#bo also LOVES to complain about other students

[bloodiegawz]

Jack! The good boy!

The good boy indeed! This is Bo's workout partner :3

As goes for all of Savanaclaw, Jack is one of the people Bo is closest to. A decent guy with a good heart and a shit ton of fluff and muscle. What's not to love? Though, Bo has a habit of getting touchy with him a lot- he doesn't intend to make him uncomfortable, but he feels a lot safer when he has someone to cling to. He's getting better about it...

Bo asked Jack about working out together fairly early on. He's a small girl with little to no muscle and zero stamina on a campus full of people who will pick a fight over anything. Plus having something more tailored to his level than Vargas' reps would probably benefit him. Jack mostly just spots him while Bo works at his own pace, trying to make sure he doesn't hurt himself (which happens incredibly often because he tends to push himself through his pains), but he also gets super proud when Bo reaches a new best. Did five pushups? Hell yeah, that's more than the three from yesterday!

Bo also planned to join him for morning jogging, albeit with plenty more breaks than usual, but that meant getting up earlier. Which was miserable. He dropped that pretty quickly.

Jack will never admit it, but he lets Bo crash in his room fairly often when he's sleep deprived or hurting particularly bad because he gets worried. Bo is just happy to be there. As much as he likes Grim, the beast isn't exactly the greatest company for him if he's in a lot of pain (mostly because poor Grim doesn't have an off switch), meaning Ramshackle isn't a super pleasant place to rest.

[chrissv4mp]

say you were tryna' make me laugh .❤️‍🩹

summary: matt lets it slip that he loves you and you try to tell him that he can't, that he needs to take it back.

pairing: fem!reader × bsf!matt sturniolo

warnings: angst, maybe some vulgar language, high-school au, etc.

a/n: PLEASEE i need billies new album now💔🙏 also this might be a potential series....👀👀

matt was your best friend, followed you every where you went and did everything you asked of him. you guys may have gotten into fights sometimes, but only small arguments.

he was perfect, and your other friends had always encouraged you to ask him out. but you never did, because you knew that he never really talked about that sort of stuff because of his social media presence.

and maybe it was also because you were a little scared to, because you saw yourself as unlovable and you couldn't bear to see the look of disgust on your bestfriends face if he rejected you.

you wouldn't be able to be around him anymore if he rejected you, it would be so awkward and wouldn't be at all how it used to be. your connection just wouldn't have that same spark.

"hey, dummy," matts voice erupted from behind you, and you turned to look over at him.

he took a seat next to yours at the small table in the corner of the cafeteria, smiling over at you as he set his tray down.

"hi, idiot," you laughed, cringing as you took a look at the cafeteria food, "seriously, you're gonna get food poisoning from that one day."

matt just shrugged, "well, i got to have a full stomach throughout the day or else i'll be tired during practice. and frankly, i do not want to get yelled at by coach williams."

he continued to grab the apple off his tray, biting into it.

"he's so scary, i don't know how you can even look him in the eyes." you said, and mayt chuckled.

"yeah, well, i've dealt with some scary people in the past."

you knew that was true, and you knew for a fact that he was talking about his ex-girlfriend, summer. she was such a bitch, always controlling matt and the things he did.

nodding, you went back to simple chatter like complaining about how your classes are way too long, and how the teachers don't care about their students.

both of you still remember when matt laughed at those jokes you made about the teachers back when he was dating summer. he still laughed even at his lowest times, even when he felt like dying.

his smile looked so sincere to others, yet only you could tell what was going on in his head, those bad thoughts. his anxiety had only gotten worse when him and summer became a thing.

whereas matt could never tell what was going on behind those eyes. you always kept your composure, making sure nobody got to you.

"catch!" that was the thing you had heard just before a football went flying in your direction.

it hit you straight in the face, and you stumbled to the ground, groaning as you held your cheek.

matt had watched as the boy who threw the ball begin to laugh, and his hands clenched into fists before rushing to your aid.

"y/n, are you okay?" he muttered, grabbing your hand and helping you back on your feet.

smiling at the boy, you nodded, "mhm, just my cheek hurts a little."

matt couldn't contain himself anymore, it was always that same dipshit who picked on you. this was his final straw.

leaving your side, matt went to grab the football before rushing over to the guy. before he could even comprehend what was happening, matt threw the ball at his face.

the tip of the football hit his nose, hard. with how close matt was and how much force he had put into the throw, it definitely broke the guy's nose.

"what the fuck?!" he whined, holding his bloodied nose as he shut his eyes tight.

you could only stand there, hands clasped over your mouth in shock at what matt had just done. he was never the type to have sudden outbursts like this, and he surely wasn't the type to confront someone.

"maybe fight someone of your gender next time, bud." matt smiled fakely, shoving the boys shoulder before returning to your side.

he hadn't said a word to you, he just interlaced your arms and began walking somewhere else in the courtyard.

when the two of you had settled in a more quiet area under a tree, matt finally spoke, "i'm sorry,"

"i guess i was just fed up with him always picking on you. and i mean, seriously, what fucking guy messes with a girl?" he scoffed, rubbing his knee as he looked down.

your lips curved into a small smile as you reached over to grab his hand. you slid your fingers between his, and they fit almost perfectly.

matt's face went pink, and he looked away with a smile.

"i know you just want to keep me safe matt, it's okay. don't be sorry." you said quietly, running your thumb over the top of his hand.

the sky was a soft orange, some pink blending in as the mountains covered the rest of it.

matt and yourself were sitting on a blanket at the park, waiting until it was dark to see the stars.

it was something the two of you did occasionally, and yet you never got bored of it. your conversations were always new and the stars had always seemed to be arranged differently.

matt couldn't help but get lost in the sight of the sun setting, his mind going completely blank.

"you never see a sunset in your life?" you joked quietly, and matt laughed as he looked over at you.

"be quiet," his hand ran over the soft fabric of the blanket, and suddenly all he could think about was you.

the sun set faster than you thought, and soon enough the stars were out. you and matt lay side by side as you stare up at the night sky, fixated on each and every little detail.

the silence was comforting and sweet, the feeling of matt being present beside you made you feel like there was some sense of security surrounding the two of you.

matt's lips parted, and he turned his head to state at you for a little. you seemed so lost in thought, so peaceful like this.

"what ya thinkin' about?" matt whispered, a smile creeping onto his face.

you shrugged before turning to look him in the eyes, "if i said it, it'd weird you out."

his smile became wider, and he turned his head to look back at the stars, "eh, i think if i told you what i was thinking about right now, you'd quite literally slap me."

chuckling, you continued to stare at matt, eyes flickering over all his features.

"really?" matt nodded in response, laughing.

"yep, now c'mon, your thought can't seriously be that bad. tell me, please?" he sounded like a little kid when he begged like this, and that was one of the reasons you loved being his friend.

you dragged your hands down your face, sighing exaggeratedly loud, "fine,"

"i was thinking about how different things would be if we hadn't met." you said, voice soft.

matt nodded, letting a few moments of silence pass by before speaking, "yeah? well, you'd probably be alone woth no joy in your life."

"shut up!" you laughed, punching his shoulder gently.

matt laughed, rolling onto his side to look at you closer.

"now it's your turn, kid." you muttered, smiling at him.

silence enveloped you two again, and this time you could feel a twinge of tension in the air between your two bodies.

he twiddled with his thumbs as his smile faded. he had been full of courage all day and now he couldn't even look at you.

was it really worth risking the friendship?

what if you hadn't felt the same way, what if you didn't love him.

he couldn't even believe the words that came out of his mouth next. they always say sooner is better than later, i guess.

"i love you, y/n." he said quickly, and you almost figured he was joking.

well, until you saw that look in his eyes. the look that he gave summer at the beginning of their relationship.

fuck.

your smile faded, and you just stared at the boy beside you.

matt tensed, his eyes going anywhere but to your own as he let you process what he said.

"you're lying," was all you could say at the moment.

matt's eyes snapped up to yours at the... accusation? he couldn't tell if it was a question or if you were accusing him.

he shook his head anyway, muttering a quiet disagreement, "i'm not."

"yes, you are, matthew. you can't actually love me," you raised your voice, sitting up as you stared down at him with wide eyes.

the brunette boy sat up next, tears welling in his eyes.

crying wasn't like him, he never cried.

you looked away before speaking up more, "take it back, please,"

he was just joking, he was surely gonna say he was trying to make you laugh. right?

no, he was never the type of guy to joke about stuff like this. he was in love with you, really.

matt shook his head again, sniffling as he wiped his eyes, "no, y/n. it's true."

"no, no. you didn't mean to say 'i love you'," your mind was racing with all kinds of thoughts.

why were you even making this such a big deal, it wasn't like you didn't love him as well. it's just that... you didn't want to.

you didn't want to love him because you knew how things like this went. the breakup would be 10x as hard as a normal one.

now you were both crying, and you hadn't even realized until a tear drop hit your bare knee.

"i'm sorry, fuck, i didn't mean to make you cry." matt apologized, his hands shaky as he reached out for you.

you couldn't help but fall into his arms, sobbing on his shoulder as you tightly wrapped your arms around his waist.

he muttered reassuring things as he rubbed your back, his voice sometimes cracking as he also cried.

this wasn't how the night was supposed to go, you weren't supposed to end up red-eyed in matt's arms.

you were supposed to be staring at the stars and talking nonsense.

now nothing was normal, you could never escape the fact that you loved him now.

"i have to go," you said, pulling away from his embrace to pack up your things.

matt stayed silent, deciding that was the best thing to do right now.

you left without another word, and it wasn't until you were halfway across the park that matt noticed you left your blanket.

his lips parted as he let out a quiet sob. lying back down on the blanket, he cried into it.

it was like you were hugging him, and just for a second he believed that you might be able to forgive him.

but then it faded as doubts came crashing into his mind again.

"i hate you," he muttered to himself, punching the grass once before wrapping himself back up in your blanket.

"i hate you, i hate you, i fucking hate you!" he yelled, sobbing.

. . .

tags: @cindylcuwho @55sturn @ryli3sworld @mattsneezing @voidghsts @films4sturni @h3arts4harry @freshloveee @raysmayhem-72 @imtalkinnonsense @chrissturnswife @cheriematt @mattyb4dominicans @freshloveforthefit

[bokettochild]

LU Opera AU

Links, Zeldas and other major characters run a moderately successful opera house/musical theater. Some are onstage, others are in the orchestra pit or are working Behind The Scenes (special effects, costuming, etc)

Wars is the headlining diva singer

I love it

I can see Four and Flora as like, the special effects crew, they handle anything and everything that isn't the actors and they're fantastic at it.

Lullaby is their director/the owner of the opera house, and Time is her trusty right hand who also acts as the choreography director and main stunt writer. He doesn't preform, but he runs the actors through their hoops before they can even think of stepping out onto the stage.

I see Wind less as a performer and more like the gopher, and Legend is less an actor and more a jack-of-all-trades. Costume department had a flummox? Call Legend, he'll fix it. One of the props is missing? Legend will find something you can use until that one shows up again. Someone's sick? Get a wig and a dress, Legend will fill in tonight. Just, dude does everything, but never consistently, and never without complaining at least a little.

Warriors would totally be a diva 100%, but he also works hard for it and puts his all into every role. Blood, sweat, and tears, baby, literally. He loves his work and will do whatever it takes to keep his role and status (short of harming someone else of course)

I see Twilight as playing one of two roles, or potentially both. He's the top stunt guy, but he also does the heavy lifting backstage and helps craft the sets with Four. Both are decent actors to boot, so if they need a large cast, both will fill in roles that suit them (Four ends up playing the villain a lot for some reason) as long as someone else can cover their asses in other departments (Flora had lights/sounds covered, no worries)

Wild is that one actor who plays random roles whenever is needed, and he's a comedy genius. My current manager's husband and I were in theater club together and he was brilliant with turning boring moments into comedy gold, and Wild does this 100%. He's best when paired with Fable (they make a good team in SMASH I hear) and they're a brilliant duo, although Legend threatens Wild about his sister a LOT.

Dusk and Artemis are both Warriors' most common co-stars (besides Twilight, Lullaby likes playing up their contrast with each other on stage) and Dusk takes an almost mentorly role with the younger woman. They and Warriors make up the Diva Trio of the group and are the ones who's names pull in teh most money. The only downside is that while Artemis and Wars can both sing, Dusk cannot and it's kinda acting as a road-block in her career.

For this reason, I can see Malon as a music coach Time hired (and is totally not falling in love with, what are you talking about) who kinda just works beside Ravio (their in house prop maker)to get this group of dedicated idiots to take care of themselves. not that Time's sisters and brothers (Saria and the others) don't try, but they don't work there.

Honestly, i'm running out of ideas. But to finish off Sky would be Time's best student. I mean, his sword-fighting and stunts are through the roof (sometimes literally) and he enjoys most of his work. maybe because he has a sword-fighting instructor outside of work (Fi) but that's beside the point.

Hyrule is the new kid who signed on to help Legend and Ravio with props and costumes and stuff, but he's like, really talented and crap and all the teams are trying to poach him from Leg and Rav, despite how fiercely protective of him they are. He's not exactly comfortable with the idea of performing yet, but everyone is trying to have him at least try (were this a story, warriors would try and coach him, end up mysteriously and plot-relevantly sick/injured and Hyrule would have to heroically step up and fill his role because Legend can't for some reason)

....

Okay that's all I got, sorry for the dump, but inspiration hit me like a lightning bolt to Legend's boat

[awholelottayeehaw]

Everyone's Feelings are Valid Regarding Mando Season 3

As a neurodivergent teacher whose students are on spring break, I finally have the time to weigh in on the Mando Season 3 debate after seeing how divided the fandom is. This mini essay is meant to be a logical and safe middle ground for everyone, to remind everyone that your feelings are valid regardless of what they are, and that even if your opinions/feelings are valid that doesn't meant they're fact or justifiable to police how others think and feel.

This contains spoilers for Mando S3, Rebels, and Clone Wars and is written while I'm high on benadryl so approach at your own risk! I may go back and edit this and edit out/rewrite points to make them more succinct or add points others may have that should be included and don't want anyone to feel gaslit if they see any changes they don't recall seeing before.

1. More Than Two Ways to Feel

From what I gather, the two main opinions on this season are either it's a great season and anyone who disagrees is what's wrong with Star Wars, or that this season is a disappointing let down after waiting so long for Din to return. Both are valid, but since Star Wars fans tend to see outcomes in extremes, I want to point out that those aren't the only two options available, you can also:

be disappointed with this season while continuing to be a huge fan of the show

and

enjoy this season while recognizing the writing and quality isn't up to the standards the show had set in previous seasons or even the promises it made with this one.

The Mandalorian was the first piece of live action media since the Clone Wars that sparked the interest of even non Star Wars fans because it offered something new and exciting to a world and lore we're all familiar with that doesn't demand you to know 50 years of Star Wars history nor does it jeopardize characters and storylines long time fans are protective of.

Because of this, it's easy to forget that Star Wars fans are now sharing The Mandalorian with casual Star Wars fans or even exclusive fans to the show without having any interest in exploring the SW universe further through other forms of media.

I'd argue the first instance of this being taken away from casual fans was in The Book of Boba Fett by requiring them to view it to stay i in the know for Season 3 along with the return of Cad Bane who, for fans of the cartoons, flipped out seeing his live action form. But for those who only watched BOBF as fans of Mando, a lot of viewers were like:

Bo Katan, Ahsoka, Luke, and Boba Fett's resurrection in Mando were written in smoothly that excited long time SW fans familiar with them while allowing casual fans to enjoy the story because said characters stood on their own as supporting roles without taking away from their their origins. But throwing in characters like Cad Bane and even other Rebels/Clone Wars characters into Season 3 of Mando, it doesn't give casual fans a reason to stay or feel satisfied if they're not in the know with these beloved niche of characters.

And because of this, it's easy to unintentionally police said fans with how strongly you may feel as someone with deep rooted knowledge of the franchise.

Casual fans of the show shouldn't have to be spoiled or talked down to for not sharing the same enthusiasm as other fans because they don't know who a character is/their importance to the SW universe or for having differing opinions and feelings over a show that wasn't originally built on any previous Star Wars lore. And older fans who love all SW lore who are disappointed are allowed to feel let down after 3 years for this season to not be how it was advertised just as fans who are loving this season shouldn't be mocked for enjoying the ride regardless of where it goes. We're all valid here.

2. Mando Has Always Had Side Quests, but Not Without Plot

If I had a dollar for every

"Mando has always been about side quests! Why are people complaining about this format NOW?"

comment I read, I'd have enough to maybe... have a nice meal somewhere.

Has the Mandalorian been told through side quests? Yes and no. It's been 3 years since the last season aired and I think a lot of people will look back at the previous 2 seasons with vague memories of Din and Grogu traversing through time and space as father and son while helping wayward future friends and getting their asses handed to them by alien animal species when it wasn't quite like that.

The first season starts with Din being hired after a particularly easy job to hunt down a difficult quarry. Din requires the help of a moister farmer to get to the kid since he can't land the ship close enough to the mark without setting off security, and discovers said quarry is a child. He spends the rest of the season getting the kid back to the Imps, saving him from the Imps, blacklisting himself from his job, unintentionally setting up his covert for a massacre, trying to lay low and find a safe place for the kid to grow up so he can go back to his old life only to realize he can't as long as the kid is wanted, and proceeds to take on a few jobs to feed them and avoid the Empire until he's called back to deal with Karga's ambush and getting sucked into a trap intended for Grogu and the season ends with Grogu now being Din's foundling and his new mission is to bring Grogu home.

The second season focuses on Din trying to hunt down fellow Mandalorians to help him reunite Grogu to the Jedi, the first episode while on a job reveals that his quarry had seen a Mandalorian on Mos Pelgo which led him to meet Cobb Vanth. The only reason Din stayed is to take back the armor and agreed to earning it back by killing the Krayt Dragon for them and the Raiders. The second episode has Din playing Taxi in return for information about Mandalorians seen on Trask (where Frog Lady was heading). Din agrees to help Bo and her clan to raid an Imperial ship and her information leads him to Ahsoka two episodes later. Because the Mon Calamari's repairs were inadequate, Din goes to help Karga destroy an old Imperial base in return for repairs. He finally finds Ahsoka and helps her confront Elsbeth in exchange of training Grogu (again, I'll circle back to this as a Season 3 plot point that fell through). She decides she won't train him due to Grogu's attachment and anger in his heart for what he went through and points Din to a temple where Grogu can contact other Jedi for training and from there, he's capture, Din loses his ship, he finds Grogu's location with the help of his newfound friends, and saves Grogu only to give him over to Luke while now being the proud owner of a weapon and defunct planet.

So is Mando ALL random side quests with no point? No. Each episode interwove into the next effortlessly while being a self contained episode that never failed to remind you the importance of each mission, side quest, and character that Din interacted with. And it's hard to miss the overall theme of honor, identity, and religious guilt that Din faces and questions each episode up until the end when he chooses to show Grogu his face as an ultimate act of love.

But with Season 3, I can't tell you how any of the episodes connect or what they hint at to the overall season plot and we're six (seven, if you're reading this after the episode drops) episodes into an 8 episode season. Even if by the final episode things all tie together, it didn't have the same smooth transitions as the previous seasons had nor did they remind you of what we might've forgotten information wise in these three years and that's why a lot of these episodes feel pointless compared to the urgency that Din and Grogu faced leading up to his departure with Luke. Which brings me to...

3. Season 3's Plot Failed in Season 2 and BOBF

Yet two other comments I've seen that could buy me a second fancy meal somewhere or just a fancy ass desert for a family of 4 by myself is:

Season 3 has no plot! It's pointless! It's boring!

and

Season 3 has a plot! Just because it's not about Din anymore doesn't mean there lacks plot!

And to this, yet again, I say... yes and no to both. Season 3, as I mentioned in my previous point, hasn't woven in an overarching plot like its previous two seasons and so the urgency is not only not there, but it doesn't remind you of why you need to care or stick around for Din's redemption arc (whichever that may be) or whatever is going on with Bo and the Armorer and the Empire. But I don't fault Season 3 for having bad writing necessarily, but rather throwing out their best plot point for Book of Boba Fett and (as I mentioned before) not recapping what was mentioned in Season 2.

No one can convince me that The Book of Boba Fett wasn't a ploy for Disney+ to keep Mando fans happy and excited while they figured out Season 3. I will die on this hill. It's been 3 years and I already heard fans losing hope and grumbling about it before I even joined Tumblr. No matter how loyal a fanbase is, you still lose them to other media when what they crave isn't available in a certain amount of time and BOBF was the balm to that ache for many of us despite us also simultaneously being disappointed in how they handled BOBF. Boba and BIPOC characters deserve better. But that's for another essay.

Season 3 failed the moment Din and Grogu were reunited in BOBF along with Din's new ship. This broke what made Mando so unique and special as stated in my first point where fans could casually get into Mando without needing decades of SW lore to enjoy it, and now those fans are left behind because they didn't realize they had to invest in The Book of Boba Fett to be included in the Members Only Season of The Mandalorian and that's being reflected in its ratings.

I genuinely believe if they had opened Mando Season 3 with his entrance in BOBF and led the first two episodes with Din tracking down his tribe after delivering his bounty for said information, was made an apostate, and rejected to see Grogu all in one episode... that would have given the season far more possibilities for plot than what this season has offered us in the last 6 episodes. And especially so if they recapped the important plot details that Season 2 set up but expected fans to remember after 3 years and tied those plot points in in a way that upped the urgency Season 3 has lacked so far.

In Chapter 11: The Heiress when Din is saved by Bo and her clan, he only agrees to help them with their raid in exchange for where he can find a Jedi teacher for Grogu. But what did they need that raid for? To steal weapons in order to take down the Imperial remnants that still plunder Mandalore that will help them retake their planet. Aside from Bo's castle getting blown up by TIE fighters, we're not reminded of this fact at all during this season. Din and Bo were able to get to Mandalore with ease and stroll around like it was nothing. There were no ships hovering around the planet, no secret bases, no symbols, not even recently defunct battle droids. Mandalore was painted as a planet that was free real-estate that they could've moved in to that day the moment they realized the planet had breathable air and just some old robots and troll species to worry about. There was no reminder of this being a potentially dangerous planet as an Imperial wasteland.

But Bo's castle got blown up by TIE fighters! Where do you think they came from? The threat was obvious!

...Except it wasn't. Bo was moping around that castle in broad day light, not attempting to hide. Why didn't they blow her castle up sooner if she was a threat? And even if it came out later that Bo was part of the siege to free Gideon, they should have made it less obvious because yeah where DID they come from? Sure as shit not Mandalore, and why when she's united with Din the second time in this episode? And if this threat is linked to Thrawn, as we see his return in the trailer for Ahsoka, they should have recapped Chapter 13: The Jedi where Ahsoka shook down Elsbeth for information regarding where Thrawn's location is (which leads to Ahsoka's spin off series).

