, jerking you off balance. Panicked, you spin your arms rapidly to recover. But it’s too late. You’re careening out of control, picking up dangerous speed.

“Look out!” You scream as you zip across the slope sideways. But the ground is racing too fast to stop. Other skiers scatter hastily out of your path as you barrel toward them like a runaway freight train. You slam through their midst in a spray of snow, not even having time to wince apologetically at the curses that follow your wake.

Up ahead, Charles’ figure grows rapidly larger as you hurtle toward him. He holds out his arms bracingly, but the impact when you collide sends you both tumbling head over heels in a tangle of skis and poles. Snow sprays violently in your wake.

When you finally roll to a stop, face down and groaning at the base of the slope, all is silent. Hesitantly you raise your head, blinking snow from your eyelashes. The sight that greets you is one of absolute chaos.

Skiers litter the slope, sprawled in your destructive path like fallen bowling pins. Poles, hats, and gloves are strewn haphazardly across the snow. Fresh scarlet tracks stain the pristine white from ski edges catching on now-shredded pants and jackets. Groans of pain and bewilderment fill the air.

Horrified, your gaze lands on Charles pushing himself up just a few feet away, covered head to toe in snow. He shakes powder from his hair, blinking dazedly. Then his eyes land on you.

“Mon amour, are you okay?” He asks, scrambling over in concern.

Mortified tears prickle your eyes as you stare speechlessly around at the scene of destruction. So much for impressing everyone with your burgeoning ski talents.

Some first day on the slopes this turned out to be.

***

As Charles helps haul you to your feet, pain suddenly explodes in your left knee. You cry out, leg buckling dangerously beneath you. Charles’ arms instantly wrap around your waist, holding you up.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, brow creased in concern.

You grimace, tentatively trying to put weight on your leg again only for searing agony to shoot through your knee joint. “Something’s really wrong,” you gasp through clenched teeth.

Charles’ face pales. He keeps you supported against his side as he quickly unclips your skis so you’re not stuck in them. The moment your left foot touches the snow though, you yell in pain, leg giving out dangerously again.

Charles sweeps you up effortlessly in his arms. “I’ve got you, don’t try to stand on it,” he urges worriedly.

Over Charles’ shoulder, you see his friends weaving through the dispersing crowd of skiers, fetching a medic. As they confer in urgent French and Italian, Charles holds you close, face etched with guilt.

“This is all my fault,” he murmurs, distressed. “I never should have pushed you to try skiing when you weren’t comfortable.”

Despite the fire burning inside your knee, you force a pained smile, touching Charles’ cheek. “Hey, don’t do that. I wanted to try, remember? You didn’t pressure me into anything.”

Charles just shakes his head bitterly. “But look what happened. I’m so sorry, mon amour.”

You open your mouth to protest further, but just then the medic arrives with a toboggan sled. Charles gently sets you down on the padded plastic. You recline back, trying not to jostle your leg as the medic examines your rapidly swelling knee.

At the lightest touch, you flinch away with a sharp cry. The medic frowns. “Possibile lesione al legamento crociato anteriore. Abbiamo bisogno di portarla in ospedale,” he says grimly.

Charles squeezes your hand, face pale. “He thinks you may have torn your ACL. They need to take you to the hospital.”

You blink back panicked tears. You’ve always been prone to clumsiness, but nothing this severe. As the medic gestures ski patrol over to help transport you, the pain throbbing inside your knee seems to mock your brief foray into athleticism. Maybe you just aren’t cut out for winter sports after all.

Charles refuses to leave your side during the bumpy toboggan ride down the mountain. At the base, an ambulance is waiting to take you to the nearest hospital. While the paramedics work swiftly to transfer you into the back, Charles cradles your hand, looking utterly distraught.

“I never should have let this happen,” he berates himself again. “What was I thinking taking an inexperienced skier down that slope?”

Despite your pain-induced haze, you glare sternly at him. “Charles, stop. This isn’t your fault, it’s mine for losing control. Please don’t blame yourself, you’ll make me feel even worse.”

Charles still looks unconvinced. But he forces a tight smile, brushing hair back from your face. “I’m sorry. I just hate seeing you in pain. Let’s just focus on getting you fixed up. The doctors will know how to help.”

You nod, trying not to let panic overwhelm you. As the ambulance wails toward the hospital, Charles keeps his gaze locked comfortingly on yours.

Once there, nurses whisk you immediately in for x-rays and MRIs. Charles paces the waiting room, refusing offers from his friends to bring him food or drinks. When the doctor finally emerges, Charles springs forward anxiously. “How is she?”

The doctor’s solemn expression says it all. “Your girlfriend has sustained a complete ACL rupture. She will require reconstructive surgery as soon as possible to repair it.”

Charles sags back against the wall, color draining from his face. You fight back tears as the doctor explains your diagnosis — one of the worst knee injuries possible. It will require months of intensive rehab even after the surgery.

When the doctor leaves, Charles returns to sit by your side from where he was pacing back and forth. The pain in your knee has settled into a pervasive throbbing. At the sight of your obvious anguish, Charles’ stoic facade finally crumbles.

“I’m so sorry,” he chokes out, rushing to your side. “This is all my fault.”

You grab his hand fiercely, despite the IV of painkillers tugging at your skin. “Charles, stop. I already told you not to blame yourself. It was an accident.”

“An accident I caused by pressuring you to ski,” Charles argues miserably.

You level your most stern glare at him. “Charles Leclerc, you listen to me. I chose to try skiing. Me. Not you.” Your voice softens. “So please stop tormenting yourself over this. It kills me to see you like this.”

Charles searches your face silently for a long moment. Finally he nods, exhaling shakily. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” He gently brushes a strand of hair behind your ear. “I just hate that you’re hurt. But no more blaming myself, I promise.”

You smile weakly. “Good. Now come here.” Charles leans down and you tug him into a fierce kiss, trying to convey without words that you don’t hold him responsible.

When you pull back, Charles looks significantly less tormented. He caresses your cheek tenderly. “I’ll take care of you, I swear. You’ll get the best care possible and recover even stronger than before.”

You try for a teasing smile. “Guess you’ll have to find a new ski bunny next season.”

Charles shakes his head. “Never. No one could ever replace you.” His voice drops earnestly. “I don’t care if you never ski again, I just want you healthy and happy.”

Before you can reply, the doctor returns with consent forms for surgery. When he mentions performing the operation here, Charles’ brow furrows.

“No, she needs the best surgeon possible for this injury,” he argues. Turning to you, he adds, “I know a specialist at a private clinic in Austria. It’s where all the elite skiers go. I’ll fly us there tonight.”

Your eyes widen at the suggestion, but you know better than to argue once Charles is in protective mode. You have a feeling you’re about to receive world-class medical treatment fit for an Olympian.

Sure enough, Charles arranges for emergency transport to the prestigious clinic. On the flight, he sits vigilantly by your side, holding your hand through every painful bump of turbulence. By the time you’re admitted to the glamorous facility, you’re touched, but not surprised by the lengths he’s gone to in order to help you.

The surgeon Charles selected, Dr. Braun, inspires immediate confidence with his warm bedside manner and decorated credentials. After thoroughly examining your knee, he determines you are indeed a candidate for ACL reconstruction.

Charles listens intently as Dr. Braun explains the procedure, involving grafting tissue to replace your ruptured ligament. Though you try to follow along, exhaustion and pain medication make it hard to focus. All you can register is Charles rubbing your shoulder and reassuring you that Dr. Braun is the best there is. You trust Charles completely, so his confidence in this surgeon is enough.

Too soon, nurses arrive to prep you for surgery. As they wheel your gurney toward the operating room, Charles walks alongside, face etched with worry. He leans down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“I’ll be right here when you wake up,” he promises. “I love you so much.”

You cling to his hand for as long as possible before the nurses firmly insist he can’t go any further. As the operating room doors swing shut between you, separating you from Charles, your heart clenches anxiously. But Dr. Braun smiles kindly down at you, patting your arm.

“Not to worry, we’ll have that knee fixed up nicely,” he says. “When you wake, you’ll be on the road to recovery.”

As the anesthesia mask descends and your vision fades to black, you cling to the doctor’s reassuring words. Maybe there’s still hope for a somewhat happy ending to this disastrous ski trip after all.

***

As you blearily open your eyes, the first thing you see is Charles’ worried face hovering over you. The moment he notices you stirring, his expression floods with relief.

“Thank god,” he breathes, grasping your hand tightly. “How are you feeling?”

You blink slowly, trying to clear the hazy fog of anesthesia from your brain. “Okay I think.” Your voice comes out scratchy. You glance down at the heavy brace immobilizing your knee and the events leading up to surgery come rushing back. “Did it … go alright?”

Charles smoothes your hair back gently. “Everything went perfectly. Dr. Braun said it was a very successful surgery.”

You exhale, tension easing from your shoulders. With the capable doctor and Charles by your side, you’ve made it through the first step.

Right on cue, Dr. Braun enters, smiling when he sees you awake. “Wonderful, you’re up. How is our patient feeling?”

“A little groggy, but not too much pain yet,” you report.

“Excellent. The pain medication should be keeping you comfortable.” Dr. Braun moves to your bedside, examining your knee closely. “Everything continues to look promising in recovery. You’ll need to take it very easy for the next few weeks to protect the graft while it heals. But if all goes smoothly, you’ll be back on your feet before you know it.”

You nod, stomach swooping anxiously at the thought of the long recovery ahead. Noticing your nervous expression, Charles gives your hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Whatever she needs, we’ll make sure she has the best care and recovers properly,” he tells Dr. Braun seriously.

The doctor smiles. “Her rehabilitation will be the most crucial part. I work closely with a wonderful physical therapist, Elisa, who specializes in ACL reconstruction recovery. I highly recommend continuing your physio with her once you return home.”

Your eyes widen, not having considered that aspect yet. But Charles nods without hesitation. “Just tell us where she’s located and I’ll arrange for her to fly out to stay with us as long as needed. Money is no object.”

“Whoa, wait a minute,” you interject, head still fuzzy but fairly certain booking a private international physiotherapist is overkill. “That’s incredibly generous, but I’m sure I can find someone local-”

Charles silences you with a stern look. “Not a chance. Dr. Braun said this Elisa is the best. I won’t risk your recovery with anything less.” Turning back to the doctor, he adds, “Just say the word and I’ll have a plane and a place to stay waiting for her.”

You sigh, but can’t help feeling touched at the lengths Charles will go to help you heal. Dr. Braun seems equally unfazed by the bold offer — clearly Charles’ wealth affords certain privileges in care.

“I’ll speak to Elisa immediately and make the arrangements then,” Dr. Braun confirms. “With around the clock support from both her and myself, I’m confident you’ll recover wonderfully.” He gives your other knee an encouraging pat.

Over the next few days in the upscale hospital, you begin to adjust to the restrictive new reality of your injury. While your knee remains heavily braced and immobilized, the rest of your body seems to ache from compensating. But true to his word, Charles sticks to your bedside attentively, keeping you distracted with games and books during the long inactive hours.

When Dr. Braun finally clears you for discharge, you’re armed with piles of post-op instructions, crutches, and medications. As Charles helps you hobble out of the hospital lobby, you eye the crutches nervously.

“I’m not sure I can manage these things along with the brace,” you admit. The awkward metal sticks feel precarious beneath your arms.

Charles frowns, glancing between you and the crutches uncertainly. Then in one swift motion he sweeps you up into his arms instead.

You yelp in surprise, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Charles! What are you doing?”

“Carrying you, obviously,” he states, as if this were the most natural solution in the world. When you open your mouth to protest, he silences you with a look. “The doctor said to stay completely off your leg if possible. So no walking for you until it’s healed.”

You know better than to argue with Charles in protective caretaker mode. So you simply chuckle, shaking your head in amusement, and let him carry you like a princess out to the idling car.

At the airport, he again insists on keeping you cradled securely in his arms the entire walk out to the waiting private jet. Normally you’d feel self-conscious being lugged around like this in front of staff. But the utter tenderness in Charles’ hold makes you feel nothing but safe.

Once settled on the plush leather seat, Charles hurriedly arranges pillows under your braced leg. “Here, keep it elevated like Dr. Braun said. Do you need more pain meds? Let me grab you an ice pack ...”

He fusses attentively until you’re thoroughly bundled up with your knee raised and iced. Only once he’s certain you have everything required for the flight does Charles take his own seat, lacing his fingers through yours.

“Get some rest if you can,” he says gently. “I’ll wake you when we land to carry you home.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help smiling. “My knight in shining armor.” Leaning your head on his shoulder, you nuzzle into his warmth. The steady rumble of the engines is soothing, and despite your lingering aches, you feel yourself beginning to drift off.

Throughout the flight, Charles continues diligently caring for you. He helps you hobble to the restroom with assistance. He ensures you take your next round of medications on schedule. When the flight attendant delivers meals, Charles only picks at his own, too focused on making sure you actually eat to remember his food.

You’re simultaneously touched and exasperated by his hyper-vigilance. But you know it comes from a place of love and residual guilt, so you endure his constant fussing without complaint. If doting on you helps absolve his conscience, then so be it.

By the time the jet begins its descent toward Nice, your eyelids are drooping heavily. Charles lifts the window shade, sunlight streaming over your face. “Almost home,” he says with a tender smile.

You blink groggily, glancing down to make sure your knee is still properly supported. Reassured that Charles hasn’t forgotten a single detail of your care, you nestle back against his chest contentedly.

As the jet coasts down the runway, Charles cradles you close, placing a kiss atop your head. “Get some rest, mon amour. I’ll carry you out and get you settled back home.”

His quiet promise fills you with cozy warmth despite the lingering chill from your ice pack. You let your heavy eyelids fall shut, lulled by the steady thump of Charles’ heart.

Tomorrow your intensive recovery begins. But tonight, safely encircled in your love’s arms thousands of feet in the air, you feel confident you have the strength to face whatever lies ahead.

***

When you wake a few weeks later, pale morning light is just beginning to creep across the blankets. Blearily, you glance over to see Charles already awake beside you, brow furrowed as he stares up at the ceiling.

“You’re up early,” you murmur sleepily. “Everything okay?”

Charles startles slightly, as if pulled from deep thought. He forces a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Of course, just thinking about some things.”

You prop yourself up on one elbow, scrutinizing him in concern. His evasive tone is uncharacteristic. “What’s going on? And don’t say nothing, I can tell something’s bothering you.”

Charles holds your gaze silently for a moment before letting out a heavy sigh. “It’s nothing, really. I’ve just been thinking about the start of the season coming up so soon.”

Your brow furrows. The opening race in Bahrain is only two weeks away. As the realization hits, your heart sinks. With your still-mending knee, it will be a lot harder to keep up with Charles globetrotting to races worldwide. For the past two seasons of your relationship, you’ve attended every race possible together. The thought of that no longer being the case feels daunting.

“Oh,” you say quietly. “I guess I hadn’t thought that far ahead yet.”

Charles’ expression is conflicted. He gently takes your hand, “I just hate the idea of leaving you here alone when you’re still recovering. It doesn’t feel right being apart.”

You force an optimistic smile. “Hey, don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself and Elisa will still be here for physical therapy. I’ll be okay.”

But your reassurance doesn’t seem to ease Charles’ frown. “I know, I’m just worried about you re-injuring yourself with no one here. I can get my mother to check on you too ...”

As he spirals back into restless thoughts, you squeeze his hand firmly. “Charles, stop. I’ll be fine, I promise. This isn’t my first time on my own, remember?”

