#I’m not one of those Olivia hate blogs

[stllmnstr]

every fragile thing

pairing: park sunghoon x f reader

genre: enemies to lovers, figure skating au, college/university au

word count: 12.3k

warnings: alcohol consumption, jealousy, non graphic descriptions/depictions of injuries, use of the american (usa) university system, a kiss or five

soundtrack: get him back! / brutal / jealousy, jealousy / good 4 u / the grudge / bad idea right? / drivers license - olivia rodrigo

After an ankle injury lands you in mandated physical therapy sessions instead of on the ice where you should be training for nationals, you're absolutely certain you must be the most frustrated, emotionally volatile figure skater on the planet. Park Sunghoon proves you wrong.

or,

every fragile thing has one of two choices: become stronger or shatter into a million pieces.

note: hi hello yes this is me on a new blog with the same name. I deleted my old one and wasn't sure if I planned on remaking/reposting but here we are! if you've read this before, then I hope you enjoy just as much this time around. and if you haven't, I hope you love figure skater sunghoon just as much as I do! happy reading ♡

Silence. One word, two syllables. A fairly straightforward term with a meaning that can be easily deduced from a quick scan of its Merriam-Webster definition. 

But unlike many words, silence is one that’s typically learned through experience. Through stilted moments, pregnant pauses, dreamlike moments in the dead of night while the world around you is at a standstill. 

In the moments just before the music starts, when it feels as if the audience around you is holding their breath. And you stand at the center of it all, blades of your tightly laced skates against ice, chest rising and falling in time with your heartbeat, mind spinning with possibility. In those moments, your long trained muscles take over, following the memory of countless repetitions as your body prepares to do what it knows best. 

There’s a question in that silence. One that’s asked with baited breath. 

Will I land this skill? Will I go home with a medal around my neck, cold weight a familiar comfort against my skin? Will this be my best performance yet? Will they love it? Love me?

That, as you’ve come to learn, is your favorite kind of silence. The kind that’s filled with endless possibility, with the promise of something beautiful or disastrous or some odd mix of the two to come. 

The feeling of freedom, of flying as blade cuts through ice, as your body defies gravity with every jump, every spin. 

But that is very much not the kind of silence that greets you where Dr. Min eyes you warily over the top of his pristine clipboard, a crease forming between his dark eyebrows. Frowning, he glances at the paper once more before returning his gaze to you. 

“You’re sure you’ve been resting? No weight on the fracture at all?”

It takes a good chunk of your willpower not to roll your eyes. Mostly because you’re lying through your teeth, but who’s keeping track? 

“Yes, I’m sure.” Gesturing to the thick black boot the lower part of your left leg and foot have been imprisoned in for the better part of a month, you add, “This thing’s still coming off in two weeks, right?”

Two weeks is pushing it, but you’ve done more with less. Two weeks puts you exactly three months out from regionals, which gives you exactly ninety-one days to pull together the most jaw dropping program you or the judges have ever seen. One that’s certain to land you on the podium and secure a spot at nationals. 

Once again, you thank your lucky stars for Coach Lee. She’s been with you since you were still struggling to lace your own skates, and there’s no one else you’d trust to have you ready for regionals in such a short time frame. No one else you’d bet your fate on like this. 

“That was our original time frame, yes…” Dr. Min trails off, avoiding your gaze in a way that has your stomach dropping unpleasantly. 

“And we’ll be sticking to it, I’m sure.” You hate the way the end of your phrase turns up like a question. 

Dr. Min sighs. “Look, ___, our original time frame was ambitious to begin with, and I hate to tell you this, but your ankle is not healing as well as we’d hoped. Fractures don’t heal overnight, and the best thing for you right now is rest.” 

The argument is already forming on your tongue. “But—”

“I know it’s hard to believe, but I’m not trying to ruin your life, ___. Truly. I’m saying this to you as the parent of an athlete and a former athlete myself. Pushing yourself now will only lead to reinjury in the future and will also very likely shorten your career. Your ankle needs to heal before you skate on it again. It needs to heal before you so much as put weight on it. And you need to let it heal completely.” The sincerity in his voice is hard to stomach when he says, “Believe me when I tell you that you’ll regret it for the rest of life if you don’t.”

And logically, you know he’s right. Know that this will be nothing but a minor setback if you allow it to run its course. If you follow his advice to rest and heal. But skating has never been something you’ve done with the logical parts of yourself. And Dr. Min doesn’t get it. You tell him as much. “You don’t understand what you’re asking me to do. Regionals are in less than four months, and—”

“I hear you. Believe me, I do. But this is your third year of university, which means you have another shot at nationals next year. If you push it and try to skate before you’re ready, you may very well lose that chance too.”

“So I’m supposed to do what? Sit around and do nothing until my ankle decides to cooperate?” Even voicing the possibility has you suppressing a grimace. 

But Dr. Min has different thoughts. “Yes. That is exactly what you need to do.”

You don’t avert your gaze. Neither does he. Finally, after a moment, he sighs. “My recommendation at this point is still rest, but—”

“But?” Your excitement is impossible to contain fully. 

Dr. Min levels you with a cautionary look over his clipboard. “But, if you’re going to do anything, our athletics department does also run a physical therapy program, which I think could be beneficial. It would help to retain flexibility, mobility, and agility in the areas of your leg that support your ankle. It could help get you back on the ice faster and maintain the leg strength you’ve built. There’s a group session that runs on Tuesday afternoons—”

“Yes,” you nod, not bothering to hear the end of his statement. “Yes, I’ll do that.”

“I… okay.” As much as you want to hate him for it, Dr. Min has a point. And while you doubt physical therapy will be anywhere near as grueling as your usual workouts, it sounds a hell of a lot better than doing nothing. 

…

You’ve never liked hospitals. The odd juxtaposition of white, lifeless sterility and a culmination of some of life’s most painful moments has always left an unpleasant taste on your tongue. 

It’s one that has you double checking the address Dr. Min forwarded to you as you enter the oddly cheerful building that is apparently home to a renowned athletics physical therapy facility. Despite the medical purpose, there’s a distinct liveliness that envelops the space. 

The woman at reception informs you that this is indeed the right building and the session you’re attending has just begun in the room to your left. 

Pausing at the door, you’re struck with a sudden timidness. A physical therapy group for athletes will obviously be filled with, well, athletes. And although you can’t speak too harshly on that particular subsect of people, being one yourself, they can be intimidating. It must be the competitiveness, you think. The drive to push, succeed, win that gives off such a distinct aura.

Steeling yourself with one last breath, you remind yourself that’s why you’re here. To get back to that version of you that has everyone else feeling a little shier. That version of you that eats, breathes, and sleeps with ice skates laced on your feet and visions of the top of a podium driving your every decision. 

With determination straightening your brow, you push open the door. 

And immediately find yourself grateful for the mental preparation as three heads snap in your direction.  

Hitching your bag up an inch on your shoulder, you try not to melt under the sudden awkwardness. Thankfully, one of them is better at breaking ice than you.

“Hi,” the boy closest to you is the first to fill the silence. He’s all smiles where he gives you a friendly wave, moving a stray hair out of his eyes with a flick of his head as he tells you, “I’m Jungwon.”

You offer your name in return, trying on a smile to match his friendliness. You have a feeling it comes more naturally to him than it ever will to you, though. 

Regardless, he offers an equally cheerful, “Nice to meet you.” Glancing over to where the second boy is moving through a series of stretches, Jungwon makes eye contact, silently telling him he’s up next. 

Even mid-stretch, he acquiesces. “I’m Niki,” the second boy follows. 

“And I’m Jake.” The last boy doesn’t need any prompting from Jungwon. Nodding towards the walking boot that covers the bottom half of your left leg, he glances at a similar one that he wears on his own. “Looks like we’re twins. Tore up my achilles pretty bad in my last soccer match,” he explains. “What about you?”

“Fractured my ankle,” you return, a rueful smile dragging your lips up. “Figure skater.”

“Ah, man.” Jungwon winces. “That sucks.”

You shrug, forcing a nonchalance you don’t feel. “No worse than a busted achilles.” 

“That’s cool that you skate though,” Jake offers. “Kind of a funny coincidence, actually. There’s another—”

Whatever it is, he doesn’t get to finish the thought. At that moment, the door opens again, this time revealing a middle aged woman in a white physician’s coat. Her name tag reads Dr. Kim, and she introduces herself as such to you. 

“Looks like everyone’s here, including our new members.” She gives another cursory nod in your direction. “Welcome again.” Glancing around, the instructor pauses. “Oh, wait. Except for—”

“I’m here, I’m here.” For the second time in the span of a minute, the door behind you opens. You don’t miss the glance that passes between Niki and Jake. You turn to face the new arrival, but his back is to you as he sets his bag down and begins the process of switching his shoes. 

The way the new member enters with a dismissive wave of his hand and lack of proper greeting has you thinking tardiness is not an uncommon trait of his. Even from behind, you can feel the waves of arrogance he exudes. That seems to align more with your preconceived notions of athletes. 

Studying him for another second, a sinking feeling of dread begins to build in the pit of your stomach. Long, dark hair. Unnaturally graceful movements, even if all he’s doing is digging through his bag. Tall stature, broad shoulders, long legs. 

An athlete’s build through and through. Perfectly suited for the ice. 

“Great.” Despite the statement, Dr. Kim’s tone is flat. “Well, we were just getting started and introducing ourselves since we have someone new joining us today.”

“Hi,” he offers, still fixated on his bag, yet to offer as much as a glance in your direction. If anything, it only serves as a confirmation of his identity. “I’m—” You don’t even need to hear him say it. 

“Sunghoon?”

At that, he does finally look up. 

Gaze locking with yours, a moment of confusion is quickly replaced by a furrow in his brow, the slight downturn of his lips. He’s not thrilled to see you either. 

A beat passes. 

Two. 

Neither of you break eye contact. 

The silence extends to the point of discomfort for all four onlookers, each of them hesitant to break the tension that’s rising by the second. 

Finally, Dr. Kim takes a knife to the tension. “Do you two know each other?” 

Park Sunghoon. Renowned figure skater at your rival university. Someone with such a natural knack for carving lines through ice that whispers of prodigy have been shadowing his footsteps since the minute he put them on a rink. 

Someone with his head so far up his own ass you’re not sure how he can see half the time, much less keep his hair looking so perfect. 

Oh, you know him alright. 

“___?”

And it would seem he remembers you as well. 

It also answers Dr. Kim’s question well enough. 

“Ah, good.” It sounds like a question, like she’s hoping your acquaintance will be a positive thing instead of a disaster. You don’t have the heart to tell her otherwise. “The figure skating community is tight knit, I suppose.”

You suppress a scoff. That’s one word for it, you guess. 

You remember when it felt that way to you, too. Before tight knit became too small. Back before university, when it felt like it was you and Park Sunghoon against the world, instead of against each other. Back when the two of you didn’t skate for opposing teams but instead were members of the same club. A time when you took the ice together, skated as partners until he—

You force your thoughts to stop in their tracks. Your blood pressure has spiked enough in the last few days, and thinking back on long days spent with Park Sunghoon will only send it skyrocketing again. 

If anything, you’ll use this opportunity to practice perfecting your poker face for when you inevitably run into him at future competitions. 

And future competitions means you need a healed ankle, not a bruised ego. And certainly not an unpleasant trip down memory lane. 

Turning away from Sunghoon, you’re the first one to answer when Dr. Kim asks if you’re ready to get started. 

“Yes,” you tell her, determination written across your brow, in the set of your shoulders, and perhaps most noticeably, in the way you avoid Sunghoon’s wandering gaze for the next two hours. 

…

Without the rink, days are quick to meld into one another. It may be concerning, considering that you still have a set schedule of classes and homework to follow, but your life has revolved around training for so long that it’s hard to tell Mondays from Wednesdays without a set practice schedule. 

Thankfully, you do still make it back to the clinic at the right time on the right day, this time for another session with Dr. Kim and your fellow band of broken athletes. 

Including him. 

Aside from the glaringly obvious exception, you’re not as bothered at the thought of returning as you feared you might be. 

Jungwon, Niki, and Jake have proven themself pleasant enough company, and Dr. Kim seems to have built an understanding of how difficult it is to be forcibly removed from the sport you love. As such, she’s one of the least aggravating medical professionals you’ve spent time around. 

“Hey,” Niki greets when you arrive. “Did you have a good weekend?”

You shrug. “Good enough. Mostly just catching up on homework.” Setting your bag down and switching out your shoes, you join him on the mat, beginning the series of warm-up stretches Dr. Kim instructed you through last week. “What about you?”

“Not too bad. I got some good news from my doctor, actually.” He switches legs in his stretch, and you’re almost envious of his flexibility. He’s a dancer, and an exceedingly good one at that. One with an unfortunate knee injury at the moment. “My x-rays are looking a lot better. He thinks I might be able to start easing back into regular use by next month.” 

“That’s great,” you smile, even as a pang of jealousy stabs somewhere near your gut. “I’m really happy for you, Niki.” 

“A month still feels like forever, though, doesn’t it?” He sighs. “I can’t remember the last time I was out of the studio for this long.” 

Jungwon slides down onto the mat next to you, joining in on the stretch routine. “Consider yourself lucky, man. They told me at my last check-up that I probably won’t be able to do any jumping or kicks again for at least three months even though the fracture is already mostly healed.” He shakes his head. “No jumping or kicking,” he echoes, sarcasm dripping from every word. “You know, things that are super easy to avoid in taekwondo.”

“If it’s any consolation, I just got told that I’m gonna have to sit out of regionals this year. Which means I’ll have no way of qualifying for nationals.” You wonder how many times you’ll have to admit that particular reality to yourself before the sting starts to fade. 

“That sucks.” Jake agrees, coming down to the mat and occupying the spot next to Niki. “I’ll probably have to sit for this entire season, too. I love my team, but it’s so frustrating watching them play when I know I could be an asset on the field.”