So yes the plot IS there, just not written in a way that reminds fans of what was at stake leading up to Season 3 and expanded upon those threats even within just opening scenes. The Mandalorian had brilliantly made whatever the opening scene was as foreshadowing the rest of the episode's plot. Season 3 could have used those recaps, flashbacks, or even a bonus scene to something we already saw in the previous season as that reminder audiences need after 3 years to remember what the stakes are and why it still impacts Din and Grogu regardless if Bo is now going on either a redemption journey herself or is secretly the season's antagonist.

And even if Bo is meant to be a central character, Mando has glossed over the fact that she was responsible for Mandalor's downfall TWICE and was considered a traitor, a terrorist, and the reason why her sister was murdered. It's possible they didn't reveal that for specific reasons, but it feels lazy not to hint at it in some ways that let the audience wonder if Bo is meant to be an antagonist or hero this time around, especially as an established selfish, morally gray character. And it's unfair that her redemption is this easy when her laundry list of sins she committed never properly held her accountable, and even with genuine remorse and empathy, Bo still is willing to make choices that benefit her in the long wrong over the benefit of others.

Which leads me to...

4. The Mandalorian Has Always Been About Din and Grogu

"The show is called The Mandalorian, not The Din Djarin and Grogu Show. Anyone can be The Mandalorian, and besides, it's plural!"

First off, The Mandalorian isn't plural. I just want to make that clear. The Mandalorian is a singular person and, although yes it can be anyone, it's explicitly about Din he is THE Mandalorian who walked the surface to bring back money, food, and goods to his tribe while everyone else stayed underground, hiding. Din made a name for himself as the best Bounty Hunter in the Parsec in a world where everyone believed Mandalore was a dead, unlivable planet and that

The Mandalorians, much like the Jedi, were extinct. This was reiterated in dialogue throughout the show by multiple characters, and is why Din was so special. Because when they heard about a Mandalorian it's always Din. Even gaining that land for his people, everyone will still turn to Din because he's THE Mandalorian to them. He's the one who has united people, saved towns, been the diplomat, and the reason why many characters and even Nevaro exist. He's the Mando people will recognize and hold esteem for, not anyone else even if Bo does try to take the mantle and that's because she's The Heiress, even to the likes of the Armorer, and The Armorer is the Armorer. Din will never shake that title even if he wanted to, because he's the one who's left a mark on the galaxy he lives in along with his green son, and Bo nor anyone else will be able to take that from him because they'll have their own titles in that universe to live up to whether they like it or not.

"But Din doesn't even want to be the main character in his own show! His story is over, let him and Grogu be at peace!"

That's the other problem, their stories are far from over. We already know that Thrawn is alive, Dr. Pershing doesn't understand how his science is genocidal, and Gideon is walking around with potentially his own Mandalorian bodyguards or is setting Din up. As long as these men exist and the Empire is a problem, they will hunt down Grogu for their cruel science projects and kill Din in order to achieve that. But this season hasn't reminded us of that at all and has given people a false idea that Din and Grogu's stories are over when they absolutely are not. And even if Bo is intended to take the torch from Din, that doesn't wrap up his story or Grogu's it just makes it second fiddle for Bo to either redeem herself or make everything worse again. Time will tell I guess, but do not for a moment think that Din and Grogu are safe. They absolutely are not. Lastly,

5. Strong Stories Have Reluctant Protagonists

"Who wants to watch a show about someone who's a reluctant leader? Mandalor the Reluctant? I don't think so!"

Um... you do. That's literally the hero's journey. Bilbo Baggins never wanted an adventure. He wasn't confident in his abilities and he wasn't interested in helping the dwarves succeed. He was tricked by Gandalf by a false sense of duty. Luke Skywalker was content with his life on Tatooine until his childhood home an aunt and uncle perished and he physically couldn't go back even if he wanted to. Joel was a reluctant father figure to Ellie after his own losses despite his journey starting on greed. There's so many beloved characters that don't even want to star in their own stories but that's what makes them strong characters. They're forced to go on journeys they don't want to help them come to terms with their own inner termoil or even achieve the greatest version of themselves that they wouldn't have risen to if not for their inability to go back to their normal lives before the call of the journey. So even if we're all okay with more Din and Grogu adventure stories or even okay with Bo taking over, it feels unsatisfactory for Din to just hand the darksaber over to Bo after years of trying to get ride of it and handing his son, whom he spent at least a year apart from, to whoever is available to go on unrelated missions with Bo. There's a reason why people feel unsatisfied and disappointed with this season, and it's valid regardless of what you're okay with. Mando was built on strong writing and they've forgone simple solutions to cut corners in order to spit out a mediocre season when it had the potential to be not just fun but an incredible return of Din, Grogu, and introduction of Bo if she's meant to take the mantle down the line.

One more thing!

6. Bo Isn't a Worthy Leader (added 4/12/2023)

I know this may ruffle some peoples' feathers, but hear me out. I want to remind everyone once again I genuinely like Bo and have nothing against her, and my beef is with how the writers treated her this season and have mislead non Clone Wars and Rebels fans.

Bo deserves the title! The darksaber chose her! She wields it so well, and after all that she's gone through she deserves her redemption!!

A lot of fans of the show who haven't watched Rebels don't realize that Bo at one point couldn't wield the saber, either. It was Satine who taught her how. As far as I'm aware, the darksaber requires the wielder's thoughts and actions to flow into the Darksaber to fuel its energy, which then affects the weight and has nothing to do with being the chosen one like Excalibur. Anyone can learn to wield it if Bo was willing to teach them, hell even Gideon seemed to have a good grasp on it. Din even said in episode 7 that the saber doesn't dictate who is a worthy leader, it's based on principles and honor (which Bo conveniently chose not to inform Din on how she doesn't fit that bill).

Bo, this whole season, has shown time and time again she's not a worthy leader. At least, not yet. Bo has MANY sins to make up for. As I said earlier: Bo was a terrorist, she led to Mandalore's downfall... twice (now potentially thrice), led an incursion that got her sister killed, was openly racist towards Boba Fett and others, sexually assaulted Ahsoka, and burned down villages just because she could. None of these were ever brought up in Mando and it not only made Bo an innocent woman who lost everything and just needs her people and planet back, but also erases her history without ever fully holding her accountable.

Bo has fantastic military leadership (as shown this season alone), but when it comes to diplomatic, she falls short. All of her choices have led her to losing the darksaber, losing Mandalore, getting many people killed, and her prejudices have gotten in the way of true diplomacy where Din had to step in when she was ready to give up or use force to get what she wanted. She didn't even bother to try to win her people back or make a plan to take back Mandalore, she was content staying at home and crying on her throne until Din and Grogu forced her to finally do something productive.

All of this circles back to my point on why Din being a reluctant character is important to the overall story. For someone who doesn't want to lead, he's shown the most leadership skills all season by putting others before him and communicating on everyone else's level instead of expecting them to rise to his which is a stark contrast to Bo's actions this season. He's multi-lingual, finds ways to speak to other species to make them feel seen and heard, and consistently gives up his own food and resources to those in need even if it's with a grumble at first (Frog Lady comes to mind). Everything Bo lacks or doesn't attempt, Din jumps head first in. Which is why I think there's such a divide on Bo's character this season and it's easier to say she stole the show from Din when, in reality, her desire to lead but having no leadership skills is what has drawn out the frustrating aspects of Season 3's storyline that's hard to put your finger on but might've given you anxiety regardless. Her role as Mandalore doesn't feel earned and her character feels cheated, again regardless of how you personally feel about her as a character and if you want what's best for her.

I think I had more to say but I'm running a blank now. I'm tagging @yourcoolauntie cause I know I promised to talk to you about all of this and I still plan on messaging you but figured this confined space would get everything out in one go rather than getting lost in the sauce in a tiny little chat box on here. Everyone is welcome to DM me over this, comment, challenge me, whatever you need to feel better regardless of what your stance is over the show. This isn't meant to dismiss anyone or make anyone feel invalidated as I said, just a safe space with facts that you can do what you please with to either validate how you feel or recognize where that discomfort or frustration is coming from regardless if you're enjoying this season or not. You're seen, you're heard, and I'll see you on the other side after this upcoming episode tonight.

[ooops-i-arted]

Let’s go ahead and do Grogu + Child development for season 3 episode 3 because I honestly don’t have a lot of commentary since Grogu’s screentime is minimal.

(I will say I am still VERY curious still what Pershing was doing with Grogu specifically.  We know he was harvesting blood but what about DNA?  He talks about cloning - is the 101 Yoditos AU still a possibility???  Will we have an army of Grogru clones?????  Let me dream!!)

Right off the bat we see Grogu once again making sure Dad is okay.  You know, Din, it’s not healthy for your child to see you in danger so often, it’s gotta give him anxiety.  (Great tv for us, though.)  He’s patting Dad a bit, perhaps he remembers Cara looking after Din when they were trapped in the cantina in Redemption?  He definitely knows Dad would never want the helmet off.  (I loved the “wtf???” look he gave Bo & Friends in The Heiress when they took theirs off.)  Even after he’s in the pod, he’s still watching Dad, seeming concerned.

I wonder if we’re going to see more of his ability to connect with the living Force?  We know now he “connected” with Luke somehow during the Scotty Beam Me Up rock meditation sequence, and we saw him connect with and calm the rancor.  Does Grogu sense the mythosaur at all?  Will he be the one to ride the mighty beast?  We know there’s a Jedi out there who specializes in animal connection - I know I complain about excessive cameos a lot but I wouldn’t be as mad if it was Ezra Bridger, who I actually really like, come to teach Grogu some more Force stuff.  But this is all speculative and I digress.

Of course the big question is once again whether Grogu spoke.  Did he say “This is the Way”?  I think he intended to.  These new sounds are different than the stock baby sounds and even the classic patu.  I think Grogu is more purposefully trying to speak and imitate Basic!  This shows a huge leap in observational and cognitive skills.  We’ve already seen him put together that sounds can be communication and he can use them to get his needs met.  Now he’s at the next step, trying to speak so that he can communicate with people on their level!  It’s honestly a really huge step because a late learner has to want it on some level.  If they don’t care, they don’t get it.  (Had a student years ago, not a native English speaker and didn’t care about learning English or understanding us, until we put snowflake window clings up and she finally learned to speak just to ask us if she could have them, because she loved Elsa.  Before that she didn’t give a shit no matter what we tried to do to engage her.)

Side note but I am SO glad Grogu can close his new pod too.  It’s good he recognizes an unsafe situation and does it himself without being asked.  He really is paying attention to details so much and reacting quickly!  (Or maybe he’s just like, “there’s no way this lady will let me sit in her lap and have fun” and/or “there’s no way she’s as good a driver as dad” and just did it for that reason lol.)  I bet he wasn’t happy about having to do a whole trip away from Dad, ugh.  Think Bo spent that whole time putting Din on speaker because Grogu wouldn’t stop whining unless she did?  She’s still mostly an unknown to him, though she was pretty nice to him last episode, so he might’ve tried to test her.

For the end scene he’s pretty much just a quiet observer.  Writing-wise, he’s not really relevant to the scene, but I also think he’s picked up from Din that the Armorer is someone to be respectful of and listen to, and once again is imitating his primary caretaker.  Maybe next time we’ll get to see the other Mandos and Mando kids interacting with and playing with him?  Or Din and Paz get in a fight and Paz is very surprised when he’s thrown across the room lol?  If Grogu is officially a Mando now, I think it’d be fun to get to know his tribe members!

[puckinghell]

Not A Typical Christmas Story | Elias Pettersson

Summary: You’ve never loved Christmas, and there’s nothing that can change that; especially not your best friend’s grumpy Swedish friend who you don’t even like. However, when you’ve gotta be forced into the Christmas spirit to write a Christmas story for class, there’s only one person who is willing to try and help you. Words: 14k (I’m SO sorry) Note: Here it is, a Christmas story in November. Honestly I’m nervous to post this, I’ve never put so much of myself into a story, but here we go. I loved loved loved writing this and I hope you guys like reading it. Also, the cliche scenarios were stolen from a random blog post. 

--

“You’re such a fucking Grinch.” Brock takes a sip from his hot chocolate. There’s murmur in the bar around you, and he’s muttering, but you still hear him clear enough.

“Hey,” you protest, lightly hitting him on the arm. “I’m not a Grinch. Just because you put up your Christmas decorations in October and have been singing All I Want For Christmas Is You since July, doesn’t make me the Grinch for not doing that.”

Brock raises an eyebrow. “You literally just said you hate Christmas.”

“I did not.” You stubbornly cross your arms. “I said I hate Christmas stories.”

“That’s basically all there is to Christmas,” Brock brings in, and that’s probably fair enough.

Apart from the food, presents, family time, decorations…

Fine. Maybe you don’t like any of those either. But not liking Christmas is not the same as being a Grinch: you’re completely fine with letting everyone enjoy their festive December, as long as they leave you out of it.

Which is exactly why you’ve been complaining to Brock. And as your best friend, it’s literally his duty to listen to you; unfortunately it also means he’s gonna make fun of you. Just a little bit.

“I just don’t get why I have to write a Christmas story,” you mope, a little pathetically. “There’s so many Christmas stories in the world already, Boes. And they’re all the same! The foreign sports car breaks down in a blizzard and the city slicker gets stuck in a bar with a bucktoothed chicken strangler with an IQ of 7 whom he decides, through love or delirium, he cannot live without. Or the sadistic Christmas-hating miser of the pathetic backwoods town, who makes his money grinding the faces of the poor, is inspired to a change of heart by a teary-eyed child who bears a striking resemblance to his dead daughter, and donates all his money so that the ghost town can continue its wretched, grimy, poverty wracked existence.”

At that, there’s a muffled snicker from the side of the table. You’d almost forgotten that Elias was there, to be honest.

You raise your eyebrow at him. “What? You’ve got a better Christmas story?”

Elias raises an eyebrow back, but doesn’t answer. He usually doesn’t. Brock says he’s talkative enough when you’re not around, although you for the life of you do not know what you’ve done to earn his judgment.

“Don’t bite Petey’s head off,” Brock chides. He’s always trying to keep the peace between you two, and sometimes you feel bad that he has to police his two best friends.

Today is not one of those days.

“He’s laughing at me!”

“Because you’re being ridiculous.” Brock sighs. “It’s just a Christmas story, Y/N. You’ll write it, you get a grade for it, it’s done. How hard can it be?”

It’s clear that Brock has no idea how hard it can be to write a decent story. Sometimes, you wonder if he can even really write or read: maybe he’s just memorized a bunch of words and called it a day.

You let out a grumble and drop your head on the dingy, sticky table in the rundown bar that Brock and Elias are so keen to go to, probably because they never get recognized there. Not surprising, considering the fact that the age of the average customer is above 85.

Normally, you like your creative writing course. People told you to get electives you thought were actually fun, as your normal college courses are taxing enough, and you’ve always been a writer.

Or, well, been a writer… You write. You wouldn’t call yourself a writer: you’ve never published anything and you can’t be a writer before you make money from it. But you like writing. There’s at least a hundred half finished Word documents sitting on your laptop at any given moment.

But this project isn’t fun at all. All the students in your course were excited to get to write a Christmas story. It is December, after all, and most people have gotten properly into the Christmas spirit by now. However, you’ve never liked Christmas – for reasons that you will not think about with Elias’ judgy eyes on you – and you usually write scary stories, so this is not up your alley.

“Hey,” Brock’s voice sounds, and it’s gentle now. He’s probably noticed you’re actually having a mental breakdown over this. “It’s just one stupid story, and it doesn’t even have to be good. Just write about like, animals that can talk.”

Elias snorts again, and this time you can’t even blame him.

You lift your head only to shoot Brock a glare. Brock raises his hands in helpless manner, rolling his eyes as he goes.

“I’m trying to help.”

“I’m going to get beers,” Elias says suddenly. It’s the first thing he’s said all hour, you think, and the sound of his voice almost startles you. “I think you’re more helpful when you’ve got a beer, Boes.”

He’s not wrong, but you won’t tell him that. Instead, you stare at his retreating back, disappearing towards the bar.

“Why do you hate him?” Brock says, and he sounds a little accusing.

“I don’t hate Elias, just as much as I don’t hate Christmas,” you tell him, before you realize that that technically doesn’t speak of your innocence, so you try a different tactic. “He doesn’t like me either! He never talks when I’m around.”

“Cause you make him nervous!” Brock exclaims. He pushes his now empty mug towards the side. “You’re always making snappy remarks at him.” He stares at you with big blue puppy eyes, his bottom lip pouting out. “I wish you would just get along. I love you both and it’s very annoying to have to always be in the middle of you.”

In reality, it’s not like Brock really has to be in the middle of anything. If it was up to you, you would simply not ever see Elias, and you’re pretty sure that’s the only thing you and Elias would ever agree on. But Brock somehow always brings you together: like how today he’d forgotten to mention his teammate’s presence when he asked you to come out for a drink.

But you don’t blame Brock, not really. You think there’s another universe in which Elias and you could be friends. You’re very similar, in a way: you’re both not from Vancouver, both don’t have your family around, and you share a similar sharp sarcastic humor and a love for teasing Brock.

The first time you met Elias, you were hopeful. Brock was, at that point, your only friend in Vancouver, and the two of you had become best friends like you’d grown up in each other’s pockets. If Brock liked this guy so much, you figured you’d like him too.

But Elias hadn’t seemed to feel the same way. You met at one of Jake’s parties and Brock had introduced you with the statement that you were going to be beerpong buddies, because he’d already promised Troy.

Elias’ eyes had been a little too intense, as they traveled across your face. You could feel them burn into your skin like lasers, and when his eyes finally met yours it had felt like being hit by the entire universe at once.

“Oh,” he’d said, and it had been filled with… not even disdain. You could’ve handled disdain, because you could’ve called him out on that. But this had been indifference, that you’d heard in his voice, and that was something you didn’t know what to do with.

He’d not said anything else all evening. 

Ever since then, you’d put stone after stone into the wall you build between you and the quiet Swede, every single time he so much looked in your general direction. Nothing big ever happened between you: you hadn’t had any huge fights or massive blow outs.

It was just indifference, that ate at you until it became reluctance and then annoyance, and it’s that same thing you can read on Elias’ face now when he quietly sits in a corner, listening in on your conversations with Brock.

Yes, it would be easier for Brock if you and Elias could become friends, or at least friendly enough.

“Sorry, Boes,” you tell him with a sigh. “I just don’t think it’s ever gonna happen.”

--

“Is there a reason you’re not wearing a shirt?”

You raise your eyebrow at Jake, who opened the door wearing black jeans, a Santa hat, and literally nothing else.

"I lost a bet,” he says solemnly, opening his front door further. You stomp the snow off your boots on his porch, then move past him into the house.

It’s freezing cold outside and Jake’s house is lovely and warm, which makes you happy to be there if only to enjoy the heating. It’s not like you don’t have heating at your flat, but the electricity bill is high enough every month without you turning the thermostat up as high as it goes, so usually you try to keep warm with sweaters and blankets.

Brock told you to dress pretty though, so you wore a dress to Jake’s party. Which means it’s a good thing he’s got the heating going.

“You look lovely,” Jake smiles, taking your coat from your hands. Having him act like such a perfect gentleman in the outfit he’s wearing makes you laugh, and he shoos you inside when he notices.

You like Jake. In fact, you like all of Brock’s friends – except the one, of course – and that’s the only reason you said yes to coming to this party. It’s not like you’re against parties, but it’s a Christmas party: and despite the fact that it’s the first week of December, you’ve already heard enough Christmas music to last a life time.

“There she is!” Brock hoots, when he spots you. He opens his arms and you give him a quick hug, saying hi to Bo and Holly, who he’s standing with. “I have a brilliant idea,” Brock says however, before you can even ask the Horvats how they’re doing. “And you can’t say no right away.”

That definitely means you’re gonna wanna say no right away.

“I’m not promising that,” you hum. Just at that moment, Jake appears with a glass of prosecco that he hands you, and you send him a grateful smile. He disappears just as quickly, which is probably the better option considering what Brock’s about to say.

“I think you should make an actual, real effort to get into the Christmas spirit this year.”

“I don’t think so,” you immediately answer, but Brock waves away your protests with a wave of his hand.

“That’s not the part you’re gonna wanna say no to.”

“Oh dear,” Holly laughs, and you glare at Brock.

“What, then?”

“I think you and Petey should get in the Christmas spirit together.”

The sentence is bizar enough that you burst out laughing. Surely he’s kidding.

“Are you drunk?” you ask, then, turning to Bo: “Is he drunk?”

Bo shrugs. “Not yet, I don’t think. Tipsy at most.”

“Think about it,” Brock says. There’s a glint of excitement in his eyes, which promises nothing good for you. “You’re staying in Vancouver this Christmas, right?”

You don’t say anything: the answer is yes, and Brock knows that, because he’s been trying to convince you to come back to Minnesota with him for a month. However, as you’ve told him every time, there’s no way his girlfriend would appreciate that, and you don’t like being a third wheel. Or - but you haven’t told him that - a charity case.

“And so is Petey!” Brock proclaims. He motions somewhere to the left, where the Swede is probably hiding between all his teammates, trying to stay as far away from you as possible. “So both of you have to stay here in Vancouver, alone, during Christmas. And he loves Christmas, and you don’t, but you have to write that Christmas story and it would be so much easier to do that if you actually celebrated Christmas, so he can teach you how.”

Your best friend isn’t making a lot of sense, and there’s too much information to process so quickly. First of all, you didn’t know Elias would be alone for Christmas, although you suppose it makes sense that he can’t go back to Sweden just for 2 days of Christmas. Secondly, you don’t need someone to teach you how to celebrate Christmas: it’s not like you don’t know, and much more that you choose not to.

And third: fuck. You’d basically forgotten about that Christmas story.

“It’s a brilliant idea,” Brock says proudly and a little smug. “And I haven’t told Petey yet but I know he’ll be down.”

This time, you respond: you start laughing hard enough that Brock’s smile slips off his face.

“I really don’t think he will,” you giggle. You reach out, patting Brock’s arm with a smile. “Boes, you’re a sweetheart, but stop worrying about me. My life isn’t bad because I don’t like Christmas.”

It’s bad for some other reasons, like financial debt and family misfortunes, but not because of a lack of reindeer ornaments and bad mulled wine.

Brock pouts. “But…”

“No,” you cut him off. “I can write that Christmas story just fine on my own, thank you. And if you’re worried about Elias, you can ask him to Minnesota.” You take a step back, glancing at your empty prosecco glass. “I’m gonna get another one of these.”

As you’re making your way to the kitchen, you can still hear Brock’s sputtering.

Although Jake’s house is filled with people, the kitchen still seems quiet. It’s not until you’ve let the door fall closed behind you though, that you notice movement in the corner.

“Oh,” you say, a little annoyed to be caught off guard. “It’s you.”

Elias barely glances in your direction. “Just getting some water.”