Charles grimaces. “I know, but you’re hurt now. I just hate leaving you when you’re still recovering. If something happened while I was gone ...” He trails off, looking stricken.

Your heart swells at his protectiveness. But you won’t let him torment himself with hypotheticals. Sitting up fully, you level Charles with your most stubborn expression.

“Well then, it’s a good thing you won’t be leaving me here for long, because I’m coming with you just like always.”

Charles gapes. “What? No, you’re injured, there’s no way-”

“Uh uh,” you interrupt firmly. “I’ve been to every race I could since we got together, and I’m not about to miss one now over a bum knee. I’ll agree to skip pre-season testing but then I’m going to Bahrain no matter what.”

Charles' mouth opens and closes wordlessly before he finally manages to argue, “But how will you manage airports and flights and crowded paddocks? You’re still on crutches!”

You wave a hand dismissively. “So I’ll hobble around the paddock looking pathetic, big deal. Better than moping here alone.” Crossing your arms, you fix Charles with your most unyielding stare. “Face it, you’re stuck with me.”

Charles searches your determined expression, clearly trying to formulate another protest. But he knows you too well, can recognize when your mind is made up. With a resigned chuckle, he pulls you against his chest.

“You are the stubbornest person ever, you know that?” He kisses the top of your head, a smile in his voice. “But I really shouldn’t be surprised. Nothing can stop you from being there to cheer me on.”

You grin, basking happily in his embrace. “Damn right. You should know by now that I’m going to be by your side every race, no matter what.”

Charles just shakes his head in amused exasperation, arms tightening around you. “Well in that case, it seems I have some calls to make to arrange for your care in the paddock.”

You kiss his jaw tenderly. “See? Problem solved.” Settling back against the pillows, you add teasingly, “Now stop stressing and let me sleep a little more. Unlike you, I need my beauty rest.”

Charles barks out a laugh, the last tension fading from his frame. As you drift back into cozy slumber cradled against his chest, his steady breathing lulls you like a soothing melody.

Later that morning, it’s time for your daily physical therapy session in the makeshift rehab space set up in your apartment. Elisa guides you through gentle range of motion and strengthening exercises, keeping up cheerful encouragement. The work is grueling, but Elisa’s optimism inspires you to push through the discomfort.

You’ve just finished up with an ice break when hushed voices drift in from the adjacent room. Craning your neck, you glimpse Charles sitting at the kitchen island, phone to his ear as he rifles through an open notebook. Though you can’t make out his full conversation, you catch snippets.

“Need to make sure she has somewhere to rest comfortably ...”

“Don’t want her trying to walk too far ...”

“She says she’ll be fine, but I need to be sure ...”

You muffle a laugh into your hand. Of course Charles is already contacting Ferrari about you joining him in Bahrain, planning every detail to accommodate your injury. Elisa raises a questioning eyebrow but you just shake your head with a smile. Charles’ protectiveness never fails to make your heart melt.

Oblivious to your eavesdropping, Charles continues speaking in a hushed but urgent tone. You can visualize his serious expression pinched with concern, wanting to arrange every detail to ensure your comfort during race weekends.

It’s hopeless trying to curb his caring instincts. So you simply shake your head in amusement and turn back to your exercises, resolved not to override the plans you’re clearly not meant to hear.

After your session concludes, Elisa helps you prop up your leg to ice before gathering her things. “You’re making great progress,” she encourages. “Keep it up and you’ll be back to normal before you know it.”

You smile through your fatigue. “Thanks for everything. See you tomorrow?”

Elisa nods, waving farewell as she heads out. Once she’s gone, you eye your crutches propped nearby. Normally you’d use them to hobble around, but mischief sparks inside you. This seems like the perfect time to test your boyfriend’s hovering instincts.

Bracing yourself on the workout table, you carefully rise to your feet, keeping all weight on your good leg. The short hobble to the living room leaves you breathless, but triumphant.

Rounding the corner, you spot Charles sitting on the couch reviewing emails on his tablet. Before he notices your approach, you boldly flop down to sprawl across his lap.

Charles yelps in surprise, tablet clattering away as his arms reflexively cradle you. “What are you doing walking around alone? Where are your crutches?”

You grin up at him impishly. “Must have forgotten them back there. But I managed okay for a short distance.”

Charles gapes, torn between horror at your recklessness and awe at your determination. You take advantage of his stunned silence to wrap your arms around his neck and tug him down into a kiss.

“Have I mentioned how amazing and caring you are?” You murmur when you finally separate for air. “Taking care of me even when you think I don’t notice?”

Understanding flashes across Charles’ face and his cheeks tint pink. “You heard that phone call earlier, didn’t you?” At your smug grin he groans. “I should have known I couldn’t get anything past you.”

You laugh, nuzzling your nose against his. “It was very sweet. But you really don’t need to go through so much trouble for me.”

Charles’ eyes lock earnestly on yours. “It’s no trouble at all. I want to make sure your needs are taken care of so you can be comfortable and safe.” He brushes your hair back gently. “I hate the thought of you struggling while supporting me at races.”

Your playful expression softens. You take his hand, intertwining your fingers against your heart. “Do whatever you have to do so that you can focus on driving your best without worrying about me. I’m a big girl, I can handle a few weeks of long flights and sitting in the back of your garage instead of standing. As long as I’m cheering for you, I’ll be happy.”

Charles searches your face, as if committing every detail to memory. “I don’t deserve you,” he says finally, voice husky.

You smile, squeezing his hand. “Sure you do. We take care of each other. It’s what partners do.”

Charles’s eyes shimmer with emotion. He cradles your jaw, kissing you deeply. When he draws back, the anxious creases in his face have smoothed away, leaving only tenderness.

“I promise I’ll do my best not to worry,” he concedes. “Just promise you won’t push yourself too hard.”

“Deal,” you agree easily, then smirk. “Now, how about carrying me back to the crutches you claim I so desperately need?”

Charles laughs, once again sweeping you effortlessly into his arms. You cling to his shoulders, perfectly content to let him fuss over you just a little longer.

***

“We should all go skiing together!”

Pierre’s enthusiastic suggestion makes you freeze mid-bite, forkful of pasta suspended comically halfway to your open mouth. Across the table, Charles goes completely still, face draining of color.

Oblivious to your boyfriend’s reaction, Pierre barrels on with growing excitement. “There are some amazing resorts in the Alps we could visit over New Year’s. Epic mountains, fresh powder-”

“No!” Charles interjects forcefully. He looks mildly ill at just the thought. “Absolutely not happening.”

Pierre blinks in surprise at the vehement refusal. Even his girlfriend, Kika, appears confused by Charles’ sudden change in demeanor. You have to press your lips together to keep from laughing at their bemused expressions.

“But why?” Pierre asks, brow furrowed. “I thought you loved skiing.”

Charles shudders. “Not anymore. Not after ...” He trails off, eyes darting to you meaningfully.

Understanding dawns on Pierre’s face. “Oh! Right, of course.” He smiles apologetically. “Sorry, I didn’t think-”

You wave a hand, unable to contain your amusement any longer. “It’s okay, Pierre. I know you didn’t mean to bring up traumatic memories.” You cast a teasing glance at Charles. “But I think skiing might permanently be off the table for us.”

Charles nods emphatically. “Absolutely. Never again. From now on, we take beach vacations only. Somewhere warm, with no snow, mountains, or treacherous icy slopes.” He shudders again for effect.

By now, you’re laughing so hard you have to set down your water glass to avoid spilling it. You knew Charles was still sensitive about the topic of skiing, but you hadn’t anticipated him having such an extreme reaction tonight. His overprotective dramatics are too adorable.

Still chuckling, you lean over to smack a kiss on his cheek. “You’re being ridiculous, but it’s very sweet that you’re so traumatized on my behalf.”

Charles wraps an arm around you, some tension easing from his shoulders. “After what you went through, can you blame me for swearing off anything to do with skiing forever?” He shakes his head vehemently. “Never again. It was the most terrifying experience. I thought I might have permanently damaged the love of my life.”

Your heart melts. “I’m completely fine now, thanks to you. But I can understand preferring to avoid ski trips in the future.” You smile teasingly. “We can find a nice beach to lounge on instead.”

Pierre chuckles. “Yeah, that’s probably smarter. Sorry for bringing up bad memories.” He smiles sheepishly across the table. “A tropical vacation does sound nice though!”

The group dissolves into easy laughter, the awkwardness forgotten. The conversation meanders to warmer destinations and the approaching off-season. Charles eventually relaxes his grip on you, seeming reassured that skiing is off the table.

You make it through the rest of the amicable double date without incident. As you all exit the restaurant into the cool night air, Pierre turns to you and Charles apologetically.

“Really sorry again for that ski trip suggestion earlier. Definitely wasn’t thinking.”

You wave off his concerns with an easy smile. “Don’t worry about it! No harm done.” You pause, then add impishly, “Though from now on, Charles may vet all vacation plans just to be safe.”

Charles nods, face comically serious. “It’s true. I take your physical safety very seriously now.” His grave expression cracks into a grin. “So expect lots of beach vacations in our future together!”

Everyone dissolve into laughter again. After final farewell hugs, you and Charles head to your car, his arm wrapped securely around your shoulders.

Once home, Charles tucks you into bed with an amount of care bordering on reverence. As he curls up behind you, you lace your fingers through his against your heart.

“Have I told you lately how amazing you are?” You murmur into the darkness.

You feel Charles smile against your hair. “Maybe, but feel free to say it again.”

You snuggle deeper into his embrace. “You’re pretty much the best boyfriend on the planet. I love how protective you are over me, even when it’s a bit dramatic. It just shows how much you care.”

Charles presses a kiss to the top of your spine. “Of course I care. You mean everything to me.” His voice drops lower. “I never want to be the reason you get hurt again.”

You roll over to face him, gently cradling his jaw. “You could never hurt me. What happened was an accident, and I recovered just fine. So no more feeling guilty, okay?”

Even in the dim light you can see the sincerity in Charles’ eyes as he searches your face. “You really are too good for me,” he murmurs. “I’ll try to stop feeling overly responsible. Though I make no promises on vetoing future ski trip suggestions,” he adds with a teasing grin.

You laugh, snuggling happily against his chest. “Now get some sleep.”

As his breaths deepen into slumber, you reflect on how lucky you are to have found someone so devotedly caring. With Charles’ fiercely protective presence heating the sheets beside you, the future — filled with sandy beaches rather than ski slopes — looks bright indeed.

[pineconepie]

hihi! could you write vincent and reader shenanigans for christmas or the holidays in general?

This is probably the most wholesome thing I've written XD

"Dad, it's snowing!" You shake Vincent awake, jumping up and down on the bed excitedly. You had woken up to see the world covered in white, ice sticking to the windows, flakes fluttering down to the ground. "Wake uuuuup."

The man groans softly, reaching over to you and pulling you into bed with him, chuckling under his breath when you whine. "Mmm, shhh... sleepy time, munchkin." His voice comes out hoarse and scratchy from sleep.

"But Dad—" you begin to say, but stop short when he rolls on top of you. You gasp, struggling to push him off of you, laughing despite your best efforts. "Daaaaaaad. You're heavy!"

"Maybe you're just weak," he teases, yawning. His eyes slowly open as he shifts so that he isn't crushing you anymore, holding you against his chest tightly instead. "Alright, alright... I'm getting up..." He kisses your forehead and ruffles your hair before sliding out of the bed. Vincent stretches for a second, groaning as his bones crack, then looks out the window, watching the snow falling silently. "Huh... so it is. Guess the forecast was right."

"Can I go outside and play in it?" you ask, tilting your head up at him. "Please?"

"Nuh-uh. It's too early, (Y/n)," he replies. "Let me wake up a little more first before you start running around like crazy." He shakes his head fondly as he slips on a robe. "I guess a cozy breakfast is in order."

"Can I eat breakfast after I play in the snow?" you beg. "I promise I'll come back when you say."

Vincent gives you a stern look. "You need energy to run around in the snow," he explains patiently, yet firmly. "No playing without eating something beforehand."

He lumbers to the kitchen, still tired, and with you trailing behind. Once inside, you climb up onto one of the stools lining the counter, watching him work around the kitchen. Vincent puts two slices of bread in the toaster, setting them to toast, grabbing various ingredients out of the fridge.

The man glances at you when he realizes you're staring at him intently. He grins. "Whatcha thinking about, kiddo?"

"How I'm going to win a snowball fight against you," you answer without missing a beat.

Vincent chuckles. "I've got an impressive amount of upper body strength and accuracy, sweetheart. If you really want to win, you need a strategy—which for the record, I'm an expert at strategy, too. You are... what do the kids like to say now? Cooked?" He grabs a bottle of orange juice and pours it into a cup, pushing it towards you.

"Everyone has a weakness," you respond. "I'll find yours."

He smirks. "Good luck."

Breakfast is eaten quietly. You eat all your food (otherwise Vincent gives you his Disapproving Dad Face) before gulping down your juice, waiting impatiently for Vincent to finish as well. Once he does, you rush off to get ready—shoes, scarf, hat, gloves, jacket—all so you could go play in the snow outside. Vincent follows suit, taking his time to slip on boots and a large coat.

The two of you walk into the elevator and descend down the building together, walking side by side out into the courtyard area of the complex. Already you see a few others having snowball fights, making snowmen and such. You smile brightly and drag Vincent further into the snow, marveling at everything.

Before you know it, you're kneeling down and building your own little fort for defense purposes. You look up, to see him simply watching. "Aren't you gonna start with yours?"

"Who says I need a fort, silly? You forget who I am." Vincent grins mischievously, already getting getting his snowballs prepared.

You're already aiming, throwing the first hit to his shoulder. He laughs, and suddenly the battle ensues.

Both of you are cackling like mad men while the cold hits your skin and the wind picks up speed around you both. As the sun rises higher into the sky above your heads, the air becomes colder yet still somehow refreshing and crisp; perfect weather to enjoy this particular activity.

Even though Vincent is winning, you can tell he's going easy on you. You're sure if he was using all of his strength, you'd probably be dead. But he never throws harder than he needs to, or faster than necessary either; rather opting to maintain a consistent pace throughout the whole ordeal. Every once in a while he'll stop just long enough to allow you a brief reprieve before restarting again.

Through it, you think back to his weaknesses. He doesn't have any that you know of.

Except...

You hide behind your wall of defense and stash a ton of snowballs together, prepped for attack.

"Dad!" you cry out dramatically.

You don't need to say anything else for Vincent to run straight to you, out of his defense and forgetting about his snowballs. Immediately he wraps his arms around you, lifting you into his chest, looking into your eyes. "Baby, what's wrong?!" He hugs you tightly. "What happened? Are you hurt?"

Your heart twists from guilt, but you decide to go for it. The element of surprise would be ruined otherwise.

"My hand..." you whine. Just when he looks at your hand, you grab the snowballs and chuck them at him, cackling like a true cartoon villain.

"I won, I won!"

Vincent is surprised at first, blinking from how his face is now wet and full of snow. Then he laughs with you, ruffling your hair. "You little brat!" You raise another snowball threateningly, to which he laughs again, holding up his arms in a gesture of peace. "Okay! Okay, you win! You found my weakness! But for the record, I think that's what some would consider cheating."

"I didn't claim I was hurt or in trouble or whatever," you reason. "All I said was 'Dad.'" To make up for it, you brush some snow from his shoulders with your gloved hands.

He pretends to be offended. "Sneaky. Were you always evil, or did my own influence corrupt you?"

"I guess I learned from the best," you chuckle. Your hands instinctively grip his sleeves tighter. "Since I won, you owe me something! I don't know what yet, but I'll think about it!"