“That’s true.” You’re struck by a sudden wave of sympathy. “At least skating is an individual sport, so the only person I have to disappoint is myself.” 

“Speaking of skating,” Jungwon sounds hesitant as he approaches the subject. “Do you and Sunghoon, uh…” he pauses for a moment in search of a neutral way of framing the unmistakable tension that surfaced the last time he saw the two of you together. “Do you two know each other?”

Grimacing internally, you suppose an explanation was bound to be solicited after your icy reunion. “We skate for rival universities.” Your gaze fixes on a spot on the ground. “And before college we used to, uh, we used to skate for the same club.”

The three boys share a glance. It’s hardly an explanation for the venom you said his name with but before they can press you further, the subject in question enters the room. 

Again, he takes his time setting his bag down, getting his things ready. This time, he also pulls out an obnoxiously big pair of headphones, secures them over his ears before he bothers to turn around. Despite the fact that all three boys offer him friendly smiles and waves, he returns the gesture only with a tight smile, making his way to the mat on the opposite side of the room before he begins his stretch routine.

It’s a message that rings loud and clear. A frown passes between Jake, Jungwon, and Niki. It’s obvious to you, then, that you’re the reason he chose to set himself up as far away as physically possible. 

So be it, you think, letting the slight roll right off of you. It’s not the first time he’s given you the cold shoulder for something he plays an equal part in, and you doubt it will be the last. 

Besides, it will only make your sessions pass by quicker, if the burden of avoiding gazes and minimizing interactions falls on his shoulders instead of yours.

With nothing but a shrug, you adjust slightly, ensuring that the only view he has of you is of your back. 

…

It’s a pattern that continues as physical therapy sessions start to become a regular routine in your week. Sunghoon, with his apparent disdain for anyone’s time but his own, is always the last to arrive. He also continues his habit of picking the spot in the room furthest away from you. 

Despite the fact that you’d like to chalk it up to his social ineptitude alone, that explanation doesn’t track. Although there’s still a certain aura of aloofness that follows where he goes, it’s too often that you see him smiling at a joke cracked by Jake or sharing easy conversations with Jungwon and Niki.  

Hell, he even interacts with Dr. Kim with a level of warmth you didn’t know was possible coming from him. If there’s any disdain in their conversations, he directs it all towards his right wrist. It’s why he’s here, you assume. Encased in a brace similar to the one you wear on your left ankle, his right forearm seems to be the reason for his attendance. 

It’s hard to not be envious. While a wrist injury is nothing to scoff at, it doesn’t necessarily keep you off the ice. Not in the same way a fractured ankle does. 

Refocusing your thoughts, you push the boy across the room firmly out of mind as Dr. Kim helps adjust you into the next stretch.

“How about now?” Dr. Kim pushes your spine a fraction of an inch further, pressure light but demanding. Before, this much flexibility would have been an easy request of your body, but lack of use has your muscles feeling tight. “Any tightness or pain?”

“No.” The bead of sweat on your brow begs to differ, as does the way the negation slipped through gritted teeth. 

But you’re frustrated. Annoyed at the progress you’ve lost, at the new limits of your body, at the way you feel like a stranger in your own skin. 

Across the room, you miss the flicker of annoyance that flits over Sunghoon’s features. Headphones on as always, you imagine you’re nothing more than a blip on his radar, a pesky intruder that’s easily ignored as long as he has his back to you. 

“Hm,” Dr. Kim muses. “You’ve retained more flexibility than I expected.” She offers you a smile. “That’s a good thing, a sign of a quick recovery.”

You suppress a grimace. It should be a good thing. You should be recovering quickly. If only you could get your stupid body to cooperate. 

Stealing another glance at the boy across the room, you can’t help the way a small burst of rage bubbles in your stomach. Prodigy. Why does he always get to be the anomaly, the exception to the rule? His injury is already less severe than yours, and he’s probably recovering quickly, too. Without even having to fake it.

Easing you out of the stretch, Dr. Kim jots down a quick note. “I’ll have Dr. Min run another x-ray at your next visit.” Nodding towards your ankle, she adds, “I think there’s a good chance that things are looking a lot better, and updated x-rays will help guide our next sessions.” She pauses for a minute. “I don’t want to get ahead of myself or get your hopes up, but I think we might be able to start putting some weight back on it soon. Start getting it stronger again.” 

You’re hesitant to let your excitement grow too much. But it would be a lie if you weren’t already counting the days until your next visit with Dr. Min in your head. “Thank you,” you tell her. “I’ll hope those x-rays come back looking good, then.”

“Me too,” she smiles. “I’ll see you next week, then. Hopefully with good news.”

You nod, returning her smile before heading to the door to gather your things. Jungwon catches you on your way out. 

“Hey, ___, hold on a sec.” When you turn back towards him, he tells you, “The rest of us are gonna grab lunch at a place nearby, if you want to join.”

Your uncertainty must write itself across your features, because he’s quick to add, “Don’t worry. Sunghoon won’t be there. He’s got a class right after this.”

Slightly embarrassed by the way he read you so easily, you nod. “Sure. Lunch sounds good.” Despite their friendliness with Sunghoon, you’ve come to like the three of them. And it’s been far too long since you broke up the monotony of class, homework, and medical appointments with something as simple as lunch with friends. 

And as long as he’s not there, you imagine it will be nothing but pleasant. 

It doesn’t take long for them to prove you wrong. 

Niki barely lets you get one bite in before he asks, “So, what exactly happened between you two?” Even without the name, the question is obvious. 

Still, after choking on the sip of water you’d been taking, you answer, “Who?”

Jake just gives you a look. 

You sigh. “Like I said, we used to skate for the same club. We, uh, never really got along, I guess.” Avoiding eye contact, you add, “And now we skate for rival schools. I suppose it’s only natural to not like each other.”

Niki doesn’t miss a beat. “Yeah, that sounds made up.”

Jungwon swallows his bite, parts his lips like he has something to say. Internally, you heave a sigh of relief. If any of the three of them spare you, you have a feeling it would be him. “I mean, it does seem like something else must have happened.”

Or not. 

“You don’t have to tell us,” he adds. “But it’s just… I mean, the two of you can’t even look at each other.”

Sighing, you suppose the circumstances do look odd from the outside. “There was… an incident. Back when we used to skate together.”

“What?” Jake asks. “Did he steal your skates right before a show or something?” 

“No, no.” You shake your head. “It happened on the ice, actually. During a program.”

“Wait,” Niki interrupts. “You said you used to skate together. Do you mean like, as partners?”

The guilt on your face says it all. 

“No way.” Jake says. 

Jungwon’s eyes grow bigger. “What did he do?”

“Yeah,” Niki turns to face you fully. “Wouldn’t being his partner be a good thing? At least on the ice, I mean. I know he can be a little insufferable, but isn’t he some sort of prodigy—”

“Prodigy, my ass.” You’re so sick of that goddamn word. “Wasn’t a prodigy when he dropped me in the middle of our program at junior nationals, was he?”

The way all three or their jaws drop in unison is almost worth the admission. 

But the thing is, he was. No accusatory fingers pointed in his direction after it happened. No one blamed prodigy Park Sunghoon for the mishap. 

No, it was decided fair and square by the jury of public opinion that the mistake was entirely your fault, your burden to bear. And it’s not like you were immune to the criticism. Whispers followed where you went. And you always, always managed to hear them. 

Maybe if you’d trained a little harder, completed the second rotation a little sooner, the skill would have gone off without a hitch, they mused. Hell, maybe if you’d stuck to your diet a little better, those last two pounds would have spelled the difference between a perfect landing and your ass on frozen ground, program music still crescendoing as onlookers watched with horrified fascination.

“Oh,” Jungwon grimaces. 

“That’s rough,” Niki agrees. 

And they don’t even know the worst of it. Don’t know that back then, at fifteen, you’d had a giant, soul crushing, earth shattering, massive crush on your skating partner. That you searched for his approval just as eagerly as you’d sought out your coach’s. 

That you’d squeezed in as many extra practice sessions as physically possible for five months leading up to the routine just to make sure you were as close to flawless as possible, just to make sure you were chosen to be his partner on the ice. 

That you giggled, giggled, when you saw the matching costumes the two of you would wear for the first time. 

That you followed where he went with long sighs and lovesick eyes. That you looked forward to the grueling hours you spent on the ice with him, turning perfection into something even greater. 

That your heart skipped a beat every time you ran through your program, every time he caught you with sure hands and a strong grip. 

That Park Sunghoon never made a mistake, never let you fall, not once. 

Not until a spotlight was spinning dreams into reality and you were already anticipating the secret smiles you’d share with matching gold medals around your necks. 

Not until it all shattered in a single moment. 

It was cold, as you laid there on the ice, sprawled out and unable to move from the sudden shock of it all. Luckily, you’d avoided any critical injuries. You had staggered off the ice with nothing but some bad bruising, the worst of it staining your ego and your heart. 

And after it all, no matter how many times you passed him on your way to the locker room, shared the ice with him, or searched for the gaze he pointedly avoided across the room, Park Sunghoon never uttered the two words that just might have made you forgive it all. 

Instead of an apology or even the decency of an explanation, you got a cold shoulder and a lost friendship you were too confused by to mourn. 

In the end, you’d decided to turn it all into a blessing in a very thorough disguise. From that moment onwards, all of your time on the ice was dedicated to you and you alone. Never would you let anything but the sheer strength of your own will, your own goals, motivate you to become better, faster, stronger. 

And you found that victory tasted even sweeter, when the full weight of it could rest on your shoulders alone. When no one could whisper behind their palms that the only reason you stood on the podium was a prodigy of a partner. 

So fine. Park Sunghoon didn’t owe you shit. Not an apology, an explanation, or even a second glance. 

And if he was a prodigy, an ice prince or whatever stupid title he’d earned alongside his medals, well, you’d just have to be even better.

But now, sitting across from new friends with a fractured ankle and a ruined shot at medalling this year, a quiet part of you admits for the first time that maybe, just maybe, part of that resolve is nothing but spite in disguise. Part of the anger you’ve clung to for so long isn’t directed at him, but at yourself. 

That it was embarrassing to fall in front of a crowd, yes, but it was also humiliating to know that he was hearing all those little comments about your inferiority too. To realize that his silence meant he probably agreed. That you were a liability of a partner, unequal in both skill and importance. That he could move on from the incident, from you, completely unscathed. 

That your little crush was entirely one-sided, just like the respect and admiration you’d once felt for him. 

You stare at the half-eaten lunch in front of you, appetite suddenly completely gone. 

“What a coincidence that the two of you ended up injured at the same time,” Jake muses. 

“And in the same physical therapy group.” Jungwon nods. 

“Yeah,” you echo hollowly. “What a coincidence.”

…

When Park Sunghoon speaks to you for the first time in five years, it’s completely by accident.

As the weeks have continued on, you’ve fallen into a perfect routine during your shared physical therapy sessions. A routine of avoidance, ignorance, and as much space between the two of you as physically possible. It’s become so easy that the two of you navigate it with the kind of grace only two elite figure skaters could ever manage. 

If anything, it’s more awkward for the other members of your session than it is for the two of you. Jungwon, Jake, Niki, and Dr. Kim are the ones suffering as they try to stay friendly with both of you without icing out the other. 

It must be why he doesn’t even bother to check who it is that’s standing right next to him as he reaches for his bag on the shelf near the front door at the end of another session. Must be why he says it in a voice so casual you don’t think it’s him at first. “How pissed do you think Dr. Kim will be if I’m late again next week?”

Even though the voice doesn’t quite fit, you half expect to see Jake standing next to you when you turn to the side. 

Sunghoon realizes his mistake at the exact same second you do. You watch as shock flickers across his features, quickly replaced by something guarded, unreadable. Just as completely closed off to you as always. 

It pisses you off, the way he’s so utterly and completely unaffected by you. The way he can brush you off as easily as a piece of dust. Insignificant. Unimportant. Unwanted. It has you freeing the reins on comments you should bite back instead. 

“Hard to say.” Ice and resentment drip from every syllable. “Then again, I’m surprised you care about what she thinks. Doesn’t seem like something that would bother you.”

That at least earns you some of his emotion. Another bout of shock crosses his face before it shifts to confusion and falls finally to anger. You can see it in the furrow of his brow, the set of his jaw. The flare of heat in his eyes. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

If he falls to anger, you’ll rise above it. At least on the outside. There’s no accounting for the way your gut twists in rage. Still, you offer him a smile that’s almost as fake as it is sickeningly sweet. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out if you spend enough time thinking about it.” It’s patronizing, and intentionally so. You hope it annoys him enough to keep him up tonight. 

Reaching for the front door, you take your exit first. The hallways of this building have become familiar over the weeks. Even with anger clouding your vision and a bad ankle, you trace a steady path to the parking lot. You’re halfway to your car when the sound of your name stops you in your tracks. 

You freeze for a moment, turning the sound of it over in your brain, stuck on the way it almost sounds like a plea, a prayer coming from his lips. The sound of footsteps draws nearer. They fall quickly, as if he’s running. Your indecision still renders you immobile. 

“Hold on a second. Did I… Did I do something to upset you?”

If you thought you were angry before, you’re surely seeing red now. How dare he. 

Spinning around, you only hope you sound as outraged as you feel. “Is that supposed to be some kind of joke?”

“What? No.” His brow furrows. “I mean, I know our schools are technically rivals and all, but we haven’t really seen each other in years.”

“Right, because you’ve been so sunny and welcoming since I joined the group.”

“I was giving you space. You practically bolted like a scared cat when you saw it was me.” He runs a hand through his hair. You hate the way it falls perfectly back into place. And you hate the way he looks so good doing it. “But clearly you’ve got something against me.”