Elias’ style is always a little funky, and if you didn’t dislike him so much you would’ve appreciated how daring it is. This time, though, you literally can not help but laugh at him.

“Nice sweater,” you say, and it doesn’t even come out as sarcastic.

Elias looks down at his sweater like he didn’t even notice he was wearing it. It has a reindeer stitched on, except the reindeer looks… Well. Baked.

“Quinn got it for me,” Elias says, and he sounds a little sheepish, which is not a tone you hear from him often. “He’s got the same one.”

“A little co-dependent,” you tease, and it comes out too light and easy for it to be directed at Elias. He looks a little surprised, too, at how jovial it sounds.

“You look nice,” he says, then. He’s looking at you now, and you can feel the weight of his eyes press against your skin.

There’s something about Elias’ gaze that makes it feel like your lungs are constricting, and you don’t know what it is. You could blame it on the fact that his eyes are the kind of piercing blue that authors would compare to the ocean or maybe the summer sky, but Brock has blue eyes too, and you never feel like that when he looks at you.

“Uhm, thanks,” you bring out. The awkwardness settles over the kitchen like a heavy cloud of fog, but for some reason your first instinct isn’t to just run out of the kitchen, like you usually would.

This is definitely Brock’s fault, for making you feel bad about Elias being alone in his sauve but empty apartment in Vancouver on Christmas, when he apparently loves the holiday so much.

“Brock thinks you could teach me how to love Christmas,” you blurt out, and Elias looks nothing short of utterly baffled by your statement. You sigh, and explain. “We’re both in Vancouver around Christmas and apparently you love Christmas and I don’t, so he thinks you should teach me how to love it. He thinks it would help me write my story.”

Elias seems to ponder that for a second. When he speaks, his voice is tentative. “Do you think it would help?”

Your first instinct is to, once again, call out no and laugh it off, but for some reason you don’t. Elias sips his water like he’s prepared to wait for your answer, and you give yourself some time to think.

Realistically, getting into the Christmas spirit, or at least getting an idea of what other people feel when they’re in the Christmas spirit, could really help you pull off this story. You’re good at putting yourself in other people’s shoes, which is how you manage to write characters you don’t necessarily see yourself in.

When you wrote a story about a doctor, you talked to your friend who’s in med school about it for a week. Now, you wanna write a Christmas story. It wouldn’t be an awful idea to be around someone who loves Christmas.

“Maybe,” you admit. “But you don’t have to do it, I know you’re probably busy…”

Elias shakes his head before you’ve finished your sentence.

“When hockey goes on break, and all my teammates go home for the holidays, I won’t have anything to do.” He shrugs: it looks careless but in the most forced manner, like he’s trying to hide just how much it does matter. “We could do something, I guess.”

I guess. It’s not really the most enthusiastic response you’ve ever had, but then, this is not normal for you and Elias.

“You know what the ultimate Christmas plot is?” Elias says then, a little hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “A Christmas party is in fear of flopping thanks to a lack of Christmas spirit, but is rescued by some energetic soccer mom with no life.” He grins. “I could be the soccer mom.”

To your own surprise, you burst out laughing at his description. You didn’t think he was really paying attention when you were describing cliché Christmas plots in the bar with Brock, but maybe Elias pays attention to more than he admits.

“Fine,” you hear yourself say, and you honest to God have no idea where that came from but you know Brock is gonna shit himself with excitement when he hears. “When hockey goes on break, you can be the energetic soccer mom and try to bring me into the Christmas spirit.” You smile. “It won’t be an easy task, Pettersson.”

Elias raises an eyebrow but there’s nothing judgmental about it, this time.

If anything, it’s a challenge.

He sticks something out to you: it’s your glass, now filled again with prosecco, which he somehow managed to fill up without you even noticing.

“It’s on,” he says simply, and when he raises his water glass in the air, you don’t even hesitate to clink it.

--

“Shopping is not a Christmas outing,” you say, stubbornly crossing your arms. “And I really don’t think this is gonna get me into the Christmas spirit.”

“What do you mean?” Elias deadpans, as he yanks a shopping cart free from all the others. “Middle aged housewives fighting over discounted wreaths? There’s nothing more Christmassy than that.”

You snort. “Right. It’s just gonna be spoiled crying kids who want toys that they already have and parents pretending it’s Santa who spoils them so they don’t have to take responsibility for their kids being rude drama queens.”

Elias laughs. He pushes the cart into the department store, and you reluctantly follow him.

“That’s another storyline,” he says.

“The unexplained dilemma of parents who do not believe in Santa, and yet we, the wise audience who knows better, are left to wonder where they think these toys came from? ‘Psst, honey, Santa’s not real, so from whence came these marvels?’”

“I don’t know half of what you’re saying.” Elias holds up a string of Christmas lights. “But we’re getting these, honey.”

It comes out sweet like caramel and too serious to be anything but sarcastic, so you push the cart into his heels. Elias simply laughs and continues on his way.

The department store is busy, which is exactly why you usually try to avoid going there in December. You’d think Elias, being Elias Pettersson, would also try to avoid crowds, but it’s like people don’t see anything but Rudolph; nobody recognizes him as he skillfully pushes his way through the crowds, putting stuff into the cart that you barely know what to do with.

You’re thankful for it. It would be awkward if people did recognize him, and it’s strange to notice that that would be the thing to do it; there’s no awkwardness now, with him making snarky remarks at the quality of the ornaments or the fact that Canadians apparently love what he calls the ‘tacky’ side of Christmas.

In fact, you almost find that you’re enjoying yourself. It might as well be a Christmas miracle after all.

“When was the last time you had a tree?” Elias asks.

Your brain short circuits for a full five seconds, and then when you answer Elias stares at you as if you’ve grown a second head.

“Uh, probably when I still lived with my parents and they got it?”

“We’re changing that right now.” He spins on his heels and speed walks in the direction of the trees, too fast for you to protest.

You think of the last time you got a Christmas tree and an involuntary shiver makes its way down your spine. There’s a good reason you don’t like Christmas, and the tree plays a crucial part in it.

But Elias doesn’t know that. So you can’t even blame him for looking excited when he somehow manages to find you the perfect size tree for your apartment – even without ever having been in your apartment.

“This one,” he says smugly, but when he notices your expression, his face falls. “What’s wrong?”

You swallow. You could tell him, now, tell him about the last time your dad went to get a tree and never came back.

But that’s a long time ago and there’s no reason for Elias to know that. He’s not your friend, and he’d probably not even care. If anything, he’d feel sorry for you, and that would be even worse.

“That one is fine,” you tell him, and you promise yourself you just won’t put it up.

The tree gets your mood down but Elias doesn’t seem to notice. He collects some more stuff, like a throw blanket with Christmas pattern that you actually don’t mind, because you’re always cold and a person can never have too many throw blankets.

He also puts in an ornament with the Canucks logo, which you want to use to slap the smirk off his face, and a Rudolph pluche toy with a red light up nose.

“Like you, when it’s cold,” he teases, flicking your nose, and you wonder if you could use the Christmas lights to strangle him.

Finally, when you approach the end of your trip, you realize a teeny tiny problem.

“Uhm, Elias?” you ask, “I think we may have gotten too much.”

Elias rolls his eyes. “Brock said you don’t have any decorations, so this is the perfect amount.”

And it would be – if you wanted Christmas decorations – except…

“I can’t afford this,” you snap, and you can feel your cheeks heat up, and maybe the tips of your ears as well. God, this is embarrassing.

Elias’ face softens, and that kinda just makes it worse.

“You’re not paying for it,” he says, not unkindly. “This wasn’t your idea.”

“It wasn’t yours either,” you remind him. Granted, a bill like this would hardly break the bank for Elias, but you’re not about to let him pay for you just because he feels bad. You let Brock buy you dinner sometimes but that’s it, and only because he actually likes your company and because he always wants to eat at stupid fancy restaurants.

This is Elias. He doesn’t value your company, and he’s not your friend, and you won’t let him pay for you.

Elias doesn’t say anything, eyes searching your face for something. You’re not quite sure what he finds, but finally, he speaks.

“Consider it my Christmas gift to you,” he says. “You can pay me back by making me lunch, cause I’m hungry.”

And strangely enough, the thought of spending another two hours with Elias doesn’t make you wanna hurl, or throw yourself in front of oncoming traffic. In fact, you’re surprised to note that you actually had fun on this trip, and it was mostly thanks to Elias’ dry commentary on the other shoppers, of which not one sentence failed to make you laugh.

You don’t believe in Christmas stories, like the one where some weird technical glitch in the matrix gets fixed just in time for the Christmas tree in the center of town to light up, just as the guy and girl figure out their complicated emotional differences.

But maybe you can allow yourself to not actively dislike Elias’ company, at least while you’re stuck with it.

--

There’s exhaustion settled deep inside your bones, like your feet are made of concrete as you somehow manage to drag yourself up the stairs. You don’t usually mind living in a bit of a shit hole building, considering the fact that it’s very cheap – but on nights like these you wish there was an elevator you could take.

Working out in the morning before taking a double shift at the coffee shop you work at was a bad idea.

It takes you a few seconds to find your keys in your bag. It’s late enough at night that you can’t really see much; there’s lights in the hallways but most of them don’t really work, the flickering glow of them barely enough to illuminate the ceilings.

When you open the door, you instantly notice there’s something wrong.

Or, wrong… That might not be the right word. The word that comes to mind, actually, is fuck.

You’d forgotten all about Elias.

After buying all the Christmas decorations, he kept bothering you about putting them up. You hadn’t really been planning to, and unfortunately Elias knew you well enough to somehow know that.

Nobody reads you as well as he does, like his blue eyes pierce right through your skin and stare straight into your heart. It’s one of the things you find most unsettling about him. Keeping things close to your heart has always been your way to cope, but it felt impossible to do that with Elias around.

He’d kept asking you if you were gonna put up the decorations and you kept waving him away, until he finally decided he had enough.

“I’m coming over tomorrow,” he’d said – or, threatened. “Brock gave me your spare key, so you don’t have a say in this. I’m putting up the tree.”

“Don’t you dare,” you’d answered, making a mental note to deal with Brock’s traitorous ass later. “I can put up my own tree.”

You could, you just weren’t planning to do it.

“You could, but you won’t,” Elias had said, unimpressed. “So be there or don’t be there, I’m doing it.”

You had totally meant to be there. You weren’t as much of an asshole that you would let him do all the work after he also paid for it, and he was technically doing you a favor. But then your colleague asked you to cover her shift, and, well…

You forgot. And clearly, Elias hadn’t.

In the corner of your tiny little living room is a pine tree. There’s no ornaments in it except for the Canucks one that Elias bought you, but there’s what seems to be about a thousand lights in it, and it must’ve taken him hours to put those in.

It’s not even just that. The Rudolph toy is sitting on your bookcase, there’s candles on your dining table and on the couch is the Christmas throw blanket.

Under the blanket is Elias.

His head is resting on the arm of the couch, blond hair a little messy. His eyes are closed, eyelashes fluttered against his cheekbones, and he looks strangely peaceful.

You feel something settle in your stomach.

You imagine him sitting on your couch, waiting for you to come home because he wanted to see your reaction. You can imagine his little smug grin as he took in his work, way too proud with a simple string of lights in a Christmas tree. And maybe, maybe, he even thought about you celebrating Christmas here with the place looking exactly like this, and maybe that made him smile.

And then you didn’t show up. 

You wonder if you should wake him, to kick him out of your apartment, tease him for waiting for you, or even to say thank you. But his chest is rising slowly with every steady breath, and you’ve never seen Elias look so tranquil, so at peace.

For some reason, waking him feels like a crime.

So you step closer and tug the blanket a little more over his shoulders. You tell yourself it’s because the place gets so stupidly cold at night, and you can’t have him get sick and have a miserable Christmas because Brock would kill you, but you know it’s not about that at all.

It’s about the fact that coming home to a cozy, decorated apartment after the exhausting day you’ve had was actually pretty nice. And it’s about the fact that for some reason, Elias’ sleeping figure on your couch makes the place feel more like home than it has ever before.

And maybe it’s because the night is dark, and Elias can’t hear or see you, but when you whisper: “Goodnight” into the quiet living room, it sounds a lot like thank you.

--

When you wake up, there’s the smell of pancakes in the air. It’s a smell you would recognize anywhere, and it startles you awake too quickly for it being so early in the morning. You nearly jump out of bed and follow your nose towards the kitchen.

If anyone would’ve asked, you would’ve bet money on it that Elias would’ve woken up on your couch annoyed as hell, and booked it out of there as soon as his legs could carry him. But somehow, like a mirage, he’s standing at your stove, making pancakes.

Are you dreaming?

“Am I dreaming?” you ask out loud, and Elias swirls around on his heels.

“Don’t scare me,” he snaps, annoyed, but the annoyance flows away within seconds. “I was hungry.”

“So you made pancakes?”

Elias laughs softly. “I can’t make much else with what’s in your kitchen. You need to go grocery shopping.”

You really do, but you can’t think about that right now. Not when Elias is standing in your kitchen like he owns the place, like it’s normal for him to be there.

It very much is not. So why doesn’t it feel wrong?

“Uhm.” If he’s here, you figure you should at least be polite. “Do you want coffee?”

He waves towards your coffee machine. “I already put it on.”

You stay quiet as you make the coffee, a little too aware of the way Elias moves pancake after pancake from the pan to the stack, movements relaxed and almost lazy. It’s Sunday morning and it’s not that late, but it feels like it could be one of those mornings that stretches out endlessly, dark grey clouds outside your apartment as Vancouver slowly wakes up.

Neither of you speak until you’ve sat down at the table, pancakes and coffee in front of you. It’s awfully domestic and you don’t know what to do with it: it’s become easy to snap or snark at Elias when Brock’s there as a middle man and Elias looks like he’d rather cut off both his legs than spend another minute in your presence, but it’s not like that now.

Now, Elias seems quietly content to sit in your kitchen eating pancakes that he made on your stove while you were asleep. Now, Elias seems completely comfortable scrolling through his phone while you stare at him. And this Elias, you have no idea what to do with.

“We’re gonna do something Christmassy today,” Elias says, between two bites of pancake. “I’m just trying to figure out what.”

You raise an eyebrow. It’s been only a week since Brock had the awful idea to make Elias teach you how to be in the Christmas spirit before booking it to Minnesota, and so far Elias has seemingly put way too much time and effort into it, while you haven’t even put one word in your empty word document, that you ironically titled ‘Not a typical Christmas story’.

Then you remember the night at Jake’s party, and how Elias said he wouldn’t have much to do once all the guys went home to their families.

Suddenly, you feel for him. You know what it’s like to be lonely.

“The Christmas market isn’t on today,” Elias continues, oblivious to your mental dialogue. “But we’re going there soon. And we need to watch a bunch of Christmas movies.”

You hesitate. Are you really going to do this?

“I might have an idea for today.”

Apparently you are.

Elias’ eyes finally focus on you, expression curious. He doesn’t say anything but he’s clearly waiting for you to continue, so you take a deep breath and go for it.

“I’ve never gone skating.”

An hour later you’re at the local outdoor ice rink, and it’s not until you see the crowd that you realize this might’ve not been your smartest idea. It’s Sunday, it’s December, it’s not awfully cold: you think at least 1/3rd of Vancouver is at this rink.

“Uhm, I might not have thought this through,” you state a little bashfully. You can already see a few Canucks jerseys on the ice, and although you can’t see the back that well you wouldn’t be surprised if a bunch of them carried the number 40.

Elias shrugs. He seems unbothered, but then he mostly does. You can never really read him, and it’s one of the things you find most unnerving about him.

“It’ll be fine,” he says. “I’m wearing my glasses.”

He is wearing his glasses, which he rarely does. You’re not even sure he needs them or if they’re just a fashion statement. He’s also wearing a hat, so maybe he’s thought this through more than you.

But surely just glasses and a snapback won’t stop Vancouver from recognizing the Canucks biggest star?

Apparently, it does.

Elias goes to rent the skates, because he couldn’t be bothered to go back to his apartment to get his own. He’s put them on within 20 seconds, while you’re still struggling to wiggle your foot into the first one.

He laughs and you shoot him a deathly glare.

“Don’t laugh at me! We can’t all be professional hockey players.”

“I don’t think you need to be a professional anything to lace up a skate,” Elias answers dryly. He turns to face you, then pats his leg. “Give me your foot.” 

It’s embarrassing to make Elias tie your skates, but it would be more embarrassing to ignore him and then spend 20 minutes struggling with them. So you swing your foot into his lap. 

Long fingers work swiftly around your laces, and suddenly your skate is tied, fitted closely around your ankle. Elias pats your shin, then holds out his hand for the other foot. 

You swing your second leg into his lap. 

“I don’t know how you do this so fast,” you mutter. You can feel the flush on your cheeks and you hope Elias assumes it’s because of the cold.

“I’ve got many talents,” Elias deadpans, and you can’t stop yourself from laughing. 

“Juggling, unicycle riding, and lacing skates?” 

Elias nods. There’s a smile tugging at his lips. “All very important skills.” 

Finally, you put your skates back on the floor and waggle towards the door to. the rink. Elias has jumped onto the ice before you can even think about moving. 

You stop. Is this really a good idea? You could break both your legs here.

“Don’t be scared,” Elias says, correcting guessing the root of your hesitation. He’s gliding on his skates with ease, shuffling back and forth the way hockey players always do during the anthems.

Because he’s waiting. For you. Because you’re going skating together.

This is the weirdest fucking thing that’s ever happened to you, kinda like a fever dream; and that’s enough motivation to step onto the ice.

You stumble a bit, and Elias reaches out to grab your elbow to steady you.

“Careful, it’s slippery.”

“Unsurprisingly,” you mumble beneath your breath, and Elias’ grin goes a little wicked before he promptly lets go off your elbow and slides back.

Bastard. But the ice is slippery and you’re not steady on your skates, so you scramble forward only just enough to reach Elias again, wrapping your hands tightly around his arm.

“Do not let go,” you hiss.

“Do not be a smartass,” he shoots back, but thankfully he doesn’t move away again. Instead, he carefully takes both your hands away from his arm and takes them into his own, turning so he’s skating backwards and pulling you along.

If you don’t have to move your own feet, moving is a lot more fun, and you feel yourself loosening up. Every now and then you stumble, but Elias’ grip on you is firm and he never wavers, even when you yank on his hands to pull yourself upright again.

You’ve always noticed how graceful Elias is on the ice. There’s something about him when he skates that has always caught your attention, even if you would never admit that to him. But without the hockey gear, it’s even more clear how elegant he moves.

You, not so much.

“You better not be laughing at me,” you grumble, a little annoyed that you have to cling onto Elias as a lifeline in order not to break your neck. 

Elias raises an eyebrow. “I never do that.”

It should sound sarcastic but it really doesn’t, and you wonder if he’s momentarily forgotten every single interaction you’ve had with him over the past year.

Your expression must speak volumes because he rolls his eyes. He swiftly moves, so he’s skating next to you instead of in front.

He’s still holding your hand.

“I never laugh at you,” he clarifies. “I laugh because you’re funny. It’s different.”

And, oh. That does something to your stomach, something that you probably shouldn’t be thinking about right now.

Elias doesn’t seem to want to dwell on it either, because suddenly he pulls his hand away, skating a bit to the front to where you can’t reach him.

“You can do it on your own,” he calls over his shoulder, a cheeky smile playing around his lips.

And it turns out you can: you don’t fall, you keep moving – albeit a lot slower than Elias – and it’s actually kinda fun.

You can do it on your own, but. It was more fun with Elias next to you, anyway.

--

When Elias texts you to tell you you’re going to the Christmas market that night, you haven’t seen him in three days.

But you’ve been texting. He’s been sending you stupid Christmas songs that you mostly don’t listen to, and Christmas movies you’d prefer to never see. You send him ideas for cliché Christmas stories that you can almost hear his disapproving snort for. 

Santa becomes a prima donna and holds Christmas hostage until his ego is stroked in the form of songs written in his honor by reindeer who are willing to give their very lives for the cause.

Elias’ answer comes swift.

No. That has definitely been done before and also, someone could call animal services.

When Brock asks you how you’re liking your time with Elias, when you FaceTime him during dinner, you fall into silence.

What are you gonna tell him? That you smile every time you see his name pop up on your phone? That you have no idea anymore why you didn’t like him all that time? That you now understand what he meant when he used to say “Petey just needs a little time”?

“It’s going,” you hum noncommittally, chopping another carrot.

Brock laughs. “You’re so full of bullshit. I can literally see you trying to hide a smile. You realized I’m right, didn’t you?”

“You need to shut up,” you tell him without any heat. “We’re civil. He’s bored, I’m in the middle of writer’s block crisis. We’re not getting married, Boes, it’s just better than doing nothing the whole week you’ve deserted me.”

“Sure,” Brock drawls, and it doesn’t sound like he believes you at all.

“How’s the pups?” you ask, and Brock laughs because that wasn’t even slightly subtle for a topic change. He clearly decides to let you, however, starts talking about Milo’s new habit of burying people’s gloves in the yard.

The thing is, you don’t really wanna talk about Elias with Brock when you don’t even know yourself what you think of him yet. Fine, you don’t hate him, that’s clear. You’ve realized his air of indifference is just a shield, a wall that crumples as soon as he laughs. His teasing remarks are familiar now, feel friendly the way they feel when they come from Brock, and you’ve realized he’s one of the funniest, smartest, and kindest people you know.

But Brock would just push it into something it’s not. When he comes back, you’ll probably go back to being ‘Brock’s friend’ instead Elias’, and you wouldn’t be surprised if everything goes back to the way things were. Maybe with less animosity, but when Elias has a bunch of different people to choose from, why would he choose to hang out with you?

But for now, he doesn’t have any other people to hang out with and he does choose to hang out with you, and you’re hit once again with how weird that is when you step into his car the next evening.

“Dude, it’s way too cold to be going outside,” you grumble, shutting the door of his car behind you. Inside the car it’s warm and cozy, and Elias has an amused expression on his face when he turns to you.

“Good evening,” he deadpans, “I’m good, thank you, how are you?”

“Right.” You can feel your cheeks flush and hope he thinks it’s because of the heat in the car. “Sorry.”

Elias laughs. “It’s not that cold,” he chides, pulling the car into the road. “You just didn’t dress properly.”

You look down at yourself. You thought you’d dressed quite warm, but there’s an icy chill in the air that promises a chance of snow, so maybe it’s not warm enough. You didn’t even take gloves, you realize now, or a hat.

Well.

Elias is grinning while he stares ahead at the road, and you kinda wanna smack him except for how it also makes you smile. He’s dressed a lot warmer than you, and with the scarf almost up to his chin and a beanie on his head there’s not much risk of him being recognized anywhere.

“I brought extra gloves,” Elias says, then. “You’re not gonna be able to enjoy it if your hands are cold.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Elias, not to be a downer, but we’re going to a busy market that revolves entirely around Christmas, and I don’t like Christmas or crowds. I don’t think I’m gonna enjoy myself either way.”