"I've created a monster," Vincent sighs dramatically. "Come on, you can think about what you want when we warm up inside. Its starting to get pretty chilly out here."

"It is," you agree, shivering. Despite wearing layers, the chill still reaches you, even seeping through your socks.

When you get inside and change out of your cold, wet clothes, Vincent starts the fireplace in the living room, grabbing hot chocolate packets from the cupboard. He uses the kettle on the stove to boil water and carefully makes two cups - one for him, and one for you, filled to the brim with marshmallows and whip cream. Then he plops down beside you, browsing through all the movies to fit the theme for the holidays.

"What's your favorite festive movie from all of these?" he asks, scrolling through the options.

"It's hard to choose," you answer. "What about yours?"

"Die Hard, of course."

"That's not—"

"Don't ruin my joy and whimsy," Vincent playfully scolds. "Not like I'd let you watch it anyway. Rated R films would destroy your precious mind."

You roll your eyes. "Am I not sitting in the same room with a guy that kills people for a living?"

"What did I just say about my joy and whimsy?" He snickers at your expression. "Anyway, a more age-appropriate answer would be The Muppet Christmas Carol. That was probably my favorite as a kid."

"Woah, didn't know movies existed in the prehistoric ages."

"Just for that remark, I'm picking what we watch."

[tttabii]

—박성훈 FALLING INTO TROUBLE (OR LOVE)

PARK SUNGHOON X READER

note: idol!sunghoon x idol!reader. reader was slightly traumatized by ice skating. pure fluff. word count: 3501

"ARE YOU SHAKING from the cold or from fear that you are going to die on ice?" Sunghoon asked, mild amusement in his voice as he looked over at you.

"Both," you grumbled, pulling your coat closer around your body. The live broadcast had already started, and you both stood outside the rink, snow lightly falling. You had an idol smile plastered on your face; but your insides were screaming. The only thing you had to do was survive.

After getting your skates and walking over the benches, you looked down at them like they were an unknown cursed object. You fiddled with them trying to loosen them, tighten them, basically just anything—to no avail. They might as well have been alien technology.

"You don't know how to put them on do you?" Sunghoon asked, already kneeling in front of you.

"Is it that obvious?"

He chuckled lightly and extended his hand out to you, "Let me."

Unsure, you lifted your foot slightly. He grabbed your sock-covered foot with both hands, heat radiating from his palms, and slowly guided your foot into the skate.

He didn't say anything the whole time, but you definitely felt your cheeks heat up as he laced the skate up with his expert fingers before moving on to the next one.

"There," he said as he tied the knot perfectly before putting his hands into the pocket of his coat. "Put these on too," he added as he passed you a pair of gloves.

You blinked. "What about you?"

"I have my own," he smiled, pulling his gloves from his coat. You nodded, putting one on just as your throat began to feel dry.

After a nervous wave to one of the managers nearby, you mimed water with a sense of urgency.

Sunghoon noticed and chuckled softly to himself as you worked to maintain your composure in front of the cameras. He looked so soft toward you, as if it wasn't embarrassing at all for you—like it was actually cute.

The cameraman, moving easily on the ice as if it was a second language to him, pulled back to catch a wide shot of you entering the rink together. You clung to Sunghoon's arm, almost shivering in anticipation as your blade hit the ice for the first time.

And then—disaster.

You lost your balance completely, giving a startled squeak as your foot slipped out from underneath you. Just as you were set to hit the ground, Sunghoon gripped you by the waist tightly and steadied you with the same calm grace that caused his fans to call him the "Ice Prince."

"I got you," he murmured, looking slightly amused but mostly concerned.

Your hands flew to the railings, holding onto them like they were the last thing keeping you alive. "No," you mumbled, eyes wide, breath puffing in the cold. "No, I really can't do this..."

Your voice was small, lips trembling—not from the cold, but from fear. Sunghoon paused, his hand still hovering near your back as he studied your expression.

He could tell.

You really couldn't skate for shit.

The livestream comments began pouring in already:

"Sunghoon save her!!"

"Not our bunny baby clinging for life—"

"ICE PRINCE AND OUR RABBIT, I'M CRYING"

"Their dynamic is so real—baby chick teaching baby bunny to skate—"

"Just... move with me slowly," he said gently, reaching for your hands. You tried. Really, you did. But your legs were wobbling like jelly and you were nearly about to collapse again.

"Sunghoon—!"

"I got you." He caught you before your butt hit the ice, arms wrapping securely around your waist to stabilize you again. But even then, your skates kept sliding, making you tip forward. His hand went straight to your back, his other arm wrapping fully around you as he held you upright. You were pressed lightly against him now, your face heating up despite the freezing cold.

"Sorry, sorry," you whispered, breathless, trying not to look directly at him because, well—this close, his features were way too flawless. Snowflakes rested on his lashes. His breath was steady. You, however, were about to pass out from embarrassment.

"You're okay," he said softly, not letting go yet. "You're doing better than you think."

Another flood of comments hit:

"THEY'RE GONNA MAKE ME BELIEVE IN LOVE"

"That soft 'you're okay' just punched me in the heart"

"Okay but WHY does this feel like a drama?"

After what felt like a dramatic rescue, Sunghoon slowly skated back a little, giving you space to try for yourself as he explained how to move your feet. "Okay, just put your weight on one foot—no like that—yeah, a little more, and with your knees bent not locked."

You nodded, biting your lip and concentrating. One hand still on the rail, you went through his step-by-step instructions one-by-one. For a second, it actually looked like it was working. Your skates glided an inch, then another. You were doing it. You were actually—

Thunk.

You were on the ice with a small yelp, just as Sunghoon turned to take a brief glance back at the counter, eyes scanning for something—anything—to help you.

Out of the corners of his eyes, he caught sight of a little push-assist skating aid, which was pastel blue rabbit shaped with handles—had been made precisely for little kids or... well, for adorably helpless idols like you. He turned to the rink staff at the counter. "Can we go ahead and borrow that one? The rabbit?" he asked, and politely nodded to it.

Then he turned back—only to turn back to you, who was still all to definitely on the floor, and you struggled like a helpless baby rabbit trying to get up, arms flailing as your skates kept slipping underneath you. Your group's mascot nickname really wasn't helping the image.

"Oh my god," you whispered under your breath, trying to plant one foot down, only to have it slide away again. "Please, end me now."

Sunghoon suppressed a laugh, skating over quickly to knelt in front of you, his hands gently finding your arms. "Don't move too much, you'll just slide again. Just let me help."

You looked up at him, wide-eyed and fully embarrassed. "I swear, I was doing okay for two seconds..."

"I know," he smirked, the soft, quiet one that made fans melt. "You were doing great. You just... weren't built for ice."

The chat exploded:

"THE RABBIT FOR THE RABBIT—"

"HE GOT HER A RABBIT RIDER THING???"

"I'm sobbing why is this so cute"

"GETTING HER A KID'S PUSH THING THAT IS SO SUNGHOON"

Then, after what felt like forever, the rink staff brought over the rabbit-shaped skating aid. Taking extra care with you, Sunghoon helped you sit on it, holding your hands like you were glass, and making sure your balance was right before he gripped the back of the little rabbit and pushed you forward gently.

"Okay," he said, eagerly grinning. "Now you’re skating."

"Sunghoon," you said deadpan, arms wrapped around the ears of the bunny, "this is a child's thing."

"And yet, you're not falling," he teased, pushing you along slowly like you were on a royal sled.

You buried your face in your gloves, groaning in mock defeat as the viewers spammed:

"I WANT WHAT THEY HAVE"

"PRINCE SUNGHOON AND HIS RABBIT PRINCESS"

"This is literally healing content. I feel reborn."

"He's so gentle with her I'm gonna cry."

As you continued laughing, your gloved hands tightening around the bunny's ears, Sunghoon abruptly stopped near the center of the rink. "Okay," he said with a smirk, stepping around you, "you sit here—I'm gonna flex now."

"Huh?" You blinked.

He adjusted his sleeves, the wind catching his coat slightly. "You've never seen me skate properly, right? You should at least know you're in good hands."

With that, he skated backwards, slowly building up momentum, before ringing off a nice, clean, spin that had everyone aghast, your mouth agape. He followed with an elegant glide, then a jump—not diagonally across the rink like a competition move, but clearly showing everyone he still had it. Everything he did was free and easy and elegant and confident.

And the live chat exploded:

"ARE YOU GUYS SEEING THIS???"

"EX-FIGURE SKATER MY ASS, HE STILL GOT IT"

"Look at our prince show off for his princess!!!"

You were clapping in your seat on the bunny, laughing in shock. "Okay okay, fine, that was cool!"

He skated back over to you with that shy little smile, now a little breathless, running a hand through his hair. "I told you."

"You didn't have to make it look so easy," you teased, nudging him lightly with your glove.

Leaning in slightly, voice low just for you, he said, "I'll teach you someday... properly. No cameras."

Your heart was thudding, warmth blossoming in your chest that had nothing to do with the multiple layers of clothing you wore.

"Deal," you whispered, just as the camera zoomed out capturing your smile and the way Sunghoon looked at you like you were the cutest thing he had ever seen.

After Sunghoon completed his little stunt, he skated back to you, took both of your hands and said," okay, you got this. No railings this time." While looking directly into your eyes, there was a soft gentleness in his gaze that made your heart skipped a beat.

"Nope. I don't. I do not got this," you muttered as panic coursed through your body trying to started to grow and your skates wobbled underneath you. you grasped his hands tightly, your eyes wide.

"You're fine," he chuckled softly, and then pulled you just a little. "trust me."

But your knees buckled practically instantaneously and before you knew it, just before you could nosedive and faceplant onto the ice, his arms were around you—tight and assured. You gasped as you felt your feet lift off the ice, letting out a small yelp of panic as he laughed. "S-Sunghoon! Put me down, seriously—!"

He laughed, effortlessly lifting you in a bridal carries while gliding across the rink like it was nothing. "you were about dive off, I had to save you."

You buried your face in his scarf as you couldn’t stop giggling. "I'm going to pass out, like literally I'm about to pass out. I can't be this high above the ice again."

"Okay, okay, "he grinned and slowed down and gently lowered you down back onto the rink, but kept one hand on your waist to steady you. You clung to him like your life depended on it.

The live chat exploded once again:

"THE WAY HE PICKED HER UP???"

"That was NOT in the script and you cannot convince me otherwise."

"me and who."

Once you both stepped away from the rink, and back into your normal shoes, your hands were still shaking a little but mostly from the cold. Snow had started falling again, landing in your hair and sprinkling Sunghoon's lashes. You both strolled to the food booths, following the scent of tteokbokki and roasted sweet potatoes.

He bought you a hot drink and handed it to you without saying much, just giving you that soft look he always had. You took a sip, blowing into the cup as you looked over at him. His coat was dusted in white, cheeks flushed red, and his hair sparkled with melting snowflakes. You almost forgot how shy he actually was.

You weren't much different. It took everything in you not to shrink under the stares—even though there weren't many people around, the live was still rolling, and comments weren't slowing down.

"Introverts IRL falling for each other omg."

"I have never seen either of them so comfortable with anyone."

"Even Sunghoon doesn't normally do fanservice like this. I'm suspicious."

You chuckled softly at the last one, showing him the comment on your phone. He looked at it and smiled, then looked away, taking a sip of his drink. "They're not wrong," he said, almost too faint for the mic to capture.

That silence between you had this familial comfort to it. Safe. The kind of silence that you didn't have to fill with anything weird. It wasn't about being funny or charming, just you and him.

Just warming up with food, cheeks red from the cold and adrenaline, stealing shy little glances while watching each other in case there was something to say that neither one of you knew how to say yet.

The manager motioned from the side, gesturing for you and Sunghoon to keep walking down the path of snowy vendors. "They want you two to explore more. Maybe show the viewers some cute snacks or souvenirs," he said, voice just barely caught on the mic.

Sunghoon gave a small nod, brushing his fingers against his own sleeve to dust the snow off. "Let's check out the game booths," he suggested softly, glancing at you.

You looked up from your drink, blowing into it to keep your hands warm. "Are we even allowed to play in these shoes?" you whispered, pointing down at your boots with a chuckle.

"We'll risk it," he grinned faintly, and the camera caught the way he tilted his head just a little to look at you longer. You tried not to visibly melt.

As you wandered past food stalls filled with warm food and noisy lights, you stumbled upon a small vendor with plushies hanging from the ceiling won from a ring toss game. One caught your attention—a sky blue dolphin with sparkly eyes and little mittens.

"Oh my god," you mumbled as you slowed down. "That's so cute."

Sunghoon noticed where you were looking and chuckled. "That one?"

You nodded, then turned to the camera like a child at a fair. "I want it."

The live chat went wild:

"Get it for her Sunghoon, don't play."

"He better win that dolphin or I'm rioting."

"They're literally in a drama. I'm the camera."

The vendor smiled at you both and handed Sunghoon three rings. "Good luck," they said, but you could tell they knew who he was without saying anything. It was nice. Gentle.

You stood next to him, nervously clasping your hands in front of you. "Are you good at this?" you asked.

"I used to be..." he muttered, lining up his first toss seriously. He missed.

You giggled. "Used to?"

"Don't distract me," he said, playfully eyeing you from the corner of his eye. The second ring landed—barely—and the third one missed again.

"That's one ring! That counts!" you grinned.

The vendor nodded. "That's enough for a small plush."

Sunghoon turned to you, gesturing toward the dolphin. "That one?"

You lit up, nodding quickly. "Please."

When he handed it over, you clutched it to your chest like it was the most important thing in the world. "I'll name him Icey."

He blinked, then laughed—a real one. "Icey?"

"Ice prince, Icey," you teased with a grin, nudging him with your elbow. "He's part of the lore now."

"ICEY. STOP I CANT DO THIS."

"She made a nickname out of his nickname I'm gonna scream."

"No fr they're flirting. This is flirting."

You kept strolling together, you hugging the dolphin to your chest and Sunghoon occasionally glancing at you, his expression just barely softening each time. The snowflakes continued to fall, settling in your hair again—and once, he quietly reached over to brush one off your sleeve without a word.

It wasn't loud. It wasn't dramatic. But it felt like something quietly blooming in the middle of winter.

The van door made a soft thud as it shut behind you as you buckled in, the live continuing to roll. You picked quietly at the warm waffle you had purchased earlier, your eyes trained on the screen reading the fan comments streaming in like a waterfall.

"Thank you for watching," you said, a small smile on your lips, almost a crumb at the corner of your mouth. "I'm glad you guys liked today's-"

Without a word, Sunghoon leaned slightly over and meticulously brushed his fingers against the left side of your mouth. He flicked away the crumb without any fanfare and leaned back into his seat.

Your mouth hung open in surprise, unsure if you should say something and be an annoying girl, but you had also not stopped him either. Instantly, your ears warmed with a soft blush, trying your best to go unnoticed like this was all normal. The plush dolphin sat between you both like an approved chaperone on a very expensive date inside an even more expensive van.

The cameraman let out a gentle laugh before turning off the live.

"HE WIPED THE CRUMB SOMEONE HOLD ME."

"I'M SCREAMING, MY PARENTS ARE HOME PLEASE."

"The way she just let him??? Oh this is real."

When the van pulled up to your dorm, you held the plushie close to your chest as you stepped out, waving goodbye to Sunghoon. "Text me when you get back," you said softly.

He nodded, gaze lingering for a second too long. "Don't fall asleep before replying."

You turned around quickly so he wouldn't see your red ears again.