The audacity, the sheer, utter audacity. There’s no trace of humor when you say, “You’re hilarious, really.” And there’s no room for debate when you turn away from him again, continuing to walk towards your car. 

“Wait,” he tries, but it falls on deaf ears. “God, ___, would you just hold on for a second, I—”

You turn. To do what, you’re not entirely sure. But before you can decide, the grip he has on his car keys loosens, the fingers of his right hand less dexterous than usual thanks to his arm brace. He still has his reflexes though. With his other hand, he manages to stop them from falling completely. 

“Better take care of that.” You jerk your chin to where he awkwardly fumbles with his keyring, trying to find a better grip. “Wouldn’t want to drop those too.”

His gaze snaps to you, eyes wide, mouth slightly slackened. The keys fall from his grasp, metal clinking delicately on the pavement. A million questions swim across his features, none of which you’ll give the grace of answering. 

Instead, you turn around once more. You make it all the way to your car, all the way out of the parking lot, all the way home. 

And he never says your name once. 

…

The following Tuesday, you are the last one of the group to arrive. And while you would usually never pass up the opportunity to best Sunghoon at anything, including being the latest arrival, competition is not the reason for your tardiness. 

It’s avoidance. That, and the fact that you had to spend eleven minutes giving yourself a pep talk in the car before you could work up the nerve to approach the front doors of the clinic. In the end, it’s a glance down at the boot on your left foot that does it. You’ve let Sunghoon ruin your chance at a gold medal once, and you’ll be damned if you let him do it again. 

Besides, your last visit with Dr. Min was a good one. Your ankle hasn’t healed quite as much as Dr. Kim suspected, but progress is progress, and you’re making plenty of it, according to your most recent x-rays. 

You enter the session with an apology for Dr. Kim and concentrated efforts to not let your gaze wander to the back corner of the room as you make your way over to where Jake and Jungwon sit. Starting your stretches, you assume Niki is over with Sunghoon, but you can’t work up the nerve to confirm that. 

Despite her initial annoyance at your tardiness, Dr. Kim is equally pleased at your latest x-ray results and gives you the green light to switch out the resistance bands you’ve been using for the next level up. Just as you’re reaching for the set of red bands on the shelf next to the treadmills, a set of obnoxiously smooth hands gets there first. 

Turning to Sunghoon with narrowed eyes, you grab the end of the band set he just snatched out from under you, eyes ablaze. 

The little fucker has the gall to roll his eyes. “What are you doing?”

You yank on the band. He doesn’t even flinch, grip steady. “I’m trying to follow Dr. Kim’s instructions,” you inform, tone flat. 

This time when you yank again, he yanks back. Much to your annoyance, he’s able to exert enough force to have you stumbling forward. “You’re trying to provoke me.”

“And it’s working,” Niki whispers to Jake and Jungwon in the back corner of the room. Dr. Kim just shakes her head. 

“Just take the green bands,” Sunghoon suggests. 

“They don’t have enough resistance. I need these ones,” you argue. “Why don’t you take the green ones?”

“Pretty sure if one of us takes the lighter bands, it should be you.” Sunghoon tightens his grip. “Or are you seriously trying to claim that you’re stronger than me right now?”

“I’m using them for my legs, you absolute jackass. Which are definitely stronger than your forearms.”

Sunghoon cocks a brow. “Should we put money on it?”

“You are such a dick. Dr. Kim literally—”

“Has another set of red bands,” the woman in question interrupts. She levels the two of you with an exasperated look as she holds them out in front of her. “There’s another set of every color on the equipment shelf next to the door.”

“Oh, right,” you nod, pulling back a little on your end of the band before you release it, just to hear the small cry Sunghoon lets out when it snaps against the skin of his good wrist. “Thanks.”

And the satisfaction that comes from completing your usual number of reps with a higher resistance is almost as gratifying as when you see Sunghoon rubbing at the still reddened skin on his left wrist as you pack up to leave for the day. 

“Those two are gonna kill each other,” Jungwon tells Jake and Niki as the three of them walk to their cars, brow creasing in concern. 

“Or something,” Jake agrees. 

Niki hoists his bag up on his shoulder. “My money’s on ___.”

A contemplative look passes between Jake and Jungwon before they nod in unison, “Yeah.”

…

You’re in the middle of passing a medicine ball back and forth with Jake the following week when he asks, “Are your school’s finals next week too?”

And although it’s hard to believe, first semester is already drawing to an end as the days get shorter and assignments get longer. 

“Yeah,” you nod. “I’m up to my ass in essays right now.”

“Same,” Jake agrees. “Sometimes it makes me wonder how I do it when I’m training, too.” Although you agree, a pang of jealousy is the only thing his words inspire. Of the skaters on your team that are preparing to compete as you speak. That have already choreographed their routines and selected their music and are spending every waking moment perfecting each and every detail of their program. 

It’s hard. It’s brutal. You’d be the first to admit that. But you miss it all the same, so much it hurts. 

A moment passes before he continues. “Well, anyway, Jungwon, Niki, and I were thinking that since none of us are training right now, we should celebrate the end of the semester like everyone else does.”

You arch a brow. “You’re gonna have to be more specific than that.”

“Right, sorry,” he apologizes. “Consider this your formal invitation to get absolutely shitfaced with us next Friday.”

The laugh that bubbles in your throat is so unexpected you can’t quite bite it back. While you have your fair share of good, old-fashioned fun, he’s right. Every other semester, you’ve celebrated the end of finals season with a cup of hot tea and an early night in bed. Traded one source of stress for another as you woke up bright and early the next day to hit the ice. 

You send him a smile, tossing the medicine ball back in his direction. “Count me in.”

…

The following Friday night finds you double-checking the address on your phone before tentatively knocking on the front door of what you hope is Jake’s apartment. In the middle of the university district across the city from your own, you can’t say you’re familiar with any of the buildings outside of the athletic complex, which you’ve only ever visited for a handful of competitions. It strikes you then that this is also the university Sunghoon attends. And, stomach dropping, that you never actually asked who all would be attending tonight.

Before you have the chance to spin on your heel and high-tail it down the stairs you just climbed, the door swings open. It’s not Jake. 

“Oh,” you mumble. The boy who opened the door is not Jake, but he is very much attractive. “Sorry. I’m looking for Jake Sim’s apartment.” Your voice turns up at the end like a question. 

“You’re in the right place,” he smiles, and it’s gorgeous. “I’m Heeseung, Jake’s roommate. You must be ___.” He opens the door wider, allowing you space. “Come on in.”

“That’s me.” You offer him a grateful smile as you enter, hanging your coat and sliding your shoes off. 

The interior is surprisingly sophisticated, for a college boy’s apartment. It’s clean, for starters, and as you follow Heeseung down the hallway towards the kitchen, you can’t help but be impressed by their choice in decor. 

“Help yourself to anything.” Heeseung gestures to the impressive spread of snacks on the table. “But first, can I get you something to drink?”

“Um…” Your lack of alcohol-related knowledge is apparent, and the uncertainty must be obvious, because Heeseung just smiles again. 

“I’ve got you.” There’s an undertone of something in his words. Something playful, something bordering on flirty. But it’s too subtle to tell for sure, and you’re not one to bet on losing odds. He reaches for a glass and a handful of ice cubes. “Do you like fruity flavors?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “That sounds good.” Besides, it’s been a minute since you’ve been well and truly flirted with at a college party by a boy that looks like he could spell trouble in his sleep. This could be fun, you think.  

Glancing towards the adjacent living room, you notice the usual familiar faces. Jake and Niki are sitting on the couch while Jungwon chats with a pair of boys you don’t recognize. Eyes tracing the perimeter, you feel your shoulders tense when they land on a familiar silhouette. Sunghoon has his back to you, but his identity is just as unmistakable as it was on your first day of physical therapy. Like Jungwon, he’s talking to another person you don’t know. 

Oh, well. It’s too late to back out now and too early to make an exit. If you and Sunghoon can coexist in a room once a week without starting too many fires, you’re sure you’ll manage to get through tonight just fine. 

Heeseung hands you a full glass. It’s cold where it meets your fingertips. 

“Should we join them?” He inclines his head toward the living room and you nod. 

Following in his footsteps, you wave a quick greeting to Jake before taking a seat next to Heeseung, enough space between you and Sunghoon for you to relax slightly.

“How do you and Jake know each other?” You ask, searching for something to fill the silence, to keep the conversation flowing. “Do you play soccer together?”

Heeseung shakes his head. “No, we’ve been friends since elementary school. But I am on the basketball team, which helps. I feel like student athletes just kind of get each other, you know?”

You do know, and you tell him as much. The crazy schedule, the unwavering commitment. It’s much easier to explain to someone that’s living through the exact same thing. 

“Speaking of which, you’re a figure skater, right? For the university across town.”

You arch a brow. “I’m surprised Jake told you so much about you.”

“Not nearly enough,” he flirts, and this time it’s blatant. 

You take another sip of your drink with upturned lips, weighing a response on your tongue. Before you can decide how many cards you’d like to show, you make eye contact across the room with the one person you were hoping to avoid. 

Sunghoon looks equally—scratch that—even more displeased to see you. Jawline so taught you could cut your finger on it and lips drawn in a straight line, he’s pissed where he locks eyes with you from his seat. Sunghoon is the one to avert his eyes first. Throwing back whatever’s in his cup, he slices through the moment of tension with a knife. 

If Heeseung notices the way your breath splutters, he doesn’t comment. Thankfully, Jungwon chooses the next moment to say his hellos and introduce you to the boys you hadn’t recognized earlier. 

“Sunoo,” he nods towards the boy he’d been sitting with earlier, who offers a friendly greeting. “And that’s Jay, over by Sunghoon. And you’ve already met Heeseung.”

“And you all go to school here?”

“Yeah,” Jungwon nods. “Jay and I live together, and Sunoo is Niki’s roommate.”

“You’re deep in enemy territory,” Heeseung elbows you lightly, teasing. “What are we gonna do with you?”

You lift your now empty glass towards him, grinning. “Get me another drink, hopefully.”

Sending you a wink, he takes the glass from your outstretched hand before standing from the couch. “On it.” You watch his back retreat into the kitchen, oblivious of the second one that follows it a handful of moments later. 

Jay, as it turns out, is not an athlete, but does play guitar for a local  band your friend has been raving to you about for ages. He’s already promising you two sets of complimentary tickets to every one of their upcoming shows by the time you realize Heeseung’s been gone for a while. Too long. 

Excusing yourself, you head toward the kitchen. And it’s just your luck that you find the person you’ve spent the evening avoiding, instead of the one you’re searching for. Even with the buzz of your first drink fading rapidly, your inhibitions are feeling low. 

Sunghoon barely has the chance to register your presence before you’re laying out accusations. 

“I know you don’t like me, but do you really have to spend the whole night glaring at me like that? In front of everyone?”

Sunghoon’s shoulders tense, a confirmation that he hears you, but he says nothing. Instead, he just swallows the remainder of his drink in one large gulp. His eyes are still flaring, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think you did something to piss him off. 

But it’s just like him, to avoid conversations he doesn’t want to have with the end of another drink. To treat you like someone not even worthy of a response. You don’t know why you expected anything different. Scoffing, you notice the full drink sitting on the counter. Heeseung must have had the chance to refill it before disappearing. 

You move to step around Sunghoon and reach for it when he finally says, “I’m not glaring at you.”

The gaze you level him with is incredulous. “Do you think I’m stupid? I have eyes—”

“For all I know you are stupid!” Sunghoon sighs, drags an open palm down the length of his face. “I mean, are you really gonna let some guy you just met pour your drinks all night?”

“Heeseung?” You’re confused why all of his rage seems to be directed towards something so insignificant. “He’s Jake’s roommate”

“And a complete stranger to you.”

It’s infuriating, the way he assumes his opinion should hold any weight in your life. The way he thinks he has any say in your decisions. “So should I avoid all the food now too?” You’re being petty now for the sake of it. “I mean, since you’ve been in here unsupervised for quite a while now.” You take another step towards your drink and he moves, blocking your path with his body. 

When you look up, you find his eyes already trained on you, and there’s no ice in them now. Just pure, unadulterated heat. Fire. Flames that lick the base of your spine. “You’re so fucking agitating, you know that?”

“I’m agitating?” You take another step forward, hoping the proximity will force him away. It doesn’t. If anything, he leans into it. Into you. 

You reach for the drink again. This time, he stops you himself. Fingers of his unrestricted hand wrapping around your wrist.

“Yeah.” His words are low, voice a caress even as it drips venom. You feel his breath ghost across your cheekbone. “Real fucking agitating.”

Your eyes are still locked on his, and you search them for a hint of something coherent, something that makes sense. Every bone in your body drawn taught, it’s as if muscle memory reverts you to the last moment you were like this, the last moment he held you this close, body entwined with his own in a familiar embrace. Your wrist slackens in his grasp. 

Last time, he dropped you. Sent you scattering across ice until the only thing you could taste was the bitterness of defeat and the sharp sting of humiliation. 

Last time, he let you fall. 

You have no idea what he’ll do now. 

In the end, it’s the sound of approaching footsteps that has the two of you springing apart, your wrist falling from his grip. In the scramble, you remember your original target. 

Despite the long melted ice, this drink feels even cooler in your grip, a stark contrast to the simmering heat just beneath your skin. 

When Heeseung enters, he’s tucking his phone into his pocket with an apologetic look. “Sorry, I had to take a call. My brother gets chatty at the worst times.” Nodding to your hand, he smiles, “You found your drink.” 

“Yeah, I did.” You take a step closer to the living room, closer to Heeseung. Further from Sunghoon. 

Glancing between the two of you, there’s a hint of uncertainty when Heeseung asks if you want to rejoin the others in the living room. 

You put his worries to ease and your questions to rest when you agree easily, not even bothering to give Sunghoon a second thought. 