“We’ll see,” Elias says simply, and it sounds like a promise.

It’s easy to keep up the conversation on the way there, light teasing from you and genuine interest from him. It’s comfortable, both the warmth in the car and Elias’ laugh next to you, and when he parks the car you almost don’t wanna get out.

At least he does have gloves for you, and he gives you a scarf, so you’re not that cold when you step out into the night air.

The Christmas market is busy, hoards of happy people looking for some Christmas cheer. You stick close to Elias’ side: if you lose him in this crowd, you’ll never find him back.

At least it’s pretty. The sky is already dark but the Christmas market has been lit up with seemingly millions of lights in every color imaginable.

“I don’t think purple is very Christmassy,” you say, flicking a purple light hanging off the stall that Elias is browsing.

“I prefer the white ones,” he answers, eyes kept firmly on the handmade ornaments in the stall. “They look like stars.” He turns, holding out an ornament. It’s a glass star, and it reflects the lights like a kaleidoscope.

It’s, objectively, beautiful. You don’t have to like Christmas to love it, but when you reach out for it, Elias laughs and pulls it out of your reach.

“I thought we decided you’re not to be trusted with glass.”

He’s referencing a time long ago, when you were hanging out with Brock and he happened to be there, and you dropped a glass and Brock had made a whole spectacle of it.

To be fair, you hadn’t really put Elias in the memory you keep of that day, because he was simply there: as Brock’s friend, as someone who happens to linger in the background. He’s lingering in the background of many memories, you realize now, but you’re starting to realize you prefer the ones where he’s front and center.

You walk past more stalls, filled with either tacky Christmas stuff – you buy Brock some socks with Santa on them because you can’t not – or handmade things, which you actually like looking at. Elias buys some things for his parents – “I’ll send them to Sweden,” he says, and he looks a little too sad so you start chatting about how Rouss kinda resembles a reindeer, somehow.

You’re walking past the food stalls when Elias asks: “How’s the writing going?”

You freeze. That’s not a question you were ready for, and it leads to the inevitable urge to blurt out the truth. “I haven’t started. I just don’t think I can.”

Elias’ eyes on you are thoughtful, like he’s searching for something in your soul. If he tries hard enough, you think he’ll look right through you: nobody has ever made you feel so open, so visible, as he does.

“Brock didn’t tell you why I don’t like Christmas, did he?”

“No,” Elias admits, “but I figured it was a better reason than red is not your color.”

“Hey!” you protest, stepping to the side so you can bump your shoulder against his. “Red is totally my color!”

It’s not, but Elias doesn’t push it. Instead, he smiles warmly, and suddenly you want to tell him.

“When I was young, my parents used to fight a lot. One day, two weeks before Christmas, they got into a massive fight. I listened to them from my bedroom and then my dad came upstairs and told me he was going to find me the perfect Christmas tree. He got in his car and went to get the tree, or so I thought. I never saw him again.”

You sigh. “It’s not, like… I’m over it, mostly. I just can’t help but feel that same feeling every year around Christmas. It’s like hoping for something you know will never happen. Like you’re reading a book and the happy ending never comes. ”

“That’s why it’s hard to write the story,” Elias hazards a guess. He looks curious, but he doesn’t look like he feels bad for you, which is what you would’ve disliked the most.

He points to one of the stalls, then. “They make the best hot chocolate in town. Want one?”

You nod, following him towards the stall as you continue talking. “It is. But I do also find Christmas stories boring to write. It’s always the same concept, just in a million different ways.”

Elias smiles. “That’s the fun of it, no? You know the happy ending always comes. It makes you feel good.”

“It’s boring,” you repeat, stubbornly. “The girl from the big city with a job paying upwards of 8 figures goes back to her hometown for Christmas and somehow falls for some high school fling who still lives in a basement, but makes a mean cup of hot chocolate and says thing like ‘What can I say? I was stupid.’” You cross your arms. “You can’t tell me if we took the Christmas element away you would voluntarily read that story.”

Elias laughs. “Some people would. Isn’t that basically the story from The Notebook?”

“Have you ever watched The Notebook, Elias?” you frown, and he shrugs.

“No, but Brock said it made him cry.”

Which isn’t surprising, because a lot of movies have made Brock cry. You wonder what Elias would do if you put on The Notebook on your upcoming Christmas movie night.

Elias turns around, then, two steaming cups of hot chocolate in his hands. He smirks when he hands it to you.

“What can I say? I was stupid,” he quotes, and you can’t help but giggle as you take the cup from him.

“You didn’t make this, you just paid for it. It doesn’t count that way.”

“After this we should probably go,” he says then, glancing at his watch.

The words sink into your stomach like a heavy stone of dread; you don’t really want to go home, and the realization hits you like a ton of bricks. You’re happy, right now, and if ‘feeling Christmassy’ basically translates to feeling happy, well…

It’s not Christmas, though, that’s got you feeling this way. You could care less about the pine trees and the tacky music and the reindeer and the big man with the white beard and red hat.

You care more about the blonde man beside you, staring into the distance with the brightest blue eyes, and the way he somehow always makes you laugh.

Damn it. How much you hate it when Brock is right.

--

With Brock telling you how much Elias likes Christmas movies, and Elias having pushed you for this Christmas movie marathon for days on end, you were expecting a bit more excitement from him when it finally happens.

You can tell something is wrong from the moment you open the door. He’s standing with his hands in his pockets, and when he smiles at you it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Hey,” he says softly, moving past you into your apartment.

“I hope you’re ready to rewatch the same exact movie with only minor differences all night,” you joke, but Elias doesn’t even look up as he methodically pulls off his coat, kicks off his shoes and pitter patters into your living room.

He scoffs when he sees your tree, still empty except for the Canucks ornament that he got you.

“Really?” he asks, and for the first time in a while you can’t tell if he’s joking or actually upset with you.

This is the Elias that you knew before, the one that you didn’t like because you could never reach him, guarding his heart like a fort. But this time, you know what it’s like to have the other Elias, and you already miss having that Elias in your life.

“Sorry to disappoint,” you bring out, and it comes out a bit shaky. Elias turns around and his face softens slightly.

“I didn’t mean that.” He sighs. “I nearly canceled this.”

Your heart sinks.

“I get grumpy when I’m not feeling good and I don’t want to take it out on you.” He sinks down onto your couch, kicks his feet up on the coffee table like he’s been there a million times before. “But I didn’t wanna cancel, so. I didn’t.” He sounds almost helpless, like he’s not sure if he should be saying what he’s saying.

But your traitorous heart lifts immediately. If he didn’t want to cancel, it means he wants to be here, and that’s really all you need to know.

“Well, I’m gonna make popcorn, then,” you say, keeping your voice light. “You pick the movie. I don’t care. They’re all the same anyway.”

Elias rolls his eyes, but it’s good natured. “They’re not the same!” he calls after you as you disappear into the kitchen.

“Every Christmas movie ever was written by someone who didn’t know what to write,” you tell him, knowing he can still hear you from the kitchen – the benefits of living in a tiny apartment. “Writer’s block? No problem. The solution: a little bit of Christmas magic. ‘We can’t pay the rent’, ‘I’m sick’, ‘My boss is making me work on Christmas’. Poof, with a jingle of bells, problems solved in the form of a generous benefactor, aspirin, or a hit man.”

“If that’s the case, why can’t you write a Christmas story?” Elias calls back teasing, and you give him the finger through the wall.

He might not see it, but you’re certain he can feel it.

You take the popcorn and walk back to the couch, letting yourself drop onto it next to Elias. You misjudge the distance a bit, causing you to sit a little too close to Elias for it to be strictly friendly; but Elias doesn’t budge, so you don’t move either.

You’re pressed against Elias shoulder to thigh, and you can feel his body shake when he laughs.

“I like this cliché,” he says, nodding towards the television. “Let’s see if you can guess it.”

You watch the movie in relative silence, eating popcorn and enjoying the warmth of Elias body against yours. You have to admit you lose focus every now and then: the movie isn’t that bad, but it’s hard to focus on anything with Elias so close. Every now and then, when something funny happens, he exhales a sharp breath of laughter, and sometimes he hums as if he’s agreeing with what’s happening on screen.

He smells nice, too, and finally you get tired enough that you get a little brave: you let your head drop against his shoulder, tugging your feet under yourself.

“Figured it out, yet?” Elias asks softly.

“Yep,” you answer. The movie is nearing the end but you figured it out within the first ten minutes. “Basic physics, not to mention common sense, are thrown to the wind as Christmas repeats every day, disappears from the calendar, or is hurled into the past or future.”

Elias doesn’t respond, and suddenly you wanna know.

“Are you okay?” It’s probably a weird question, and very out of the blue, so you hurry trying to explain. “Cause you came in very sad, and like, if you don’t wanna talk about it with me that’s fine but I think it’s good to talk about things sometimes so if you wanna…”

“I’m fine,” Elias says, cutting you off, but it doesn’t sound dismissive. It sounds a little amused, and when you turn to look at him, you find him smiling. “Worried about me?”

And it’s the strangest thing, but you are. “A little.”

Elias’ face softens. “I promise I’m okay,” he says. He reaches out, then, places his hand on yours and squeezes. “I just talked to my parents before I came here, on Skype, and they were talking about Christmas and it sucks that I can’t see them for the holidays. But it is what it is.” He shrugs. “I sulk for a bit and then I move on.”

You never really go home for the holidays, but you understand how awful it must be to be stuck alone in Canada with your whole family in Sweden.

You blame the quiet, late night energy for what comes out of your mouth next.

“I think I could be convinced to make you a Christmas dinner if you ask nicely.”

Elias laughs, and his hand is warm when you turn your palm up and he laces his fingers through yours.

“If I ask nicely, will you watch another movie with me right now?”

You pull the Christmas themed throw blanket over your legs before letting your head drop against Elias’ shoulder once again.  

“You don’t even have to ask.”

--

“I have an idea,” Elias says through the phone, and you don’t quite recognize the tone in his voice at first. “Well, it was Brock’s idea, but I think it’s a good one.”

Anything that was Brock’s idea immediately fills you with doubt, and you frown. “What?”

That’s when you realize: Elias sounds excited.

“Brock knows someone with a cottage, about two hours from here. It’s in the forest and it’s supposedly very Christmassy. We should go for a night.”

He sounds quietly pleased, and you don’t have the heart to tell him no.

“Okay.”

Objectively, though, it’s an awful idea. A Christmassy cottage in the forest also sounds like it would be very romantic, and you’ve finally come to terms with the fact that what you feel for Elias is definitely not just friendly comradery at this point. Feeding this feeling would not be smart, considering the fact that it’s almost Christmas and after that you’ll most likely never spend time with Elias like this again.

Sure, he might be at parties with the other Canucks or Brock might invite him for drinks with you, but it won’t be like this. You’re not stupid enough to think this will last: that would be a real Christmas miracle, and Christmas miracles don’t exist.

“Sometimes I wish I could read your mind.” Elias’ voice startles you despite the fact that his words come out softly. It’s been quiet in the car, apart from the low murmur of the radio in the background, for a good fifteen minutes.

You’re on your way to the cottage and your thoughts are going a million miles per hour.

You look over at Elias. He’s staring ahead at the road, one hand on the wheel and the other in his lap. He looks relaxed. Comfortable.

“It’s usually nothing interesting,” you say, and you thank the universe that he can’t know what’s going on in your mind.

“Are you thinking about your story?” he asks, and you weren’t, but it’s as good an excuse as any.

“I’ve gotta email it to my professor in four days,” you admit. “And I haven’t put a single word on paper yet.”

You’ve tried, that’s for sure. You’ve spent hours on your laptop, staring at a Word document. You’ve typed sentences and deleted them, tried to outline the story or just wing it while typing. Nothing works, nothing feels right when it stares back at you from the screen.

Elias hums noncommittally. “I think you think about it too much,” he says. “Just don’t worry about it. And write what you know.”

You scoff. “I don’t think anyone wants to read a Christmas story about a father who bails on his family, Elias. Nobody likes sad Christmas stories.”

He smiles. “Any sad Christmas cliches on your list?”

“Each and every event, whether holiday related or not, is tainted through the loss of a dead relative. Example: “Can I have a glass of water?” “Your, uh, *swallow*, your grandmother used to drink water.””

Elias laughs before reaching for the radio and turning up the music. You never listen to Christmas music, as a rule, but somehow you don’t hate it now that it’s blasting through his stupid sports car, the world flying past you through the window.

The drive is filled with Elias humming along to Christmas music and you laughing whenever he pulls a face at one of the lyrics. You spend at least 30 minutes debating if ‘Baby It’s Cold Outside’ should still be allowed on the radio – no – and whether or not Michael Buble is the king of Christmas – in Europe, apparently yes.

By the time you reach the cottage, you feel a lot more positive.

Until you see it.

“Uhm,” you bring out, staring at the place in front of you. Elias barks out a laugh, but it sounds mostly disbelieving.

“When Brock said ‘cottage in the forest’, I pictured something different,” he says sheepishly.

“I guess this shows the power of speech?” you offer. “Like, ‘cottage in the forest’ and you think of this beautiful rustic romantic getaway. But this is more ‘cabin in the woods’: I think we’re about to get murdered.”

Elias raises an eyebrow. “Romantic?” he repeats, an amused tilt to his voice, and you nearly get back in the car.

Way to put your foot in your mouth.

Luckily for you Elias doesn’t dwell on it. Instead he wanders inside, where at the very least it looks a little better.

It’s cold, and there’s no working electricity, but there’s a fireplace and a billion candles, and it’s decorated quite cosy. Maybe even Christmassy, if you really squint: although you’re happy to notice there’s no tree.

It’s easier than you thought it would be, to spend an evening in some dodgy cabin with Elias. It’s easy to chat about everything and nothing, to cook dinner with him. How domestic it feels to tease him about how slowly he chops the mushrooms, while he somehow makes sure your wine glass is always full.

Silence doesn’t fall until long after dinner. The fireplace is on, fickle candle light giving the room an orange glow. You’ve somehow ended up with your feet in Elias’ lap, although you can’t remember how they got there: you’re painfully aware of the heavy grip of his hand around your ankle.

The wine has given your brain a nice fuzzy feeling, has softened up the edges around your thoughts. And all you can think, now, is how nice this is: to have Elias right there next to you, blue eyes fixed on the ember flames burning in front of you.

“I’m glad that Brock kept forcing us to hang out,” you say, without thinking. Elias glances over at you.

“Forcing us?” he repeats, as if he’s not sure what you mean.

You shrug. “Come on, Elias, we didn’t like each other before this. You probably didn’t want to hang out with me as much as I didn’t want to hang out with you.”

The words hang heavy in the air for a second. If you didn’t know any better, you’d swear you saw Elias flinch.

“Actually,” he says tightly, and your heart does a traitorous swoop. “Brock never forced me to come. I always asked. If I knew he was gonna see you, I asked to come along.”

The words hit you like a freight train. You can feel your heart beating in your chest. But surely there’s no way you’ve been wrong all this time?

Brock did say Elias didn’t hate you.

“But… I thought you didn’t like me.” Your voice sounds small in the quiet room. It feels different here, so far away from the city: when the night is so silent all your thoughts sound so loud.

Elias shrugs. He doesn’t look upset, per se, but his face is carefully closed off and you know now that’s not a good sign.

“I know you thought that,” he says, voice flat. “I know that first night I came off as rude.” His smile is wry. “I was nervous, I didn’t really speak English, and you’re very pretty. I guess it was a recipe for disaster, on my end, so it doesn’t surprise me you didn’t like me.”  

You can feel the blood rush to your cheeks, your heart pounding in your throat. You’re hearing his words but they sound almost foreign, and you can’t quite believe he’s really saying them.

“I’ve always liked you, though,” Elias adds, almost as an afterthought, carelessly like it doesn’t matter. Like he doesn’t know what that does to you, your mind going into overdrive.

You’re not an easy person to like. That’s not you being hard on yourself, you just know you judge too harshly, react too quickly. You go into downwards spirals of negative thoughts, you put opinions into people’s mouths, and most of all, you don’t believe in happily ever after.

People, in your experience, don’t stick around for people who won’t promise them happily ever after.

But Elias is here, having brought you to this cabin, having pushed and pushed to be around you: and you didn’t even notice. You thought he was just doing Brock a favor, you thought he was just bored. He’s not been very outgoing about his affections, but you can tell that they’re there; from the way he’s put up your Christmas tree to how he always listens to every word that falls from your lips. No, he’s not been very outgoing about with his affections but he’s been plentiful with them, and you just didn’t notice.

“Elias,” you start, but the sentence dies on your lips when he turns to face you, suddenly a lot closer than he was before.

“What about now?” he asks. You must look as confused as you feel, because he clarifies right away. “What do you think about me now?”

There’s nothing unsure about the question, and you think the answer is been pretty clear. You wouldn’t be here if the answer wasn’t clear. But despite that, despite that he seems to already know what you’re gonna say, you wanna say it anyway. You think you have to say it anyway.

“Now I like you,” you tell him, sitting up straighter. “I really like you, Elias.”

The last thing you register is the pleased smile tugging at the edges of Elias’ mouth, and then his lips are against yours.

The kiss is soft but not hesitant. Maybe he’s giving you time to think about it, this way, if this is what you want: but in that moment there’s nothing you want more, nothing but a fierce desire to trace your hands down his body.

As soon as your fingers touch his arm, Elias deepens the kiss. He kisses exactly how you would expect him to; giving you everything, no trace of doubt or hesitation.

There’s nothing frantic about it, nothing scary. With every second that ticks by you fall a little further into it, your mind a lovely shade of blank – with the exception of the boy in front of you, like all your nerves screaming his name.

“Hey.” Elias’ voice is soft as he pulls away. He doesn’t take his hands away from where they’re laying against the bare skin of your back. “We don’t have to go further.”

He’s giving you an out, you realize, a second to gather your thoughts. You could pull away now, you could put some space between the two of you.

You scoot forward, moving even more into his lap, and carefully curl your hand around his jaw. He leans into it slightly, and your heart screams with how much you want him.

You don’t answer. Even as a writer, you realize that words are sometimes overrated. Instead, you press your lips against his, placing your heart in his hands as you kiss him once more.  

--

It takes about two hours after you get back to your apartment for the reality of it all to comes crashing down at you.

The night at the cabin was wonderful; magical, even. If you would write the perfect Christmas story, it would be a lot like that.

Except you’re not writing a Christmas story – you should, of course, but you haven’t started and that’s because Christmas stories are unrealistic.

You and Elias, your story - no matter how wonderful – is unrealistic. What were you thinking? That Elias, being who he is, would simply… What? Become your boyfriend?

He’s Vancouver’s biggest star, everyone’s favorite person. You’re just another lonely writer who lives mostly in their own brain. You’re just someone else who is hard to love; like your parents, like your sister, like all the friends you’ve seen get their hearts broken.

You call Brock.

“Wow, calm down,” are the first words that come out of his mouth when he finally speaks. You’ve told him most of the story by then, sentences coming out in shallow breaths and tears already burning in the back of your throat. “What the hell do you mean ‘hard to love’? That’s bullshit.”

“It’s not.” You swallow. “Brock, it’s not real. What I’m feeling. People fall in love all the time and they all believe that’s it, their perfect story, but how often does that story end up a tragedy?”

“Y/N…” He sounds mostly sad. “You can’t live like that.”

But your mind was made up long ago, so long ago when you were just a child. When you saw the tragedy that was your parents love story, and then later it was only settled deeper, when you saw your friends get hurt, when your sister got cheated on.

“I can’t make myself the protagonist of my own tragedy.”

“Petey isn’t going to break your heart.” Brock’s voice is sharp, and you realize this is not a fair position to put him into: how can he be honest to you when that means breaking Elias’ trust?

“He won’t mean to,” you whisper. “But it’ll happen. It might not even be his fault. I’ll probably break my own heart somewhere along the line. But happiness doesn’t just come along this suddenly, Boes.”

“What is it does?” Brock asks, and you don’t have an answer.

What if it does is less scary what if it doesn’t, and the next few days when Elias calls, you don’t pick up the phone.

--

You shouldn’t have opened the door.

“You’re avoiding me.” Elias sounds... hurt. You don’t think you’ve ever heard him sound like that. You’ve learned that when he’s upset, he mostly sounds indifferent; locks his emotions behind a wall for nobody to see.

And maybe it’s a testament to how well you know him, now, that you can pick up on the change in his voice. Or maybe it means he’s decided to let you in.

God, you hope it’s not that last one. Hope he didn’t make that mistake.

You sigh. “I’m sorry, but…”

“Don’t.” Elias cuts you off by pushing past you into the apartment. He stands glaring at you in the middle of the living room, arm crossed. “You’re not doing this.”

You have to.

“It’s just not gonna work,” you try. There goes the crack in your heart, bursting open like someone squeezes it with an iron fist.

You’re doing this to yourself. But that’s better than the alternative: better than having Elias do it way further into the story, when there’s something to destroy.

There’s nothing to destroy, now. There’s only the prologue to the story, and now the epilogue. A story with no middle won’t be remembered.  

“That’s not true.” Elias isn’t backing down. “You can’t tell me nothing this past month has meant anything to you.” He frowns. “Does this have anything to do with your Christmas thing? Would it be different if this had happened in January?”

You laugh, but there’s no humor there. If only it was that simple.

“This has nothing to do with Christmas, Elias. This just isn’t real. There’s no happy ending to my storyline, and I’m not dragging you down with me.”

You let your eyes fix on him, on the way he stands there stubbornly, still fighting for something. For you. If only it made a difference.

Elias doesn’t say anything, for a while. Finally, voice timid, he says: “You’re gonna throw this away because you’re scared.”

You are scared. But that’s not why you’re doing this.

“Damn it, Y/N.” Frustration rings clear in Elias’ voice, now. “I know you feel what I feel! You can’t just ruin that because you’re not brave enough to say what you want!”

“It doesn’t make a difference, Elias!” You’re hurting too, and you can hear your own voice getting too loud.

“I wanna live in a world where people don’t get hurt, and everyone’s got enough money and nobody ever has to skip a meal!” You swallow, hot tears pricking behind your eyes. “I wanna live in a world where people don’t get in the car to get a Christmas tree and never come back, and I wanna live in a world where Santa’s real, Elias, but that’s just not reality. That’s not how life works.”  

Elias’ eyes are dark, his jaw tense. You know you’re not gonna like what he’s got to say before he’s even opened his mouth.

“Maybe not,” he says tightly, “but you live in a world where people can choose to love each other. It doesn’t have anything to do with Santa, or magic. None of those things are real, but love is real, and you can choose to believe in that.”

He grabs his jacket, is walking towards the door before you can even comprehend what he’s saying. At the door, he turns around. His eyes shine with sadness.

