#ill take it with me after christmas but even that seems so far away

[xsuesartblog]

what is this. Anyway Found a ballpoint pent that works like a fineliner.

[fruitcoops]

So I just reread the fic about Jules birthday, and I’ve always liked the part where Remus tells Jules that he’ll always be more important than hockey. Could you write a fic about that if you haven’t already? Like Remus leaving in the middle of practice or something like that? Idk it’s up to u:)

Fic O'Ween Day 3: Midnight! Read more amazing works from these prompts at @noots-fic-fests and of course, character credit goes to @lumosinlove <3

TW illness (coughing, mentioned vomiting, fatigue)

Remus leaned against the countertop for support and stared at the floor. “But he’s okay, right?”

“He’s okay,” his mother answered. She sounded beyond exhausted.

Remus nodded and rubbed his fingers under his eye. The night suddenly seemed so much darker. “How’re you and dad? Taking time off?”

“We’re alright.” He knew that low edge to her voice—it was the same one his own took on when he was trying to hide his hurt. Silence fell over the line.

“Mom.”

“Your dad can’t get PTO this week and neither can I.”

She cleared her throat; he closed his eyes. “Can Leanne keep an eye on him?”

“Visiting her daughter in Florida.”

No parents, no neighbors, no way they’re getting a babysitter for a sick kid… “I’ll be on the next flight.”

“Remus, no.”

“There’s nobody else—”

“Honey.” He could see the way her eyebrows drew together in his mind. “Honey, you’re on the road this week.”

“I know.”

“In Montreal.”

“They can handle a couple games without me.”

“You’re practically a rookie, Remus,” his mother insisted. After a pause, she lowered her voice. “You’re not going to damage your career when we can get a babysitter, or—or I can find a couple days off. Hell, your dad’s got a pullout at the office he can rest on.”

“I’ll be there tomorrow afternoon, okay?”

“Remus John, you have a responsibility to your team.”

“Jules comes first.” If there was one thing Remus would stand by no matter the circumstances, it was his family. The Lions would survive a roadie without him. Jules would never be alone and sick on his watch.

His mother was silent for a long time.

Remus picked at a chip in the granite. “There’s no babysitter that will watch him, is there?”

A sigh traveled down the line. “I guess we’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Love you.”

“Love you, too, baby. Give Sirius my best. Sleep well.”

“I will,” he lied. The call went dead and he turned, bracing both hands against cool stone. Sirius’ footsteps were soft, his hand gentle. Remus sniffled. His chest was a vise. “Mom says hi.”

Slow circles pressed between his shoulder blades. “What happened?”

“Jules got the flu, and they can’t get time off work to stay home with him.” Fucking assholes in fucking corporate. Remus swallowed around the clog in his throat. “Sounds like he’s pretty sick.”

“Does he need to go to the hospital?”

Remus shook his head. The hand on his back slid down and wrapped around his side, guiding him to lean on Sirius’ chest. “Do you want me to book your flight while you call Coach?”

“Yeah.” His voice was rough. He didn’t let go. “God, I hate being so far away.”

Sirius’ other arm came around him and held him tight.

--

Remus and his father talked the whole ride home from the airport, and said nothing at all.

The house was just as he left it at Christmas. No snow remained, and little frost—crocuses peeked out of the lawn where the squirrels had snatched and buried them.

Apologies for the late notice, but due to a family emergency, I will be in Wisconsin until the 22nd. Thank you for your understanding.

Rapid responses. Cranky responses. Remus had tried to keep a level head, even through the tremor of his hands on the computer keyboard. The organization wasn’t happy with him, but when were they ever?

It didn’t matter either way. Fine or not, suspension or not, they weren’t going to stop him from making chicken soup and raspberry Emergen-C for his sick little brother. He was damn lucky to have Arthur on his side, easing the retribution from men in offices who had hardly bothered to meet him at the start of the season.

“Your mother’s worried.”

Remus glanced up from his hands. His father was facing forward, brow pinched while he pulled into the driveway. “Yeah.”