You do seek his gaze one last time, though, before you follow Heeseung back to the party. Looking directly at him, you raise your glass in a mock toast. Without breaking eye contact, you bring the cup to your lips, swallowing half the drink in one long sip. When you do finally turn away, it’s to find the empty seat next to Heeseung. 

The rest of the evening passes in a pleasant blur, trading stories and laughs with the people around you while Heeseung keeps the seat at your side warm. Sunghoon does you the favor of disappearing from sight after your stand off in the kitchen.

It’s easy to relax into the company of everyone else, so much so that you don’t see Sunoo until you’re running right into him, the contents of his cup saturating the front of your shirt. 

It’s a problem Heeseung is quick to solve, and the gray hoodie he offers you is cozier than any of your own with a scent that’s almost addicting. 

He’s sweet, you think. Sweet and charming and forward in all of the right ways. It’s solidified when he offers to join you on the porch when you tell him you’re stepping outside for some fresh air. It’s cemented when he accepts your refusal with nothing but a smile and the request that you “come back quick.”

Stepping outside, it takes you a moment to realize that you’re not alone. It would appear that your earlier assumption that Sunghoon must have gone back to his place was wrong. There’s no drink in his hand, but the way he sways with the gentle midnight breeze makes you think he’s still working through everything he downed earlier. 

Silently, you glance up at the cloudless night sky, at the way the stars seem to wrap around you. Gaze returning to Sunghoon’s back, you suppose the simplest course of action would be to leave before he realizes you’re here. You turn to do just that, to make good on your promise to Heesung, when the sound of your name stops you in your tracks. 

Or at least, you think that’s what he says. It’s hard to tell, with the way his syllables and sounds slur together. Turning back towards him, you find him already looking at you. He repeats your name, and this time around, it’s a bit clearer. 

His eyes trace a downward line from your face to your change in clothes. Something in his face crumples, withers. 

“‘M sorry,” he slurs, words not lining up quite right through the inebriation. 

“What?”

“That day.” The sudden onset of sincerity in his tone makes him seem more sober than he is. “I should have caught you.”

The stars in the sky suddenly don’t seem so far away. You must have heard him wrong. A crease forms between your eyebrows, eyes scanning over his features. They’re laid open in their honesty, no trace of deception. 

“I wanted to catch you. I tried to.” He sighs. “Was my fault.”

“I…” You search for words, for the vindication you’d always imagined you’d feel at his admission. In its absence, you find only confusion and an odd pang of regret. “What?”

“I’m sorry,” he repeats. 

“Sorry for what? Why are you bringing that up?”

He just shakes his head, eyes falling to his feet. 

“I’m sorry,” he says again. Like a broken record. His pain is wrapped up in there too, trapped in a loop time has never quite let it escape. 

When you return to the party, it’s with a jumbled excuse of needing to check on a pet cat you don’t have. 

In the haste of it all, you forget to so much as exchange numbers with Heeseung. But you do find the time to pull Jake aside on your way out the door, to make sure that he helps Sunghoon get home safe. 

…

The next morning greets you with a pounding headache and an unfamiliar hoodie draped over the back of your desk chair. It takes a moment of searching through hazy memories before recollection of that particular string of events finds you. 

With a sigh, you head out in search of water and Advil, sending Jake a quick message that you’ll stop by his apartment later to return Heeseung’s hoodie. 

Even a handful of hours later, you can’t decide if you hope Heeseung is home or not. It’s a Saturday afternoon after a long night, so you figure the odds are high. But you still can’t pinpoint whether that feeling in your gut is excitement or dread. 

In an effort to delay the inevitable, you take a detour before visiting Jake’s apartment again. Your rival university’s sports complex is just as nice as you remember it, large, pristine buildings that hold everything an athletics department could dream of. Fondly, you remember the first time you skated in this stadium, back in middle school. It had felt so big, then, so special, to be skating for such a large crowd. 

It felt even more special to be sharing the ice with someone who put dreams in your head and butterflies in your stomach. Still fairly new to pair skating, the two of you had put on a program with a less than favorable amount of deduction. 

But still. It was yours. It was special. It was shared. 

You wonder if he knew then, that one day he would be the reigning king of this very same rink. 

Probably, you think. Park Sunghoon never had the habit of letting things feel impossible. 

Looking down at the boot on your foot, you miss it, all of it, all at once. The late nights. The early mornings. The bruises and cuts and aching muscles. The determination after defeat. The elation after glory. The feeling of flying every time blade touches ice. 

The sign posted next to the stadium is an advertisement, a reminder, of the upcoming regional championships. There’s a pang of loss, a moment of grief, for your program that will have to wait for next year. 

But your x-rays are coming back better every time, and Dr. Kim is sure you’ll be back on the ice by the time spring comes. 

For the first time in a long time, you think it’ll be okay. You know you’ll be okay.  

In front of you, the stadium door opens, and you realize you’re standing right in front of the exit. 

“Sorry,” you mutter, quickly moving to get out of the way, but then you take a closer look. “Coach Kang?” you ask, just as she says your name with the same air of disbelief. 

It’s an odd feeling of synchronicity, to stumble into your childhood skating coach just as you’re reminiscing on the past. 

“It’s been so long,” she beams, pulling you in for a warm hug. “What are you doing here?”

“Just visiting a friend. What about you?”

“Coaches’ meeting,” she explains. “Trying to see if I can get some of my junior skaters in to watch a few practices before regionals.” Nudging you with her shoulder, she adds, “speaking of which, how’s your program coming along? Are you getting excited?”

You shake your head. “I’m actually off the ice for this one.” Glancing down, you lift your booted foot in explanation. “Ankle fracture has me out for the rest of the season.”

“Oh, no.” Coach Kang places a consolatory hand on your shoulder. “I’m sorry. That has to be so hard.”

“It’s okay, actually.” You don’t know who’s more surprised, her at your admission, or you at the fact that you actually mean it. “Everything is healing up nicely, so I’m looking forward to an even better program next year.” 

“Well look at you, all grown up.” She smiles. “I can say that thirteen-year-old you would not have had such a good attitude about it. Honestly, I’m surprised a fracture was enough to stop you. You were always so stubborn about things. You and Sunghoon.” She lets out a short laugh as your shoulders tense at the mention of him. “I was just thinking about you two the other day, actually. We had a skater fracture his tailbone and argue until he was blue in the face that he still wanted to compete.” Shaking her head, she adds, “It reminded me of that time Sunghoon insisted on skating even though he’d just sprained his wrist.” She shakes her head again, releases a small laugh. “Never could keep you two off the ice.”

It all checks out, the stubbornness, the determination even when it was stupid. But you’re hung up on one detail. You’re sure you could list every one of Sunghoon’s skating injuries just as thoroughly as he could. But before the current one, you can’t recall any wrist injuries. “What? When did he sprain his wrist?” 

Coach Kang waves her hand flippantly, like the sinking feeling in your gut isn’t intensifying with every passing moment, like she isn’t about to confirm a realization you’re already dreading. “Oh, you remember. It was just a few days before nationals that one year.”

That one year. She skirts around it, for your sake probably. But you know exactly what she means, when she’s referring to. 

And suddenly, you’re falling through air again, plummeting towards ice as a hand makes a desperate attempt to catch you. As sheer will alone is no match for injury weakened bones and ligaments and muscles. As you’re sliding across frozen ground and he’s gripping his wrist with pain on his face and terror in his eyes. 

As your head spins, spots clouding your vision from the force of the impact. Before the world goes black, your eyes search for him. 

And in those last few moments of consciousness, you watch as his mouth moves to form words you can’t hear. 

“I’m sorry.”

…

Raising your fist, you pound at the door again. One, two, three times. At this rate, your knuckles will be bloody before you get a response. 

But before you can start your assault on the wood in front of you again, the door swings open slowly, revealing a familiar frame. 

“You absolute idiot.”

“Well hello to you too.” Rubbing at his eyes, you appear to have just woken him from a nap. If his head is feeling anything like yours was this morning, you almost feel sorry. 

But there are more pressing matters at hand. “Were you ever going to tell me?”

“That I’m an idiot? Probably not.”

“That you sprained your wrist three days before nationals? That you skated anyway? That you attempted to catch a person quite literally spinning through the air with a wrist injury?”

A beat of silence passes. 

And then another. 

Sunghoon suddenly looks wide awake. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. What the hell were you thinking?” There’s fire in your eyes, an anger that’s directed towards him but not in the ways he’s used to. 

He pauses for a moment, eyes searching your features for another beat. Finally, he sighs. “Would you have let me skate if I did?”

It’s not the answer you expect. And it’s just like him, to answer a question with one of his own. “I… what?”

“You heard me.” His eyes don’t leave yours. “Would you have let me get on the ice if you knew I was hurt?”

And what is it, him and his habit of asking ridiculous questions like they don’t have obvious answers. “What kind of question is that? Of course not. No one in their right mind would have let you do that program with a wrist sprain, much less your partner. And I love Coach Kang, but I’m about to file a negligence suit against her, because what the hell kind of—”

“Stop talking.”

“Excuse me?”

“Sorry,” he grimaces, and you’re still getting used to the way apologies sound on his lips. “That came out wrong. What I was trying to say was that you… Well, I… I mean…” He trails off for the third time, casts a tentative look at the way your eyebrows only raise higher and higher every time he stops a train of thought in its tracks. His gaze falls down, somewhere between your nose and chin. An exhale passes through parted lips. Something in his resolve slips. “Oh, fuck it.”

And then he’s kissing you. 

Lips against lips and hands in your hair. It’s messy and awkward, and you can’t quite get the timing right. 

Sunghoon pulls back a fraction of an inch, catching his breath and letting you do the same. 

“What are you doing?”

There’s heat in his eyes and fondness too, a soft sort of expression that only melts further every time he looks at you. But now there’s anxiety in the mix, a crippling fear that he’s misjudged everything entirely, done something horribly wrong. 

“I’m sorry.” Before today, you could count his apologies on one hand. Now, you’re running out of fingers. “Did you not want—”

This time, it’s you that pulls him down, hands lacing around the nape of his neck, exhaling a soft sigh against parted lips that sends his mind spinning. 

And it’s only the second time, but it’s already better. Already a natural rhythm that the two of you seem to fall into with a little more grace. 

The expanse of his door is cold against your back when Sunghoon pulls you into his apartment with his good hand, and he’s a quick study. Attempt number three is an even greater improvement as hands search for new skin to discover and things start to fall into place, one at a time. 

Reaching for Heeseung’s forgotten hoodie, Sunghoon breaks the kiss only to toss it somewhere outside your current plane of existence. In this moment, you exist only within the space the two of you occupy, everything else an afterthought. 

And you have the feeling attempt number four will be your best yet. 

…

epilogue

“Are you ever gonna join me or do I just have to stay out here looking stupid forever?”

You don’t even take a moment to consider. “The second one.”

“Come on,” Sunghoon pleads, skating back towards you where you remain planted firmly to the bench on the perimeter of the rink. He moves towards you with a grace that used to inspire a raging, stomping green monster of envy. Now, you just admire the way he cuts across the ice with the agility of a dancer. “It’s fun out here, I promise.”

Avoiding his gaze, you let your eyes fall to your feet instead. They’re already laced up in your favorite pair of skates, black boot all but forgotten since you had it removed at your last visit to Dr. Min’s office. Since he gave you the green light to return to the thing you love most. 

You had been ecstatic then. Brimming with so much extra energy Sunghoon had to physically intervene to prevent you from accidentally knocking over an elderly lady on your way out of the hospital. But now, with the opportunity you’ve been dreaming of for long, hard months at your fingertips, something in you hesitates. 

Sunghoon says your name, and suddenly he’s serious. “This is all you’ve been talking about for months.” Sliding down onto his knees in front of you, you’re suddenly at eye level. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” He casts a doubtful glance. “Really, I just…” It’s hard, to speak your fears into existence, to let them take flight. Even if the boy in front of you makes it a little easier. “What if it’s not what I imagined?”

It’s a million little worries wrapped up in one. What if your ankle isn’t the same? What if it’s never the same? What if you’re not as good as you were? What if you’re not good enough? 

Sunghoon hears them all, and puts them to rest with a smile, a gentle touch as he rests his forehead against yours. “You and that big brain. Always worrying about the wrong things.”

“Hey! I—”

“It won’t be what you imagined.” He draws back a few inches, and your eyes have nowhere to land but on his own. “It will be different. It will feel weird, and your legs will feel wobbly, your muscles will feel weak, and your ankle might give out.”

Your lips flatten into a thin line. “If you’re trying to make me feel better, you’re doing a terrible job.”

Sunghoon just pinches your cheeks together, forcing your lips to purse. “So you’ll show up. Over and over again. Every day until your skates start to feel like a second pair of feet and the ice starts to feel like home again. Until your ankle and your muscles and your stamina are all built back up, in a way that’s different from before but will feel familiar before you know it.” He presses a single, delicate kiss to the tip of your nose. “Until I’m dragging you off the ice instead of onto it, because your boyfriend needs attention and is feeling a little jealous of all the time you’re spending here instead of with him.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re so needy. It’s gross.”

Sunghoon only smiles. “Only for you.”

This time, when he gets back on his feet and extends a hand, you take it. You follow him onto the ice and headfirst towards your insecurities feeling a little bit like a newborn deer, a bike without its training wheels. 

He laughs when you stumble and brushes hair out of your face when you pout. 

After an hour, you’re already feeling more solid than before. After two, that feeling of flying is starting to return. 

It’s somewhere just before hour three when Sunghoon says, “Remember how I told you earlier that you’re worrying about the wrong things?”

“Yeah.” You drag the word out slowly, not liking the hint of deviousness in his sudden grin. 

“This is what I was talking about. Instead of worrying about getting back on the ice, you should be worrying about how long it will take you to be able to beat me on a lap around the rink.”