“I want to love you, but you have to choose to believe that, too. And if you can’t, then I guess it won’t ever be real.”

When the door closes, the last piece of your heart breaks in two.

--

“Merry Christmas!”

Brock’s voice is bright and cheery. He’s clearly only just woken up, his blond hair a mess and Milo passed out in his lap.

“It’s not even Christmas yet,” you tease. You curl your legs closer to yourself, your coffee in one hand and your phone in the other. It’s nice to see Brock, even if it’s just over FaceTime.

Getting your heart broken is even worse when you can’t really talk about it to your best friend, because you also broke your best friend’s other best friend’s heart.

It’s a complicated issue, is the thing.

“It’s Christmas Eve tonight,” Brock says, rolling his eyes. “That’s basically Christmas. Are you still moping?”

“Hey,” you protest. “I’m not moping. I’m sad. It’s different.”

You have been moping, a bit. The first two days after your final talk with Elias, you didn’t even really come out of bed. You just sat there and you wrote.

That’s the only good thing to come out of this, you think. You somehow not only wrote your story, it’s maybe the best story you’ve ever written.

“I know. I’m sorry.” Brock’s voice is gentle. “You can talk to me, you know? I won’t use anything you say against you or tell Petey or whatever. He’s been talking to me too.”

Your heart does a somersault. If Elias has been talking to Brock, Brock probably already knows everything; in a way, you can’t believe he’s still talking to you if that’s the case.

More than that, though, it brings an opportunity. To find out what you’ve been wondering since Elias stepped out of your apartment.

“Is he alright?”

“Are you?” Brock counters, like that matters.

You stare at the coffee in your cup. It’s too hot to drink still, little puffs of steam climbing through the air.

You’re not doing so well, admittedly, but that’s probably fair. You were the one to broke off the story, in the end. And you hate to admit it to yourself – and you definitely won’t admit it to Brock – but you’ve been wondering if you made the right choice.

“I wrote my Christmas story,” you say, instead of answering his question. “Handed it in yesterday.”

Brock lets you change the subject. “Cool. What did it ended up being about?”

You sigh. “It was about me.”

Brock raises his eyebrows, interest clear in his eyes. He doesn’t push you, and you’re glad for it. You need a moment to find the words.

“I wrote about a girl who hates Christmas because it reminds her of things that she’s lost. And I wrote about how scared she is of gaining something because that means she can lose it again.”

Brock’s voice is soft when he speaks. “But someone teaches her? In the story?”

He knows you too well. You laugh quietly. “Yes, someone takes her through all these Christmas cliches to make her realize why they’re cliches. It’s not because of the act itself. It’s because you spend time doing it with someone you love.”

“She loves this person, the one that teaches her,” Brock hazards a guess.

There’s no longer any doubt that he knows exactly how you feel about Elias.

“She loves him but that scares her even more. Because if she loves him, she could lose him. And Christmas has always been the time to remind her of loss and heartbreak. So she assumes it’ll just end in hurt this time too.”

“It doesn’t have to,” Brock says.

And you know. Somehow, writing the story, you realized that. Because as you wrote about this girl, that was exactly like you, you found yourself not wanting to give the story a realistic ending. You wanted to make it right, wanted her to end up with the person who taught her how to love Christmas and how to love him.

So you did. You gave your story a happy ending. And in doing that, it’s like you gave yourself permission to want a happy ending for yourself, too.

But there’s just no way. Life isn’t a fairytale, and the Christmas cliché where the girl who throws it all away gets back her perfect boy by stealing Santa’s microphone in the mall and making a grand speech about how pushing him away was the biggest mistake of her life, simply isn’t real life material.

“It’s not too late, you know.” Brock’s sitting up straighter, almost as if he wants to come through the camera and tell you in person. “If you wanted to change the ending. You could. He’d let you.”

Your heart starts beating faster and it has nothing to do with the caffeine you’re drinking.

All this time, you’ve been wondering. Wondering if it’s too late.

“How would I do that?” you ask. “Hypothetically.” 

Brock’s grin is so bright you nearly have to close your eyes. “Send him the story,” he says, without thinking about it; the jerk probably has been thinking about this since you started telling him what it’s about. “You should send him the story. Kinda like a message in a bottle.”

When you say goodbye to Brock, his eyes are fond when you tell him “Thank you” and mean it. Without him, you don’t think you would’ve had the courage, but now it feels like the only possible ending comes with you taking your Word document and putting it in an email.

--

To: e.pettersson40@hotmail.com

Attachment: Not a typical Christmas story.pdf

Message:

Elias,

I’ve tried to write this letter a million times, to tell you what I should’ve said that night. I can’t say I’m not scared what you’ll think, but who am I to know what the future holds? If my heart was paper I’d fold it, throw it to the wind and hope it’d end up in your arms. So here it is, my paper heart, in the form of the most cliché Christmas story of them all. The one where everyone ends up with their perfect happily ever after.

Signed with love from me to you,

Y/N.

--

There’s three rapid knocks on the door, and then silence.

Your heartbeat speeds up like you heard gunshots instead. Within seconds you’re on your feet, almost running to the door.

There’s only one person that could be at your door on Christmas morning at 9am, right?

When you open it, something heavy dissolves in your stomach, a sense of comfort falling over you like crawling into bed after an exhausting day.

“Elias,” you breathe.

For a second, you just stare at him: he looks like he’s barely slept at all, dark circles surrounding his eyes, which somehow seem more blue than they ever have before.

“Merry Christmas,” Elias says then, thrusting something forward. You grab it in reflex.

It’s the glass star, the ornament from the Christmas market. The one that you had told Elias you found beautiful, the one that reflected all the lights like a million little stars. The one that reminded you, even, of Elias’ eyes.

It’s still beautiful. And suddenly there’s tears running down your cheeks, warm against your skin.

Elias frowns. He looks a little worried, unsure; as if he shouldn’t be here. But God, he is here, on your doorstep, and he brought you this ornament, and you know that it has to mean what you think it does.

“I’m sorry,” you bring out. “For everything, I…”

You can’t finish your sentence, because Elias steps forward, his arms outstretched, and you launch yourself at him like a missile. He catches you easily, presses you against his chest and buries his face in your shoulder.

“I read the story,” he mumbles. You can barely make out the words, but they hit you like a ton of bricks anyway. “You believe in Christmas miracles now?”

You can hear the smile in his voice as he asks, because he already knows the answer.

“I don’t know,” you admit. You pull away a little, but keep your arms firmly locked around Elias’ waist, and his hands remain on your back. “But you’re here, so. I think I might have to start.”

Elias laughs, moving closer again to press a kiss against your head. You can feel his lips move against your hair when he speaks. “What about us? You believe in us, now?”

You don’t answer him, but you think he can tell from the way you kiss him, anyway.

--

You tug the blanket tighter around your shoulders, smiling down at the opposite end of the couch. Elias is talking in Swedish and you don’t understand a word he’s saying, but you can tell that he’s happy, smile bright and eyes fixed on the laptop screen in front of him.

He’s been talking to his family for the past hour, and watching him has been a great source of entertainment for you. He blushed when his brother mentioned your name, and finally he did introduce you to them.

“This is Y/N, I’m forcing her to watch Christmas movies with me all day and then bake cookies,” he’d laughed, and you didn’t tell him that there’s nothing you’d rather do.

“Jag älskar dig, hejdå,” Elias says, and then he finally closes the laptop. “Hey,” he hums, poking your thigh with his toe, “my mom said she can’t wait to meet you, so. Be warned.”

You laugh. “I would love to go to Sweden. I read something about cakes.”

It feels natural, to crawl over to the other side of the couch and lay down between Elias’ legs, head resting on his chest. You can hear his heartbeat under your ear and it’s enough for your eyes to close on their own accord.

It’s not like you’ve had much sleep the past few nights. But now, you think you could finally sleep peacefully, knowing that Elias is here and he’s not leaving.

His hand moves down your side, sneaking under your sweater, fingertips soft against your skin.

“It’s snowing,” he says, suddenly, and you open your eyes to look out the window.

Indeed, there’s little flurries of white powder fluttering through the grey Vancouver sky.

“That’s too much,” you roll your eyes. “The great grandmother of Christmas cliches.” Elias raises a questioning eyebrow, so you explain. “As the final crisis is resolved, everyone runs out in the street on Christmas Eve to discover that it’s snowing! In Nigeria! During a drought!”

“We’re in Vancouver,” Elias deadpans, and it’s only because you know him so well that you see the mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “And it’s not Christmas Eve, it’s Christmas Day.”

“Minor details,” you shrug, placing your head back on his chest and closing your eyes again.

“We’ve gotta decorate this sad excuse of a tree.” You can hear the smile in Elias’ voice as he talks. “Two ornaments does not make a Christmas tree.”

“Later,” you hum, curling your fingers into his sweater. “We’ve got all day.”

Elias laughs. “The tree is supposed to be decorated before Christmas, typically.”

You can’t help but smile at that. “We’re not a typical Christmas story, though.”

“Maybe not typical, but still pretty good.” His arms tighten around you and you can feel him press a kiss into your hair.

“Pretty fucking good,” you agree. “If you get me off this couch today it’ll be a Christmas miracle though.”

You shouldn’t have said that: no sooner than the final word leaves your lips you’re being lifted into the air, legs dangling helplessly as Elias throws you over this shoulder. Your giggles come out a little hysterically. 

“I told you miracles are real,” he grins, unceremoniously carrying you towards the bedroom.

You’ve just come from there, but you’re really not against the idea of going back.

“What about the tree?” you squeal, lightly slapping his shoulder.

“Tree can wait,” Elias decides, as he dumps you onto the bed and lets himself fall over you, leaning on his forearms so he doesn’t crush you.

“Tree can wait,” you echo in agreement, and you let your body relax into the mattress as Elias kisses you. When he tries to deepen it, you turn away just slightly, keeping your nose pressed against his cheekbone. “Hey, Lias?”

“What?” Elias mutters, sounding a little annoyed to be denied another kiss.

You smile. “Merry Christmas.”

His laughter sounds bright.

“Merry Christmas, babe.”

[heyitsyn]

Nekoma!Manager!Male!Reader

a/n: never written male reader before but this was a funny request and i really do see the irony in this

anon request:  

absolutely LOVED your seijoh hcs! you said you wanted to do the other schools so i thought, how about nekoma but with a MALE manager bc it would be so ironic to have a male god as their manager rather than a goddess that they always talked about!! thank youuuuuuu!!!!!!!

yall the nekoma fanchant is literally stuck in my head

hehe uwu lets step on the pedal

ong jesus take the wheel pls

so basically,,,

being the nekoma manager is a MESS

lets say youre a second year and was only the manager bc you were begged into taking the job

like wouldnt leave you alone and pestered you 25/8, screaming about needing their own god manager

also just because, you are fairly popular and you have your own fanclub of girls in nekoma and they thought it would give them more exposure and more chances w girls :’)

tora was actually the first who came up to you and begged you to be their manager during class one day bc they are in need of one but they arent allowed to have a girl manager so he turned to having a handsome male

‘I DONT UNDERSTAND WHY IT HAS TO BE A BOY’

‘so you wont be all over him abd be distracted w showing off’

‘WHO ARE YOU TO QUESTION MY SE-’

‘tora, please’

initially, you refused bc you just couldnt be bothered to be part of a club where you basically babysit a bunch of overgrown children

but kenma, your childhood friend, was the team’s last attempt to get you in since kuroo mentioned that he was the only one you listened to

‘kenma, babie, i love you, but i am your friend, not your nanny. so unless i am paid, i will not waste my time taking care of of all of you. especially that chicken head’

‘y/n, yaku is on his last leg here. we really need a manager and we need it fast’

‘you went for years without one so why do you need it?’

‘we’re scared that nekomata would just drop dead any minute now’

‘yanno? im surprised hes even still alive with yall’

‘....... ill show your fangirls that picture of you when we were 5 when-’

‘okay, kenma. rude about the blackmail but okay. dont expect me to be the maid or anything’

nope, you were actually the maid

and the cook

and the nanny

and the laundry person

the everything

it baffles you that kuroo is about to graduate next year yet he still doesnt know the difference between fabric softener and detergent

the amount of times you sent him to pick up more and only to send him back when he ended up buying 2 softeners or 2 detergents

‘they all look the same!’

‘kuroo tetsuro cAN yOu NoT rEAd?!’

ngl i still mix them up sometimes

during matches, youre basically their mother, their nanny, and nekomata’s notetaker, and their personal cheerleader

naoi, the other coach guy, and coach nekomata has adopted you as a son bc of how hard you work and the less the burden is on them

like your notes about their playing percentages really works and helps them and added with the chores you do for the team?

godsend

also, lets put your popularity in here

you dress with a white shirt and zip up your red nekoma jacket with your red sweatpants so you look like one of the players, right?

but how come every time they have practice, youre the only one with the fangirls in the bleachers?

youre literally wearing the same thing as them yet youre the only one who gets looked at?!

even kuroo, who was quite good looking, doesnt have that many girls pining after him yet you, resident anti-tryhard, seems to get the female population to fall for you just by doing the simplest things like breathing

youd be doing normal things like using your whistle as you hold a clipboard and girls would be screeching at you 

‘omg m/n is so hot!’

‘hes just !!!! uuggghhhh’

‘siri how to be a whistle?’

i am uncomfortable with the energy we have created in the gym today

tora complains about it all the time bc first, they cant have a beautiful manager, two, they have a pretty boy who’s taking the attention away

‘SO NOT FAIR! M/N, TURN UGLY!’

you bonk him on the head in anger and threaten to quit all the time

‘say that again and you’ll be filling your own water bottles tomorrow’

but in truth though, the guys really do appreciate you and everything you do

they know that you balance them with your personal life and classes and still make time to do their laundry and make them food

so they have started easing off the burden and weight off of your shoulders

at first, you were very suspicious when they told you that they already filled their water bottles

‘huh? i didnt think you even knew where the water fountain was’

‘wym weve been doing this for years’

-kuroo

then, you heard kuroo tell the others to put their sweaty jerseys in the basket in the corner of the room and for the last person to carry it to the laundromat

‘um, sir, we dont want to have another pink jersey disaster again’

you stopped inuoka from lugging the basket but he shook his head and gave you a wide grin

‘nope, m/n-senpai! i’ll carry it for you! i’m strong, see?’

he flexed his right arm muscle while holding the basket with one hand but it was too heavy so it fell to the ground, spilling out all the practice jerseys

you sighed before bending down to pick them up and babie inuoka’s eyes watered, thinking you were mad at him

‘gomen, senpai’

he whispered but you looked up at him from your position

his watery eyes made you frantically stand up and wipe his tears with the pads of your thumbs

‘inu-kun, why are you crying? you said you were strong right? dont cry over silly things, okay?’

he nodded and you were still confused as to why he was so emotional but you patted his fluffy hair 

‘now cmon, lets go take these to the shop’

unbeknownst to you, the team was actually seething from behind the wall

naturally, as a,,, manager,, you became their,,, energy?? 

like the slightest affections from you made their health bar increase tenfold and they didnt necessarily have any intentions towards you

you were like,,, their own,,,, happy drug?? like a human seratonin??

just the fact that they had someone like you to fall back on and give them love when they lost or something

it was comforting

usually it was just the team’s responsibility to throw away their own sadness and comfort each other

but with you,,,

they could easily cry with no fear and you would comfort them until they didnt need to be comforted anymore

eventually, they ended up straight out competing against each other on who would get the most affection

clearly, inuoka used his first year card and everyone knew you were soft for your kouhais

like you would just grab them and hug them because of how cute they were

uwu especially lev?! 

he may be a giant but hes just a really REALLY REALLY BIG CAT

;)

LEV LIVES TO HUG YOU

like the mans is beanstalk level of height and despite the age difference, he just picks you up and cuddles you and youre just like ‘okay, let it out babie’

DKSFJSLD ANYWAYS

you are always a hot topic w all the students in nekoma and even some in other schools

like during training camp, bro you making everyone question their sexuality

omg akaashi and you are probably the prettiest people there and can i just say how everyone cant focus on a practice match bc youd be laughing together or something and they havent heard anything so beautiful??

and the kitties get really defensive over you and hiss at anyone who even tries to approach you

hiss hiss

DKJFSLKDFJDWHAT IF EVERYONE IN THE TEAM IS BI

OMG WHAT

like the little touches from you make them so red and confident gays like kuroo and bokuto call you out on them and tease you 

while the quiet ones like akaashi and kenma are just blushing and stutter and you tease them instead?

*inhale* BOI *exhale*

the uke and seme dynamic is real on this one

however, there are times when the turned tables

there was that one day that you were seriously questioning if bokuto wore leggings or just really high knee pads and you cornered him after baths to just figure it out

like our poor confident boi turned to a shy babie and shrunk against the wall, covering his red face

‘y-y/n-kun’

‘bo-san, i just want to know’

DKFSJLKDFJFJSDKIM DYING OVER HERE LIKE PLEASE I DONT OWN Y/N

after seeing the smidge of skin at the top of the kneepad, you nodded and brushed your fingertips over the flesh

‘hmm~ so i was right~’

FROM THEN ON POOR BABIE OWL COULDNT LOOK AT YOU THE SAME!!!!!!

it worried everyone so much when bokuto would glance at you in the sidelines and he would competely miss akaashi’s set bc his eyes would focus on you rather than the ball

like he absolutely couldnt take his eyes off of you and when you do turn to meet his eyes, he shrinks back and looks away, completely missing your amused smirk

now, your kitties werent happy about that

theyre very protective of you and they felt that this owl could snatch you right up and fly away

and kuroo, being the captain and the head of the familia, took it upon himself and dragged you to the back of the gym while the others were practicing

kurat pushed you against the wall and basically kabedonned you

KUROO IS LIKE 6′2 OR 190 CM I CANT

‘you seem close with bokuto, l/n. almost, too,, close’

an amused smirk etched itself on your lips and you pressed a hand on his chest

‘oya~? captain-san, am i being punished?’

SFDKLFSJKLDFJL SIR Y/N IS SUPPOSED TO RADIATE SEME ENERGY BUT HE ISNT AND I CANNOT-

ofc he was taken aback by your flirty attitude but he smirked and softly brushed away your bangs that slightly covered your eyes

‘hmm~~ depends, y/n-kun. are you going to be a good kitty and stay with the clowder? or are you going to stay with those pesky chickens~?’

DKFLSJDKFJSL BRO DID YOU KNOW A GROUP OF CATS IS CALLED A CLOWDER?! I DIDNT EVEN KNOW THAT BUT I HAVE A FEELING KUROO WOULD HAVE KNOWN THAT BC HE BIG BRAIN

you chuckled and gently wrapped your arms around his shoulders

but your hand grabbed the hair at the back of his head and harshly pulled him to be closer to you

your eyes blinked innocently but your sharp teeth were shown from your malicious grin

‘ive always been a bad kitty, captain. so i dont care what you say because you cant tell me what to do~’

👀👀👀👀

imagine what happens next bc i cant write something unholy

anyways

so you learned that tetsu CAN in fact tell you what to do and you avoided everyone else which caused them to wonder but one look at your neck

well,,,,,

you got attacked by a cat 

a cat named tetsu

SKDFLJSDKFJSLKUROO IS THE ONLY SEME YOU CLASH WITH

THE OTHERS ARE ALL UKE

EVEN BEEFY BUFF CAKE BOI BO

but you toned it down to not be attacked again

ngl the whole team was all jealous and they even whined to kuroo about it

‘thats not fair!!!!’

‘stop abusing your role as captain!!!!’

they hated the fact that kuroo got you first so they all rally over to keep you away from him

like baby kenma would nudge you over and bring him to sit next to you, saying he needs you to help him with a certain level

‘kenny, im not sure how to play this game’

‘hmm,,,, youre a quick learner, y/n, and youre really quick with your fingers so you could pass to the next level’

*insert lenny face*

‘oya? and you would know how, kenny?’

and baby kenny would fluster a little before glomping to your side and burying his face into your shoulder to hide away

OR

the first years would absolutely use their kouhai priviledges and bring you over to help them with ‘homework’

‘you guys realize i passed because kuroo would beat me into studying right?’

‘but senpai! you mustve learned a thing or two in your classes!’

‘bold of you to assume i was even awake in my classes’

but they still make you spend hours trying to help them which turn into just messing around 

KSDLFJSDKFJD MOVIE NIGHTS YOU GUYS THATS IT!!

there isnt really a single calm moment in your guys’ practice

poor you have already started seeing lot of gray hairs

you literally decline every single confession just because youre too busy for a date and you cant handle having to take care of another person

its like youre dating the whole team!!

soon the entire school have just accepted the fact that you are just simply not in the market anymore just because you joined the club

not because youre actually taken by a girlfriend but youre taken by a bunch of teenage males

imagine how that works out

anyways

youre not really the best volleyball player out there but you know a thing or two

well,,, its more like your stamina doesnt allow you to play long bc a single lap literally destroys your lungs

but you still know when yaku complains about having a shaky receive

‘oh, momo-senpai, youre bending your knees too low so gravity is pushing down on your-’

ugh chemistry i hate it

despite your lack of athletic or physical skills, they still appreciate you for your keen eyes, your caring nature, and your overall looks that give them motivation to play harder to impress you personality :)

all the boys love you

and tbh

you love your boys too

even though it was a blackmail caused event,

you still would’ve joined otherwise

this is kinda short but its going to be longer if i find some plots or somebody asks for a plotline that i can write about for a long time

anyways

byeeeee :)))))

a/n: this isnt exactly the best manager one ive written but ill probably find a good prompt for this or again as stated ^^ someone sends in an ask for it and ill write a story for our favorite male manager :’D

[hinatas-sunshine]

Synopsis: Practice was supposed to be normal today, but with these crack powerhouse teams, that’s never possible

Suga come collect your kids 😐

Genre: fluff

Warnings: None

I wrote this so fast sorry it sucks hehe

Iwaizumi:

• This is something you would expect from Oikawa

• But Iwaizumi stood there, Kageyama confused, and Oikawa fuming

• You raised an eyebrow at Iwa who smiled sheepishly

“I can explain..”

“OH YOU BETTER MISTER.”

“I don’t have to explain myself to you shittykawa.”

• You held the pretty boy back from throwing hands, at Iwa or Kageyama? Who knows

“Tobio what are you doing here?”

• Kageyama looked at Iwaizumi, like a lost kid expecting their mother to answer

• Iwaizumi cleared just throat and looked away

“He, uh... he isn’t training with the shorty today so he’s training with me.”

• Oikawa gasped so loud, while you again held him back from swinging. Still not know who he would swing at.

“That’s nice! Then I’ll train with Oikawa today!”

“I don’t want to train with you y/n! You suck!”

• This time Iwa was holding you back by your waist and you tried to kick Oikawa who was now hiding being Kageyama

“Babe, it’ll just be for a little.”