The moment you stepped into the dorm, your members pounced.

When you walked into the dorm, your members jumped on you immediately.

"Is that the dolphin?!"

"Why were you BLUSHING like that?!"

"Oh my god, he wiped your mouth? Are you dating?!"

You gasped, embarrassed, and held Icey even closer to your chest as you said in a small voice, "You're all so loud!" while bolting to your room.

Halfway across the city, Sunghoon came into his dorm to absolute chaos.

"Hyung."

"Explain yourself."

"Wiping her face?"

"Giving her the plush?"

"He gave it to her because he won it for her. He was gentle."

He just shook his head and walked straight to his room. All he mumbled was "it was live."

But then a week later, you were on another live again—this time just a casual hangout with your group. The living room was a disaster zone of snacks and laughter, with board games everywhere on the floor. You, the maknae, were lounging on the couch in a pair of soft Hello Kitty pajamas, a plushie in your lap, and a star pimple patch stuck to your cheek.

No makeup, just plain skin, and just being you. It was everything the fans wanted.

"HER PJS I'M GONNA CRY."

"she's wearing no makeup and still pretty, I wanna be like her when I grow up."

"She is like... real real."

While your members were bickering over UNO cards, you were half paying attention to your phone, your thumbs tapping away quickly. Every once in a while though, you would stifle a small smile as you replied to a message.

"Yah," your older member said from behind you and peered over your screen with interest.. "You're texting him, aren't you?"

You blinked, caught off guard. "What-"

She gasped dramatically, "It is him!"

The chat lost it:

"WHO IS HIM???"

"IS IT ICE PRINCE"

"WHAT IF SHE'S TEXTING SUNGHOON RN."

"SOMEONE HACK HER PHONE."

You covered your face with the plushie, groaning. "You guys are the worst."

And the plushie? Still there sitting on your lap like a silent witness to your entire soft, slow-burn chaos, loved every moment of it.

You finally put your phone down, your cheeks still warm, and walked back to the table where your members were halfway through a chaotic game of UNO. You slid in between two of them and set the plush dolphin with your deck as if it was now an honorary member of the group.

"Okay, next round!"

"Maknae, no mercy this time."

"Give me all your Draw Fours."

Laughter bubbled up as the game began, only for the chaos to shift into a casual game of Would You Rather halfway through. Fans were still watching the live, loving how comfortable and low-key everything felt.

Meanwhile...

In another dorm, Sunghoon sat at his desk with his laptop open, watching the live with one hand lazily propping up his chin. His expression was unreadable, but the smallest smile tugged at the corner of his lips every time your voice came through. His fingers tapped idly on his phone, clearly in your messages.

The camera caught you biting your lip, squinting at your cards.

"Would you rather kiss someone right after they eat garlic or text your crush right now and tell them you like them?"

You rolled your eyes and groaned, "Do I have to pick?"

The girls shrieked. The fans blew up. Sunghoon froze.

"...You're playing with fire," he muttered under his breath.

Then—

THUMP.

The door to his room swung wide open and slammed against the wall.

"Hyung! What are you—" Ni-ki's voice trailed off abruptly, mid-sentence, when he noticed the obviously live feed happening on Sunghoon's screen.

Sunghoon panicked. "I-I was just checking in-I-" He slammed the laptop shut so suddenly it snapped. "Privacy?! Ever hear of it!?"

Ni-ki raised a brow, a suspicious smirk forming on his face. "You were watching her, weren't you?"

"No," Sunghoon terribly lied.

"You're blushing."

"Shut up, close the door."

"Would you rather kiss someone or text your crush," Ni-ki teased before he backed out. "Y/N's probably waiting for your text."

"Close the damn door, NISHIMURA."

And somewhere across the city, your group had just dared you to answer the next spicy "Would You Rather" question, and you looked down at your phone again—only to see:

[1 New Message]

From: Park Sunghoon

ice prince : just so you know... i'd rather text mine.

[gold-onthe-inside]

frostbite

who? spencer reid (s3) x tough!reader summary: spending christmas on a case is hard enough without you tracking down the unsub on your own, and tough as you are, you're not invulnerable. word count: 1k content warnings: canon-typical violence, references to dismemberment, weapons (ax, knife, guns)

This was not how you thought your Christmas would go. Your hands felt cold and numb in the North Dakota winter, you just couldn't seem to warm yourself up, even in all your layers. Think. What happened? The team had been called away on the 23rd, and now for some reason you were lying in the snow, surrounded by trees. You must have hit your head on something, if you couldn't piece this together.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are!" sang a taunting voice and you groaned softly, getting up and spotting the low-hanging branch. Right. You had been running. You patted yourself down. No gun. Knife. You gripped the hilt, slowly getting up. The grip is second nature, you didn't top the Academy field training course for no reason. You slip into the trees and branches, keeping an eye out for the unsub, trying to remember how you got separated from the others. The cabin.

They'd found it empty, had started pulling up floorboards to look for their latest victim and in the hubbub of looking for Melissa Green, you had seen the axe missing from the chopping block outside, footprints leading out to the trees. "Come on, pretty girl, where'd you go?" his voice sang again. You know he's a big guy, the odds that you could take him weren't exactly slim, but you knew better than to bring a knife to an axe-fight. But if you could play Marco Polo long enough…

He's an expert at tracking, so you tear off a piece of wool that was already unspooling from your sweater, letting it fall and leaving deliberate foot prints to lead him right to you. And then you clamber up a tree, gripping your knife between your teeth. If it works, you get the drop on him… literally. If it doesn't… well, you can't outrun the bastard anyway. You can't even remember which way the cabin is, and it's starting to get dark. You swallowed, gripping your knife, comfortably perched on a thick branch, hidden among the trees, and radioing your location. Rossi's maybe the only one in the group who's any good at wilderness skills and hunting. If anyone can find you, he's your saving grace, no matter how much you detest hunting as a sport.

Sure enough, you spot the big guy lumbering towards your trap, too engrossed in the hunt to care about the potential of other FBI agents searching for him. You let out a breath and it fogs up in front of you, and you prepare yourself for the tussle, the grip on your knife tightening, and then you jump. It all happens so fast, you don't even really track what happens. Your legs tightened around his neck, attempting to choke him so you don't have to use the blade in your hand, but then he slammed you back against a tree and the pain and cold forces a grunt out of you. You're on the ground, the unsub in front of you and his axe is swinging. You have enough sense to dart out of the swing and it lodged in the tree, your knife slicing into his torso as you twisted out his way.

"Bitch," he spat, pulling his axe out of the trunk and you quelled the panic rising in your throat.

"I bet you got a lot of coal for Christmas, didn’t you?" you asked, taunting him as you circled around him, the adrenaline giving you more nerve than you had as you twirled your knife. Where was your team? "But seriously, were you like… never hugged as a child? Seriously? Who spends Christmas chopping people up?"

"You talk too much," he said, gritting his teeth as he loomed over you while you backtracked.

"Yeah, my supervisor said that too," she said. "But he stonewalls a lot, what else can you do?" you asked, shrugging, your mouth working before your brain could catch up. You needed backup, badly, before this guy backed you into a corner. It was getting colder and darker and God, you really didn't want to have to kill him. He cocked his head at you, probably wondering why you weren't running, like a sane person of your height and weight. "Any chance you'd just… surrender, so I can go home?" she asked and the unsub chuckled.

"You're not going home," he leered, backing you into a corner and raising the blade of his axe to your neck, watching you swallow. Never show fear. You closed your eyes, taking a breath to calm your nerves, and then you heard them. You can't fight your smirk as half a dozen footfalls end up surrounding the two of you and you twisted the axe away from your neck, slamming the big guy against a tree.

"Drop the axe!" Aaron yelled, flanked by the rest of your team. You stepped away, relatively unscathed, and Emily passed you your gun back.

They eventually drag him back up through the woods and into custody and Spencer approached you with a fretful look as you holster your gun back in place. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice soft and tender, his hand finding the bruise on your temple, the cut right by your hairline, and the care in his touch is so sincere, it hurts more than your actual injuries.

"I've recovered from worse," you assured him and his lips pursed.

"That doesn't make me feel better," he told you, hazel eyes turning darker as the light faded. "You could have a concussion--"

"I probably do," you said. "I can barely piece together what happened."

He huffed. "What happened is that you ran off without back up again and got injured again, you can't be this reckless, do you have any idea how terrified I was when we couldn’t find you? You were out here with an unsub on the loose and no weapon, you could have ended up like Melissa--" His voice was breaking as he spoke and you hugged him before he could tear up. There's a lot you can take, there's not much that breaks your spirit, but Spencer in tears? He found it unexpected, it had taken 2 years before you let Penelope hug you without complaint, but he was hugging you back, burying his head in your crook of your neck, exactly where the unsub's axe had been. "Never do that again," he whispered and you didn't answer, nor did he prompt you. You don't make promises you can't keep.

[honeydippedfiction]

Joe x Angel for “Making love, except it’s on the bedroom floor.” Prompt under miscellaneous

1k & Birthday Bash nav | main navigation | reqs | table of contents

Making love, except it’s on the bedroom floor.

Joe Burrow x Angel

• you DO NOT have my permission to copy my work, upload as your own, translate, or repost on any other website •

The last streaks of dusky light slipped behind the Colorado peaks, painting the sky in muted shades of lavender and ash. Snow had started falling again, slow and quiet, as if the world itself was sighing into sleep. Aspen in the offseason was hushed, almost reverent. And inside a timber cabin nestled between the trees, Joe Burrow and his fiancée, Angel, were rediscovering the rhythm of each other’s company.

Their day had been long but effortless. A blur of white slopes, wind-bitten cheeks, and the echo of laughter across untouched powder. Angel had insisted on snowboarding—despite Joe’s warnings—and it had ended, predictably, in chaos and comedic injury.

“I’m telling you,” she said, toeing off her boots in the entryway, “that man shouldn’t have been standing that close to the turn.”

Joe smirked as he peeled off his gloves, his breath still fogging in the cool air. “Angel, he was the instructor. He was the turn.”

“He was too close,” she argued, her dark eyes flashing as she stepped into the warmth of the living room. “And that slope was clearly for experts. I’m an intermediate on a good day.”

“Babe, you fell five times before you reached the hill.”

She narrowed her eyes but couldn’t hold the glare. Her laughter bubbled up, easy and unguarded. “Shut up. I got down eventually.”

“With a rescue sled,” he added with a grin.

They stripped off layers of winter gear, their movements in sync—familiar, lived-in. Joe tossed his jacket over a nearby chair and ran a hand through his damp hair. Angel wandered toward the kitchen, where the smell of cinnamon and spiced cider had already begun to wrap around the cabin like a blanket.

The space was small but cozy, with exposed beams, wide windows overlooking snow-laced pine trees, and an old stone fireplace crackling softly in the corner. The hum of the city, the grind of NFL schedules, the endless interviews and expectations—all of it felt impossibly distant. Here, they were just two people with a history and a heartbeat.

As Angel stirred a pot of cider on the stove, Joe leaned against the doorway, watching her in the quiet way he always had. She looked different out here—softer around the edges, free in a way he didn’t always see back home in Cincinnati. Her curls were still slightly damp from the snow, and she’d changed into one of his oversized sweatshirts, sleeves bunched around her wrists.

“You know,” he said, his voice low and teasing, “you’re lucky you’re cute. Otherwise I’d still be dragging your frozen body off the mountain.”

Angel laughed, glancing over her shoulder. “Oh, I know I’m cute. Don’t get it twisted.”

He walked up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. She leaned back into him without hesitation, and for a long, quiet moment, they simply stood there—warm and close, surrounded by the gentle lull of the fire and the smell of cider and pine.

“I missed this,” he murmured against her temple. “Missed us.”

Angel’s voice softened. “Yeah. Me too.”

They ate a simple dinner—roasted vegetables and pasta by candlelight. Nothing fancy, just comfort food and conversation. Joe told her about the locker room during the last stretch of the season, about the younger players starting to step up, and how exhausted he’d felt after the final game. Angel shared her own stories—the creative work she’d been doing with her nonprofit, a few hilarious mishaps involving her assistant, and how she’d had to learn to tune out people online who had a lot to say about who she was dating.

“You know I don’t let that stuff bother me,” she said, her tone calm but firm. “But sometimes it still… sticks. People think they know us. They have no idea.”

Joe reached across the table and took her hand. “Let them talk. We know what this is. We’ve always known.”

She nodded, squeezing his fingers. “I don’t need their approval. Just you.”

Later, as the snow deepened and the cabin dimmed, Joe lit a few more candles and dropped the needle onto the old record player in the corner. Soft, velvety jazz poured from the speakers—Coltrane, maybe, or something just as smooth—and filled the room with a kind of slow-burning magic.

Angel had curled up on the couch, one leg tucked under her, the fire casting golden light across her face. Joe watched her for a moment, then stood, held out his hand.

“Dance with me?”

She looked up, surprised. “Here?”

“Right here. Nowhere else I’d rather be.”

She smiled, slow and real, and slid her hand into his. They moved gently across the worn wood floor, swaying to a rhythm that only belonged to them. Joe rested his forehead against hers, their breath mingling, her head nestled just beneath his chin.

“Remember that night after the championship at LSU?” she asked suddenly. “When we drove out past the levees, just to get away from the noise?”

He nodded. “We sat on the hood of your car, ate gas station fries, and watched the sun come up.”

“That’s when I knew,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I knew I was going to marry you someday.”

Joe pulled back just enough to look at her, his hand still pressed to the small of her back. “I knew before that,” he said. “You were the only part of that whole crazy world that felt real.”

She blinked back sudden emotion, but he saw it there, in her eyes—the same fierce loyalty, the same strength that had kept them grounded through everything. The long seasons, the rumors, the public glare. They had made it to the other side.

As the night deepened, so did the hush of the world outside. The snow was falling heavier now, whispering against the roof and windows like a lullaby for the mountains. The cabin was wrapped in quiet warmth, lit only by the glow of the fire, flickering candles, and the soft, smoky jazz that lingered in the corners of the room like perfume.

Joe and Angel sat together on the couch, wrapped in a thick wool blanket, their legs tangled naturally, easily. The cider was long gone, and so was any sense of time. The kind of silence they shared wasn’t awkward or heavy — it was full, like the kind of quiet you earn. Like a deep breath after holding one for too long.

Angel leaned her head on Joe’s shoulder, her voice barely louder than the fire. “Do you ever think about how far we’ve come?”

He turned toward her slightly, brushing her curls away from her face. “All the time.”

“I mean, I still remember your dorm room,” she said, smiling. “It smelled like Gatorade and takeout, and there was a broken PlayStation controller on the floor.”

“Hey, that was vintage,” he said, grinning. “Classic LSU-era tech.”

“And now look at you,” she continued, her voice quieter now. “You’ve got the league, the spotlight… and somehow, you’re still that guy from Baton Rouge who used to stay up late watching film with one hand and holding my waist with the other.”

Joe kissed her forehead, lingering there. “You kept me grounded. You still do.”

They sat there for a while, just being. No need to fill the silence with anything but presence.

Then Angel rose slowly from the couch, stretching her arms above her head before walking toward the back of the cabin where their bedroom waited — a cozy, timber-framed space with thick quilts, deep pillows, and wide windows that looked out over the snow-covered forest.

Joe watched her go, a lazy smile tugging at his lips.

“You coming?” she asked over her shoulder, the arch in her brow unmistakable.

He stood without a word, following her into the soft dark.