The engine turned off with a sputter. “Be gentle, okay?”

“It’s not your fault they wouldn’t give you time—”

“Be gentle.”

Remus bit the inside of his lip and nodded. A goldfish cracker peered out at him from the crevice by the door. This passenger seat always made him feel so small. He slung his backpack out of the seat well and stepped out, letting the crisp air nip his face and bring him back. He needed to come back more. The heartache had lessened, and distance was simply exhausting now. Running fast and far to Gryffindor had seemed so smart before.

The front door still squeaked when he turned the doorknob. Remus was glad for that, at least.

His mother smiled when she saw him. “Hi, baby, how was your flight?”

“Hey, mom.” It was good, he started to say, only to have the words fall from his mind the moment she stepped around the kitchen table and wrapped him in her arms. It’s been a lot I love you I missed you how are you where’s Jules—“Uneventful, thankfully.”

“Good, that’s just the way you want it.” She gave a little sway, one hand cradling the back of his neck. He felt a light pulse of pressure. Her back, ever tense, relaxed slightly. “It’s so good to have you home.”

Remus breathed deep. Lemon-scented cleaning spray and drugstore shampoo, laundry detergent and just-sharpened pencils. He pressed his nose tighter to her shoulder and felt her squeeze him, just a little. “Missed you.”

“Oh, Re,” she sighed. A hand rubbed along his spine for a few hard, grounding, wonderful seconds. Warmth seeped in around his edges. The floor was solid beneath him, the walls sturdy. A kiss found his temple. “Baby, we missed you, too.”

A rattling cough made him wince. “Jeez.”

“I know.” Her face crinkled into a grimace when they separated and she looked back down the hall. “That started up two days ago. Poor thing. Keeps him up at night.”

“Aw.” The cough was followed by a rough throat-clear that made Remus frown. “Fever and everything?”

“102, as of this morning.” Hope ran a palm over his shoulder, the way she tended to right after he came home. Remus tried not to think about that too hard, or else he made himself sad. “You’re sure about this? You could get sick. It’s the middle of the season.”

Remus tried for an encouraging smile. “My immune system’s great, mom. I’m in good shape, I take my multivitamins. Eat my Wheaties, and all that.”

“Hmm.” She scrutinized him for a beat. “You better be.”

“I’m basically indestructible.”

Her laugh bounced off the corners of the house like it always had. “Let’s not get hasty, hon.”

“Mom?”

Remus’ heart sank.

“Dad?” Jules croaked, a little louder. “Did the neighbors come over?”

“Hey, J,” Remus called. The floorboards gave a light groan when he set his bag down at the end of the hall. “It’s me, bud.”

Silence followed. The bathroom nightlight was on, casting the hall in gentle blue. His hand drifted toward the first door on reflex (cool metal knob, lock on the inside, jimmy it three times in the winter when the frame sticks), but he managed to step past it and knock lightly below the ‘J LUPIN. DO NOT ENTER.’ sign scotch-taped to the old wood.

“Jules? I’m opening the door.”

The first thing that hit him was the smell. Stale, sweaty, feverish—Remus did a double-take without meaning to.

“Jesus Christ, dude.”

“Oh, you weren’t kidding,” Jules rasped from somewhere to his right. “Hey. Hi, why are you here?”

“You slept too long. It’s June. I’m here for the summer.”

“Hey.”

“You’re sick, dummy.” Remus tried to be subtle about propping the door open wider with a loose hockey glove. “I’m taking care of you.”

With the new, faint light from the hallway, he could see just how terrible Julian looked. His unconvinced squint didn’t help the sallowness of his skin or the heavy bags carved under his eyes. “Nuh-uh.”

“Yuh-huh.”

“Nuh-uh, you have a roadie in—” Another hacking cough interrupted him. It shook his tiny frame hard enough to make his knees bend under the covers. Remus’ heart gave an acid lurch.