• You nodded and smiled as he kissed your temple, dragging Oikawa by the ear and away from the two other boys

“Ow ow ow ow ow-“

• You looked at Oikawa, who was now rubbing his sore ear

“If you interrupt them I’ll rip your hair off.”

• He grabbed onto his head, a scared look on his face at your threat

• An hour into practice you were tired

• Kageyama was too, laying sprawled on the ground while your boyfriend sat a few feet away from him

• Oikawa wasn’t as tired, just sore from all your kicking, punching, pulling and hitting

• You automatically ran to Iwaizumi and sat with him on the floor while he held you

• The gym was silent, with the exception of the heavy breathing from you guys being tired

• They gym doors slammed open

“WHERE IS HE?”

• You all looked to see a angry Hinata and a nervous Suga already apologizing

• You stood up and went to go say hi to Sugawara while Hinata had a tug of war with Iwaizumi over Kageyama

“Let shorty have him Iwa-Chan!”

“No!”

“He’s on MY team!”

“So? He was on mine first!”

“Am I not enough for you Iwa-Chan!?”

“Shut up shittykawa!”

• You smiled sheepishly at Suga who laughed nervously at you, you both went to pull one of the boys away and Kageyama stood there

“Kageyama go to your own gym.”

“Babe-“

• You glared at Iwa who sighed and waved bye at Kageyama who then waved back and left with the other two boys

• Iwa poured and he layed his head on your shoulder

“I feel betrayed Iwa-Chan.”

“I don’t care what you feel Trashykawa.”

• You giggled kissing Iwa’s cheek as he nuzzled his face more into your neck

“Now you guys are being nasty in front of me!”

“Don’t care!”

Bokuto:

• You and Akaashi sighed while Bokuto bounced around the Gym with Hinata hot on his tail

• You weren’t sure what happened one minute Bokuto texted you he had a surprise the next this was happening.

“How did he even get Hinata over here?”

“Bo!”

• At the sound of your voice the boy stopped running and smiled at you charging your way

“Oh he’s coming fast.”

“Really fast...”

“Y/n move!”

• Before you could, Bokuto already had you lifted in his arms hugging you in a tight hug

“Look who I brought!”

“Bo baby put me down.”

“Oh yeah!”

• He did as told while you smiled at Hinata who waved at you

“What brings you here you ball of sunshine.”

• He smiled and pointed at Bokuto

“He brought me here!”

• You furrowed your eyebrows as you looked at Bokuto who smiled proudly and nodded only for Akaashi to smack the proud boys head

“He has to be home soon, you know how worried everyone must be for him Bokuto-San?”

• You and Akaashi automatically noticed Bokutos fallen face while you smiled at him holding his face in your hands bringing him down for a kiss - to which he smiled and accepted

• While Akaashi talked to Suga about where Hinata is, the two killed time by playing some volleyball with the whole team

• You smiled taking note at how happy Bokuto was to be around the smaller boy

• You also noticed how much energy the two had, exhausting everyone around them

“So, how did Bokuto get Hinata over here?”

“He showed up and Hinata started following him like a little bird.”

• You giggled as you sat next to Akaashi who let out a laugh too

• Bokuto was teaching Hinata all about being an Ace right now, the tangerine boy listening with sparkles in his eyes

• You approached right when Suga stormed in looking for Hinata

“Hinata! You can’t just leave like that!”

• Bokuto automatically took Hinata into his arms trying to keep him with him

“Bo he has to go home baby.”

“Or he could just live with me and we could be his parents!”

• You laughed at this placing your hands on his arms

“No we couldn’t because we’re still underage.”

• He pouted and nodded, understanding while you smiled and kissed his nose

• He went to say Bye to Hinata while both boys began to pout

“It’s okay Bo! Maybe we can visit Hinata soon!”

• Now he was happy and bouncing around, while you looked at Akaashi

“You’re going too.”

“I don’t want to...”

“Please?...”

“Fine but you’re buying me dinner.”

“Got it!”

“Are you guys making plans without me?!”

“No.”

Kuroo:

• When you saw Kenma full sprint to the gym, you quickly followed confused

• Seeing Kuroo with a bouncing orange haired boy, you smacked your forehead

“Why?”

“Kenma needs to practice.”

• Upon seeing the boy excitedly jump around Kenma, Kenma smiled and you walked up to your boyfriend

“So, when did you get him?”

“...”

“Kuroo.”

“I skipped school.”

• Now you kicked the boy across the gym, causing Hinata to stare at you scared while you approached him

“Hinata, sweetie, why are you here?”

“Oh! Well Kuroo said that we were practicing here today and I could get a head start!”

• Kuroo stood up ready to run, but before you could charge at your boyfriend Yaku held you back

“I already told Sugawara!”

“How do you have his number?”

“We complain about our teams all the time together.”

• You raised an eyebrow at this but looked at your boyfriend who looked away avoiding your eye contact

• You sighed and let him run practice as usual as you fulfilled your manager duties

• You has to admit, Kenma was more active with the energetic ball of sunshine around

“See I did something good.”

“You kidnapped a student.”

“Well when you put it that way, negative Nancy.”

• You watched as Suga opened the doors to the gym smiling at everyone while Hinata bounced up to him

“Sugawara-Senpai! Where’s the rest of the team?”

• Suga raised his eyebrow at this, looked at Hinata confused

• You elbowed your boyfriend to step forward, who did guiltily, and explained the situation to Suga

“Don’t stress it! This isn’t the first time one of our team mates has been taken by another team, especially Hinata.”

• Everyone deadpanned and stared at Hinata who smiled, you giggled smacking your boyfriend on the back of his head

“Well you got Kenma to work a little for practice, Hinata we would love to have you back to train with us.”

• The boy smiled brightly at this and waved at everyone before leaving and you turned to the team about to speak

“YAKU! YOU STUPID MOM! NOW YOU TOOK SHOYO FROM ME!”

“Kenma you always have me!”

“I don’t care Lev!”

• Kenma was upset with everyone for making Hinata leave

“I blame this on your y/n ✨”

“Kuroo I’ll stomp on you, you kidnapper.”

Tags:

[xnchxntmxnt]

𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑢𝑛𝑎, 𝑓𝑖𝑥𝑒𝑑

𝐵𝑜𝑘𝑢𝐴𝑘𝑎 𝑋 𝐺𝑁!𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟

𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑢𝑛𝑎 : 𝑎 𝑏𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑘 𝑠𝑝𝑎𝑐𝑒, 𝑎 𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡

a, can you tell I'm bad at naming things? This took me an hour b, I make this sound so much cooler than it really is lol it's just bokuto and akaashi being cuties

this is another req from tumblr that I'm excited about--also thank you to @sugasfanfics (on ao3, instagram & tumblr) for helping me with some ideas with this! Love you bro!/p Go check out her stuff! It's really good!

Anyway, enjoy!

TW//CW: minor cursing

Reader info: GN!Reader, third year student at Fukurodani, Bokuto Kotaro’s childhood best friend

Word Count:

Ao3 Link

“Akaashi! Did you see that spike! Did ya see it? Did ya?”

“Yes, I did, Bokuto.”

“Wasn’t it killer?!”

“Yes, Bokuto.”

“My shoulder hurts a little from that!”

Now that you thought about it, your shoulder hurt a little just watching him. You grew up with Fukurodani’s team captain, Bokuto Kotaro, and you welcomed Akaashi Keiji into your friendship the year prior. Now it was the beginning of your third year and Bo invited you to stay and watch practice so he could walk you home. What a gentleman.

Most of why you immediately let him join the two of you is because he and Bokuto figured out early on they were soulmates. It was great to meet them so young, but you had to admit, you were a little jealous. Especially because Bokuto had it pinned in his mind that there was someone else. All he had was a few scraped knees and/or elbows that he nor Akaashi remembered getting to go off of. Typical Kotaro making a mountain out of a molehill. You’d been dealing with his dramatic streak for a long time, though, and found it endearing.

He was endearing. You’d had a crush on the captain for a while, now, but since he and Akaashi found each other...well, it was better not to spoil their fun.

You hadn't wanted to admit it for a while, but you had a bit of a crush on Akaashi too. There was something about both the boys—very different things, of course—that drew you to them. Bokuto was loud, emotional, and so caring where Akaashi’s intelligence and natural charm were fascinating.

You didn’t have the guts to confess to either of them nor did you want to ruin what they had. They already found each other, so what was the point? It’s not like having two soulmates was unheard of but it was on the rarer side and you doubted you’d be so lucky.

“Nice one, Bo!” you yelled over to him. Today was Friday so you were planning on walking home with Bokuto from his practice. The two of you had spent Friday evenings together for as long as you could remember, rarely ever missing them. You helped him with homework when he needed it, you two played video games or watched movies. Most of the time you ended up staying overnight because neither of you wanted to move from the comfortable couch.

He turned and waved to you, a smile plastered on his face. “(Y/N), wasn't that awesome?”

“Yes, it was,” you laugh, turning back to your homework you decided to work on while at practice (that way Bokuto could have your full attention when you got home—he needed it in school sometimes). “You got this, dude!”

You heard him cheer—he was so energetic today. Someone so positive (unless he was in one of his moods) was hard to come by. Especially someone who felt all of his emotions so strongly like he did.

The end of practice came sooner than you thought it would and you offered to help the boys clean up. They graciously accepted, per usual, so you followed Akaashi around, helping him find all the volleyballs that had rolled around the gym floor.

“Any fun plans for the weekend?” you asked, hoping to start a conversation with him. Usually, he wasn’t the type to start talking to anyone, so you wanted to break the silence.

He shrugged. “Bokuto offered to go to the movies with me tomorrow night, so there’s that. You?”

“Just the usual.”

He mumbled something, but before you could ask what it was, Bokuto came skipping over. He swung around behind Akaashi, wrapping his arms around his waist. “What’re you two talking about?” he asked energetically, a smile plastered on his face.

“Just this weekend,” you reply, trying to match his energy. It was a little tough when Bo was (unintentionally) making you a third wheel.

“Awesome, awesome, awesome! Hey, I gotta steal Akaashi real quick, But I’ll be ready to leave in a sec, yeah?”

“Sounds good.” You turned to walk back to your bag, going to put away the book you had out. However, the boys’ conversation had you intrigued, so you walked slower and listened in.

“One time, Akaashi! Last time, I promise! I just wanna see-”

“Or you can just wait and find out.”

“Ugh, but thats boring! Please, please, please?”

“Fine, fine--you want me there?”

“Yes please!”

“Alright…”

You sighed, wondering what Bokuto was up to this time. Whatever it was, at least it was legal and safe enough that Akaashi agreed to it.

***

“(Y/N), hey, (Y/N)!” Bokuto yelled for you, running out of the club room with Akaashi in tow. You laughed as he glared at him, being dragged along by the wrist. “I have something I wanna try on you. Works on akaashi, I wanna see if you fall for it.”

“What is it?”

“You gotta trust me on this.”

You laugh. “I’m scared, is this safe?”

“Just humor him, you won’t die or anything.”

“Yeah, you’ll be fine! Hold your arm out.”

You follow his directions and you do, rolling up your sleeve. He does the same.

Before you know it, there’s a painful stinging sensation on your forearm, but you realize you weren’t hit. Bokuto slapped his own arm, which was now slightly red where he hit.

“Did you have to hit so hard?” Akaashi complained with a sigh. “That hurt.”

“Yeah, yeah, sorry--(Y/N)?”

“What the hell?” you asked, eyes wide in shock. “Did you just--”

“It worked! Oh--Akaashi it worked! I was right! Yes! Aren’t you glad you said yes!”

“We could have just asked them to the movies Saturday…”

You listened to the two of them go back and forth for a moment, staring at your arm. It didn’t hurt anymore, but a moment ago it had. But you weren’t hit. Bokuto was. How did you--

“Is this how you broke your arm when you were seven and somehow I managed to at the same time??” you exclaim, shoving his shoulder. “When did you figure this out? How did you know? What?”

“Well, I kinda had an idea a little while ago, but I wanted to try it out…” he mumbled, scratching the back of his neck. “But isn’t this awesome? You--wait, you like us, right?”

You roll your eyes, putting up your best deadpan face. “No, Bokuto Kotaro, I despise you and Akaashi with every fiber of my being.”

“Really?”

“No, stupid, I’ve liked you for months I just didn’t say anything!”

“Why not??”

“Cause I didn’t wanna ruin what you guys had!”

“If it helps, (Y/N), we both did the same thing,” Akaashi added. “So, if you’re not doing anything tomorrow, do you wanna come to the movies with us?”

You not, still unbelieving that this was an actual reality. Bokuto grinned and hugged you, spinning you around in his excitement. “Bo, put me down!” you squeal, hanging onto him tightly.

He set you down and kissed your forehead. “Sorry, sorry, I got excited. But you’ll come, right??”

“Yes, I’ll come to the movies with you guys.”

“Awesome!”

“I’m glad.”

You took one of Bokuto’s hands and offered your other one to Akaashi, which he also took. So your first ‘date’ tomorrow would be interesting, but you couldn’t have been happier about it.

Hope you guys enjoyed! I love these guys so much, specifically Bokuto (but I tried to write them both aaaa I'm no good at Akaashi but I tried). If you have any reqs for me, let me know either here or my inbox on tumblr!

Drink some water and stay healthy! Sending love! <3

-𝑆𝑝𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒𝑟

[thisfoolwrites]

My Altair (3)

And here’s part 3! Sorry for the long wait, I just worked 6 days in a row and retail is hell when the word snow is uttered on the news! Enjoy and thank you all again for the likes! Also sorry if you notice the name Hana or any descriptions. I try to get them all but I miss some sometimes. 

Warnings: None for this chapter

Genre: Angst to fluff

Part 2

The last day of the camp Kuroo decided that he had had enough. He watched as {Y/N} laughed and smiled with the rowdy Karasuno boys. They had been friends for ten years, and now she wouldn't even speak to him. He waited till the {H/C} girl had gone to get water for her team. He followed her earning confused looks from his team. Kenma stared at the spot where the captain once stood. 'This is not going to end well.' he thought.

“{Y/N},” Kuroo called running after her. Hearing her name her blood ran cold. Two weeks she had gone without this confrontation. It couldn't be avoided forever. She turned and looked at him with cold eyes. The taller male gulped. She had never looked at him like that before. “We need to talk, don't you think?” he all but demanded. {E/C} eyes narrowed in anger.

“And if I say no?” She challenged, voice as monotone as she could make it. “Honestly Kuroo, you are-”

“Kuroo?” He cut her off. “You have always called me Tetsu, or Tetsuro when you're mad. Since when was I demoted to Kuroo?” He couldn't keep the hurt out of his voice. It almost caused {Y/N}'s resolve to break.

“Since you told your girlfriend that I was nothing more than a sister to you.” His eyes widened in shock. She heard that?

“Thats not what I meant.” He stuttered with his words. “She was asking all these questions on why I was so close to you and-”

“So you chose to lie rather than to tell the truth? Even after all this time you are still choosing to keep that summer  a secret? God, for being so smart, you're so god damn dumb Kuroo!” She began to raise her voice but quickly calmed down, knowing that everyone would be able to hear her yelling.

“That's what this is about? You agreed to keep it quiet, not just me {Y/N}!” He argued.

“You didn't give me much of a choice.” Her voice was shaking at this point. Her eyes glistened with tears once again, everything about that night was coming back to her. She locked eyes with Kuroo, causing the male shrink back. “I never wanted to be a secret. I just wanted to be with you.” Her voice got quieter with each word she spoke. She turned away and began to walk away to fill up the water bottles again.

“I'm done with this conversation. Go back to the team.” She waved him off. Watching her disappear down the hall he was left to wonder, how long had she been holding in these feelings. Walking back to the gym he was met with the curious eyes of his team, and a scrutinizing glare from Fukurodani's captain. Did Bokuto know something that he didn't in regards to his best friend? No, he supposed he didn't have that title anymore. Watching the older Kozume walk back in with a fake smile on her face he realized, he hadn't had that title since last summer. Knowing that he had lost someone who was always there, hurt more than he had imagined.

Later on at the barbecue, Kenma kept sneaking glances at his sister and then back to Kuroo. Even though they were acting like everything was ok, he knew that whatever they had talked about built a bigger rift between the two. He put his attention back to his game and began to wonder if things were ever going to go back to normal. He was interrupted from his thoughts by a plate of food being put in his face. He looked up to the {E/C} eyes of his sister, who had a soft smile on her face.

“Here, eat.” She pleaded sitting next to him, a plate of food for her as well. He paused the game taking the plate, while looking at her.

“Are you ok?” he questioned. “When you came back from talking with Kuroo your eyes were misty, like you had been crying. What happened between the two of you?” She looked down at her feet before ruffling his hair.

“I'm not ok, but I will be don't worry.” She gave him a small smile. As she went back to eating Kenma figured that she was not going to answer his other question. Looking over at where Hinata was talking to Kuroo and Bokuto, he noticed that Bokuto was glancing over at his sister every once in a while. He figured that it was to make sure she was doing ok. He had been the one to deal with drunk {Y/N} after all. He was drug out of his thoughts by his sister once again.

“Anyway, I'm gonna go save Yachi from the crowd. Eat Kenma.” He watched her interact with the young manager, her smile wasn't forced like when she had returned earlier. Yachi bowed to her in thanks, but {Y/N} just waved her off. It was then he realized, that she hadn't been ok for a while.

It was later in the evening and the boys were packing up their belongings getting ready to leave. The rest of the Nekoma boys had headed down to the bus, leaving Kuroo and Kenma to grab their things. Kenma turned to his friend and saw the dejected look on his face. In the group setting he could laugh and pretend that he wasn't hurt, but with just Kenma he let his guard down. Kuroo saw Kenma looking at him and sighed.

“She’s done with me officially. I don't think I can fix this anymore Kenma.” The younger boys eyes widened. He wasn't expecting Kuroo to actually tell him. “I broke her trust then lied to Akemi about who she was to me because I wanted to be selfish. She heard me say she was only a sister to me, but that wasn't true at all. She was more, but I was too scared about what people would say to do anything about it. I broke her, and it hurts to know I can't help her.” Kuroo quickly wiped the tears that came down his cheeks. Kenma was shocked, he had never really seen the taller male cry before, but was even more shocked at his words.

Kenma wasn't blind to what happened last summer, but he never wanted to bring it up for fear that a fight would happen. He sighed and gave Kuroo a pat on the back before grabbing his bag and heading towards the door. Kuroo turned to look at him, slinging his own bag on his shoulder.

“For the record, the team was rooting for you two.” Hazel orbs widened, “We all thought you'd end up together. Give her more time. You might not get her the way you want to, but I believe you can be friends again.” He continued while walking out the door. He rushed out the door to follow Kenma down to the bus. Not today, but one day he would make this right. As the two boys got down there he saw Bokuto and {Y/N} standing together laughing. Kuroo realized that even though he broke her, Bokuto would fix her. He gave the two a small smile before getting on the bus.

{Y/N} smiled at the owl haired man before her. He was pouting because he wouldn't be able to see her for a while. He complained that he barely got to spend time with her, even though she had pointed out that it was a volleyball training camp.

“You do know you have my phone number right?” She asked the taller man. This just caused him to pout more, in turn causing her to laugh harder. Bokuto perked up at the sound. He loved the melodic sound and it made him smile a bit, but he went back to pouting to keep the ruse going.

“Its not the same as seeing you in person you know.” He grumbled turning his face away. If she had seen the blush on his face he'd never live it down. She glanced up at him one final time after hearing the coaches call for the students.

“Hey Bo,” she began getting his attention back on her, “When you qualify for nationals, I'll take you out to for yakiniku.” She said with a bright smile on her face. The blush came right back to his face, but he noticed that she had one as well. He returned the smile with a bigger one of his own. Without even thinking he pulled the smaller girl into a hug. It startled the girl before she relaxed and hugged him back.

“I'd like that.” He whispered in her ear before letting her go. They both headed to their own buses with smiles. Once she got on the bus she took her spot next to Kenma, humming a small tune. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eyes. He saw her content face and small smile. She was happy. He turned and locked eyes with Kuroo, who also noticed the change in the girl. It broke his heart to know that someone else was taking his place, but it was all his fault. Pulling out his phone he sent a quick text before shutting it off.

Kuroo: Take care of her. Don't make her cry like I did.

Taglist: @samkysnks​ @aurorahoneybuns​

[ichorizaki]

truth or dare! ━ b.k.

꒰ ❛ genre ❜ ꒱  — fluff, crack-ish

꒰ ❛ pairing ❜ ꒱ — bokutō kōtarō x gn!reader

꒰ ❛ warnings ❜ ꒱ — vulgar language, mentions of alcohol, drunk!reader, bo being a lovely dumbass<3

꒰ ❛ word count ❜ ꒱ —  1.8k

˚ ༘ˀˀ  ꒰‧⁺ a text from sol —  ✎ˀ my first fic !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!! no thoughts, head empty, just exclamation marks!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! happy bornday to my bobo bb<33 + mia [ @samuthots​ ] wanted me to tag her so i am doing so   n e r v ou s l y-

-`,✎ synopsis!  ; ♡ drunken confessions of love aren’t always received well, which was why bokutō kōtarō was surprised that his crush had reciprocated his feelings.

Bokutō Kōtarō knew how to handle his liquor well. He was an athlete after all, so it was only natural to be one of the few somewhat sober people among a sea of absolutely shit-faced college students. He didn’t know why Kuroo invited him to this godforsaken party. It was something along the lines of someone knowing somebody who knew somebody. Though he may be a little slow in certain areas, he wasn’t dumb enough to not realise that it was just an invitation to another frat party.

He would much rather be somewhere else at that moment. Maybe somewhere with his best of friends where he could get absolutely hammered and let loose with no inhibitions at all. Sure, he loved crowds but not ones that were too drunk to even hold a proper sentence. His wish was granted by none other than the same person who invited him to the party and also left him on his own (on accident or not, he didn’t know).

So there he sat in a circle, playing a mashup game of Truth or Dare and Spin the Bottle with his beloved friends and a very, very attractive you. There were several drunken people in the circle, some that he didn’t recognise, but he didn’t need to complain when he was sitting right across you.

Your name is the only name that set his heart on fire and made his stomach perform weird flips. Your smile is the only smile that made his face flush pink and stumble over his sentences. You were the only one who could make him nervous just by being there because you were just that stunning to him.

Akaashi always had the prettiest friends, but you were the one that stood out to him. Finding out that you were an angel both inside and out was pretty much one of his greatest accomplishments in the history of everything.

Everyone in his inner circle was well acquainted with his hopeless crush on you. New Instagram post? Screenshotted and sent to his group chat to fawn over you. Double-taps the picture countless of times like as if he could give more than one like. But comment? Oh, he could never. You smiled at him in the hallway on the way to your class in the next building over? Screams at his group chat over how adorable you are with his heart ramming dangerously against his rib cage. You guys bumped into one another on campus? He’s never going to wash that shirt because it made contact with you.