“You absolute asshole. I fractured my ankle!”

Already halfway around the rink, Sunghoon just laughs. 

…

outtake—five years ago. 

Sunghoon’s vision is blurry. It’s a terrible combination of things—the exhilaration of the spotlight, the pain in his wrist, the grief of an egregious error. The sudden onset of tears that sting in the corners of his eyes and fall without his permission. 

Despite all of it, he finds his way back to his dressing room. Choking back a sob, he reaches for the glass of water he’d left out earlier. It tastes acidic on his tongue, burns like regret on the way down. 

Stupid, he was so stupid. His hands tangle in his hair. He wants to pull it out. Wants to scream until his throat is raw and he can’t anymore. 

It was a terrible enough decision to gamble his own fate on an unhealed injury, but as the reality of the situation comes crashing down around him, he realizes he’s done something much worse. 

Eyes open, eyes closed. It doesn’t matter. All he can see is you, sprawled out on ice, limbs bent unnaturally, eyes dazed at the impact. 

The unexpected impact. Because you trusted him. You trusted him so much that of course you’d never considered what you would do if his hands failed, if his wrist gave out. If he decided to risk your program, your fate, you, all on a whim, on an inflated sense of self-importance and a lack of regard for the injury he was so certain he could power through. 

He couldn’t imagine it, three days ago. Telling you that he was injured, that he couldn’t skate the program. He couldn’t imagine watching as the features he bashfully considered so, painfully pretty twisted into disappointment. Into anger. 

So he turned his shame into resolve, into determination. One that allowed him to catch you with a fractured wrist in every practice run, every time, except for the time that mattered. Biting back grimaces and cries of pain all for the fool’s hope of seeing you smile in a few days’ time, a gold medal around your neck. 

Instead, he got to see you spinning through the air, slipping through his fingers, landing with a sickening thud. He wants to ask what hospital they took you to, wants to ignore the pain in his wrist a little longer and run there himself, just to make sure that you’re okay.

But then he imagines the way you’ll look at him when you see him. The way all that disappointment and anger he’d wanted to avoid so desperately will surely be all you have to offer him. 

He understands. He does. He wouldn’t want to see him either. 

Turning away from the mirror, he tucks away his shame for the future. But that only leaves his gaze landing on the bouquet of flowers sitting on the table. The one he’d spent nearly an hour agonizing over, the one his mother had assured him a dozen times you would love. The one he made sure had all of your favorite colors. 

He snuck his own favorite in there too, in hopes of what exactly he can’t be sure, but he knows he likes the way they look together—your favorite color and the deep blue irises that represent his own. 

It seems to stupid now. After everything, after this, he can’t imagine you want his flowers, and even less his favorite color. He can’t imagine that you want anything to do with him. 

So he doesn’t seek you out. Not in the hospital that day, not when you’re cleared to practice and back on the ice again, not when chance has the two of you colliding five years later. 

Not until he watches you walk away from him with all that anger and resentment and disappointment he’s been so avoiding for so long. Not until it strikes him in the face and he realizes that he can’t live with it, can’t let bygones be bygones and hope time and the absence of him in your life have healed you for the better when it still hurts to even look at you. 

On a dressing room table, five years in the past, a bouquet of flowers wilts. 

And Sunghoon learns that with love and patience and a little bit of sunlight, beautiful things, even the fragile ones, bloom when you water them.

.....

note: thank you for reading! as always, comments, reblogs, and asks are very much appreciated :D

[thedvilsinthedetails]

Heyyyy…

hey im still figuring out what i wanna be called but for now u can call me Jamie if u want I’m genderfluid as fuck [they/she/he or whatever idegafatp]

some typa aroace spectrum probs grayace & demiromantic also omniromantic - in general I have nothing figured out

so a simp w like a slight preference for men ig but kinda ace most of the time but sometimes very not

neurospicy bitch

writing request status: OPEN FOR MICROFICS RN

I’m a rosekiller loverrr but also a multi shipper so u never know what ur gonna see ig [but probably Rosekiller, Wolfstar, Dorlene, Starchaser maybe some sunkiller if I’m in the mood etc] for the record just bc I don’t ship smth doesn’t mean I support hating it even as a joke [translation: prongsfoot is chill leave them be]

if u don’t like smth, just ignore it, if u send me hate I’ll reply w shitty jokes probs

my dream job is to be an actor [screen actor specifically]

Media I like:

Fav TV stuff: Challengers, Gravity Falls, Cruella, 10 things I hate about you, into the spiderverse

Fav author is @neil-gaiman also that man is my idol so I’ll probs reblog him a shit ton [do u think he’ll like…mind that I tagged him? Sorry if this bothered u Neil!!!] Music [uhhh changes all the time tbh but for rn]: The Neighbourhood, Olivia Rodrigo, Conan Gray [Kid Krow phase rn], Chappell Roan, Renée Rapp, Green day, Ricky Montgomery, NOAHFINNCE, MARINA and Hozier

Spider-Man. Fucking love Spider-Man.

One thing to note about me tho: obvi I love recommendations but I find starting literally any new forms of media really fucking daunting for no reason [this is everything: songs, movies, books etc]

e.g. I fucking love spider verse but I still haven’t watched movie 2, same w latest season of young royals, same with even like ONE song alone I find it rlly hard and really scary

so if u give me recommendations and I don’t get back to u about them for ages it’s not bc I forgot or i was ignoring u but bc I find it scary so pls be patient :)

also same w please don’t like assume I’m knowledgeable about like any of the music artists I named earlier bc tbh I don’t rlly listen to artists I listen to songs [im still a fan of a lot of music artists ofc but the artists I listen to ≠ the artists I’m a fan of]

HI! welcome to my crazy blog, I love making friends im not at all scary I promise :D

Btw my inbox is ALWAYS open for spam, ship ramblings [even if it’s not smth I ship], info dropping about ur hyperfixations, venting, questions etc. [the only thing is no illegal ships bc it will be ignored] also sorry pre warning im shit with the inbox chains [‘send this to ten people who…’] so often I won’t answer those sorry, anything else I will make sure to answer but the chains I sometimes just forget about sorryyy

Barty Crouch Jr & James Potter kinnie

got a FAT crush on Evan Rosier [he’s the loml he just doesn’t know it yet] and also a crush on Dorcas Meadowes

I write sometimes:

I fell for you like glitter on stage - rosekiller band au, this was a microfic series on tumblr that I posted on ao3 for convenience [words: 4548] [this is my fav thing I’ve ever written lol]

we are all just prisoners here of our own device - Jegulus, a oneshot on ao3 based on the song ‘hotel California’ by the eagles. [Words: 6162]

Oh where do we begin? The rubble or our sins? - ON HIATUS. Roman Empire Jegulus au with side Rosekiller, Wolfstar and Pandalily on ao3 [words: 6141] [currently I don’t want to write Jegulus - the hyperfixation hath faded]

also I’m in a marauders RP as Barty and u shld follow it bc we’re all super cool and funny and amazing and awesome and yeah @bartythebabygorljr

tags you’ll see on my page:

me and my old black biro > writing tag

Im in love with that Rosier boy > [this is a new one] me having a massive crush on Evan Rosier

the most boring soap opera > my life tag

I have an online diary called @miseryoforpheus if ur fascinated by my charming and irresistible personality

[The song at the bottom of my intro post changes all the time depending on how I’m feeling]

THIS BLOG SUPPORTS PALESTINE

THIS BLOG STANDS WITH UKRAINE

THIS BLOG THINKS JK ROWLING HAS A NEGATIVE QUANTITY OF BRAINCELLS

[dollsinvogue]

Redesigning Rainbow World characters: Amaya Raine

I don’t mind the concept of rainbow world, I think I have gotten used to it by now, but what does bother me is the lack of fashion with the new dolls.

I wanted to go back to what they were originally doing which was taking real world fashions and putting them onto the dolls, this was such a fun detail and I love it so much (if you couldn’t already tell from my blog 🤭)

How I went into redesigning these dolls was taking into account what they were already wearing, I don’t love the fashion but I believe most of them are a good baseline, I also considered all of their other outfits and character traits from the original series.

I hate this Amaya doll. The length of the dress is awful and unflattering, the dress itself is somehow not enough but too much all at once, the gradient is just meh, that cropped denim jacket is so plain and doesn’t fit her vibe at all, the outfit has no shape to it, and her hair is muddy too flat which again makes her seem boring and having no shape…also pairing those sneakers with that dress is a crime and doesn’t feel very Amaya! (Also please don’t get me wrong she is cute for kids but these are my thoughts as an adult fashion doll fan)

Amaya is a fun and cheerful character and I feel that her outfit tried to reflect that (but it went a little too close to the territory of “seven-year-old tried to dress herself in a claires”) so I wanted to have one of her outfit reflect this cheerful and cute side while also being fashionable, she is a fashion focus after all!

Because I wanted to keep things someone inspired by the Rainbow World doll I wanted to find something with sparkles/sequins and so I landed on this Alice + Olivia outfit and the shirt happened to, in my opinion, feel very much like something Amaya would wear.

I spent some time looking at rainbow fashions and I felt that a lot of them felt tacky in a way, then I came across this Jimmy Paul runway and he does such an amazing job at designing these whimsical fashions and I felt that this jacket was something I could see on a doll and it would be interesting (especially paired with the fluffy white boots!) It also makes perfect sense to me because Jimmy Paul has already done a collaboration with an MGA doll brand before. (the Roxxi and Nevra pride dolls!)

I’m not entirely sure how her hair would be styled, I think I half up, half down style like Natasha’s would look good, I also don’t entirely love the mix of colours and I think she could possibly be better if she has hair like her junior high doll.

[emilylawsons]

Fic Writer Tag

Tagged by @hypnotisedfireflies. Thank you, lovely! Always an honor to have you read my work. ❤️

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

13 right now

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

119,911

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Right now, pretty much TLOU and Fringe

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Of Artists and Architects - TLOU

The Alphabet (Peter & Olivia’s Version) - Fringe

Peter & Etta’s Excellent Adventure - Fringe

Cracks in Your Mask - TLOU

To the Moon & To Saturn - Fringe

5. Do you respond to comments?

Always! I might be slow, but I see and respond to all of them because I appreciate every single one.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Fading and I’m in the trees, I’m in the breeze both end on dark, sad notes, so one of those.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

This is a cop-out, but most of my Polivia stuff. The Peter & Etta fic above, or most of what’s in my anthology. Etta’s Sunrise and as long as you love me so are also both incredibly tooth-rottingly sweet. It’s 90% fluff because I think they went through too much shit to not have happy moments. But also…I did write a Tessjoel wedding in Bone of My Bone, which was pretty happy.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

So far, not since I was 17 and posted the most godawful Castle fic on FF.net that got roasted on a hate blog. (It deserved it, but that shit hurted.) In my adult writing ventures? Never.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yes, but it’s mostly very vanilla. (I am incredibly boring and safe, I know.)

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Not my thing, and I doubt I ever will.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Nope. Thank goodness!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, but it would be an honor!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Not yet. I’m such a lone wolf. I’d have to find someone I can gel with creatively to make it happen.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

Don’t ask me that because I’ve gone through so many stages. Right now, Tessjoel and Polivia are the ones I’m into for different reasons. Tessjoel is fun because they lend themselves so well to different genres and AUs. Polivia is pure soulmatism and love with soul crushing angst at the best of times.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

A&A is the only WIP that I’ve got. I’d like to think I can finish it, but sometimes I wonder if I’m going to give up before I do.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I get easily discouraged, but I keep coming back

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I get easily discouraged

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

If I had friends that I talked to enough to help me and I found a good place to incorporate it, I would do it. I admire people who take the time to include other languages.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Castle, like a billion years ago

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

My confidence in my writing fluctuates too much to answer this properly. Hopefully one day I’ll be able to look at my work and definitively say “I’m super proud of this.” I’m getting there. But right now, I can’t say there’s one that’s my favorite.

Tagging: @elialys @bumblepony @seethesunny @tessaservopoulos @wreckedtodeathandback @electricbluebutterflies @melusine0811

[lewkwoodnco]

Taking requests for lockwood x reader/locklyle taylor swift songfics! Also accepting general lockwood x reader/locklyle requests, the song isn’t compulsory!

Masterlist

I now have a taglist! You can fill in the form if you’d like to be tagged/no longer tagged 💖

Introductory post (below the cut):

HIII I just randomly started this blog one day so I thought I would do a bit of an introductory post that no one asked for 🤭

I go by Lily on here, and I’m a few months away from turning 18! I (officially) joined Tumblr around July 2020 and I have a main blog dedicated to another fandom so this is my secondary blog. I want to like make more friends with y’all on here so I’m listing some of my other interests down below so y’all can come scream at me about any of them!!

This whole obsession started after I randomly decided to watch Lockwood & Co on Netflix and OH MY GOD. Best decision in my life. I haven’t felt this interested in a fandom since my Harry Potter/Percy Jackson phase years back and though I still love them to death, I miss the experience of just falling in love with a fandom! I’ve also read books 3 to 5 (will read the first 2 books soon) and they were one of the few books I’ve truly enjoyed in the past few years. Like one thing I hate is cliches (not to be confused w tropes! Love those) and everything about l&c feels so fresh and exciting and UGH I will not shut up if I don’t stop now heheh

Some other fandoms/movies/shows I’m also interested in: Harry Potter, Percy Jackson, Hunger Games, Sherlock, MCU, the Greenhouse Academy, a series of unfortunate events, the mysterious Benedict society, Bridgerton (a bit)

Music taste: pretty basic for the most part but I’m getting more interested in punk/metal? Taylor Swift, Olivia Rodrigo (GUTS 🙇‍♀️), THE GOOD WITCHH, Gracie Abrams, a liiitle bit of Phoebe Bridgers and Hozier, Sabrina Carpenter and Lorde and more but these are just my favs!