Agitated heat radiated off him to the point that Remus could feel it when he perched on the edge of the bed. The sheets were a tangled mess; one blanket half-tucked, the other mostly on the floor. “Deep breaths,” he soothed when the coughing turned to a few aggressive sniffles. “Take it easy.”

“Montreal,” Jules finished in a mutter. He wiped his nose on the edge of his baggy t-shirt (almost certainly their father’s, with the way it dwarfed him) and laid back with a long huff. “You got a roadie in Montreal. Dad ‘n me are gonna watch the game.”

“Dad and I.”

“Shhh.”

He smiled to himself and tugged the top blanket down to shimmy the next one into position. “Well, you and I can watch it. How’s that sound?”

“No, you need to play,” Jules groaned, but even that was weak. He curled onto his side and peeked out of his huddle, dull-eyed and flushed. “How come you’re here anyway?”

“Told you. I’m taking care of you.”

“But hockey.”

“But you.”

“But…hockey.”

“But you.” His stomach gave a little pull. “You’re more important than a couple games, bud.”

Jules didn’t look like he believed him. “…okay.”

“I’m serious.”

“No, you’re R—”

“Don’t you—” Remus bit back his words (and his grin) and whacked lightly at the outline of Jules’ legs under the blankets, coaxing a crunchy sort of laugh from him. “Watch it. I’m in charge of feeding you for the next few days.”

Jules’ giggling trickled out with a last sniff. “Mom and Dad gotta go to work, huh?”

“Yeah.” The wrinkle of his nose was almost certainly reflected on Remus’ face. “But hey, we’ll have fun.”

“Mmm.”

The air shifted, along with his gut. Jules’ breaths were heavier. His eyes, lidded. His forehead was far too hot against the back of Remus’ hand when he checked it. “Tired?”

“Mhmm.”

Wrapping him in a dozen blankets and cuddling him as tight as possible wouldn’t help. Logically, Remus knew that. The temptation was still there. “Too hot?”

“Warm.”

“Want me to take a blanket?”

Jules shook his head. His eyes were closed fully now. “Weight’s nice.”

Every inhale hitched when Remus rested a hand between his shoulder blades, feeling for his pulse. That, at least, was calm. Jules had sweated through the old grey fabric there. He combed a few strands of hair off his burning brow and swallowed around his dry throat. “Want me to leave you alone for a bit?”

“Gonna nap.” Jules’ twitched, as if he was trying to readjust but lacked the energy. “Here when I wake up?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll be here.”

--

The evening passed without issue. Night rolled in with a gust of wind that hissed across the windowpanes while Remus dried the last of the dishes. Jules had managed to get up and come to the table for dinner, but he had looked even worse in the brighter light and barely ate half a bowl of soup. He could see their mother struggling not to fuss over him, not that Jules had any oomph to give real protest.

What kind of family emergency is this, Lupin?

A family emergency. I can come back the 22nd.

You’re missing two games. Do you understand that? Weasley won’t play you for the third, either.

I understand.

Is this a funeral?

No.

A wedding?

No.

It’s a request for nonvital time off, then. This could very well result in a fine.

I’m aware of that. Time off for a family emergency is covered in my contract. I’m permitted to miss four games.

Are you really going to put in a request for this? For a nonvital midweek trip instead of two NHL games?

That’s precisely what I’m requesting, yes. This is an emergency and therefore it is vital.

Remus had not missed the bureaucracy of the NHL during his time on the ice. There was still administrative irritation, of course, but it had not been nearly long enough since he played email tag with someone determined to make his life harder. ‘Nonvital emergency’. It made him want to laugh and lose it at the same time. What a fucking joke.

A sudden rustle and thud—likely Jules’ elbow hitting the wall between their rooms, ouch—startled him from half-sleep. Clumsy footsteps pattered on the floor; a door creaked and closed, quickly followed by a dry heave. Remus winced in sympathy.

This bedroom felt too small. His feet touched the end of the bed if he stretched out. There were only a few inches’ allowance for his shoulders on either side before he hit a wall or the edge of the mattress. Even his stuff felt smaller, as if the books shrank in his hands and the trophies had been made for someone Jules’ size.