He knew next to nothing about you besides your major and that you were Akaashi’s friend. He should probably ask you on a date, but he was too scared because you two were practically strangers. But then again, he wouldn’t know if he didn’t try, but–⁠

“Earth to Bo!”

He forced himself out of his little reverie and stared back at an even more flushed you. How many drinks have you had?

“Dude, did you not hear Y/N?” Kuroo snickered teasingly. “Too busy daydreaming about them when they’re literally right in front of you? C’mon, dude.”

“Kuroo, shut your whore mouth.” He flipped the bedheaded male off.

“Bo! Eyes on me, I asked you truth or dare!” Your words, albeit slightly slurred, came out as a cute little whine that sent his heart pacing at an alarming rate. Wait, you asked him? His eyes looked down at the unopened bottle of Coke with the tab pointed at him. “Bo. Truth or dare?” You repeated once again.

“Uh . . truth!” He stammered, which garnered giggles from a slightly drunken Akaashi and the rest of the group.

“Okay!” You exclaimed cheerfully with a childlike grin on your face. How could you be so cute? “Truth—do you wanna kiss me?” Does he want to WHAT?!

“Wait– dare.”

“Eh . . then . . then . . I dare you to kiss me!”

“You– huh!?” His brows furrowed, lips jutting outward in a confused pout as he tilted his head to the right ever so slightly. Of course he wanted to kiss you. Of course he wanted to hold your smaller frame in his arms and literally steal your breath away but you were drunk. You were drunk! He couldn’t do that to you; you probably didn’t know what you were doing or saying.

“Kiss! Gimme– gimme k—iss, Bo.” Your whines were louder and they were a melody against the jarring harmony of Kuroo’s dying hyena laughter.

“Y/N, I can’t possibly do that when you’re this drunk,” he sullenly sighed. A loudly whimpered a “Why not?” with those damned puppy eyes of yours and he almost felt compelled to pull you into his laps and make out with you.

“Bokutō-san,” Akaashi, the graceful voice of reason, shifted in his spot next to him, “Isn’t this clear indication that your feelings for Y/N are reciprocated?”

“Akaashi!” It was then his turn to whine out in protest. He could still hear your drunken pleas to want to be kissed by him and how he was cheating by flouting the game. “I mean, yeah, but I’m not gonna kiss them when they’re that drunk. I want our first kiss to be memorable.”

“Bobo, that’s sweet, so let’s go on a date right now!” You cheered happily, catching him off guard as you threw your body onto him.

“Sweetheart, it’s two in the morning.”

“Time is a concept and you’re so cuddly,” you swooned, shamelessly burying your face deeper into his chest. God, you were too cute. He felt his neck burn up as Kuroo’s ridiculous laughter began to envelope the whole group in a heavy blanket.

So the both of you stayed like that for the rest of the game; him, not moving an inch so you could feel comfortable, and you, who had peacefully dozed off halfway through the game in his arms without a kiss from him.

People began to leave after lounging for a while at Kuroo’s dorm. Bokuto lived in the same building, just a few floors down, so it wouldn’t be a problem if it weren’t for the sleeping you in his arms. If he were brave enough, he would bring you to his dorm knowing that Akaashi would offer his bed for your sake. He wanted to do the responsible thing and tuck you into your bed in your dorm, knowing that you’ll be safe there, but the problem lies therein: he hadn’t an inkling of an idea where your dorm was.

You looked so peaceful in his arms that it almost felt painful for him to let you go. He couldn’t stop staring at your sleeping face, your lush lips parted the slightest bit and he could tell that you were dreaming from the way your eyeballs shifted beneath the soft skin of your eyelids. Were you dreaming of something nice? Were you dreaming of him and you, living a fantasy that would make you forget the realities of the embarrassing scene from earlier? With you sound asleep in his arms, he felt like sleeping too.

“Bokutō-san.” He looked up to see Akaashi squatting before him with all of you three’s belongings on his person. “Their dorm access card is in their bag. Their dorm is near ours’.”

It took everything in him to not scream out loud. Instead, he chose to muffle his screams and all that came out were confused, strangled noises from his throat begging for the younger male to elaborate further. All this while, you were so close within his grasp but like sand you just fell between his fingers! Well, it kinda made sense since your classes took place all the way across the campus. But still!

When Bokutō lifted you in a bridal carry as he stood up, he had his eyes on you the whole time, praying to whatever gods who would heed his call to not let you wake up. The last thing he wanted to do was interrupt your sleep.

True enough (not that he doubted Akaashi’s words in the slightest in the first place) you resided close to the both of them. You were living four doors down to them, closer to the lift lobby. Akaashi knocked on the door experimentally to see if your roommate was awake before doing anything else. Thankfully, your roommate was awake.

“No wonder Y/N wasn’t picking up any of my calls,” they heaved a sigh of relief, slicking their short dyed hair back. The tattoos that adorned their pale skin and piercings on their ears and lip would have thrown Bokutō off if it wasn’t for the Cinnamoroll pyjama top they sported. “Thanks for bringing them back. I was dead worried.”

“It’s no problem,” Akaashi answered for the both of them. Your roommate led them in and directed the two to your room, and Bokutō tenderly tucked you into bed. He went through the trouble of asking your roommate to fluff up your pillows and opening up the windows for fresh air while he removed your socks and any outer layer of clothes. He was ready to leave until he heard you mumble his name in the midst of your dreamlike state.

“Oh, so you’re Bokutō.” He turned to your roommate, unable to say anything but choke out a strangled “Yes?” On their way out, your roommate told them that you wouldn’t stop talking about him whenever you could. He would respond under normal circumstances, but he didn’t want to risk you waking up. It would be a lie if he admitted that it didn’t inflate his ego. When Bokutō and Akaashi arrived at their shared dorm, the former was able to sleep with a peaceful smile on his face knowing that his crush liked him back.

Bokutō thought he wouldn’t see you for another two days at least, so when you were so enthusiastically running towards him while he was on the way to practice the afternoon after, he couldn’t help but run towards you like a puppy reuniting with his owner after years of separation.

“Y/N!” His voice boomed like thunder in the open grounds of campus as he met you halfway.

“Bokutō-kun!” You mimicked his tone, slowing to a stop just an arm’s reach away from him. You had that energetic smile and the sparkle in your eyes that made his stomach flutter. If he was making you smile like that, he would quite literally pass out that moment. “Bokutō-kun, truth or dare?” His smile would’ve dropped to morph into an expression of pure confusion but your smile was just so addicting that his face was just mirroring yours.

“Hmm . . . let’s go with dare.”

“M’kay!” He thought it was impossible for your smile to get any wider, but he was proven wrong. “I dare you to go out on a date with me.” Now he was grinning ear to ear like a lovestruck fool.

“How does this Friday at seven sound?”

“It’s a date!”

[roonilwazlibweasley]

I posted 6,880 times in 2021

3386 posts created (49%)

3494 posts reblogged (51%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 1.0 posts.

I added 1,694 tags in 2021

#harry potter - 366 posts

#hp - 352 posts

#tw caps - 283 posts

#harry potter series - 177 posts

#sirius black - 106 posts

#remus lupin - 95 posts

#marauders - 95 posts

#james potter - 90 posts

#peter pettigrew - 65 posts

#the marauders - 65 posts

Longest Tag: 123 characters

#i like klaroline but sometimes the shippers are super irritating and toxic so i tend to stay away from klaroline in general

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

snape hate

Let’s start from the beginning. Before Snape even reaches Hogwarts, he drops a tree branch on petunias head, which shows he wasn’t afraid to hurt people. We know that as a child, Snape was deeply invested in the dark arts. This was part of the the reason James hated him. Snape, in return hated James and the Marauders by extension. Snape complained about the Marauders to Lily, saying that their pranking was rude and mean. Snape however, was part of a friend group who bullied Mary McDonald, a friend of Lily’s. By bullying, I mean cursing her.

Snape also called Lily a mudblood when he was 15. He then tried to justify it by saying that she and she only was different. He also said it “slipped out” meaning he had been saying it in his head for a while.

Snap joins the death eaters, and tells Voldemort about the prophecy. When he finds out that the child in the prophecy is Harry, he begs Dumbledore to save Lily but he doesn’t care about James or Harry. If he really loved Lily he would want James and Harry safe too.

Fast forward 11 years, Harry’s first year at Hogwarts. On Harry’s first day, Snape asks Harry difficult potions questions which Harry didn’t know. As a professor, he should know that Harry only just found out he was a wizard. This is one of many examples of Snape bullying his students. Snape is often condescending to his students (minus the Slytherins). Perfect example being Neville. Neville's greatest fear was Snape, which is so messed up because a student shouldn’t be scared of his teacher; especially when this specific students parents were tortured into insanity by a death eater. Reasonably, Neville's greatest fear should be Bellatrix  Lestrange. Now there are many other occasions when Snape has bullied his students, but one that i remember vividly is when Draco hexed Hermione to make her teeth grow to an abnormal size. Snape looked at them and said, and I quote: “I see no difference.” Also, when Rita Skeeter was slut shaming Hermione in an article, Snape read it out loud in the class.

In Harry’s third year, Snape substitutes a class for Remus. In this class he teaches about werewolves, the homework he sets is how to recognize and kill them. Now not only does this risk exposing Remus, it takes away Remus’ right to teach werewolves as what they really were - afflicted people. Basically, when he exposed Remus, he took away Remus’ chances of getting another job in the wizarding world. Remember, Remus had lived in poverty for a majority of his life and being a professor at Hogwarts was his one chance to escape that. This is pretty annoying considering Remus was being civil to Snape. In the shrieking shack, Snape ignores Remus and Sirius and wants to give them to the dementors without listening to their story - all because of a childhood grudge. (Which the marauders matured from). Constantly made jabs at Sirius for not being able to do much for the order knowing that it wasn’t Sirius’ fault.

Physically abused Harry during occlumency lessons. When he was in Harry’s head for the occlumency lessons, he walked into the memory of the mirror of Erised and said: “feeling sentimental Potter”. Like what a jerk - as if he wasn’t the reason Harry had no parents.

That whole thing when he ripped apart a picture of a happy family to pretend Lily’s love was directed to him. That was creepy and obsessive. Walked over James’ body and ignored a crying child so he could cry over Lily’s dead body - a demonstration of his love, creepy and unhelpful. (I know this wasn't in the books, but most Snape stanners are movie watcher)

He invented the Sectumsempra spell. It was his specialty which shows that he used it a lot. He even cursed of George’s ear! This spell aims to kill which is slightly messed up for a 16 year old boy to make.

Now people try to justify his actions by saying that he had an abusive childhood. Sirius had an abusive childhood and still managed to be a good person. Harry was neglected and still managed to be a good person. Being abused as a child is no excuse to be a bad person.

They also try to justify his actions by saying he was in love with Lily. He was kind of obsessed with her but that’s a whole other debate. Just because he liked her, doesn’t mean him being a jerk should be ignored. What’s even creepier is that if Harry looked like Lily, Snape would’ve liked him.

Snape was brave by going spy, but that doesn’t mean we ignore his horrible actions. It’s doesn’t justify them either.

444 notes • Posted 2021-07-04 14:32:24 GMT

#4

new tag game! search your name on urban dictionary and share your results <3

aditi

An absolutely gorgeous girl, who is always put down and usually doesn't believe her own beauty. She has luscious hair, dazzling eyes and a stunning face. Her personality could win anyone's heart over and she is just a beautiful person in general, with a true heart. She has been through so much, but she is one of the strongest girls. She rarely smiles, even though her smile is one of the prettiest.

npt: @justadreamyhufflepuff @g1nny-p0tter @acciorxses @percyweasleyspuff @bess-marvin-wife @just-a-smol-spoon @mira-cant-spell @denizoid @shes-mine and anyone else who wants to try :)

455 notes • Posted 2021-08-24 22:57:45 GMT

#3

Teddy Lupin would've been such a chaotic child. I mean, think about it. A combination of a Marauder and fucking Tonks, raised by two chaotic dumbasses - Harry "I always manage to find trouble" Potter and Ginny motherfucking Weasley.

464 notes • Posted 2021-06-06 17:02:23 GMT

#2

I love how there was one Gryffindor, who saw Malfoy's hateful song lowering Ron's self esteem and confidence and decided: "You know what? Fuck it. Weasley is our king." They turned a song created with hate and ill intent into a song that encouraged Ron, and increased his confidence. Mad respect to them. Severely underrated moment. It speaks volumes about Ron's impact on Gryffindor house and the amount they must've loved and respected him.

604 notes • Posted 2021-09-03 02:41:19 GMT

#1

the number of letters in your url is now your age forever. how old are you?

1046 notes • Posted 2021-12-11 01:33:06 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

[jamilelucato]

2. Candy Store [hog. heathers]

Summary: This story is based on Heathers, the musical. It’s set in Hogwarts, back in the last year Tom Riddle studied there. Y/N is a Ravenclaw student.

Pairing: Tom Riddle x reader (later on)

Heathers Series || Musical Hogwarts List A/N: If you wanna be tagged, ask! There are references in this that probably don’t match the period so please forgive me and let it slide. This is short but next ones are bigger, I promise!

Tag List: @just-an-outstanding-auror @starcrossedyanderes @doctorriddle​ @cchris-a @truly-insatiable​

Life at Hogwarts was beautiful. You couldn’t remember how was it like before you had befriended the Heathers.

The four of you walked together everywhere, and because of them, people now noticed you. They would say hi, they’d give you candy. You had even received love letters — but no guy who did it was quite interesting.

The Heathers were complexed people, more than you could have ever imagined.

Heather McNamara was such a sweet and caring girl, but also an evil little thing if someone messed with her. Heather Duke was incredibly smart, even though she prefered to play dumb around cute guys and Heather Chandler. You couldn’t understand why would someone pretend to be stupid, but she never liked you much, so you never asked why.

Heather Chandler, however, was the exact same persona as the one she played around the rest of the students. She was a bitch, filled with mean words inserted in neutral comments. You’d think she could be complimenting you if you didn’t pay much attention to the real significance behind her phrases.

It was starting to be a bit hard to be a good student and a popular girl, so many times than you’d like to admit, you were avoiding Myrtle. It wasn’t with bad intentions, it’s just ‘cause you had no free time anymore.

At first, you two would gossip about the Heathers all night, but then you started needing the nights to study, and then for partying... Life was a mess, and you really didn’t want to drown Myrtle with you.

You’ve started noticing that the Heathers were generally mean for no reason at all. They’d make fun of nerdy boys and laugh at fat girls just because they existed, and that was making you uncomfortable, but you never said a thing because you didn’t think it was really your place to stop them.

Until one day...

“Y/N, could you write something for me?” H. Chandler asked, sitting down next to you at a table in the Library.

The other two Heathers followed her lead.

“Sure. Another forgery?” you asked since that was basically all they asked you to write because the Heathers knew you are good at it.

“Yes,” Chandler confirmed with a smirk. “Are you familiarized with Ram’s handwriting?”

“Ram Sweeney? From Gryffindor?” you asked, just to make sure you were on the same page.

“The one,” validated H. Duke, chuckling.

That was going to be an easy one. You knew all about Ram because of Myrtle. She couldn’t shut up about the bo — they were neighbours since babies and Myrtle had hopes he fancied her back. You highly doubted but never mentioned.

Heather Chandler gave you a piece of paper. “Write: I want you to come to the Gryffindor party this Saturday because it is time that you know how much I love you. We were meant for each other from the beginning, and I want to be with you. Please come to the party.”

While she dictated, you wrote it in your best attempt of copying Ram’s writing. It still seemed a little weird — Ram was dumb, he would never speak to someone like that, but who were you to complain.

It was going to be one hell of prank. Poor girl.

“What’s the name?” you asked, closing the paper and preparing to write the name of the girl.

The three Heathers exchanged looks before bursting into laughter.

“Myrtle Warren,” said Heather Duke.

You stopped writing at the ‘y’. “What?”

Heather Chandler leaned closer to you.

“Just write, y/N,” she whispered in a very harsh tone. You gulped, finishing the name in the paper.

“You are not going to give this to her, are you?”

The Slytherin Heather laughed while the Gryffindor one simply smiled.

“No, I’m gonna keep it,” mocked Chandler. “Of course I’m gonna give it to her.”

And with that, Chandler stole the paper from your hands before you could say something.

“Heather, please don’t do it,” you said, getting up from your chair and following the Gryffindor around.

“Chill, y/N. It’s gonna be fun.”

“It’s gonna hurt Myrtle. Please don’t do it,” you asked again, this time attempting to steal the paper from her hands.

H. Chandler, who was finding everything funny, broke her smile and stared with a killer look at you. She walked away with McNamara on her side, and H. Duke was laughing at your face while you stood paralyzed.

H. Chandler was going to kill you for that. Damn it, what were you thinking??

You sat back at your chair, facing the Library’s door, hoping H; Chandler would come back with the letter still in her hands and saying she wasn’t going to do it.

That was not what happened, however.

She returned with a mad face, no paper in hands. Heather Duke smiled triumphantly, she was hoping for your downfall from the beginning. Only Heather McNamara didn’t look too excited. She had grown into liking you.

“Are we gonna have a problem? You got a bone to pick?” Chandler asked, raising her brows. She wasn’t afraid someone would scold her for the volume because no one would have the guts. “You’ve come so far, why now are you pulling on my dick? I’d normally slap your face off, and everyone here could watch. But I’m feeling nice, here’s some advice. Listen up, biotch!”

You tried to get up from the chair, to explain yourself, but Heather Duke didn’t let you.

“I like lookin’ hot, buying stuff they cannot. I like drinkin’ hard, maxin’ Dad’s credit card. I like skippin’ gym, scaring her, screwing him,” Heather Chandler’s voice echoed, but she seemed oblivious to the other students listening. “I like killer clothes—”

“And kickin’ nerds in the nose!” added Heather McNamara, with a smirk.

“If you lack the balls, you can go play dolls. Let your mommy fix you a snack,” that wasn’t the first time they mentioned your mom with a mocking tone. They hated your pureblood status.

“Or you could come smoke, pound some rum and coke, in my Porsche with the quarterback,” continued Heather Chandler, getting closer to you.

“Time for you to prove you’re not a loser anymore,” said Heather Duke, ruffling the sleeves of her green coat.

You gulped. What did they want you to do? There was any chance you could get away from them alive?

Gosh, how fast your popularity could be destroyed!

“Guys fall at your feet, pay the check—”

“—Help you cheat,” McNamara added for Duke.

“All you have to do is say goodbye to Shamu,” Heather Chandler looked at you deep in the eyes. It was more than a suggestion. It was an order — popularity or your best friend.

“That freak’s not your friend. I can tell in the end if she had your shot, she would leave you to rot!” said Heather McNamara, hoping she was making your decision easier.

The Hufflepuff Heather was sometimes unaware of the cruelty of her friends.

“‘Course if you don’t care,” she continued, noticing you were still confused about your options.“Fine! Go braid her hair. Maybe Sesame Street is on.”

Her tone had caught you by surprise.

“Or forget that creep and get in my jeep. Let’s go tear up someone’s lawn,” said Heather Duke, raising her left brow, finally letting go of your shoulders since she was holding you down in the chair from the beginning.

“Honey, whatchu waitin’ for?” asked Heather Chandler, smiling innocently. “You just gotta prove you’re not a pussy anymore.”

“You can join the team, or you can bitch and moan,” said Duke.

“You can live the dream, or you can die alone,” said McNamara.

“You can fly with eagles or if you prefer,” Heather Chandler unbuttoned her red suit, placing her hands on her hips. “Keep on testing me and end up like her,” she whispered the last part, opening a space so your friend Myrtle could walk in as if the Heathers knew she would look for you eventually.

Perhaps they were the ones to suggested it to Myrtle.

Your lifelong best friend passed through the Heathers with an uncertain look, but she smiled when her eyes caught yours.

“Y/N, look! Ram invited me to the Gryffindor party! This proves he’s been thinking about me!”

“Colour me stoked!” you swallowed before pretending to be surprised.

“I’m so happy!” she exclaimed, before walking away from you and the Heathers.

Heather Chandler watched the whole conversation with steady eyes, analyzing every word you said.

You got up from the chair and walked towards the Heathers, who waited next to a book shelve.

“So? I did what you asked; I said nothing to Myrtle,” you said, frowning in despair.

“Well, then, welcome to my candy store,” said Heather Chandler with a weird smile.

That was enough for Heather McNamara, who jumped to your neck, hugging you with all her strength. She was happy Chandler forgave you. In the other hand, Heather Duke said nothing before walking away.

Heather Chandler stepped away at a slow speed. She looked you up and down.

“You are dead,” she declared, whispering, and she smiled like a villain from an old movie as if she had not just said the most aggressive thing ever.

[dc41896]

Hideaway

Hey guys!! So I randomly had a dream that included Ransom even though I haven’t seen the movie yet (I know I’m trying lol). Although my whole dream wasn’t about him, this imagine is based off of a small part and hopefully you guys like it! 😊💕

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Black Reader

Warnings: None

“ARE YOU MAD?! YOU THINK ITS OK TO STORAGE FOOD LIKE THIS?!!,” Gordon Ramsey yelled at yet another restaurant owner while going through their pantry.

Shaking your head, you laugh in disbelief as the kitchen staff begins the blame game pointing fingers at everyone else on why things aren’t correct. While sitting at home on a Friday night watching tv might not be ideal for everyone, you had been looking forward to it all week.

Although you loved your job of being a kindergarten teacher, and your students, you definitely needed some me time on the weekends. Thus why you were currently snuggled under your blanket in your pajama shorts and an old graphic tee with your favorite snacks beside you and loving every minute of it.

Just as a commercial comes on, a strong knock on your front door slightly startles you from the noise as well as the fact that you weren’t expecting anyone. Making your way to your front door, you look through the peephole to meet an unpleasant surprise.

Dressed up in black pants and dress shoes along with a white button down shirt stained with red wine, there stood your best friend since 3rd grade, Ransom Drysdale, looking rich and smug as always.

“Cupcake!,” he smiled with open arms.

You hated that nickname ever since he gave it to you in high school, and he knew that too which is why he kept using it. Long story short, never ask Ransom to pretend to be your boyfriend so a not so secret admirer can leave you alone.

“Hugh,” you smile back, arms crossed in front of you as he rolls his eyes. Just as you hated “cupcake” he hated his first name, Hugh, which was all the ammunition you needed to annoy him.

“What are you doing here and what happened to your shirt?”

“Well, lets just say Candice isn’t my biggest fan right now,” he explains, walking into your apartment and sitting on the arm of your couch.

“Ok so I’m guessing that’s where the wine stain came from, but that still doesn’t explain why you’re here when you have your own place you could be at right now.”

“Because she kicked me out of said place,” he sighs rubbing his temple. “We we’re having dinner and one thing led to another and she kicked me out, which is why I’m here.”

Knowing him for so long, you knew when Ransom wasn’t fully telling the truth. But in a situation like this, you thought it best to just leave it alone.