The bedroom was lit by the amber flicker of firelight spilling in from the hearth in the next room. Moonlight slipped through the windowpanes, casting silver shadows over the bed. Angel was sitting at the edge, peeling off her socks with slow, deliberate movements, her expression unreadable but open, inviting.

Joe crossed the room quietly, knelt in front of her, and took her foot gently in his hands, rubbing slow circles into her arch.

“You don’t have to do that,” she said, her voice soft.

“I want to.”

He kissed the inside of her ankle, then her shin, working his way upward — not rushed, not needy, just reverent. Like she was a prayer he’d been waiting to say all season.

She reached out, her hands threading into his hair, guiding him up until he was kneeling between her legs, their faces inches apart.

“I’ve missed you,” she said, her eyes shining.

“I’m right here,” he replied, his voice a promise.

She pulled his face to hers, their lips meeting in a kiss that was warm and unhurried. It wasn’t the kind of kiss that came from adrenaline or distraction. It was deeper than that — the kind of kiss that came from months of holding your breath for someone and finally getting to exhale. Their hands explored familiar paths, their bodies fitting like they'd never been apart.

He ran his hands along her sides, up over her shoulders, down the length of her back, and along the curve of her waist — his touch as light as snowfall, mapping the shape of her like a place he’d been dreaming of finding for years. She shifted against him, her knees falling apart, and he groaned into her mouth when her fingers slid beneath his shirt, her nails dragging lightly over the muscles of his back.

“I want you,” she said.

He lifted her gently and laid her down on the plush rug in front of the fireplace, their legs tangled, their breath coming faster. She was wearing a black long-sleeve thermal and leggings, and as he pulled them off, he kissed every inch of skin they revealed, working slowly, methodically until he’d stripped her bare. Then he stood just long enough to shed his shirt, her eyes on him as he did, a quiet hunger in her gaze.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” she whispered.

He lowered himself back over her, his necklace brushing against her skin as he kissed her again, one hand tangled in her hair, the other between her legs, his touch gentle, his breath ragged in her ear. He ground against her, his mouth tracing kisses along her jaw, down to her throat, her chest, his name a soft moan on her lips as she arched into him, the light from the fire flickering over the shadows of their bodies.

“So beautiful, baby,” he whispered, one hand tweaking her peak, his mouth closing over the other. “All mine.”

She reached for his zipper, but he caught her hand, guiding it to his chest instead.

“Just let me touch you,” he murmured. “Let me take care of you.”

He was hard, aching, but he ignored it, his focus entirely on her, worshipping her with his hands and mouth, his touch feather-light as he traced the contours of her skin, his tongue dragging over every peak and valley until she was panting beneath him, her fingers clutching at his hair. 

He kissed his way down her throat, his lips lingering in the hollow of her collarbone, and she sighed when his mouth found her breast, teasing her nipple with his tongue before moving lower — over her ribs, her hip bone, the soft skin of her stomach, the inside of her thigh.

By the time he settled between her legs, her breathing was shallow, her body trembling.

Angel was so wet. So ready.

And then his tongue was parting her folds, teasing her clit, and she gasped, her back bowing off the floor. Her fingers curled into his hair as he worked her over, his pace building, her hips lifting to meet him. 

He slid his hands under her back, holding her close as he tasted her deeply, his tongue swirling over her clit, ​​sucking gently.

She whimpered his name, her legs falling further apart, and when he slid two fingers into her, her muscles clenched around him, pulling him in as he began to fuck her with slow, steady strokes.

When he pulled back, his eyes found hers, holding her gaze as he spat on her clit and watched it fall. Then he lowered his mouth again, taking his time with her — like she was the last meal he’d ever eat.

Angel writhed beneath him, her thighs trembling as his mouth worked her closer to the edge. She was panting, her eyes closed, her whole body alive with sensation.

“Don’t stop,” she gasped. “Please don’t stop.”

He didn’t.

He pressed her clit with his tongue, moving in slow circles as he finger-fucked her, her walls clamping around him as he added a third finger, stretching her, filling her, and she arched off the floor, her orgasm building, her breath hitching, her fingers tangled in his hair.

The fire in the fireplace next to them casting Angel's body in light that Joe swore made her look like a masterpiece painted by a world renowned artist. His own personal masterpiece.

He took his time taking her apart, savoring every gasp and shudder. He became pussy drunk as he ate her out, her taste addicting. "Fuck Joey," she moaned, one hand in his hair tugging his curls, the other gripping the carpet, her hips moving against his mouth. Joe groaned and wrapped his arms around her legs, holding her spread for him, and slid his tongue deep inside her. Her body clenched around him, her legs shaking against his shoulders, but she wanted to cum on his tongue. He fucked her pussy with his tongue, and her body jerked.

Angel's whimpers and the slick sounds from Joe's mouth on her slick continued to fill the room. 

He continued lapping at her clit, his fingers curling inside her, finding that spongy spot that made her see stars, before sucking her clit into his mouth.

Joe continued taking her apart, slowly, one piece at a time. He loved the way she tasted, the way she smelled, the sounds she made as she unraveled under his touch. He wanted to savor every second, every breath, every whimper, every cry, every moan.

She was so close, so close. He could feel it in her breathing, in the way her body tightened around him. He pulled his fingers out of her slowly, teasing her with his tongue, and when she gasped his name, he slid them back in, fucking her deep and slow while he circled her clit with the pad of his thumb.

“Please,” she begged. “Joe, please…”

He knew what she needed. He knew how to give it to her. He lowered his mouth to her clit again, sucking gently as he continued to finger her, adding a third digit, his pace quickening, and she cried out, her back arching off the floor, her muscles clenching around him, pulling him deeper.

“Yes,” she hissed. “Right there, right there, fuck, Joe, I’m gonna—”

It didn’t take long for her to unravel, her breath coming in short, sharp pants. She was so close — right on the edge.

“Joe,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “I’m gonna come.”

He lifted his head, his eyes meeting hers in the firelight, his fingers still working her over.

“Come for me, baby.”

He pressed harder against her clit, sucking more insistently as he fucked her with his fingers, her walls squeezing him tight, her breathing erratic.

“Yes,” she cried again. “Yes, yes, yes.”

He felt her clench around his fingers one more time, her body shaking as she came, her thighs quivering around his head. He stayed there, his mouth on her, his fingers buried inside her until her breathing slowed, until she relaxed beneath him, and then he slid his fingers out of her and kissed his way up her body.

Angel lay there, boneless and breathless, her chest heaving as she tried to regain her composure. Her legs were still shaking from the force of her orgasm, her pussy throbbing with aftershocks.

She felt Joe’s lips on hers, his kiss soft and gentle, and when she opened her eyes, he was smiling down at her, a look of pure adoration on his face. She pulled him up to her, their lips meeting in a searing kiss, her tongue teasing his lower lip as she unbuttoned his jeans and pulled them down over his hips.

“Can you get these off?” she said, nodding at his boxer briefs.

“Why don’t you?”

She slid them down and he kicked them off and then she took his cock in her hand, stroking him firmly, her thumb tracing circles over the tip until he was groaning, his hips lifting, begging for more. And then she was guiding him inside her, their bodies fitting together like two pieces of a puzzle. Her fingers found the back of his neck and held on as he moved — steady, deliberate, his hips rolling against hers in a rhythm as familiar as the sound of his own heartbeat. Her body wrapping around him like a dream. Her eyes never left his as he moved above her, his thrusts steady and unhurried, his gaze locked on hers.

“Fuck baby, always take my cock so well,” Joe groaned as he thrust balls deep inside her. Angel moaned, squeezing him, and Joe had to still. “Fuck Angel,” he whispered as he slowly slid out before thrusting back in, his strokes slow and calculated. “Don’t move,” he told her as he buried himself in her.

Angel watched as his hips snapped into hers, the firelight dancing over the lines of his body. He was all muscle and sinew, his skin slick with sweat, his hair falling into his eyes. She reached up, brushing it back, her touch gentle.

“I love you,” she said, the words spilling out of her without hesitation.

His rhythm faltered for a second, his eyes searching hers. “I love you too,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.

He lowered himself to her, their chests pressed together, their hearts beating as one. He kissed her deeply, their tongues tangling, their breath mingling. His hand slid down her side, gripping her thigh, lifting her leg to change the angle, and she gasped at the new sensation.

“That’s it, baby,” he murmured against her lips. "Joe–" Angel moaned as his slow thrust started hitting deeper. Her breath hitched when he hit that one spot that made her mind go blank. Joe smiled kissing across her throat, "Yeah baby? Right there?" He asked as he continued to hit that spot over and over again. Angel’s head fell back against the floor, her eyes squeezing shut as Joe hit it again, "Oh fuck–Joey!" Angel cried out, Joe’s pace stayed the same slow, deep, and calculating strokes, his cock bullying that spot inside her. "God I fucking love you." Angel moaned, pulling Joe down to her, their tongues dancing together. Joe moaned into the kiss as he felt her walls tightening around him, “You gonna cum for me again baby?” he asked, his voice low and rough.

Angel nodded, her eyes still closed. “So close, Joey.” she moaned.

Joe grabbed her leg, lifting it higher onto his shoulder and pressed his forehead against hers.  His strokes still slow and deep. He took her apart slowly, and she let him, her body shuddering as he drove into her with steady, relentless thrusts. "Come on baby, you deserve it." Joe moaned as he reached a hand down to rub lazy circles on her clit.  "Fuck you feel so good baby." He praised as he rubbed faster, her breathing quickened as his pace never faltered, still deep and slow.

Angel cried out, her fingernails digging into Joe’s shoulders as he took her to the edge and then over, her body spasming around him as she came hard, her orgasm ripping through her like a storm. He fucked her through it, his hips never stopping, drawing out her pleasure until she was begging him to stop.

“Please, Joe, I can’t take anymore,” she gasped, her body limp beneath him.

He slowed his thrusts, his mouth finding hers in a tender kiss. “You can take it, baby. I’ve got you.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him close as he started to move again. This time, his strokes were deeper, harder, his breath hot against her skin.

“God, Angel, you feel so fucking good,” he growled, his control slipping.

She arched beneath him, meeting his thrusts with her own, her body tightening around him. “I’m gonna come again,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

“Fuck, Angel,” he groaned, his rhythm faltering. “I’m close too.”

“Inside me,” she begged, her nails raking down his back. “Please, Joey, I want to feel you.”

He buried his face in her neck, his hips pistoning wildly now. “Fuck, baby, I can’t hold back,” he grunted.

She kissed his shoulder, his neck, anywhere she could reach. “Don’t hold back. Let go, Joey. I want all of you.”

Her words pushed him over the edge, his body going rigid as he came inside her, his cock pulsing as he filled her, his groan loud and long.  He collapsed on top of her, his face buried in her neck, their bodies still connected. They lay there, breathing hard, their hearts pounding in unison. Angel wrapped her arms around him, holding him close as their bodies cooled.  After a few moments, Joe lifted his head, his eyes meeting hers. He smiled, his thumb brushing over her cheek. “I love you, Angel,” he said softly.

She smiled back, her fingers threading through his hair. “I love you too, Joe.”

[chelseaknoo]

25 days with Eminem

Eminem x reader

Day 22

The evening started with a buzz of excitement as you stood in front of the mirror, adjusting your outfit for the night. The Christmas lights outside the window twinkled, casting a soft glow into the room. You could hear Marshall pacing downstairs, muttering something about being late.

“You ready yet?” he called up the stairs, his voice impatient but playful.

“Almost!” you shouted back, slipping on your shoes and giving yourself one final once-over.

When you came downstairs, Marshall was standing by the door, his hands in his pockets. He was wearing a sharp black jacket over a deep red sweater, and his usual beanie had been swapped for a slightly more festive knit hat. When he saw you, his mouth opened slightly, but no words came out.

“You clean up nice,” you teased, walking up to him.

“Yeah, well, you…” He trailed off, looking you up and down with an appreciative grin. “You look amazing.”

You smirked, grabbing your coat. “Good save.”

He laughed, holding the door open for you. “Come on, smartass. We’ve got plans.”

---

The car ride was filled with your favorite Christmas songs playing softly on the radio. Marshall was focused on the road, but every now and then, his hand would reach over to rest on your knee, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Where are we going?” you asked, glancing at him curiously.

“You’ll see,” he replied, his eyes twinkling with a mix of excitement and mischief.

---

When you finally arrived, you gasped in surprise. Marshall had taken you to a beautifully decorated outdoor Christmas market. Strings of lights hung overhead, and the smell of roasted chestnuts and hot cocoa filled the air. Stalls were lined up with everything from handmade ornaments to festive treats.

“Thought you’d like this,” he said, slipping an arm around your waist as you both stepped into the bustling market.

“I love it,” you said, leaning into him.

“Good,” he replied, kissing the top of your head. “Because we’re not leaving until you pick out something ridiculously overpriced and Christmasy.”

You laughed, playfully nudging him. “You’re the one who’s going to end up buying something unnecessary.”

---

As you wandered through the market, the two of you stopped to admire the various stalls. At one, Marshall insisted on trying roasted marshmallows, only to burn his fingers and drop one into the snow.

“You’re supposed to blow on it, not inhale it like you’re starving,” you teased, handing him a napkin.

“Thanks for the lesson, fire safety expert,” he shot back, though his grin betrayed his amusement.

At another stall, you found a set of matching Christmas mugs.

“These are cute,” you said, holding them up.

Marshall raised an eyebrow. “Do we really need more mugs? There’s no room in the cabinet as it is.”

“Come on, they have little reindeer on them!” you argued.

With an exaggerated sigh, he pulled out his wallet. “Fine, but only because I know you’ll never let me hear the end of it if I say no.”

---

The highlight of the evening came when you stumbled upon a small ice rink in the center of the market.

“Let’s go skating,” you suggested, tugging on his arm.

“Do we have to?” he groaned, though he was already being dragged toward the rental booth.

“Yes, we have to,” you replied, grinning.

It didn’t take long for the chaos to start. Marshall, who wasn’t exactly the most graceful on skates, spent more time clinging to the side of the rink than actually skating.

“You’re terrible at this,” you said, laughing as you glided past him effortlessly.

“Yeah, well, you married me anyway,” he retorted, glaring at his feet as he tried not to fall.

“Come on, Santa,” you teased, holding out your hand. “I’ll help you.”

He took your hand cautiously, but it wasn’t long before his balance gave out, and you both ended up in a heap on the ice.

“Real smooth,” you said, wincing as you tried to stand up.

“Hey, you’re the one who pulled me down,” he argued, though his grin was anything but apologetic.

---

After the skating disaster, the two of you warmed up with hot cocoa from one of the market stalls. Marshall’s nose was pink from the cold, and he looked more relaxed than you’d seen him in weeks.

“This was a good idea,” he admitted, his voice soft.

“See? I’m always right,” you replied, nudging him with your shoulder.

He smirked, wrapping an arm around you as the two of you stood there, surrounded by the glow of Christmas lights and the laughter of other marketgoers. “Merry Christmas, babe.”

You smiled, leaning your head against his shoulder. “Merry Christmas, Marsh.”

---

The evening wasn’t over yet, though, and Marshall had one more surprise planned. “We’re not done,” he said, taking your hand. “Come on.”

Marshall led you down a cobblestone path lined with glowing lanterns. You looked around, curiosity bubbling.

“Where are we going now?” you asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

“Relax,” he said, a smirk tugging at his lips. “You’ll like this.”

“Should I be worried?” you teased, squeezing his hand.

“Only if you hate surprises,” he replied.

“That’s not reassuring,” you muttered, though you couldn’t help but smile at the way he seemed so excited.