He supposed they had been. Juniors was a world away, these days. He had turned the idea of keeping a potential you-know-what ring here instead of in Gryffindor, but never really committed one way or another. That, too, felt far off. He was stuck in the middle of a spectrum, where nothing felt quite right.

The toilet flushed, but he didn’t hear Jules leave. The low timbre of their father’s voice buzzed in the hall for a second; he didn’t catch Jules’ response. Remus swung his legs over the side of the bed with a huff and stood despite the creaking protests of his knees.

The blue light looked eerie in the cover of real night. He propped Jules’ door open again as he passed. A little ventilation couldn’t hurt. He paused in the doorway of the bathroom and crouched down, lowering himself to the cool linoleum with a soft groan. “Sup?”

“M not gonna throw up again.”

“Okay.” Remus flexed his ankles against the cabinets and tilted his head back. The soft towels buffered him from the wallpaper. Next to him, Jules’ forehead was stubbornly pressed into the crease of his elbow where he rested it on the toilet seat. “Still sick?”

A wordless mumble answered him.

“I’m gonna make chicken and dumplings tomorrow.”

Jules weakly raised his head. “Really?”

“Yup. Protein, veggies, sodium, starch. All that good stuff.”

Quiet fell over them for a long moment. “What are you talking about?”

“What, you don’t want a science lesson?”

“Nerd—”

He knew it was going to happen before Jules’ first jerk forward and caught his side when he wobbled, giving gentle pressure until he was upright. “It’s okay,” he murmured. “It’s okay, I got you.”

“Ugh.”

“I know. You’re doing great, J.” It was over as fast as it started. Jules trembled lightly under his touch, sweaty again, all too warm again. His knuckles stood out in harsh midnight shadows where he gripped the porcelain, thin arms shivering.

Jules sniffled. “I wanna go to bed.”

“I bet.”

“I’m tired.”

“Can you stand up?” It took Jules a moment to even start moving; when he did, it was sluggish and unsteady. Remus hovered his hands close and resisted the urge to scoop him right up. Jules wouldn’t like that. He hated being babied. It was still fucking hard to watch him pull himself to his feet.

A rinse-and-spit and a cool washcloth on the back of his neck made Jules sigh. He leaned right into Remus’ hip, head at the base of his ribs, and staggered along on foal legs while Remus guided him back to bed with a lump in the base of his throat. There was no fuss about being tucked in—he simply sighed again, so content it hurt. Remus smoothed out the hem of the comforter by his neck just one more time, once more, just so he could be sure.

--

Their parents were out by the time Remus woke. He distantly recalled the sound of them leaving, but the plane left him groggy enough not to notice or care. Jules was still snoring loud enough for him to hear it through their shared wall.

Breakfast, then. Something light. Oatmeal or eggs, if he could keep it down. Broth, if not. Remus would have to check the fridge for Gatorade and lemons.

It was strange to be functionally alone in the house. The carpet felt too soft, the curtains too still. A bright pink sticky note was stuck to the table with his name written in big letters at the top. He’d check it later.

Message To: SB <3

Morning :)

Fever’s still going, nasty cough, the works. I’ll keep an eye on him today.

Miss you

He clicked his phone off and set it aside—hopefully, Sirius wouldn’t be awake for some time yet. They didn’t have practice for two more hours in his time zone. He liked to sleep in on days like that. Remus, on the other hand, had work to do.

Quick eggs and bacon for himself took fifteen minutes. He parked himself at his usual seat without really thinking about it, pulling a dish towel and a fork from their drawers with an absent mind. He hadn’t dared to check his email yet and seriously contemplated leaving it alone until he was back in Gryffindor. Time off was time off. Professional hockey wasn’t big on ‘work from home’.

Jules shuffled in half past ten and made a beeline for the couch.

“Good morning.”

A grunt answered.

“Sleep well?”

“Uh-uh.”

“Want oatmeal?”