I’m actually about to enter a bit of a busy phase of my life that will be over in like a month or two and I’ll finally be able to interact more with the Lockwood and Co community here then!!! 💃💃 (and also proof read my work better - rn I just pray for the best and hope I’m not posting work too riddled with errors 🤪) but until then yeaa I might not be so active and I’m so sorry to the people who have sent in requests, I’ll still be working on them but they might take a lil longer tysmm for ur patience 🙏

Lastly please check out this appreciation post I made for the wonderful people I’ve already kind of interacted with!!! I’ve followed like so many of y’all and you BEST BELIEVE I stalk your blogs and writings but under the guise of my main blog 🤭 Y’all ROCK and I love you guys so much 🥰🥰 ok byeee

[thepalmofyourfreezinghand]

Your blog is honestly only one of three swiftie blogs that I find genuine comfort and safety in. I really hope you don’t leave but I’m also a sensitive person who couldn’t take so much hâte just for having a different opinion. As a swiftie I honestly get scared of how quickly so many swifties passionately and proudly spread hate or gossip that make others feel ostracised. Thank you for being here. Your thoughts are genuine and very rational which I believe clashes with a lot of others overly fanatical, blind-love behaviour. People are people, no person is a god and I think you get that.

Thank you, anon! That’s very sweet of you to say :).

Honestly there are days when it feels good to be on here and days when it feels pointless, but I’ve been around “a lot” (I was on Twitter during the red era, then I was also on Reddit for a few years…), and Tumblr is by far my favourite space to be.

Honestly there are soooo many swifties right now… and that’s amazing, btw. I’m not one of those people who like to gatekeep: the more the merrier! BUT it’s true that whenever there are so many fans, there also tends to be a sort of “group mentality” which you really can’t stray away from. There’s a “right” way to behave as a fan, and everyone who doesn’t agree gets ostracized. And I’ve been guilty of that too, in the past!

I’ve already said it but I also think that many swifties feel overly protective towards Taylor (again: I’m often guilty of this too!), and the result is that anyone who’s not with Taylor is automatically seen as an enemy. See: what happened with Joe and Olivia this week.

[bcofl0ve]

addressing the camila stuff before i get anons about it (which i’m surprised i haven’t yet? maybe we’re all to wrapped up in dune stuff LOL.) if you don’t know what i’m referring to pls just search her name on twitter.

as a white person i genuinely do not think it’s my place to say anything but “those posts are shitty- the hate train blue ivy got as just a toddler was vile, i hope she’s changed and she should probably say something.” i don’t have the lived experience to moderate an in-depth discourse about racism on here and encourage y’all to seek out what fans of color are saying over rlly anyone else.

i also really really don’t want to entertain discourse about suki/riley/kaia/austin etc ‘still’ being friends with her, please. if you wanna start the hollywood ‘why does x associate with x’ ‘why does x support x’ discourse we’d be here all day about 1,500 diff people on allllll fronts. austin included (and vanessa for y’all that think she’s a “better alternative” to k).

in an effort to keep this blog lighthearted and a fun space for presley fam, austin, kaia and olivia fans i don’t want to do that here. and appreciate that being understood.

and again, i truly truly hope camila has changed. i remember when that thefatjewish acc was biggg on instagram and unfortunately next to no one ever rlly called him on his shit. she’s def, i fear, not the only celebrity that followed him and liked his posts.

[ericleo108]

04/07/2023 Click here for Spotify, Apple Music, or YouTube. “Funk You” is my 38th official release. This track is a response to Olivia Rodrigo’s songs “Deja Vu” and “Good For You.” Although I’ve never met Olivia it’s written as if I were the one she was talking about in those two songs. This fictional response was written based on the lyrics from those two songs. I intentionally published this around the two-year anniversary of Olivia Rodrigo’s Sour album and the “Good For You” and “Deja Vu” music video which was released on April 1st, 2021.

Just to be clear, Olivia is NOT a cosmic luve. I have cosmic luves but this has nothing to do with that. This has everything to do with making something popular that can be easily understood and drawn into. I am intentionally doing this just to sell music. I think this is a track my audience would enjoy and be able to relate to. I love those two songs by Olivia and it’s a good concept piece to introduce my music based off a popular artist’s work. I also don’t wanna make break-up songs about my real cosmic luves.

The track was recorded, mixed, and mastered by Sam Peters at La Luna Recording in Kalamazoo, Michigan. The beat is by Tantubeats.com and the cover art is from Gigzlogo from Fiverr.

You can see me talk about this blog post from last Sunday Update here:

Lyrics:

Look, I just want the world to know I’m the one those two songs are about, listen

You might get funked up I might funk you up Become the harmony and get tough love Olivio Rodrigo likes to avoid things You’d probably support me If you knew the whole story Uw girl, you so smooth Make’n it look like you got used I’m not perfect, couldn’t live up to you I couldn’t give you perfect picture views I just wanna good girl to like me for me Not the company I keep and the crowd I bring You were focused on looks and how things seemed I wanted it to be real, so you never got a ring

She was attached now like “Good for You” So happy and healthy despite the news She thinks money buys happiness, but we got our problems At least my girl recognizes that we got them No fantasy world, where she’s a princess She brag’n to her friends about being a misfit Like um real and you’re a unicorn A fictitious creature, you brought this on I swear you got me that jacket As a symbol of status And your assumptive vision of fashion But I didn’t like it, you went batshit And told me that I look fat in it (Uw)

You might get funked up I might funk you up Become the harmony and get tough love Cuz Olivio Rodrigo likes to avoid things Yeah, you’d probably support me If you knew the whole story Cuz Uw girl, you so smooth Make’n it look like you got used I’m not perfect, couldn’t live up to you I couldn’t give you perfect picture views I just wanna good girl to like me for me Not the company I keep and the crowd I bring You were focused on looks and how these seemed I wanted it to be real, so you never got a ring

You know strawberry ice cream is my favorite I shared it with my sister, you’re weak and basic I’m a minimalist, I hate two spoons You just didn’t like the wooden one I brought to reuse That’s what’s recycled, a shared experience I only think of you as a piece of it It wasn’t love, it was infatuation I’ve always loved Billy Joel but with you, it’s faded Yeah I think of you, and get “Deja Vu” But when you come up now I play the blues But I’ll tell you the truth, I feel used I was always your ideal and never real to you

You might get funked up I might funk you up Become the harmony and get tough love Cuz Olivio Rodrigo likes to avoid things Yeah, you’d probably support me If you knew the whole story Cuz Uw girl, you so smooth Make’n it look like you got used I’m not perfect, couldn’t live up to you Couldn’t give you perfect picture views I just wanna good girl to like me for me Not the company I keep and the crowd I bring You were focused on looks and how these seemed I wanted it to be real, so you never got a ring

You might get funked up I might funk you up Become the harmony and get tough love You might get funked up I might funk you up Become the harmony and get tough love

[harryfeatgaga]

My ex oomf has completely lost the plot holy shit 😭she was a holivian who used to be just a harrie before Olivia came into the picture. But ever since they broke up (a whole year ago mind you) she’s been so hateful towards him and I soft blocked her and I forgot that I follow her on here and she reposted from one of those Harry hate blogs and the post was just saying a bunch of bs and that he’s only dating a black woman to keep his image clean 😭 I’m sorry but if you are that bitter over his past relationship ending you were never a true fan

jesus christ theres a few freaks like that, acting like he broke up with them when that rs ended 😭 weirdos

[leeleewrites]

Ok so I’m back. And a lot has happened for music in the past few weeks i’ve been gone. This has basically just become a music blog and i think i’m okay with that. But i also realized this blog doesn’t really have a purpose. Or like a theme. I recently watched the movie Julia and Julie. It’s a great movie (go watch it) and inspired me to blog again. But I think since there’s a reoccurring theme of music(legitimately all i talk about) I think this should be a music blog. I’m also going tot ask about my life. So life and music. Cool. Anyways, i started school and i can’t decide if i like it or not. My school is amazing. It’s a newer building and pretty small for a high school. It’s two floors and overlooks a forest and it’s just beautiful. On a few of the walls it has ivy growing on it (my house of stone and your ivy grows and now i’m covered in youuuuu iykyk) and i like most my teachers and i have friends and have made a few. It’s actually a lot of work though. I hate work. Anyways. Music. I love music. Let’s start with Olivia Rodrigo’s album, GUTS. I really love it. I loved sour but i was skeptical of her new one because 1. i’m not 12 years old anymore and 2. i not a super fan because of the drama with Taylor and look, I don’t even know what happened so I not going to get into it, and i’ll just enjoy her talents. Just being honest here, even though this will be on the internet forever and someone will find it and say that i hate Olivia Rodrigo 6 years from now. I DONT HATE HER!! I just know there was drama and stuff. Sorry. Back to the album. My favorite track is lacy. I think it’s devastating. Heart crushing. Bottle smashing. You know those terrible sad love songs, for example, ivy by taylor swift. It’s about loving someone so much and obsession and that feeling of knowing they will either never love you like that or that you can never be with them in the way you want to be with them. When i first listened to lacy, i thought/assumed it was about a girl crush. But people don’t like to hear that so people say it’s about gracie abrams or sabrina carpenter. People always find a way to pin someone’s name to a song. Putting girls against each other because of drama from 2 years ago or finding some man like was rumored to be 2 feet away from her at one point in time so obviously that one lyric is about him. But yeah that’s my thoughts on that. I’ll talk more tomorrow or whenever. lol.

[michaels-office-hours]

Family talks about Christianity sometimes, and I’m actually a pretty new one myself… so if that makes you uncomfortable? Feel free to keep scrolling/unfollow/block. I don’t mind.

But anyway, they talk about it sometimes… and I can’t- really tell them I’m here? This is Mike talking btw. They think OSDD is kinda silly or something to get rid of or idk… but yeah. I have to mask as Jewels at home, I’m pretty good at it? But that’s why I like this blog. Let’s me be myself. But anyway, I’d actually kinda like to- talk about it? Since Jewels has grown up as Christian, and Olivia was pretty young when she split off… so she’s also pretty used to it. And is more into it than Jewels so skhvsjhvsjh. But yeah. I’m new to this? Would like pointers maybe? But that’d out me… in seconds. Would rather not.

Anyway, talking about C.S. Lewis’s “The Problem With X” essay thingy. Idk what it’s called. And yeah there’s a link there in case you’re interested, to the video we watched. C.S. Lewis is one of my favorite authors, he goes deep. Plus he wrote the Screw Tape Letters, and that book is amazing. Freaky, but amazing.

I keep getting sidetracked, ahem. In that video they talk about there’s probably people in your life you have issue with. X Lewis labeled them. You know who they are, annoying parents, nagging grandparents, a neighbor whose too nosy or loud, a sibling whose just rude? Everyone has an X. I’d be surprised if you didn’t.

But the main kicker in the video, was that you’re an X too. To God? Everyone is. He sees them all, and He has a plan. Do we follow that plan? No. Does He stop us? No. Because He wants us to love Him by our own will. He wants it to be real, like His love for us is.

So if God has to deal with all these X’s, but doesn’t change them, what are we to do with them? The same, we can do nothing. Think about it, you can raise hell fire and go up against X. But think about X for a minute, X is a brick wall, aren’t they? You’ve probably had it out with them in the past. All that did was make everyone mad, and your life miserable.

So what we do, is focus on the X we can control. Ourselves. Better ourselves (with God’s help usually, but I do understand if others are reading this. Just try to make a better you, whatever that is) and maybe by example, X will stop being so bad.

Now… here comes my part in this. Jewels bent over backwards, and jumped through hoops. She tried her damnedest to be the best she could for her X’s. Guess why I’m here. Now, guess why I’m typing this? X is still there. Just as stoic in their harshness as ever, maybe worse! And what does she have to show? A hero complex and an inability to see where to draw the line between her own needs, and the wants of those around her. I have that too unfortunately… since I came from that situation.

But that isn’t what C.S. Lewis was suggesting at all. Not at all. And in fact, this is the reason I consider myself a new Christian, because before I didn’t see myself as “good enough” before. Yes, you’re supposed to live an example and try to better yourself. Yes, you can try to fight X, but we all know the kind of X I talking about, there’s no talking to them. So I doubt it will work. But what God doesn’t want you to do, is to change because of X. Don’t make you’re whole personality, trying to please them, or be the best person they want. You’ll never make it.

God wants you to be His child. And guess what? He loves you right now. I don’t give a damn about what X is telling you. “Oh you didn’t take out the garage, you’re horrible” “I’m not being that loud, you’re just rude” “you never spend time with me, you must hate this family” wrong wrong wrong. If X can’t see it? On them. Keep trying to be a good example. But I beg you, know that God loves you now. Right now. For existing. For breathing. He’d love it if you’d try to be a better person! And He’s very proud when you do try. Even when you fail, you tried. And btw? For non-Christians reading this? If you don’t believe in God, or we don’t share one, or whatever the circumstances? I’m proud of you. M’kay? You’re trying. Good on you for that. You’re trying, and still existing in a world of X’s. And man alive I know how hard that is, but you’re doing it. And thank you. Genuinely thank you.

Please, if you’re can. If you didn’t read any of this? Just try to not put too much of a burden on others. Because they’re trying more than you’d think. And know that, while you try? There’s always someone out there loving you for it. You’re an amazing example, and role model, and person in general. And thank you. You can do this. Whoever is in your way? I hope they’ll see the truth soon.

I’m gonna go do something else now. White screen is making the migraine I had before this start to scream skhvsjhvsjg. Good luck guys. You got this. 🫰🏻

[zot3-flopped]

Harry has fifteen shows in LA and Olivia will likely be in town for all of them. It would be a little weird if she went to every single one of them…

She spends all day with him and then he goes home to her, and this will continue for over a month… when she visits him on tour she goes to the shows because she’s either in a foreign country or in another state and what else is she gonna do from 9 till 11 pm? Alone? While her boyfriend and everyone she knows in the vicinity is at the venue? Watch Netflix?