“Here give me your shirt,” you finally speak after a few moments of silence.

“Cupcake?!,” he gasps, hand on his chest and signature smirk across his face. “You know I always had my suspicions that you might have a thing for me.”

“Give me your shirt so I can wash it genius,” you retort holding your hand out. Laughing, he unbuttons his shirt before placing it in your hands.

“Let me get this started and I’ll bring you a new pair of clothes. Until then there’s food and drinks in the fridge, and don’t break anything,” you reply before disappearing to your laundry room.

He may not seem like it, but Ransom was grateful you were always there for him. Anytime he needed to get away from everything, or an irate girlfriend, he knew you’d welcome him in for as long as he needed. Well within reason that is.

That’s why Candice, or any of his exes for that matter, didn’t like you. No matter how many times you assured them that you and Ransom were just friends and you wouldn’t dare do anything to compromise their relationship, they still didn’t trust you. And in those times they found out he was hiding out at your place, it always made the situation worse resulting in a screaming match or a flat out break up.

Wrapped up in Gordon Ramsey gagging while trying entrees at a restaurant, a knock at the door makes him sigh at having to move from his spot on the couch.

“Oh hi I’m Bo, I live across the hall over there. Sorry for interrupting your evening I was just gonna give Y/N her mail, they accidentally put it in my box again.” About an inch taller than Ransom, a muscular man with short black hair and deep brown eyes stood in the doorway clearly just getting back from his workout from the clothes he was wearing and water bottle in hand.

“Thanks I’ll make sure she gets it,” he answers with a dry smile, taking the few envelopes from his other hand.

“So you must be her boyfriend,” Bo speaks up just as Ransom moves to close the door. Looking puzzled with one eyebrow raised, he crosses his arms in front of him to discretely show off his muscles and subtly say “yea, you’re not the only one who lifts.”

“Who wants to know?”

“Oh I don’t mean any disrespect, I just assumed since I’ve seen you around here a few times, plus I mean you did just open the door without a shirt,” he nervously laughs. “I mean if you guys are just friends though, I wouldn’t mind taking her out. Don’t tell her I said that though!”

“Hm, well good thing she already has a boyfriend then huh?,” Ransom smugly smiles before closing the door in Bo’s face.

“Who was at the door?,” you ask returning with a pair of sweats and shirt for him to wear.

“Just one of your comical neighbors giving you your mail, and are you hoarding my stuff now?”

“No, more like holding it in a lost and found since you keep leaving stuff over here!”

“Like you don’t like having little momentos of me here,” he smirks putting on his plain dark grey shirt. “Plus I know you wear my shirts sometimes.”

Scoffing, you laugh as you sit down on the couch to continue your “Kitchen Nightmares” marathon while he goes in your room to change his pants. In all honesty though, he was right about you wearing his shirts. So yea you sometimes wore them when you wanted to feel extra cozy, what girl doesn’t like oversized shirts?

And yea you might’ve also liked how they somehow still smelled like him, that didn’t mean anything!

Before he could sit down coming back from the bathroom, he looks down at his vibrating phone before sucking his teeth.

“Yes?,” he answers sounding exhausted and not in the mood to talk as he leans against the counter.

“Where are you?,” Candice asks. Shrill voice traveling all the way to where you were sat on the couch.

“Why does it matter, you kicked me out remember?”

“I know but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you or want to make sure you’re ok.”

“Well don’t worry I’m fine.”

“Why are you talking so low? Wait are you at her place?!”

“Candice don’t-,”

“No Ransom Drysdale are you at Y/N’s apartment yes or no?!”

Hearing him get quiet, you slightly turn to see him look at you before looking down at the floor. “Yes”

“Why am I not surprised. You know what, since she’s the one you always want to run to, she can have you because I’m done! Hope you both have a nice life!”

And with that, her voice was gone and you could hear Ransom put his phone in his pocket as he sat beside you.

“I’m so sorry Ransom, I didn’t mean to cause anything-,”

“Don’t apologize. This happened because of something going on way before I came here tonight,” he interrupts looking straight ahead at the tv screen.

“But that’s the thing, I’m what’s been going on and it’s been that way for a while now,” you respond. “Look Ransom, maybe it’d be best that you not come over anymore or that we not even be friends.”

Muting the tv, he turns to look at you. The intensity from his blue eyes making you slightly nervous from never experiencing it before.

“Is that what you want?”

“I mean of course not, but your girlfriends-,”

“Let me worry about my at the time girlfriend, ok? But if you don’t want to be friends anymore, or want me over, then say the word and it’s done. So I ask you again, is that what you want?”

“....No it’s not.”

“Then it’s settled,” he responds turning the sound back on the tv. “So how are those germ infested piranhas of yours?”

“1. Don’t call them that and 2. They’re good,” you laugh taking a few sips of your juice. “You should come during story time one day and read to them!”

“I think I’d rather swim with actual piranhas,” he answers stealing a few of your chips.

———

Waking up with a stretch, you look at your phone to see that it’s 2 am and that both you and Ransom had fallen asleep on the couch.

“Ransom, wake up we fell asleep.” Lightly shaking his shoulder, his eyes flutter open as he yawns lifting his head.

“What time is it?”

“A little after 2 am. Since it’s so late you can crash here if you want.”

“Ok just hand me a pillow and I’ll sleep out here,” he sleepily answers, rubbing his eyes as he sits upright.

“You can sleep in the bed you know, it’s not like we haven’t shared before.”

“Trying to take advantage of me in my vulnerable state huh?,” he smirks removing part of the blanket from his lap.

“Whatever I was just offering because I know a certain spoiled brat is gonna complain about his back in the morning if he does sleep on the couch,” you counter with a smirk of your own.

Rolling his eyes, he helps you clean up before following you to your room and taking off his shirt and sweats before sliding into bed. Wrapping your hair up in your bonnet, you climb in your side of the bed, cutting off the light on your bedside table.

“Night cupcake,” Ransom smiles.

“Night Hugh,” you softly laugh, turning away from him towards the starlit sky outside your window.

Feeling the bed shift beside you from his movements, you start to turn your head to tell Ransom to calm down, but are cut off by his strong arm wrapping around your waist and gently bringing you towards his chest. With his breath lightly tickling the back of your neck, you weren’t sure if it was your heart racing or his from how close you were.

Again, you’d shared a bed plenty of times, but never gotten this close before so you were definitely caught off guard. However, you couldn’t lie that being there made you feel comfortable, secure, and more relaxed than you had been in a while.

“Um Ransom you awake still?,” you ask barely above a whisper.

“Hm,” he replies basically telling you that in the next few minutes, he’d be in a deep sleep.

“I doubt you’ll tell me, but what did you and Candice fight about over dinner?”

Only hearing his soft snores, you figure you’ll never know what happened, and took that as a sign that you probably shouldn’t, since he would just tell you not to worry about it if you asked him tomorrow. Before drifting off to sleep yourself though, you hear him mumble something you couldn’t quite understand.

“What did you say?”

“You,” he repeats burying his head into the back of your neck as your heart beats so loud, you doubt you’ll ever get back to sleep.

Again hope you guys like it and sorry if it’s super long or non-canon😬 (hopefully it’s canon though since I tried really hard to capture Ransom and his Ransomness lol)

Taglist: @nunubug99 @crushed-pink-petals @honeychicana @fumbling-fanfics @themyscxiras @lady-olive-oil @lovelymari4 @melinda-january @felicity-x0 @ellixthea @jojolu @jnk-812 @brwn-sgr @captainsamwlsn @itshinothey @wildfirecracker @nina-sj

If you want to be tagged, have asked to be tagged and don’t see your name, or only want to be tagged for certain people I write for just let me know🤓!

[aro-aizawa]

Uncle Aizawa au??!?! I gotta know

okay here are some random ass headcanons bc THANK YOU FOR INDULGING ME!!! I LOVE TALKING ABT MY AUS!!!!

aro aizawa

(that’s my standard for all my aus but like Extra Aro here bc inko is demi and reassures her little brother he’s not broken)

inko is eight years older than aizawa, they’re half siblings. inko’s parents had divorced when she was only four, and her father met shouta’s mother when she’s six.

midoriya is inko’s mother’s name and the name she goes by. shouta goes by their father’s name aizawa. inko’s mother has joint custody of inko so unfortunately for shouta she’s not always around at home

this isn’t the best thing for shouta bc their parents are kiiiind of neglectful, so inko ends up looking after shouta much more than she should but it means they’re much much closer.

inko is the one who inspires shouta to be a hero, mostly because he wants to protect his sister like she’s protected him.

bc shouta’s parents suck, inko ends up taking him back to her mother’s house a lot to the point where mrs midoriya is more of a mother than his own. in shouta’s last year of middle school mrs midoriya threatens legal action against shouta’s neglectful parents unless shouta can be adopted by mrs midoriya. he moves in p much the same day.

when shouta is thirteen inko marries her boyfriend of several years, hisashi. shouta is the one who walks her down the aisle, and instead of having a maid of honor, shouta’s her best man.

inko’s mother dies when shouta is seventeen, so shouta ends up having to move into inko’s place. this doesn’t really end all that well considering it’s a small two bedroom flat that has a two year old, and shouta and hisashi haven’t always gotten along. shouta ends up having to sleep in the living room on the couch, or on a futon in izuku’s room.

this....makes things tense. shouta doesn’t hide his distaste of hisashi, considering the man isn’t the best husband. he leaves the housework and raising izuku to inko even though she also works just the same as him. shouta thinks that inko deserves better and inko thinks hisashi’s behavior doesn’t justify a divorce.

that means when shouta graduates and turns eighteen he moves out so he doesn’t actively destroy inko’s marriage and create a bad home environment for izuku to live in. he still babysits as much as needed and takes izuku for days out, although contact between him and inko have become a lot less frequent than it once was

hisashi gets a promotion with a relocation to america, he wants inko and izuku to come with. but inko doesn’t want to uproot their entire life for someone who doesn’t do anything to help the family, so she stays in japan.

inko and hisashi officially get a divorce only a year later when izuku is deemed quirkless. the last straw is when hisashi says smth cruel about izuku’s quirklessness and inko realises that things just won’t work out.

things don’t immediately get fixed between inko and shouta, they were never bad just...terse. but shouta is just relieved that the situation is over, so after a long talk things relax and they start talking more often.

at one point, shouta moves into an apartment in the same block as the midoriyas. they’re not on the same floor but with how close they are they might as well be living with each other for how often they’re at each others places. even though they’re in the same building, izuku has a room in shouta’s apartment that he sleeps at occasionally when he’s too tired to go like three floors up.

izuku has a bad habit of leaving his homework at shouta’s place, enough so that at one point shouta accidentally ends up taking one of izuku’s essays with him to ua because it managed to get in shouta’s marking

at some point shouta convinces inko to let izuku to start martial arts, thinking it would be good for him (izuku is immediately enthusiastic bc even though he’s too young for Hero Training this is the next best thing)

when izuku is in his first year of middle school bakugou pushes izuku too far in his bullying and izuku begs shouta to train him to be a hero.

shouta is understandably concerned bc he doesn’t understand where the sudden desperation is coming from but doesn’t push too hard to find out. he starts the training slowly, but one on one training does start.

izuku tries the hero exam quirkless. he doesn’t get many villain points (7 total actually) but he manages to pass with the additional 36 rescue points for a total of 43. he gets put into 1-a immediately.

and m*neta is replaced by shinsou because shinsou is a Good Boy who also has the hero rescue urge. but he only just manages to get in by the skin of teeth with the lowest score in the hero course. this is a v sore subject w him because he thinks the exam is super biased

(it’s a point where izuku, shinsou and aizawa bond over as they complain at length the bias that ua have for flashy quirks)

at first they don’t really broadcast their relation. it’s not exactly a secret it’s just izuku doesn’t want his hard work to be ignored and shouta doesn’t want to give izuku special treatment. so they’re just sensei and problem child, unless they’re outside ua.

but!!! with izuku and bakugou in the same class with shouta as their teacher....things are gonna come out.

shouta finds out bakugou bullied izuku for years after a disasterous exercise in which bakugou goes too far. he’s almost expelled but instead is transferred to 1-b after a month of suspension.

anyways when p much everyone in 1-a knows their relation, they still call each other sensei and problem child but they’re a lot more open with affection. the class think it’s cute as fuck.

and consider: in the dorms inko gets a job at ua in administration so she ends up on campus a lot, so the students start to see a lot more of the domestic side of the midoriya-aizawa family and they think it’s adorable

also izuku grows up wanting to be an underground hero bc even tho he fucking LOVES all might, his ultimate favourite hero is eraserhead because of how much he loves his uncle 💛💛💛

so like. consider a universe where like. no one knows izuku is quirkless outside of his class so the league are like: “fuck that midoriya kid’s annoying, what the hell is his quirk?” “idk man” “hey brat what’s your quirk?” “its called vibe check” “what’s it do—” “VIBE CHECK!!” *sucker punch*

& izuku maybs has some kind of capture weapon inspired by eraserhead but uniquely his own. like idk bracers that behave like his scarf so izuku can still pull and wrap around others, but he’s also proficient in other weaponry like bo staffs and escrima sticks

knowing me i’d even toss in some shinsou bonding where izuku shows him all the good things about underground heroes. shouta pretty much adopts shinsou, so now he’s izuku’s cousin. they’re the underground duo in 1-a and are almost undefeated at stealth and strategy (a team that’s only rivaled by hagakure and yaoyorozu).

just,,,,, uncle shouta,,,,,

[foolishlovebugbaby]

stupid cupid | part 1

part 2 | part 3 | part 4

college!au / bang chan x fem!reader

Summary: bang chan is always complaining about being single since birth, so best friend reader decides to play cupid and sets him up. big mistake.

Genre: angst-y?? with some fluff later on idk you decide (a Lot of slow burn so idk how many parts this multi-shot will have lmao)

Warnings: none

college life, to summarise, was hectic.

multiple deadlines for multiple classes; pages upon pages of assignments and essays that needed to be done; hour long lectures almost every single day, and on top of all of that, a part-time job as a book clerk at the library that needed to be held down in order to help pay for your apartment rent.

needless to say, your days were filled with so much to do encapsulated in such little time.

thankfully, you were not alone.

you had your best friend Chan to hold you down through it all even though he had just as much struggles as you did

you had met him right before you started college on a website while looking for housemates in order to afford rent (you were drowning in student loans and so was he, so to you it was a match made in heaven)

to say your parents were reluctant to let you live with a male was an understatement- but after meeting him and realizing that he was a total sweetheart that couldn’t hurt a fly and that there was no other option, off you went. 

you two were very similar in many ways; for one, you both shared a deep love for movies and films and star wars, which is why you both made a childish pinky promise to always have movie nights on wednesday evenings and the tradition hasn’t been broken since

another thing you also shared in common was the fact that you both were completely, utterly, stupidly and perfectly single.

he, since birth, and you since the 11th grade when your first love became your fist ( and, thus, worst) heartbreak

bonding over these things and the fact that you both were endlessly passionate about reaching your goals allowed you both to develop a deep and meaningful friendship, enough to make you both realise that you were each others’ best friends

whenever he’d stay up and pull all-nighters to get his work done, you were always next to him on the dining table doing the same even though you didn’t need to, but wanted to keep him company just so that he didn’t feel alone.

and whenever you had mental breakdowns during exam season, he was always there with ice cream and flash cards in hand to help you get through it all

needless to say, even though the first two years of college were anything but a breeze, chan always made you feel okay.

so now there you two were, third year college students on your run-down, second-hand couch, watching re-runs of the big bang theory and catching up on how the week was so far.

“it makes me feel so lonely watching minho and his girl act all cutesy in class, i feel like the ultimate third wheel.” chan whined next to you on the couch and you rolled your eyes

“you’ve been complaining for so long about how you feel oh so lonely, why don’t you just find someone then? there are enough people all over campus pining over you anyway.” you said, scoffing at the brunette.

chan had been complaining for so long about how he felt like a deprived lovebug and how he was an utter virgin in everything that had to do with love, and you were getting annoyed with how often he complained

“but that’s the thing- i don’t even know where to start! how do you even approach people? how do you even know whether that person is a nice person? god, they should teach us ‘finding a life partner 101′ instead of the laws of thermodynamics, it’d be way more useful.” he rambled on

“you’re so whiny channie. you know what? let me help you. i can set you up on a blind date with someone who i think you’d like so that the filtering process would be shortened- how does that sound?” you turned to look at him, propping your elbow onto the  couch headboard and rested your head into the palm of your hand

suggesting this was your first mistake.

he looked at you quizzically, his thick eyebrows furrowed and eyes squinty

“you would do that? for me?”

“if it gets you to shut up then of course.” you grinned sarcastically and giggled, with him rolling his eyes at you

“oh haha,” he said and stuck his tongue out “forget i even said anything.” he huffed and got all pouty and exaggerated by crossing his arms and looking away from you. you could only laugh at his feigned hurtful expressions

“i’m kidding! you know i’m just joking- oh stop pouting you big baby.” you said, grabbing ahold of his bicep to get his to turn and look at you

his very muscular bicep

“i’m being serious okay! i want to set you up with someone so that my poor channie stops feeling so lonely all the time.” you mimicked his pout and patted his head

“alright, fine. i’m trusting you with this. if i get dumped i’m blaming you.”

“deal.”

you didn’t have to blink twice to agree to this whole ordeal or even to suggest it; you and chan were just friends- best friends at that, and everything between you both was completely platonic

or so you thought.

so there you were, in your literature lecture, spying on the one girl you thought would be the perfect fit to chan’s empty heart.

so far you knew that her name was Hana, that she was a screenplay major (and so, obviously, knew a good lot about film), that she was recently single and ready to mingle (according to people around campus), and that she looked absolutely gorgeous

jackpot

being your outgoing self, you immediately approached her all wide-eyed and hopeful.

“hi, you don’t know me but would you mind going on a blind date with my friend?” you quipped innocently

she looked completely shocked and dumbfounded

afterall, the only thing she knew about you was that you shared literature class together- and that’s about it.

reader you complete weirdo

“uhm, may i ask what your name is?” she said, looking bashful and flustered

“i’m y/n. and don’t worry, chan isn’t a complete weirdo- shit did i just say his name?? fuck i just took out the point of a blind date.” you mentally slapped yourself for being this much of a dumbass, but to your surprise, hana’s eyes flickered with interest.

“do you mean bang chan? as in cute-boy-in-the-physics-department bang chan?” 

“uh yeah i think so? cute boy? since when was channie known as cute bo-”

“i’m definitely in! i’m sorry for sounding so overly-enthusiastic, it’s just chan’s been quite popular these days, and i’m just a little excited.” she said bashfully

“don’t be sorry! just give me your number and i’ll text you the details soon!”

to say that chan was excited when you told him would be an understatement

“you’re going to love her, channie! god, i’m such a good wingman, you should pay me for setting you up this good.” you said, smirking, feeling proud of yourself

“don’t get too cocky just yet. but oh my god, i can’t wait to meet her!” he said grinning, completely over the moon, and your smile matched his.

wednesday evening rolled around, the day of their blind date, and you couldn’t have been more excited for him. you had arranged for them to meet at a cute little trendy café downtown- perfect for a first date- where they could just talk and get to know each other.

you honestly felt like a proud mom sending off her son to get married, and the happiness you felt for him was genuine- no if’s, and’s or but’s.

“do i look okay?” chan said, coming out of his room dressed in black jeans with rips in the knees, a black muscle tank top and his white denim jacket. he wore an expression of nervousness- a very cute one, at that- and you couldn’t help but let your gaze linger a little longer than normal with a little more affection than you’d like to admit.

“you- you look great channie!” you said, stuttering at first as you were taken aback by just how attractive he looked

you always knew your best friend was handsome- but something about the way his ruffled hair settled on his head and how his lips were flushed a deep red from biting them out of nervousness made your heart skip a beat

but of course, you ignored it.

this was the second mistake.

he was attractive, and that was that.

“you really think so?” he smiled bashfully, ears going red when he saw how your eyes gleamed after seeing him. it made him feel fluttery and giddy to have you compliment him.

“you look really handsome, channie- i mean it.” you said again, a soft smile dancing on your lips and he looked down and scratched the nape of his neck, suddenly feeling embarrassed by all the attention you were giving him.

“you should wear that really nice perfume you own!” you said giddily

“already am! i know it’s your favorite scent- i just hope she likes it too.” 

after a few more minutes of chan’s nervous questions and you telling him to calm down, he was off.

he didn’t know what Hana looked like- all you told him was that she would be sitting alone next to the window in a pink top.

so when he laid eyes on the girl you described, he had to do a double take to make sure he wasn’t seeing things.

she was a sight to see, that was for sure.

before he entered, he sent a text to you 

to stardust: u didnt tell me you were setting me up w a fukn model

from stardust: oopsies (✿◠‿◠)

he chuckled and rolled his eyes before entering the café and making his way over to her.

he introduced himself, as did she, and the night played on.

meanwhile, on the other side of town, there you were on the dining table, finishing up your last analytical essay on whatever the heck you had to analyse for your creative writing class

it was ten pm now, and you groggily made your way onto your sofa with your fluffy throw blanket wrapped around you like a burrito 

you flicked through the channels on the tv, being unable to find anything remotely interesting, until you realised something

it was wednesday.

movie night day.

and you were alone.

you felt a pang in your chest at that realisation. after 2 years of almost always spending wednesday nights with chan by your side, you suddenly grew increasingly aware of how lonely you were. by now you two would be cramped on the couch, debating over whether or not to put on a new movie or series or to re-watch some of your all-time favorites.

but there you were, staring into space, alone and cold on your couch, chan no longer beside you.

you immediately buried those thoughts away 

‘he’s happy and having a good time, and i’m so happy for him- he’s my best friend.’ you thought to yourself

your phone dinged, interrupting your train of thought

from solo: this is going too well, im buying u sushi next week to thank u

you let out a breathy laugh at that

to solo: hehe glad to hear that

from solo: gosh i love you

your breath hitched in your throat when you read that message. it made your heart suddenly pick up speed and made your tummy feel weird. he’s never said that before, you thought to yourself, your mind malfunctioning. you blinked yourself back into reality.

to solo: i know.

with that, you shut off your phone. 

you had to remind yourself why he said it. 

he was being thankful, nothing more. that’s all there is to it. 

i’m his best friend, nothing more. that’s all there is to it.

you had to shake of the stinging feeling in your chest and chose to distract yourself by watching the nature documentary that was playing on tv, even though it bored you out of your mind and caused you to just stare at it blankly for the rest of the night. 

soon enough you fell asleep on the couch, alone and cold, with the tv playing a show you didn’t like on a channel you didn’t watch with a dull pain brewing in the middle of your chest that you chose to actively ignore. 

and that was the third mistake. 

i’ll just end it here for part one. please reblog and like so i know you want this multi-shot to continue! also all my star wars babies- peep those references heheheheheheh