Jules’ mumble seemed vaguely affirmative. Remus set the kettle on and dug a pot out of the cupboard, then turned to rummage in the pantry. This was setting up to be a silent morning.

Measuring for a sick preteen was almost as strange as picturing his childhood bedroom as a normal size. Remus had only cooked for himself for years, then himself and Sirius, with the occasional potluck dish for a team dinner or holiday party. A single cup of anything was a novelty. “Want sugar?” he checked once the oats and milk were simmering. Jules snuffled in response, dragging one of the knit blankets further over his head. “Lemme check your temperature and then you can tell me, yeah?”

“Mmkay.”

A quick search of the medicine cabinet revealed no thermometer, and the same went for the hall closet. Remus spent a good five minutes riffling through the bathroom drawers and Jules’ desk before he found it propped against the base of his dolphin lamp. It had been left uncapped; gross. He made sure to give it a thorough wash before moving back into the living room.

“Blanket down.”

“No.”

“I can’t see your mouth. C’mon, just for a second.”

“Cold. Bright.”

“Twenty seconds, J. I promise. You can count.”

The blanket lump shifted. “Twenty?”

“Fifteen. Then I’ll bring your oatmeal over and leave you alone.”

A handful of shallow breaths filled the silence before Jules’ forehead poked out, then his glazed eyes, and finally the lower half of his face. Remus grimaced. His nose was red and chapped from tissues, and a faint crack split the side of his lower lip. “Have you been drinking your water?”

“Fifteen seconds,” Jules slurred.

Remus knew he wasn’t getting a better number than yesterday. Not with this vague lucidity, and not when Jules was hardly able to hold a fragment of a conversation. All the same, it made his gut sink when the thermometer beeped.

“Whuzzat?”

“102.5.”

“ ‘S worse?”

“Yep.”

A resigned nod told him Jules expected as much. The blanket swallowed him up again. Remus pulled it down over his feet before heading back to the kitchen.

Three hours passed with all the rush of a snail on codeine. Jules rallied to choke down his oatmeal before going down for a noon nap, let Remus rouse him to gulp down about a gallon of water, and overall remained sedentary while Remus channel-surfed for anything even slightly interesting on daytime TV. They settled on NCIS from one to 2:30, NCIS: Miami from 2:30 to four (with a brief break for sandwiches, or toast, in Jules’ case), and rounded it out with NCIS: LA while Remus tossed some rotisserie chicken and chopped vegetables in a simmering pot of broth.

“Re?”

“Yeah, bud?” Bisquick puffed over the side of the mixing bowl in a soft cloud.

“My stomach hurts.” Jules’ voice wavered. “And my mouth feels weird.”

Fuck. “Bathroom, hustle.”

The glimpse he caught of Jules before he vanished down the hall confirmed it: pallid skin, dilated pupils, sweat gleaming on the back of his neck. Remus rinsed his hands in the sink and dug the box of Pepto Bismol tablets out of his bag, and sent a silent thanks to whatever small mercy it was that left him without a reactive gag reflex.

He spent twenty minutes sitting sideways with water seeping into his pants from the bathmat. “I’m gonna throw up until I die,” Jules whined, pressing his forehead to Remus’ palm.

“You’re not gonna die. Definitely not while I’m here.” He slid his hand around to press against the nape of Jules’ neck and gave a light squeeze. “You’re almost done. Work it out, buddy.”

“Gonna miss the game?”

Despite the sweat, despite the illness, despite it all—Remus smiled. Of course Jules would be thinking about that when he looked like death warmed over. He wouldn’t be a Lupin with anything else on his mind. “We’ve still got half an hour.”

Jules gave a faint push back into his hand. His lower lip wobbled. “I don’t want to miss it.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll make it.”

“I don’t—” His voice cracked, but it wasn’t even slightly funny. He took a shuddering inhale and sniffled again, harsher. “I don’t want to be sick anymore, I don’t, I’m so done, I don’t like it.”