She’s home, all her friends live there. She can also do chores or run errands and she’s not just visiting him for a week, she’ll see him every day for a month+, she can be away from him for 3 hours a day a few days a week.

I’m sure she’ll be there at some of them anyway, and then they’ll mock her for being pathetic and going to so many shows.

For those who hate read this blog, I’ll remind you, no matter how much you pretend you believe it’s a stunt, deep down you know that every night after his concerts, Harry is going home to her and pumping his post show adrenaline into her.

🤣 Love this!

[tim-hoe-wan]

I’ve seen a bunch of people from the gp now say that all this dwd drama and the shitty reviews the film is getting actually makes them want to see it now 🙄 I don’t want Olivia getting her backend deal smh

I personally don’t care if people see it or not, so I don’t really share your sentiment.

[doopdevil]

what are you waiting for? | n.romanoff x fem!reader x s.rogers | PART ONE

PART 2 | PART 3 | MASTERLIST

warnings: cursing ; wedding ; one-sided love ; angst ; anxiety ; reader has a panic attack

pairings: natasha romanoff x fem!reader ; steve rogers x fem!reader (not poly)

word count: 4,711

summary: natasha’s accepted the fact that she may never get her chance. especially now that you’re preoccupied by steve. regardless, she still hasn’t stopped thinking about you. if she the most she can do is stand by and protect you, then so be it. maybe you’ll realize it when she’s there when steve isn’t.

a/n: ok so this is my first fanfiction! i’m still getting used to this blog, so please bear with me. regardless, any thoughts or criticisms are welcome. and yes, i did listen to olivia rodrigo on end to write this 😭😭

   Natasha wasn’t a stranger to horrible days. With life as arduous as hers; bad days were to be expected. But that didn’t make them sting any less. Her pale fist clenched her glass of red wine with every ounce of pain she felt at that moment. She could’ve sworn it cracked a bit. It could’ve shattered in her hands and she wouldn’t let go. Copious amounts of alcohol and Clint's nagging were the only forces strong enough to keep her there. Well, besides the presence of someone else. Y/N continues to be a recurring presence in the woman’s mind. Part of Natasha wanted to wipe that name from her head entirely. Y/N. The other wanted to use the name lovingly on late winter nights in tangled limbs. The other wanted to say that name: Y/N, between pants of bliss. She’d say it with a certain surety that she would repeat that name for the rest of her life.

   “Y/N!” The last thing Natasha wanted was for him to say it like that. Glistening blue eyes accompanied by an innocent, boyish grin strode into the ballroom with an eager bounce on his feet. The groom was curious about the whereabouts of his soon-to-be wife. His pupils dilated as he patrolled the room with one thing on his mind. He was in love.

   Natasha let out a sigh. This wouldn’t get any easier. She adored Steve. She did. They’ve stuck together through thick and thin during their lives as founding avengers. He had saved her life countless times and she’d done the same for him. He was her friend and trusted teammate. Yet that wasn’t enough to stop the seething jealousy she felt for him. In a lot of ways, she felt the captain was everything she wasn’t. The golden boy, a hero, the definition of goodness in human form. And there she was, a cold, calculating individual just looking to repent for her sins. She’s sure Steve hasn’t done half of the things she’s done if any. He carries less baggage, more room for love. That’s what y/n deserved. Someone to give her every bit of love she deserved. Nat would give it to her and more — if she could. Romance and happiness simply weren’t in the equation that made her complicated life.

   “Jesus, Nat.” the archer muttered as he approached Natasha.

   “You’re one to talk Clint. You look like hell 24/7. It’s a miracle Laura even got you to wear that suit.” Natasha retorted with a smirk. Nat had been well known by those around her as a snarky individual if she liked you. Those she didn’t deem worthy of her wit merely received a stabbing glare from the Russian.

“I was going to wear one of those t-shirts with a cartoon tuxedo on it, actually! But I changed my mind, I’d hate to upstage the groom today.” he joked. If anyone was going to support her today, it was Clint. The Black Widow’s best friend and partner in crime. Out of all of the Avengers, she knew him the longest and quite honestly, cared for him the most. He was one of the only people in the world who she’d trust with everything she had. It was him, Laura, Yelena, the Avengers, and of course, y/n. They were more than enough for her.

   “But seriously Nat, you don’t look too good.”

   “Wow, is my dress that horrible?” she asked incredulously, looking down at her deep scarlet gown. The dress was worn by all the bridesmaids, and the maid of honor, Natasha herself.

   “No, it’s lovely. But if you keep glaring at Rogers like that you might burn a couple of eye-shaped holes into his chest,” Clint whispered.

   Shit. Well, she’d be lying if the thought of burning Steve hadn’t crossed her mind. Regardless, the conspicuous nature of the action itself was enough to make her blush. Nat was quite familiar with hiding her emotions, her skills in espionage making her scarily unreadable. Yet today, out of all days, she was breaking. She gulped her wine hoping it would help her disappear.

   Clint hung his arm around her shoulder and squeezed. “Don’t worry though. You’re doing great. Hell, you’ve been doing great. You even had the guts to help plan all of this.” Their eyes scanned the embellished ballroom, accessing nearly 8 months of work. The location was perfect, an old castle nestled in upstate New York. It wasn’t fancy enough to make the bride and groom uncomfortable, but nice enough for them to indulge at the very least.

   “Thanks, Clint.”

   “Natasha!” a feminine voice cried out.

   “Looks like I’ve been summoned,” Nat muttered with a dreadful finality. Soon the love of her life would be married. Every sound and noise that surrounded her made that fact all the more real.

   “Hey, it’s gonna be okay. Laura, the kids, and I are right here with you. Now knock em’ dead kid.”

   “We’re the same age, Clint. And you’re right, I’ll be fine,” she reassured him. Nat felt far more at ease with supporting others rather than with others supporting her.

   Barton watched as the redhead strode across the ballroom towards her new destination: the bride. But she’d go to y/n regardless if they were at a wedding or not. She’d follow her to hell and back with a smile. Barton frowned. He was delighted for Steve and y/n. He just wished it didn’t have to hurt Natasha so much.

   Tony and Bruce always huddled in their huge lab for hours to indulge in their scientific endeavors. Other acquaintances and friends would pass by as well. It wasn’t strange for them to reach out to others for insight, whether it be Stark's spider boy or Dr. Helen Cho, who had helped them treat Clint after he endured being controlled by Loki. That’s how y/n first stumbled into the Avengers lives.

   Y/N rushed into the tower with fervor. She was late. It wasn’t the worst. She and Tony had been friends for years, the older man taking interest in her fascinating ideas and valued input. Before he had Peter or even Harley to look after, Tony was a mentor to Y/N. One could even argue their bond was that of a father and daughter. Or maybe a weird uncle and nerdy niece. So Tony would surely understand if traffic was bad, delaying her visit. That didn’t make her any less nervous. Much like Parker, Y/N greatly appreciated her mentor-ship with Stark. Any misstep in her brain equaled disappointing her mentor. The second she finally got past security she wanted to scream. The once-open elevator door was about to close. If she were anywhere else, this would be fine. But this was the Avengers Tower, standing tall at nearly 50 (or more) floors. If she was going to get to Stark on time she’d have to get there now. Y/N did the only thing she could do — she ran. Others in the lobby probably thought she was deranged, soaking wet from the rain outside running as fast as her legs could carry her. The Russian Assassin in the elevator certainly thought so. Although that didn’t stop Natasha from shooting her arm out to hold the door for the drenched scientist.

   “Thank you so much!” y/n said as she attempted to compose herself. She felt like the universe was finally giving her a break. Well, a cramped one. Although she was in the elevator, she stood there, shoulder to shoulder with 8 other people. But what mattered is that she was on her way. That's all she could tell herself until she was interrupted by the buzzing of her phone. How was she going to get it out of her bag when she couldn’t even lift her arm?

   “Excuse me, sorry,” she muttered, bumping into the man beside her as she attempted to get her phone. Then again, another break from the universe. People in the elevator began pouring out, escaping to the current floor. Must be popular, she thought.

   “Hello?”

   “Kid! Where are you? Banner just did something awesome, and I have to show you soon before the excitement dies down and I get bored and forget!” he exclaimed.

   “Mr. Stark, I’m in the elevator right now, I should be there soon!”

   “Hey! What did I tell you?” he interrupted, his voice playfully stern.

   She sighed. “That Mr. Stark is your father’s name, and your father is a dick. Sorry, Tony, I just left work so I’m still in that ‘professional, ever-respectful!’ mindset.”

   “Okay kid. We may need a bit of that professional mindset once we get to work, someone needs to help Bruce stop me from burning down the lab. See ya in a bit.”

   She put her phone away with a sigh. Y/N had a lot of work ahead of her today and an even lower chance of getting a decent night’s sleep. But that didn’t deter her excitement at the prospects of a new project either.

  “You one of Stark's science friends?” Natasha asked. Given that being a spy was kind of her thing, she made it a priority to scope out any visitors to the tower the best she could. Even with high-end security technology and a boatload of security guards, Nat felt more assured by her watchful eye.

   The scientist jumped. The red-haired lady! Shit, she forgot she was standing there.

   “Yes! I’m a protege of his, y/n l/n.” you clarified.

   “Ah. So you’re one of his genius kids he goes on about.” Nat’s interest was piqued. Tony spoke of nothing but high regard for the few people he’s mentored. Although she wasn’t used to getting to meet any of them, with SHIELD & missions keeping her busy and out of the tower.

   Wait, y/n thought, who is this woman? Despite having such a bright mind it took a second or two for the gears to turn.

   “You’re the Black Widow!” y/n said. Tony frequently mentioned The Avengers. Just by how he spoke about them, she could tell they were like family to him. Along with that and the kind of work they do, she believed it was safe to say they were trustworthy. The fact that they’ve saved the world several times becomes far more apparent when she talks to another avenger besides Tony.

   Natasha inhaled. Out of all of the Avengers, Natasha was one of the most controversial. While many regarded her as a hero and role model, others didn’t trust her on account of her past. It didn’t take long for her to get used to rude remarks from the ladder. Most of the public encounters she had received were rude. Either this scientist was going to shrink away in fear or start asking annoyingly nosy questions.

   “Yes,” Nat replied as she braced herself.

   “Nice to meet you, Tony’s told me about you! Thanks for all of the avenger stuff you do. Well, stuff is sort of a minuscule word to describe what you do. That was disrespectful. Oh, God. I’m rambling—”

   Before Natasha could reassure her that it was fine, and had not disrespected her but surprised her with the kindness she had displayed, a loud screech filled the elevator. Suddenly, it ceased to go up. Then the lights were gone.

   “Oh no,” y/n muttered.

   “Tony, what’s going on?” Natasha said into her earpiece.

   “Bruce and I did an oopsie. A big oopsie. Banner and I are working on it now.”

   “Okay. I’m in the elevator with your protege. I’ll escort her to your lab once this clears up.” Nat affirms.

   “Thank you, Romanoff. Don’t worry, you’ll both be out of that elevator in — wait — Banner! How long will they be stuck in there?” he shouted. Banner gave an unintelligible reply on their end.

   “Probably an hour and a half. Maybe more. I don’t know. Please don’t kill me. Bye!” and with that, Tony hung up.

   “An hour?!” you asked incredulously. You didn’t like this. This elevator was incredibly high up. What if it fell. What if it collapsed beneath them. What if it exploded. Your thoughts got more irrational by the second. It got harder and harder to breathe. Ever since you were a child, you’ve loathed a few things, heights, awkward situations, and being trapped. This checked all of the boxes. Your breathing got more and more desperate. Fuck. A hand softly touched your shoulder.

   “Hey,” Nat whispered.

   “It’s going to be okay. I am right here with you. Tony and Bruce are fixing this, and we’ll get out of here eventually. Your names y/n, right?” she asked. The assassin was not going to let Stark's protege die of a panic attack in this elevator with her. If she did, Tony would have her head.

   “Yeah.” you huffed out.

   “Well, y/n, it looks like we’re going to be stuck in here a while. So just hang tight. I won’t let anything happen to you, okay?”

   You stared at her in shock. You honestly didn’t expect this sort of gentleness from the Black Widow, but you welcomed it nonetheless. It helped a bit, but it didn’t stop your panting, unfortunately. Shit, how do I breathe? you thought.

   Nat thought as the scientist vigorously nodded. She and the other Avengers had received training for this type of thing a while ago. In their line of work, they’re bound to encounter civilians who need help, whether it be a physical or mental issue. She had to calm this girl down.

   “Okay y/n, I want you to look at me. We’re gonna take deep breaths together, okay?” Natasha gently said.

   You nodded. It was getting hard to speak, so it was probably a sign you should comply. Maybe breathing exercises would help. You began to inhale and exhale with the redhead next to you in tandem, finding yourself more grounded in the reality the closer you are to her. You felt safe. With a final breath, you shuddered, finally able to get a word out.

   “Wow. Thank you so much. I’m sorry I freaked out on you there.” To say you were embarrassed was an understatement. You met an incredibly strong, famous, and a quite beautiful avenger and you end up having a panic attack with her in an elevator.

   “It’s okay. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. If you want we can talk a bit until this is fixed.” the assassin reassured. Nat wasn’t one for small talk, especially with strangers. But she had a feeling that conversation would help calm y/n in the meantime.

   “Cool! Cool. So how’s Avengers stuff?” you asked.

   “Classified. Maybe it would be better if I learned more about you.” Natasha smiled. She wasn’t sure where that came from.

   “Okay! I’m y/n. Well, you already know that. I’m one of Tony’s science kids. I moved here to New York City a month ago to work under his wing. I just graduated from Stanford and I’ll be working on my Ph.D. at Columbia.” she explained.