---

After a few minutes of walking, you arrived at a small clearing in the market. A cozy-looking wooden cabin stood there, adorned with fairy lights and a sign that read **“Private Sleigh Rides.”**

Your jaw dropped. “Marshall, are you serious?”

“Yeah, I’m serious,” he said, grinning at your reaction. “Figured we’d end the night with something a little... festive.”

You could barely contain your excitement as the sleigh pulled up. It was beautifully decorated with garlands and bows, and two majestic horses stood at the front, their reins jingling softly.

“This is amazing,” you said, turning to him. “You planned all this?”

“Maybe,” he said, pretending to look casual. “Or maybe I just got lucky and found it earlier today.”

You laughed, pulling him into a hug. “You’re the best.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, though his arms tightened around you. “Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

---

The two of you climbed into the sleigh, bundling up under a thick plaid blanket. The driver gave a cheerful nod before snapping the reins, and the sleigh began to glide smoothly over the snowy path.

“This feels like a Hallmark movie,” you said, leaning into Marshall’s side.

“Except way better acting,” he quipped, earning a laugh from you.

The snowy landscape was breathtaking, with twinkling lights strung up on nearby trees and the soft crunch of snow beneath the sleigh’s runners. Jackie’s absence gave you both a rare moment of peace, though you couldn’t help but mention him.

“Jackie would love this,” you said, your voice wistful.

Marshall chuckled. “Yeah, he’d probably try to jump off the sleigh to chase the horses.”

“True,” you admitted, shaking your head fondly.

---

As the ride continued, Marshall grew quieter, his arm around your shoulders pulling you closer. You glanced up at him, noticing the relaxed expression on his face.

“Penny for your thoughts?” you asked softly.

He looked down at you, a small smile playing on his lips. “Just... thinking how lucky I am.”

“Oh, come on,” you teased, though your heart swelled at his words.

“I’m serious,” he said, his tone more earnest now. “I’ve got you, Jackie, the kids... everything’s finally good, you know? Like, really good.”

You reached up, cupping his cheek. “You deserve it, Marshall. All of it.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke, just sitting there in the quiet beauty of the night. Then, of course, Marshall broke the silence with his trademark humor.

“Don’t get used to me being all sappy,” he said, smirking.

You laughed, leaning up to kiss him. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

---

As the sleigh ride came to an end, you noticed a small booth selling freshly baked gingerbread cookies and cider.

“We’re stopping,” you announced, already climbing out of the sleigh.

“Again?” Marshall groaned, though he followed you anyway.

“Don’t act like you don’t want cookies,” you shot back, giving him a knowing look.

He shrugged. “Fair point.”

You ordered a batch of cookies and two steaming cups of cider, and as you stood there enjoying the treats, Marshall’s phone buzzed in his pocket.

“Don’t even think about it,” you warned, narrowing your eyes.

He hesitated, looking between you and the phone. “What if it’s important?”

“It’s not,” you said firmly, taking the phone from his hand and shoving it back into his pocket. “No distractions tonight.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender.

---

The two of you eventually made your way back to the car, the night air crisp and your spirits high.

“You really went all out tonight,” you said as Marshall started the car.

“Well, you’re worth it,” he replied casually, though the slight redness in his cheeks gave him away.

You smiled, resting your hand on his. “Best Christmas date ever.”

“Don’t tell the kids,” he joked, pulling out of the parking lot. “They’ll never let me live it down.”

“Oh, I won’t,” you said, smirking. “But I might hold it over your head for a while.”

He rolled his eyes, though the grin on his face made it clear he didn’t mind one bit.

[sukunasun]

can we get crumbs of mma sukuna and that break up fic

here's a sneak peek!

the car ride back to your hotel is tense as you fall into an almost unbearable silence. sukuna keeps his eyes on the road, unblinking. there's traffic built up stretching across an entire city, honking cars and engines whirring loudly but it doesn't do much to drown out the impending conversation you dread. only because you have a feeling it would lead to something worse. a bubble waiting to burst.

“you still mad?” sukuna's the first one to speak. he reaches out for your hand, curling his fingers around and bringing his lips so close to your ear. you feel his breath on your skin along with his desperation too. "don't avoid me, you know how much i hate it." is his best plea.

keeping your eyes out the window, a mask weaves itself over your features, an impenetrable expression. snow starts to pile along the streets of osaka. dusting the surface of rivers and withering branches. you count the flecks of white, if you turned to him now, looking upon his face, it'll only hurt more.

what could you say, where do you even start— yes, you're still mad. and no, you're not avoiding him, nothing's more important than having this conversation right now but the events of the night have yet to even sink in—he'd been engaged to another woman. for a year. maybe two. and she'd been in love with him, probably still is given that she brings it up like it merely happened yesterday. 

"i wore him down," she said proudly. hand coming up to his chest. glamourous and flaunting her body pressed up against his. as if she were his date instead. despite the bile rising up your throat, you have to admit they look the part. two belonging together, physically flawless, exuding a blinding intensity. "i proposed like a million times before he ever agreed, but i couldn't give up, no one loves him like i do." 

"is this about how you look?" sukuna tries again. he's got plenty of questions lined up but it's the first thing that slips from his mouth, not knowing that he won't get to the others because it ticks you off immediately. setting off a fuse within you.

"it's nothing to do with that!" you scoff in disbelief. the warmth of his hand should feel comforting, but touching him now makes you anxious. betrayed that he'd shared the same touch with an ex you didn't know about. one who apparently slipped from his memory too by the looks of it. so you pull away, letting that distance grow. feeling the cool sting after the weight's been let off, the ghost of his hand lingering behind when you realize how bare it feels without him there.

"what's with the attitude?" he's annoyed and growing impatient, jaw and fists clenching. it's the first time you've rejected his touch so blatantly. it stings, it hurts him to the core. gone were the days of your rejection but he's seeing your walls building back up now is enough to get his blood boiling.

"i get mad about other things too, not everything is about how i look," you shoot back. as the quiet pauses lengthen and the seconds tick by, sukuna decides then and there that he will never want it to happen again. the way his heart drops to his stomach is foreign to him, an unexpected ache, an anxious little thing that makes him sweat.

he breathes a frustrated sigh, unaware of what's really wrong here, he hates playing these guessing games with you. "i'm not a fuckin' mind reader, plus you're always like this when i'm around other women," he says, like it were a nuisance he'd grown tired of.

you snap then, exclaiming "she wasn't just some other woman—oh hi, you used to be engaged to my boyfriend, nice to meet you too!" your skin prickles with anger, curse him. he's an expert at pushing your buttons.

rubbing at his temples, your admission barely phases him. "so that's what this is all about?" he has the audacity to laugh, "it didn't mean anything." you don't know what makes it worse, that he doesn't deny it or the way he brushes it off with such nonchalance.

all this before you were ever in the picture of course. you tell yourself it shouldn't matter. it was his past. way before he ever knew you. he had never mentioned wanting to get married, and you had thought—foolishly—that it wasn't the right time, that maybe he wasn't the 'marrying' type. but truths are unveiled and there's no going back from revealing something like that. "did you love her?" you question, although, completely unprepared for the answer.

sukuna's eyebrows furrow, "what kind of question is that?" he seems offended you'd ask, but still, he's not giving you a clear answer. only diverting.

so you dig further. "you loved her enough to marry her—" it's not about the woman, it's more about that voracity in her, being as self-serving as she was, 'no one loves him like i do,' she said with such certainty, in that same way sukuna does, they're not the kind of people who doubt. unlike you, she looks at him like she wants to own him. "���did you ever think you'd marry me? you're just looking for the next girl who'd wear you down?"

"oh so you wanna get married. is that it? would that make you feel better?" he dishes out sarcasm like a blow to the face and you're left with the realisation that he's being mean because he can. he's never liked having a weakness, especially now that he can't manoeuvre his way out of this fight with you. caught in a corner barely standing.

"you know that's not what i mean—"

"what is it then," he clicks his tongue. staring at the side of you. still avoiding his gaze, unable to look him in the eye and yell. get in his face. tear him apart.

you bite your lip. thoughts jumbling and bouncing around. you can't wrap your head around it. how could the sight of an old flame be enough to make you question your relationship and self-worth? he had a past and chose to keep it from you, fine. he'd been young, maybe he didn't consider those memories a part of himself. you don't know.

or maybe you've gone with the flow of his current for so long, that getting swept away felt so exhilarating and he'd made you feel safe. too safe. but somewhere in the midst of it, you've diminished, you've become all the things he didn't sign up for, you're not who he wants anymore, or at least it feels that way, and maybe...he knows it too.

there is no room for selfishness or jealousy where love is concerned. he's not what you expected sure, that little girl in you had only wished for a gentleman who could love you softly. someone who recognized how alone you've felt and that you're strong despite it. you've worked hard to let him in, to trust him, because sukuna is beyond hopes and dreams, he is real, he sits next to you asking, no—demanding that you talk to him about how you feel.

and why bury your feelings when you've never been that way, you were always so sure, could always speak your mind, tell him how you feel. all the times he's had to assure you and you don't know why you ever saw yourself as less than. he chased you. he wanted you. it shouldn't matter that no one else believes it. he's yours. all of him. scars, tattoos, and bloodied flesh. you love him, and yet—

"i think we need a break," you say, feeling your chest rise and fall, breaths coming out harshly. your heart twists, chest constricts, and every fibre in your body screams no. you feel the tears coming, your throat closing up with every exhale, choking and suffocating you.

sukuna clamps his hair under his fingers, pulling at them in frustration, "so you're punishing me," he says flatly. he knows you well, knows you're running away from him. it would be easier if you weren't so rash. if the mere sight of his disappointment didn't weigh down on your heart so overwhelmingly. so close to jumping out of this car, fleeing from it all.

"just some time apart for us to figure things out," you explain, "i can't be around you right now," it should be a relief. it's for the best. he'll never truly belong to you, not completely when everyone wants a piece. "don't tell me, she's the one who taught you about love..." you don't know why you hadn't intervened when she held him so closely, berating, judging. like you had no defenses. like it made perfect sense and it was better for you to accept it. it's all you've ever felt from those around you. coward. where's your fight?

at that moment, you turn to look at him to face the truth but the world comes to a halt after seeing pure hurt spill onto his face. the horror of what you've just said, the long road of stagnant cars ahead, and an even colder silence all leading to an imminent end settling in and sitting there in between two broken hearts.

[safarikalamari]

To Love Another

Summary: Babe tries to figure out just who Gene is and comes to a different realization along the way

Rating: T

Genre: Canon Compliant, Missing Scenes, Falling in Love, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Character Study, One Shot

Words: 1244

-

AO3

or

Eugene Roe is an enigma. 

A shadow floating between the trees, an expert tracker who calls Babe anything but his name. 

Babe doesn’t mean to snap but right now he can’t stand to hear anything else. Then, Eugene has the audacity to say Edward. It’s only Eugene’s lost stare that stops Babe from saying what really sits on his mind. That maybe Gene doesn’t respect him. 

Except that’s all Eugene is. Respectful, kind. It takes a life or death mistake for him to berate anyone and even then, Gene shouts nothing but the truth. 

So, for now, Babe lets the matter be. He has other things to worry about after all. Like Julian. Bright eyed and bushy tailed, Babe wonders what he’s doing on this side of the world when he should still be playing baseball with his friends. 

Well, Babe will make sure Julian gets back home. Catch up on all the living he’s supposed to do. It’s what his ma would want after all. 

Babe doesn’t spare a thought toward Gene during the patrol and even less so amongst the barrage of bullets. Julian is reaching out, choking on his own blood, but Babe can’t do anything. He screams an empty promise, forces himself to retreat with the other men. 

A hollow ache claws at his chest and he finds himself looking over at Gene. He wants Gene to say something, even call him Edward. Yet, there’s none of that. Only a pained expression, a silent apology that Babe can’t accept right now. 

Babe doesn’t care. Nothing matters. The night is colder than ever and Babe wishes the ground would swallow him up. He wants to ignore Gene and he has no regrets when he snaps at him. It doesn’t help when Gene doesn’t bite back, where instead he’s patient. Too good for the battlefields of France. The chocolate is a temporary salve, the warmth of Gene and Ralph is all that keeps him on this godforsaken earth. 

Then, it’s Babe who’s screaming at Gene, forcing him out of his lonely foxhole. He’s about to slap Gene across the face, to snap him out of his haze, but Gene pulls through at the last second. The wound he leaves on Babe’s hand hurts like a mother and Babe curses Gene to hell and back. 

Of course, he can’t stay mad. Especially not when after all this time, Gene calls him Babe. A second or two passes before it hits Babe and a smile spreads across his face. Not one made out of reluctance or even to lighten Gene’s mood. No, this smile is genuine and Babe’s heart races in his chest. 

Gene is gentle and caring. A passing comment is carried on his shoulders and Babe wants to help. Yet, Gene disappears in the snow, fades into the background. For some time, Babe thinks it all a dream, their shared foxhole, waking up to Gene’s arm secure around his waist. 

When they reach different towns, Gene is just out of the corner of his eyes, drifting between the lines of life and death. It’s times like these, waiting for the next fight, when Babe just wants to hear Gene speak. One word. Even just to call him Heffron. 

He isn’t all that surprised when he’s chosen for the mission. Babe will do what he’s told, despite the fear that weaves through his veins. He’s contemplating what comes next, a numbness spreading through him while waiting for the hours to pass.

Somehow, Eugene finds him and Babe breaks his chaotic thoughts to stare the other man down. 

“Heffron, you better come back alive, you hear?”

It’s an order, but Babe doesn’t salute. Gene has slipped back into old ways and Babe’s stomach twists. His imagination tells him Gene is more terrified than he is. 

The hailstorm of bullets, the screaming, Babe can barely keep his head above the chaos. He’s about to fight every soldier barehanded until the world comes to a stop. Another kid is dead and there’s nothing he or Eugene or anyone else can do about it. 

What’s worse is Babe can see the guilt in Gene’s eyes. He couldn’t save Jackson but more than that Gene‘s stare screams at Babe. 

Thank god it wasn’t you.

Babe doesn’t have any more crying left in him. Bitterness stews in his chest and it’s on his slow walk to nowhere that he runs into Gene. There is a silent trail of tears down his face, he looks to Babe for forgiveness. 

If Babe could, he’d absolve Gene of all of his sins. Instead, they find themselves in a secluded basement, hands grasping, tugging open bloodstained uniforms. Gene’s kiss is rough, mouth open as if to swallow Babe whole. Babe is willing to let Gene consume him if it means a happier end. 

They’re frantic, this is all just to forget and when Eugene enters him, it burns. Babe almost doesn’t mind the pain because at least he’s feeling something beyond the hollow ache within him. His climax isn’t much at all, just a passing wave of relief. Proof that he’s still alive. 

Eugene is quick to leave him, bare and shivering just as dawn starts to break. Babe doesn’t blame him. The call for a medic will come soon enough and Babe makes a poor attempt of cleaning himself before facing the world. 

For a while, Gene floats between the company. Babe has maybe a moment or two alone with him but it’s not enough to even reach out and touch. His fingers twitch and Babe wonders if all he’s good for is a quick fuck. 

Then, they reach Austria. Life turns upside down and Babe is laughing, real and alive, arms open wide. In a first class hotel, Babe finds Gene, the frown on his face fading into something softer. 

He takes Gene to bed that night, a gentle breeze passing through the window. Moonlight bathes their skin and Babe pushes into Gene, slow and breathless. He could watch him forever, eyes hooded, whispered affection floating above them. 

“Babe,” Gene repeats over and over.