“Jules…” The redness had flooded his cheeks and ears, inching down his neck with each horribly choked breath. Jules’ eyes were bright, but not like usual. He blinked and a drip tracked down his nose. His exhale wasn’t much of an exhale at all—it wracked him, made him sway. “Oh,” Remus murmured. “Oh, hey, c’mere.”

The edge of thirteen had left Jules gangly, all bones and joints. He still fit just right in the hollow of Remus’ chest and arms. A shivering, overheated mess, but a mess that fit all the same. Fuck it, Remus thought as he tightened his arms around Jules and let him fall apart in the safe dark. He didn’t care if he got sick. This was the most vital emergency he could possibly think of. If the administration had a problem with that, he’d happily turn his gear in before leaving Jules to burn through this alone.

“I’m tired,” Jules whispered through shuddering breaths. “My head hurts ‘n my stomach hurts ‘n everything else, too.”

“I know, bud, you’re being so brave.”

A damp, wounded noise made Remus wince.

“But hey, you haven’t thrown up in, like, five minutes.”

Jules felt around blindly for a tissue and blew his nose several times before answering. “I guess.”

“You ready to get up? Have some dinner and watch the game?”

“Dizzy.”

“Okay.” He pressed the wrinkles out of Jules’ shirt with his palm and felt him go limp. “I brought some super special secret hockey medicine, if that’ll help.”

“…is it Gatorade?”

“No, but we have that, too.” He rattled the box next to Jules’ ear. “Pepto Bismol. My secret weapon.”

“Nuh-uh. That’s the pink sh—stuff.”

“Nice save,” Remus said dryly. “This is the same. It’s easier to keep down, though. And it works faster.”

“Makes my stomach stop hurting?”

“It might help.”

He waited a beat, then two. A clammy palm extended from the tangle of limbs near his middle. He dropped two of the chalky tabs into it and loosened his hold by a degree, enough for Jules to pop them both in his mouth and frown immediately. “Yuck. It’s crunchy.”

“Keep chewing.”

“Why is it coming apart like that?”

“Keep chewing,” Remus repeated through a light laugh. “Doesn’t work if you talk the whole way through.”

Jules tucked his legs closer to himself, pushing him further into Remus’ lap. As horrible as the past twenty minutes had been, he seemed better for it. The fevered sheen to his face wasn’t quite as nuclear. His breathing sounded more even and controlled.

“You finished?”

“Mhmm.”

Jules might have looked better, but Remus didn’t have the energy to fight the coddling urge this time. He slid his free arm across the back of Jules’ knees and hefted him up like a cat gone boneless, and received no protest whatsoever. Instead, Jules curled into him with a long, relieved sigh. Remus’ heart may have shattered a little.

The pregame show was just wrapping up when he set Jules gingerly on the couch and pulled the blanket around him. Half of his waterbottle was gone in a few desperate swallows; Jules wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and all but collapsed onto the throw pillows, a heap of exhaustion. The belltower by the middle school tolled six. His sandy hair was damp at the root when Remus passed a hand through it. They’d fix that eventually. Fluids first (hockey first), then everything else.

New Message From: SB <3

Heading to the rink. Miss you love you : )

Remus smiled down at his phone as he set Jules’ bowl on the coffee table and folded himself into the armchair.

“Tell Sirius I say hi.”

“He’s literally right there,” Remus laughed, gesturing at the TV. “He’s not gonna see it for ages.”

“Still.” Jules poked around with his spoon for a few seconds before attempting a small sip of broth. An approving nod followed. “It’s good.”

“Glad it meets your standards. Eat. Protein, veggies, sodium, starch.”

Jules’ eye roll was weak, but very much present. “I know, I know.”

“You gotta know that stuff.”

“I’m not gonna be a doctor.”

“Yeah, but you’re still gonna be a person.” Remus cut a dumpling in half with the side of his spoon. “If you don’t know how to feed yourself by the time you move out, I’m totally making fun of you.”

“Whatever.”