   Wow. This girl must be smart, Natasha thought. Though it wasn’t surprising considering Tony Stark was her mentor.

  “Impressive. How did you both meet?”

  “We met when I was in high school. He was visiting to do a presentation for my class when he noticed me in the back. I was a bit... rebellious during my teen years, so I hadn’t really been paying much attention. He made a point to talk to me afterward.”

   “Huh. I didn’t take Stark for the disciplinary type.”

   “I had assumed he was. No kid in high school wants an adult to tell them to talk in private. That means it’s either creepy or something horrible happened. Anyways, he asked me why I was so distracted. I showed him my notebook, and he looked through a bunch of blueprints of mine at the time. He was impressed, I was scared out of my mind, and the rest is history. I’m just glad I didn’t get detention.”

   Natasha chuckled. This y/n was quite the nerd. But definitely a cute one. The redhead couldn’t cease the words she began to say.

   “If you’re gonna be working with him on a regular basis, I assume we’ll be seeing each other a lot. Maybe once we’re out of here I can give you a tour?” Natasha asked. To say she was confused was an understatement. Typically when she initiates anything social, it’s for the benefit of whatever mission or objective she had. Yet this had seemed to be something she had done to benefit herself. What was it about this girl that made her feel so strange? Natasha was cut off from her thoughts as y/n began to speak.

   “That would be great, thank you! Yeah, I’m going to be in here a lot. Whenever I’m done at university in the afternoon, I’ll be on my way here to work with Tony. It would be nice to make some friends here.” y/n replied.

   Friends. Natasha liked the sound of that.

    You gazed at your reflection in the mirror with a strange sense of pride. You looked gorgeous. Your and Steve’s wedding was finally here. One of your bridesmaids, Katie, a friend you grew fond of in college added the last bit of highlighter to your cheekbone. 

   “Holy Shit.” Katie sighed.

   “What’s wrong?” you asked, taken aback by her language.

   “Nothing! You just look like an angel and I want to cry. You’re getting married, y/n!” Katie Cried.

   That realization was as shocking to you as it was to your sobbing friend. Married. The recent weeks felt like a dream. A wonderful one, at that. You and Steve had been going strong for 3 years ever since you moved to NYC. You’ve become so close with the Avengers with you working beside Tony, bringing you and Steve together was inevitable. Just like how becoming best friends with Natasha was bound to happen. Where others may have found your quirky and excitable nature a tad overbearing, Steve and Natasha shared the same sentiment that it was adorable. Another quality about you they’ve come to cherish, although Natasha’s adoration may be more than what you or Steve imagined.

   Another bridesmaid, close friend, and associate Helen Cho came in with the aforementioned assassin trailing behind her.

   “Oh my gosh!” Helen exclaimed. 

    “Natasha, isn’t she stunning?” Katie asked.

    You and every bridesmaid in the room had no idea about the war raging in Natashas head. The ever-growing battle to compose herself. She knew this would be hard. But she couldn’t have prepared herself for this. Natasha was speechless. Her eyes froze upon your beautiful figure, your wedding dress seemingly glowing in the light. You didn’t even look real. Nothing this ethereal can be real, she thought. 

    Natasha cleared her throat, “Look at that, l/n. You’ve rendered me speechless.” 

    You chuckled. Natasha always had a way of making you smile. Any nerves you had dissipated now that she had entered the room.

    “Anyways, it’s almost time gorgeous. Are you ready?” Katie asked.

    “No, but I don’t think I ever will be,” you said.

    The nerves began to return. This is huge. You’re marrying Steve Rogers! Captain fucking America! Before you could begin to hyperventilate, Natasha cupped your cheek.

    “Sweetheart. You look incredible. You are incredible. Everything is going to be fine, the others and I have it handled. All you have to do is look pretty and enjoy yourself, okay?” the assassin reassured.

    An exhale escaped your lips. There it was again. That magical ability Natasha had to make all the bad things go away. You couldn’t do this without her. Without any regard for your makeup or dress, you jumped to hug her. You squeezed as tight as you could. It would be a lie to deny you didn’t want to let go. Everything always felt right in her arms.

    Natasha froze. She’d never get used to this. The physical or verbal affection. She avoided it at first but now she craved your touch more than anything. She began to relax. Now that you were marrying Steve, she feared she might not see as much of you anymore. Maybe you’d drift apart. All the time that could be set aside for her, would now be reserved for Steve. Natasha had to embrace this while she still could. The assassin took your hand and smiled. While the others saw a purely platonic smile, Natasha was desperately trying to ward off any unhappy tears from this occasion. He was going to take you away. And all she could do was let him.

    “Steve. Steve. Steve!” Sam was getting desperate. The captain he had been close friends with had confined himself in his office, to drown in files and work. He knew how difficult things could get for Steve sometimes. Being a man out of time came with perks and flaws. The captain appreciated the future, the technology, the entertainment, everything. Although at times it was a bit too much for him to handle. During those times he’d find himself where he is now, hiding in his office to work as if time didn’t exist. Sam understood that. But the pilot couldn’t let his friend overwork himself like this.

    “Sorry, Sam. I lost track of time.” Steve groaned as he opened the door.

    “It’s okay, man. Are you alright?” Sam asked, his voice laced with concern.

    “I just needed to… get away.”

    “I get that. But Steve, there are healthier ways of getting away rather than overworking yourself. You deserve time to relax. That’s why I don’t think you should go on this next mission.”

    “Sam, please. It’s alright, I’m more than ready for this.” Steve wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince Sam or himself.

    “When’s the last time you ate?” 

    “Sam-”

    “When’s the last time you did something other than work?”

    Steve sighed. Sam had a point there. Steve downed several cups of coffee at a meager attempt at breakfast, and that was several hours ago. He needed to eat. He couldn’t even recall the last time he relaxed.

    “I’m sorry Sam. You’re right. I may not be in the right headspace for this mission after all.”

    “Don’t worry Steve. You need this. Natasha’s been itching for a mission so I’ll ask her to go instead.” Sam was about to say more until a loud noise interrupted his sentence. The sound was a goliath, desperate for release.

    “Steve. Was that your stomach?”, Sam asked with a hint of shock.

    The captain looked down in shame.

    “Go eat and relax. Take a couple of days off. I’ll handle it from here, okay?” Sam chuckled.

    Steve had thanked Sam graciously before heading off. He didn’t know what he’d do without him. Luckily the power was back on after Tony’s alleged “oopsie,” so he’d be able to escape the tower for some well-deserved lunch. The Captain patiently waited towards the elevator. After a minute or two, his teammate Natasha had walked out with an unfamiliar face. A pretty unfamiliar face. Ever since Peggy and coming out of the ice, Steve had been shy at the prospect of romance. Not only was he afraid to lose someone he loved again, but he feared the generational difference would deter any prospective dates. 

    Natasha paused her conversation with y/n to greet the captain until she got a call.

    “Hey, Sam,” she listened intently. “A mission?”

    Nat sighed. She did want a mission. But she wanted to get to know this girl as well. What was she doing? Why was she letting a girl she just met fluster her like this? She can’t let this distract her from her job, as tempting as it was.

    “Sorry y/n, I won’t be able to give you a tour right now. Duty calls. Steve, could you show her where Tony’s lab is?” the assassin asked.

    “Oh! Sure.” 

    “Great. I’ll talk to you soon y/n.” Natasha began walking away. She had a job to do. Socializing could come afterward. Although no matter how many times she would tell herself that, she’d still wish she stayed.

    “Hi, it’s nice to meet you! Steve, right?” unlike your encounter with Natasha, you recognized this avenger right away. Steve Rogers, Captain America. He’s even more handsome in person, you thought bashfully.

    Steve was relieved to talk to someone who treated him like a normal person. When you’re Captain America, interactions like these can be hard to come by. He smiled.

    “Yes, I’m Steve Rogers. It’s nice to meet you, y/n. Tony and Bruce are a couple of halls down from here, follow me.” 

As they walked down the hallway he began, “So, you’re one of Tony’s proteges, right? He mentioned that one of you would start working with him today.”

You nodded. Steve seemed a bit more open to conversation than Natasha.

“I’ll be here every day to help him out. I might work on some stuff for the Avengers as well.”

“I guess we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other then,” he said with a grin. Is this what Sam and Natasha had told him about, flirting in the 21st century? Was what he just did, flirting? He honestly wasn’t sure, but a part of him hoped it was. As they chatted while they walked, he found himself more and more interested in her. This y/n was very smart, kind, and funny. Before he knew it, they stood at the doorway to Tony’s lab. He was honestly disappointed. He doesn’t find conversation with other people like this often.  Reminiscing upon Sam’s advice to relax, he felt a surge of boldness go through him.

“I’m going out to get lunch, but maybe when you’re done we could get some coffee together?” 

“That would be great!” you replied. You hoped you hadn’t sounded too enthusiastic. This guy was cute, charming, and seemingly a pretty good guy. The idea of learning more about Steve Rogers, the man behind Captain America intrigued you. As you gave him your number you could’ve sworn you saw him blush. Once you were done you’d get to meet Captain America for coffee.

Steve patiently waited at the end of the aisle. He was itching to see her. The normally patient man wanted nothing more than to hold her tight. Sam, his best man, must have noticed this when he patted Steve’s back.

“Slow down captain. She’ll be here soon.”

    Time froze when she walked in. He teared up a bit. This was happening. He finally found love, after everything he’s been through. Steve could look at you in that present moment forever.

    Natasha stood by and saw it all. She could see the excitement in your face. The pure adoration in Steve’s eyes. This was happening and nothing would stop it. She steeled herself as she stood next to you, watching as you and Steve said your vows. Nat made sure not to pay too close attention. If she had to listen to one more word about your and Steve’s undying love for each other, she would scream. Then it happened.

    Cheers erupted from the guests as you and Steve kissed. You’ve kissed so many times but you’d always remember this one. He held you as close as he could and you gladly stayed in his arms. How could anything get better than this? You’re marrying the love of your life, surrounded by the people you love.

    While you hugged Sam, Natasha stood next to Steve and whispered something for his ears only.

    “If you hurt her in any way, shape, or form, I’ll make sure you stay in the ice for good.” 

    Steve assumed she was joking at first, but her tone implied otherwise. He shuddered. He wasn’t used to being on the receiving end of Natasha Romanoff’s genuine threats. For such a delightful moment in his life, he felt threatened. Despite his uneasiness, Steve wasn’t going to let a single threat ruin this for him. He simply grinned and gave you another tight hug. You married him, not Natasha. Everything else left his mind as he walked away with you, hand in hand. Steve had long forgotten Natasha’s threat. But she hadn’t. The Russian assassin swore that she would stand by her threat until the time would come to act on it.

[dreamersparacosm]

ngl i kinda feel bad for whoever the next person austin will date IF he and kaia ever break up. bc i know that everyone is gonna compare her to v and kaia regardless if she’s famous or not. i mean even kaia gets loads of hate and stuff and everyone is saying “i want v back” or “u’ll never compare to v” and “he’s still thinking about her” and i know some of us have expressed that we want austin and v back and we reminisce about their relationship and there’s nothing necessarily wrong with that, BUT we do have to remember that they are both in happy relationships and seem to be doing well over all in life and seem happy. this isn’t directed at u or any of the anons, i had just a tiktok about austin and kaia and the comment section was flooded w everyone hating on kaia and saying she wasn’t enough for him and v was better and i just feel bad that celebs who date ppl have to go through that and anyone that dates a celeb has to experience so many ppl telling u u arent enough:(

yesss!! this is one of the main things i talk about on my blog, i’ve said it before and i’ll say it again: i respect kaia and personally, i love her style. i have nothing against her.

doesn’t mean i’m not gonna ship olivia and austin or talk about vanessa and austin, because those are my own personal thoughts, but i would NEVER comment that on kaia’s instagram or on public tik tok comments that she can access

i think we all have to remember as well that austin chose to date her, and even if you don’t like it, it doesn’t matter because realistically, we’re not all going to date him lmao. we have no say in what he does in his life

[butterflyrry]

Wow, imagine admitting to being old enough to be a mom to a 8 year old and still have a blog like this were you shit talk another mother every single day. There is something seriously wrong with you and I'm sorry for you kid. If I knew who you were I would call child protective services on you because your behavior on your blog proves you are not fit to be a mother.

I normally don’t respond to hate in the inbox but I want you all to see what it’s like for the PR blogs. I’ve been called crazy, misogynist, sexist, Qanon supporter, pedophile, Harry hater, and now an unfit mother. And why? Because I share opinions on a blog that someone doesn’t like. The other PR blogs get the same shit day after day, too, and maybe more because I’m mostly in my own little corner of the internet and don’t have quite the traffic/reach that they do.

Look, this is a hobby for me. I started a blog because I wanted to talk about Harry and the stunt with other Harry fans who felt the same. (I’m old enough to know bullshit when I see it.). It’s supposed to be fun (and mostly it is) and an escape from the realities of daily life. I have quite a few nice followers and anons that I enjoy talking to and bonding over our love of Harry and dislike for the stunt. But the dickheads like this one do their very best to ruin it.

To the anon: This is what I don’t understand. Ok, you worship Olivia and you think Holivia is the greatest love story ever. Good for you. I don’t agree but I’m also not out looking for blogs that I don’t like/don’t agree with to send anonymous hate. I’m also not making threats to those mods. Someone in this equation has a problem but it’s not me.

As for my child, she is healthy, happy, loved, and with her mother every day. I’m not unemployed or out chasing a man all over the world in pursuit of fame and fortune, which is something your queen can’t say. Thanks for your concern but I’m pretty sure CPS isn’t taking anyone’s child away for not liking a celebrity and sharing opinions on a blog that hurt your feelings.

Until next time you show up in my inbox…TPWK and fuck off.