Never has his name held such reverence, an exaltation to someone other than their God. In this moment, Babe can pretend no one else exists for Gene but himself and he swallows the sin of pride like a thirsty man. 

When he wakes, Babe stares at Gene, his sleeping face an unusual calm. He traces a hand down his temple and mouths a promise, his secret to be locked safe in his heart. 

Leaving Europe comes all too soon and with that, Babe comes to terms with what happens next. He’s lucky to have Gene with him on the ship, their last days spent in each other’s company. 

At the port, Babe readies himself for goodbye and he holds out a hand for Gene to shake. Gene has one last surprise in him, his arms warm and secure around Babe’s shoulders. Babe hugs him back, blinks away the tears that threaten to come. 

He doesn’t want to let go, but they somehow both manage. Just before he leaves, Gene presses a folded piece of paper into Babe’s hand and disappears into the crowd. 

Babe’s heart flutters as he opens it and this time, a tear does slip down his cheek. Gene has given him his address, his telephone number, but written under all that is the start of a new beginning. 

Je t’adore. Mon sha. Mon Babe.

[bodhrancomedy]

The Lanterns Fuelled By Falling Stars opening by Bodhrán M.

(minor spoilers for Tocktick)

Kizzy assessed the wall with an expert eye. 

The ivy coiling up the coppery brickwork might have fooled an amateur into starting there, but even with the cobwebbed sheen of frost tethering it to the wall, it was going to peel away before they were halfway up. Similarly, the drainpipe presented an equally tempting option, but they only needed to stroke it with one gloved finger to know there wouldn’t be enough purchase. 

Kizzy puffed out their cheeks, watching their breath mist in front of their face, and decided. They were going to hob-job it. Start in the corner, just a foot or two above the ground, and then – with enough momentum – fling themselves up to the first window. A bit of clambering, a bit of worn brick, and the skills they were sure they still had, and they’d have it. 

Mostly sure. 

They dragged the glove off the mangled hand and then tugged the straps as tight as they dared. The metal fingers gleamed in the winter sun. Kizzy flexed them once, twice, and took a second deep breath. 

Time to see just how good the Katsaros were. 

The first two manoeuvres went off without a hitch. Grinning with exhilaration, Kizzy twisted their body, marvelling at the smoothness of the invention. From the first window, they wormed the toes of their leather boots into a recess to the left of the frame then let themselves drop a little. 

Red-gold adrenaline surged through their veins as they swung up, gripping the next windowsill. Frost drifted down onto their shoulders as they levered themselves higher, panting and grunting with the exertion. Sweat beaded under the thick coat. They considered abandoning it – it was going to get in the way if they needed to hug the wall – but the logistics were far too complicated. 

Kizzy stopped, bracing themselves against the window, breath thick in front of their eyes when they heard snow crunching. Carefully, they peered down. 

Emmett appeared, heavily bundled up in a burgundy coat. Kizzy pressed themselves as close against the window as they could, heart hammering. 

If their father looked up, he'd have a heart attack. And ground them for life.  

Emmett stopped almost directly below, running his hand through his hair. His hand halted by his left ear like he was checking whether his hearing had miraculously returned. It was odd: he hadn’t seemed overly concerned about his new-found disability, but maybe that was a front.

Emmett Askren had always championed honesty too, but Kizzy suspected lately standards had slipped. The Katsaros household had been a hotbed of whispering and doors shut in their face. 

It hurt. Suddenly, they weren’t trusted. Suddenly, it was "Don't you have lessons to do?" and "why don't you go play in the nursery?" 

Kizzy scowled. That stung. They were probably twelve. Maybe even thirteen!

Alright, the spinning top was admittedly fun…

Their foot slipped. Kizzy lurched forwards, their stomach flipping in panic. All the air escaped their lungs in a squeak, their fingers ripping along the brick. They halted, gasping. 

A snowflake drifted off the toe of their boot and spiralled down. 

It landed on their father’s shoulder. 

Kizzy groaned. 

Emmett shook his head as if coming out of his thoughts. Kizzy watched, breathless, as he reached up to brush the snow off his coat and then – so slowly Kizzy thought their heart would explode out of their chest – began to look up – 

“Mr Askren, sir!” The Katsaros’ live-in nurse and busy woman, rounded the corner, skirts lifted high over the crust of snow. She was a sturdy woman about thirty-eight, almost as tall as Emmett and with a similar dark brown tint to her skin.

Emmett jumped. “Miss Glykeria. Hello. Can I help you?”

“I just thought I would come and procure you before dinner," she spoke accented Suli. “To save on the embarrassment of calling you in with the bell like a child.” Even from here, Kizzy could see her smile. 

“Thank you,” Emmett said. He cleared his throat and said something in Heliokratian. 

Miss Glykeria ducked a curtsey. “I do not mind the chance to practise my Suli, Mr Askren, sir. But I am certainly getting cold.”

“Oh, of course.” Emmett began to shrug his coat off, but she waved it away.

Kizzy waited, trembling, as they vanished from sight. Emmett’s gesture with the coat reminded them that the cold was a thing. Hyposensitivity had its advantages – until it didn’t, of course. 

But they had a mission. Kizzy craned their neck, tongue stuck out, as they focused on their target. 

Not far...

It was a matter of minutes before they were perched in the nook of the desired window. Kizzy pressed their face against the glass, but they were still breathing hard so it fogged. Wiping it with the sleeve of their coat, they tried again.

The room beyond was small and messy, the wallpaper a green-and-gold version of the nursery's, but that was blue. A figure was curled up in the wide bed, huddled under the duvet, hand pressed to their face. 

Kizzy pursed their lips, thinking. 

Then they reached out and rapped on the glass. 

Nothing happened. 

They knocked harder. 

The figure jerked and propped itself up on one elbow, blinking stupidly. 

Kizzy hit the glass once more, waving cheerily as they were noticed.

The window flew open. A hand seized the front of their coat and dragged them inside with surprising force. Kizzy landed on a desk and rolled off onto the floor in a wet heap, laughing. 

“What the hell are you doin’?” Sixsmith snapped, “We’re three storeys up for Shade’s sake!”

Kizzy almost choked at how funny he looked, standing over them in a striped nightshirt with his arms crossed exactly like their father did. “Ha, ha! I win!” They punched the air with both hands. “I got you outta bed!” 

Sixsmith glared.

Kizzy wrinkled their nose as they sat up. "Your room stinks, Grandpa."

“… thanks, creature.” Sixsmith rubbed his eyes and groaned quietly. “What time is it?”

“Dinner. Please join us.” Kizzy bounced to their feet and gave him an artfully constructed mournful expression. “It’s so boring without you. Dad makes me speak Heliokratian.”

“We’re in Heliokratos,” Sixsmith replied distantly, “’s prob’ly good practise.” 

“And there’s too much cutter-lee.” They flung themselves onto the bed and gestured expansively at the ceiling. “Did you know there’s even a fork for snails?”

Sixsmith did chuckle at that. “Dun’t knock it,” he said, closing the window, “Good eatin’ on a snail.”

“No there isn’t. It’s too small.”

“Considerin’ some of the stuff I’ve had to eat,” Sixsmith sat down on the bed beside them, “I’d have given me left arm for a coupla snails.”

“Ew.”

“I dunno, a bit of salt and butter –“

“You can’t put salt on a snail. It’d shrivel all the way up. Anyway,” Kizzy rolled over, “You can’t give your left arm. You’d have to give your right.”

[arvensimp]

We're all so glad to see you here again! I still have pretty boy brainrot, so I've been thinking LOTS about him on your break. Silly question, if the paldea friend group went to the 'happiest place on earth', what do you think they'd all enjoy about it? Any dislikes for them? I know arven probably doesn't like the idea of themeparks but cmon! If his little buddy wants to go it can't be THAT bad, right?

Thank you! OKAY SO. I don't want to call myself a Disney adult because I don't want to necessarily associate myself with that sort of person.

But

I uhh

I do love Disney world and a lot of Disney movies and I go through a phase every few years where I get obsessed with the idea of going to Disney world again and planning a great trip and stuff. Like I grew up in a family where we spent a few years going to Disney a ton, then I didn't go again until adulthood when I ran their princess half marathon a few times.

So while I don't consider myself a Disney Expert(tm) I think I know a bit more than maybe the average person???

Also this isn't gonna be a fic but more just a bullet point list

•gotta start off with the obvious here, but Arven did not go to the pokemon equivalent of Disney as a kid. Like there were no family trips, so...yeah.

•he probably didn't even go as a part of end-of-year school trips.... No one to sign his permission slip, after all

•so when the urge to go to the theme park hits one of The Squad (probably Nemona or Reader id think) he's probably a little ambivalent to the idea, since he has no associated nostalgia. He may even feel a bit sour about it, since it reminds him of Yet Another Thing he missed out on

•but I do think he'd go along anyway. He can't let his buddies have all the fun without him after all

•at first the plan is to go to the park in Kalos since that's closest. HOWEVER as soon as Carmine hears about your intended trip, she and the BB Academy crew INSIST on you and your pals going to one of Unova's parks, so it becomes a Whole Big Thing

•ngl I don't see Penny or Nemona being the sort who would be willing to do all of the planning that goes into a well done Disney trip. Arven is Team Dad enough to do a good job of it, but even then I don't think that for his first trip he'd be invested enough in the planning details or really just know/understand

•so it ultimately falls on Lacey and Amarys to schedule things like meal reservations, fast passes, and other stuff

•the whole team probably ends up deciding on a deluxe resort choice because lbr with folks like Nemona, Lacey, and Drayton who are all probably loaded (not to mention any other secretly rich folks), I can see them being like 'oh yeah let's do the Poke-Wilderness Lodge

•which ngl Arven will LOVE. He's never been to a fancy hotel before, and he is super into the theming and decor and the convenience of how close to the parks y'all are

•he'd like the monorail too 🥹

•im not sure Arven would be a "ride" guy in terms of enjoying lots of roller coasters or things like that

•like he might like Splash Mountain maybe or like ONE dark ride

•nearly certain he would think It's a Small World was dumb tho

•THAT SAID

•i have this image of him in my head of him getting all blushy with a princess face character

•like maybe he grew up with an old VHS of Snow White. It was just a tape that the professor would play on repeat for him as a little, little kid, when he was still too small for school but old enough to start remembering things, so he would watch this movie about a really beautiful, kind lady who took care of animals and people alike and cooked really tasty foods for them and developed a baby crush

•then there's this person in front of him in real life who is the exact image of her, speaking in her voice

•i ABSOLUTELY see him going blushy and quiet. He KNOWS that's not Actual Snow White and that snow white isn't real. This is just some person in a costume

•but he still has this reaction and he's embarrassed about it

•BUT MOST IMPORTANT HERE

•Lets talk about food

•arven had no idea what to expect when it came to Disney food. Like maybe carnival food or traditional fair food?

•and yeah Disney ofc has that.

•but there are so many other restaurants and places to get really tasty foods!

•im thinking Lacey introduces Arven to like a DisneyFoodBlog-esque content creator a few weeks before the trip like "oh yeah there's like a whole Disney food culture! You can check out the latest with what's going on with their restaurants and things here"

•and he eats it up!!!

•hed really figured he'd have to pack sandwiches and stuff for park days just to make sure y'all get actual meals in

•but no there's really cool stuff!!!

•the group might even go during like the equivalent of the Food & Wine festival

•which yeah the more I think about it, that's SO up his alley

•im thinking Poke-Epcot would have pavilions for each region, rather than different countries, so there's like a kanto, johto, hoenn, etc pavilion on a world showcase with stalls selling foods from each place

•he drinks around the world with his snacks and y'all do one of those videos of like "this is drink one of nine, drinking around the world!"

•and by the end he's all red faced and slurring, but not belligerent or doing anything that would draw attention to himself to ruin y'all's day

•like he figured "oh a glass of wine or a beer with a snack? I can do that"

•he can but he's not sober about it lol

•also you mentioned how the rest of the gang would be so like

•nemona LOVES rides

•rides don't love her

•shes willing to fork over the cash for a ton of fast passes and things, especially because she doesn't have the stamina to wait in line for hours

•but for really intense roller coasters, she needs a break afterwards to just sit and breathe.

•like dark rides and most of the trackless coasters are fine, but anything like Superman or The Hulk or Dueling Dragons (none of those are Disney I know but still) don't sit well with her afterward. She still does it because it's fun, but she has to really pace herself.

•her favorite park would probably be the Hollywood Studios equivalent because it has so many rides like the Star wars ones, runaway railway, Tower of terror, slinky dog, etc.

•but PENNY????

•If penny's at all into any of this she's in it for the aesthetic and vibe

•im talking mickey mouse ears (which would probably be Pikachu or Eevee ears?), loungefly backpacks, pin trading, pictures of cute food

•magic kingdom is her place purely for the vibe

•she won't wait in a line to meet a character, but she'll definitely take pictures from afar

•something about her makes me think she'd like the soft vibes of the Winnie the Pooh characters best maybe, like that feels like something an Eevee fan would love

•she'd be a merch head who brings home souvenirs for the team star gang too

•speaking of them, just bonus thoughts:

•im really just imagining mela and Ortega wearing headbands of Anger and Disgust from Inside Out, respectively

•atticus gave Penny Disneybounding ideas too definitely

•i got nothing for eri and Giacomo because they're the most normal about this sort of thing in my mind

•like they'd be hanging out in Disney Springs being regular about everything. Maybe, like, see cirque du Soleil maybe

[swensonconsulting]

Snow Slip and Fall Expert

If you're looking for expertise in handling snow slip and fall expert incidents, Swenson Consulting is the company to turn to. With a strong focus on providing detailed analysis and expert testimony, Swenson Consulting specializes in the investigation and evaluation of slip and fall accidents related to snow and ice. Their team of professionals is equipped with extensive knowledge and experience to assist in legal cases, offering valuable insights and comprehensive reports to support your needs.

[vuldak-juneau]

Who: @heroic-ignus Where: En Route to Hrimthur’s Outpost  When: Between The Last Night and arrival at the outpost, further into the trip than not. Notes: (tw: animal death alluded to in the starter, falling injury, broken limb described in some detail) - again this is soooo much set up, do not match length unless you really have that much to say :)

A steed exhausted beyond the point of any return had gifted Juneau with an unlikely tool–the useful leather strap of a horse’s bridle. She was surprised none of the king’s men had taken it for repurpose or surplus until she collected it from where it had been tossed aside to claim it as her own. The leather had not been cared for well. It was dried from age and exposure, the oils that would have kept it in fine shape long-since applied. Although it was brittle and cracking in places, she knew it could still provide her some use. Juneau was used to being creative with resources. It was a rarity she possessed a tool that was called for when she completely a task, and so she already had an idea of what to do with this meager blessing on the trail. 

Juneau looked at the birds flying high above the temporary respite where they had stopped. Already, arguments had been started on who would be given rations of the meat–waste not, want not–and she didn’t feel like fighting like a dog in the hopes of a scrap making its way to her plate. Not tonight, anyway. There had been no shortage of fowl flying overhead at many points between Nornwatch Tower and this point on their route. A deteriorating old bridle wouldn’t help her catch a bird, but as she withdrew her pocket knife and cut the bridle into one long strip she thought of the promise finding a nest full of eggs high in one of the trees.

It wasn’t difficult to slip away from the wider group. She knew they would be there for a while–first, they would need to settle the dispute over who was entitled to what in terms of a meal, and then there would be the butchering, the preparation, and undoubtedly tempers over portions would flare once more before anyone took a single bite. How anyone got anything done was beyond Juneau, and she felt a sense of pride that she had outsmarted those around her. She could fend for herself, and she was proud of that. She ventured deep into the first, not worried about getting lost on the way back to the group. She could track her way through a thick blanket of snow without much effort, even if the wind blew the soft powder around and obscured her tail. If it were not for the white direwolf, Lor, following her, this hubris may have been her undoing even with her accelerated healing abilities. If Juneau even knew Lor was there, she paid her no mind.

Juneau slowly walked amongst the trees, neck craned back to examine what they held in their twisted, naked branches. It took a short while, but she finally found something that looked like a nest. She spent a few moments sizing the tree up before looping the brittle leather strap around it. For a moment, she wondered whether or not this was a good idea. She tugged at the strap–all seemed well. One more check, she thought, just in case. She looped each end around her small hands and leaned back as far as she could trying to test if it would hold her body weight. It seemed fine. 

She knew that she had already used a decent portion of the time she had before the group would move on for the night–there would still be a few hours to travel before the towering peaks consumed all of the light the sun had to offer that day. She needed to get a move on. She lifted her arms above her head, lifting the strap as high as she could and using it to offset some of her body weight as she ascended the trunk of the tree. She had climbed hundreds of rock walls, trees, and domes in her travels. She was an expert at finding and utilizing even the smallest of footholds using small imperfections, cracks, and knobs. Much of her ability came from her ability to pay great care and attention to paths and holds available to her. With the help of the belt, she ascended with quickness, but the tool made her less discerning about where she placed her feet and her hunger made her careless. 

Juneau could feel a part of the leather stretching, one of the cracks coming apart entirely, and suddenly the counterbalance the strap around the tree had served as was not there at all. Her arms scrambled to try and grasp at the trunk to at least soften or slow her fall, but with her hands full from the leather straps she was not fast enough and she plummeted toward the merciless ground below her. Her unfortunate left leg found the forest floor before the rest of her and she felt, heart, and smelled the snap as it happened.

Smelled. The metallic ichor of blood filled her nose when her vision finally focused again and she could breathe after the impact. Plain shot through her like lightning, all emanating from her leg. But there was a snap–why could she smell blood? She yelped, a helpless-sounding little cry, as she did her best to sit up again without moving her leg. It was an impossible task, the fabric of her clothing not able to remain completely unmoved even if she kept her leg as still as she could. She felt breathless when she saw the injury in full, her shin split open to the world. Red blood poured out into the white snow on either side of her leg and she could see a long shard of her bone pointing up toward her–notably jutting from a deep gash in her crooked leg. The sight of it made her nauseous–she was not especially used to seeing the insides of bodies on, well, the outside. 

Stop the bleeding first, her survival instincts reminded her. She tried to calm her breathing and think of how she could rig something on her person to act as a tourniquet. It took her a few moments longer than she cared to admit, but her hands still grasped onto the leather straps, one much longer than the other. She swallowed hard, streams of tears already freezing against her cheeks, and cried out as she moved her leg only enough to slip the thin strap beneath the back of her knee. She shimmied it upward, just slightly, to where she guessed the best spot would be and tried to think of what she might be able to use as a windlass rod and something that could secure it–if she passed out from blood loss without one, well, she didn’t exactly know if she died but she didn’t want to find out either. The long bowie knife she carried with her might work, the blade neutralized in its thick leather–fucking leather–sheath. She maneuvered the strap and knife to serve the purpose of a tourniquet as best she could, trying to convince herself the woozy feeling she experienced was just a weak stomach, and that she didn’t need to panic because she had no idea what to use to secure the knife and keep the strap around her leg as tight as possible.

[purplehairedwonder]

Writing Patterns

Rules: list the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there's a pattern!

I was tagged by @katia-anyway. Thanks, babe! Here we go:

"Underwater Flirtations"

One Piece | T | ZoLaw | 3.8K | Post-Zou, Law and Zoro get caught by the Marines and have a flirty escape

“All right, Captain?” 

"Amid the Falling Snow"

One Piece | T | Lawlu | 6.6K | Law and Luffy get caught in a blizzard and huddle for warmth.

“C’mon, Torao!”

"A Fall in the Woods"

One Piece | G | Rosinante & Law | 1.5K | Rosinante sprains his ankle and Law grudgingly looks after him.

Rosinante glanced over his shoulder to make sure Law was still behind him. 

"Remorse Is Memory Awake"

Dark Rise | T | St. Kempen | 1.7K | James gets his memories back.

Sloane’s head hadn’t even hit the ground before James was dropping to a knee, Ettore’s sword slipping from his grip. 

"To Prove Worthy"

One Piece | T | Drake & Sengoku | 3K | Drake lives in the shadow of Sengoku's late son.

“Enjoying that?”

"To Call Myself Beloved"

One Piece | T | Lawlu | 13.2K | Law, Luffy, and engagement shenanigans.

The celebration of Luffy becoming the Pirate King had been going on for what felt like days, though Law knew it had only been hours.*

*This story began with an epigraph but I chose to include the first line of prose here.

"The Night Is Darkening Round Me"

One Piece | M | Lawlu | 36.9K and counting | Law buys a haunted house. Luffy and the Straw Hats are paranormal investigators.

Law turned his car into a long driveway, absently noting the Sold sticker covering the For Sale sign stuck in the front yard, before continuing up the drive toward the house he’d purchased sight unseen. 

"Our Hearts, Made Whole in Each Other"

One Piece | T | Lawlu | 2.3K | The Hearts are rescued from Blackbeard, and Luffy asks Law to stay.

It was after midnight when Luffy found Law on the deck of the Thousand Sunny, looking out over the water as the Straw Hats’ ship cut through it like a hot knife through butter in their getaway from Hachinosu. 

"My Heart, Fragile in Your Hands"

One Piece | T | Lawlu | 2.4K | Law wakes up in the Sunny's infirmary after Winner Island.

Consciousness returned in stages, as Law first heard the beeping of monitors and quiet, indistinct voices somewhere nearby. 

"Your Heart, Broken in My Chest"

One Piece | T | Lawlu | 3.6K | Law's heart is acting funny, and Luffy realizes something is wrong.

Luffy was far from an expert at having someone else’s heart in his chest, but he was pretty sure what was happening with Torao’s heart wasn’t normal.

So, it looks like I either start a fic with dialogue or a compound-complex sentence 😂

Tagging @rimetin @hyperbolicreverie @chromatic-lamina @ninhaoma-ya and anyone else who wants to play!

[starry-slithers]

Calvi: I want you under my tree

Summary: Modern au Avania and her girlfriend are enjoying the snow

Tags: fluff

A/N: @dwightschrute11 I’m so sorry this bitch took so long

Ding,ding, ding!

The ovens went off. 

“Baby, can you get those for me?” Grunted Avania, who was taking out any frustration left from the gym on thick butter cream icing that she furiously stirred in her bowl 

“Got it!” Calypso rushed to grab the red and gingerbread patterned oven gloves. She yanked open the oven and pulled the tray of cookies out of the oven, heat hitting her in a burst of warm air, which made a few loose white curls fall onto her rosy cheeks.  

She put them on the counter of their dorm kitchen, a proud grin on her face. 

Her pink haired girlfriend soon abandoned the icing and wrapped her arms around Calypso’s waist, lazily rubbing her waist, nose buried in her tangled mess of hair, though they’d tried putting it in a ponytail for cookie hygeine purpose. Calypso was wearing a dumb ‘Kiss the Cook’ apron that Johanna had gotten her for Secret Santa the previous year.  

“Mmh, they look so good baby.” 

“I know, right?” The shorter woman exclaimed.  

“Not as good as you though.” She replied, kissing Cal's cheek. 

“Pretty…” She murmured, a smitten look on her face as she brushed Calypso’s curls out of the way. Calypso flushed pink and smiled, leaning her head back against the taller one.  

“Wanna do something to pass the time while the cookies cool?” 

“On? Like what?” She smiled, slipping her hands into the pockets of Calypso’s Hello Kitty pyjama bottoms. 

“We could…make snow angels?” 

“How are we supposed to make snow angels when I have a literal snow angel in my arms? Unless, of course, you want to ‘make’ snow angels which is biologically impossible, but I’d be more than willing to try…”  

Her hands slipped to rest on Calypso’s stomach, her cold ring against her girlfriend's warm skin. It was a nice thought, having kids. Avania would dote on her girlfriend-well, if Cal was pregnant, she’d be Avania’s wife. But they were still in college so that would remain a dream, for now.  

“Get your snow gear on, princess.” Avania said suddenly, and Calypso’s eyes shone.  

Avania drove them down to Hills Park- appropriately named after the dozens of now snow-covered hills. Calypso’s thigh was warm after her girlfriend's hand had been on it for the whole drive up.  

“Pick a hill princess.” Avania smiled gently, picking up the sled. Obviously, Calypso picked the biggest hill. The trek up was surprisingly enjoyable, Avania putting her woollen hat on calypso’s head to ‘keep her little ears warm’. It was also because the fluffy haired girl looked so freakishly adorable like that.  

But a hill is still a hill, so Calypso’s feet hurt ¾ of the way up and whined and begged for Avania to carry her. If it was anyone else Avania might have said no (that's what she’d like to think at least- even though she’d probably still say yes) but this was her cute baby girl so of course she got carried.  

By now, Avania had somewhat twigged that Calypso only pretended so that she’d carry her, but seeing the look of self-satisfaction and delight on Calypso’s face made her want to pretend to be ignorant.  

Finally, finally, they reached the top. Calypso grinned childishly as Avania held the sled so she could get on. Avania sat down behind her, brushing calypso’s curls to the side so she could see over her shoulder. 

“Ready, baby?” She smiled, a snowflake falling on Calypso’s rosy cheeks.  

“Yeah! Let’s do this!” 

“3...2...1!” Even Avania laughed in delight as they pushed of, laughing.  

The sled took a sudden bounce. It wasn’t meant to do that. They’d slid over a large rock, which had thrown them off course. Despite Avania’s expert steering, crash was inevitable. So Avania grabbed Calypso’s waist tighter and jumped off the sled, pressing the side of Cal’s face into her chest to protect her, her body curling up as a sort of human shield.  

They tumbled until Calypso lay flat on her back with Avania propped on top of her. 

They were both panting but there was a noticeable blush on Calypso’s cheek, that wasn’t from the cold.  

“Are you alright?” Said the pink haired girl breathlessly, wiping snow from Cal’s hair. Calypso just looked at her wide eyed, pink lips a little parted.

“Y-yeah-…”

“Good.” Avania bent down and gave her a quick kiss, smiling against her lips. When she pulled back, she tugged Calypso onto her lap.

“I’ll go get the sled, how about you wait in the car, Hm baby? I’ll make some hot chocolate when we get home. And the cookies would’ve finished cooling so we can sit by a nice fire and cuddle. That sound good?”

“That sounds good, yeah…”

So Avania got the sled and they drove home again. Before they knew it, they were snuggled under a fluffy blanket in the living room, in their stupid matching hello Kitty pyjamas, Cal’s head on Avania’s chest with the fire light illuminating the formers green eyes and freckles. Cal adjusted to rest her chin on Avania’s chest, gazing up at her.

“Want something, baby?”

Calypso just giggled before putting a Santa hat on her.

“Naughty Mrs Claus!” She laughed, tickling the girls sides. When Cal finally snuggled back into her, Avania whispered.

“I love you y’know.” “I know, I love you too. Merry Christmas Avie.”

“Merry Christmas…Mrs Chase.

[rhiandoesfandom]

Ficlet-The Fall

Ya'll know what I'm about. Can't sleep cause I'm in pain so I wrote some angst.

Summary: This time it's a "What if" of the attack on Stolas's palace and Blitz protecting him. If you've been following me you know what I think could happen lol. Is it drastic and will it probably happen? Yes and no.

"You're weak. This was all so much easier than I thought", Andrealphus shoots an ice blast at Stolas as he scrambles, making a shield weakly blocking it. This has gone on for a while, continuing to use up his too small reservoir of powers now that the Grimoire was taken from him during the divorce proceedings.

Along with everything else. Via, the palace, now covered in ice. All his precious plants are dead. He represented himself, and that was a mistake. As Andrealphus was an expert at Goetia law and took him for everything he had.

Leaving him nearly powerless, in one of the only non royal outfits he has left, and his daughter manipulated to believe that he doesn't love her. He feels helpless. Like he should just give in.

He crosses his arms over his face, blocking another ice blast but it's getting harder, taking more strength as he backs up further.

Andrealphus places ice picks behind his feet and trip him, and he falls over to be caught by....

"Blitz?! What in the hells are you doing here?!" He exclaims and looks to Andrealphus who only smiles, seeing the Imp as he holds Stolas's waist with one arm, holding out a black sword in the other.

"What kind of joke is this? What you called your little boy toy to come save you, Stolas? That's sad", he mocks and Blitz smirks.

"I might be his boy toy but you're about to be uh...my fuckin...toy fuck I did not think of good comebacks for this", he says and pulls Stolas in tighter.

"Blitz, I don't know why you're here but you need to get out of here!" Stolas yells, bracing for Andrealphus's next attack. Blitz shakes his head, "No can do Birdy. I'm here no matter what happens".

"But-" Stolas goes to protest but then has to attempt to block he new ice shard coming straight for him, but the sword Blitz carries brings up some sort of...heavenly shield. He's never seen anything like it.

Stolas chuckles, "W-well, I suppose you could stay around a little longer", Blitz laughs, "Thought so".

"Where did you even get that artifact?" He asks and Blitz looks around nervously, "Heh, you do NOT want to know", which of course now made Stolas definitely want to know. But nonetheless, ice shard continue to aim for their heads and the shield blocks them as Andrealphus continues to move closer, and they move further backward.

"Cowards! Come out from behind your shield for a real fight", Andrealphus yells and tries hitting them with everything he's got. Hills of snow and ice piling onto the shield that's spilling from the sword.

"Fuck, the sword it's...it's starting to falter. It's light is going in and out", Blitz worries and steps further in front of Stolas.

"No, Blitz, stop trying to protect me, I'm fine. When the sword doesn't work anymore you need to run" he says, pulling his face to meet his.

"Nah I'm not leaving you", he turns back to Andrealphus and tilts the sword to use a larger area of the shield against the ice, its light still faltering.

Then Stolas feels emptiness behind him, one Talon slipping over the edge of a cliff.

"Fuck, Blitz! Cliff!" He says and Blitz looks back, and that gives Andrealphus all the distraction he needs to give one last push of an ice wall against the shield, pushing Stolas over the edge.

"Stolas!!!!" Blitz screams and grabs his hand with both his hands, "Don't fucking let go. Don't you dare fucking let go" he yells, trying to dig his heels into the rocky ground and avoiding the pockets of ice as tears prick the corners of his eyes.

Stolas frowns, looking up at Blitz, "I don't know if I can. I'm not strong enough", his fingers start to slip and Blitz tries to hold tighter, squeezing his eyes in strain, "Fuck Stolas please. Please I can't lose you. Just hold on. Hold on!" He yells but Stolas's hand slips through Blitz hands, and he starts to fall.

Blitz doesn't even pay any mind to Andrealphus behind him as he uses an ice pick to push through Blitz's chest, and pushes him off the cliff, tears falling with him as he grabs onto Stolas, attempting to pull him on top of him, then Stolas attempting the same until they both fall to the bottom, Into a new ring, on top of a building.

Shaky breath and blurry eyes is all both of them hear and see as they reach for one another, bone sticking out of limbs, then Blitz's eyes close.