They both booed when the Habs skated out, and cheered when the Lions appeared soon after. Jules couldn’t muster much more than a rough whisper, but the soup and a bottle of Gatorade seemed to help. Remus made him get up and stretch during the first period intermission (to immense complaints, but eventual acquiescence) before letting him rest while he washed up in the kitchen.

New Message From: SB <3

First period up.

How’s J?

New Message To: SB <3

Haha yeah we’re watching

Temp’s high, still pretty sick. Getting better tho

Made soup

The response was almost immediate. Remus’ heart skipped at the thought of Sirius glued to his phone even after a rough period, just to chat with him.

New Message From: SB <3

Oooo jealous

New Message To: SB <3

Yeah you should be

It’s a real rager up here

Miss you. Go get ‘em.

A simple heart and hockey stick emoji followed. The grey bubble cycled for a moment before disappearing. That would be the midgame meeting. Remus was glad to be home—wouldn’t trade this—but he had to admit the hockey ache was still there. Even easy choices had consequences.

By the time he looked back, Jules was asleep. Remus checked his forehead as delicately as he could and was pleased to find it slightly cooler than that morning, if altogether too warm. The pattern of creaky floorboards laid a map in his bones as he moved through the house: first to open Jules’ window, then to let his blankets air out, and while he was at it, he may as well wash the sheets. The nightstand and bookshelf needed to be wiped down. It wasn’t hard to get that done while the washer rumbled on the other side of the hall. In the meantime, the soup had cooled enough to pack up in Tupperware to stack in the fridge for later. Who knew if Jules would suddenly get his appetite back? The kid was a bear when he was hungry.

He lingered for the end of the second period and swapped the sheets into the dryer at the start of the third with a cookie and a cup of Emergen-C for himself. He damn well better not catch whatever germs Jules had percolated from the hellscape of middle school. Sirius had called him ‘stubbornly healthy’ on too many occasions for it to be disproven. Besides, the administration might actually fire him if he came back from an emergency and was immediately out for three more games.

“Re?”

The sound of a quiet voice took Remus’ off-guard in the last few minutes of the third period. “What’s up?”

Jules shifted around until he could prop his chin on the throw pillow and blink blearily at Remus. “Did we win?”

“Game’s still going. 4-3, Lions.”

“How much time?”

“Just under five.”

Jules attempted a whistle, though it came out as more of a shaky breath. “Almost there.”

“Dad texted. They’ll be home in a few, traffic was rough.”

“Oh, okay.” A small smile lit his face. He burrowed back under the blanket. “That’s good.”

“They’ve been asking about you all day.”

“Did’ja tell them I was fine?”

“Something like that.” Sort of. Maybe. He had been gentle about it, at least. Gory details would only make them panic.

He made sure to poke Jules awake for the last minute of the game before shepherding him down the hall to brush his teeth and shower. It was only 8:30, but Remus felt weary all the way to his core. He made Jules’ bed while the water ran and tried to tuck the sheets in along the wall a little deeper this time, just in case one tried to end up on the floor again. If he had the time, he may as well do it right, pinched fingers notwithstanding.

It was all worth it when Jules trudged back into his bedroom and threw himself into bed, only to gasp aloud. “Aw, man, this is great.”

“You’re welcome,” Remus laughed.

“Oh, wow.” The bumps of Jules’ feet kicked happily under layers of fabric and down. “It’s all warm, and cozy…”

“Get some sleep,” he reminded him, and turned out the big light. “If you need anything, I’m right next door.”

He made it halfway across Jules’ carpet.

“Wait!”

“What?”

“You—” The faint outline of Jules’ head was backlit by his lamp. Remus could see the shadows of his hands fidgeting with the top blanket. “Will you…can you tell me about the soup stuff? The proteins and all that.”

Remus hesitated. “For real?”

“Yeah,” Jules said with a surprisingly enthusiastic nod. “It sounds cool.”

“I mean—yeah, sure. Uh…” Jules’ desk chair looked wildly uncomfortable for this time of night, so edge of the bed it was, he supposed. The sheets provided a nice cushion when he sat. “Okay, have you ever heard of macromolecules?”

“That’s a made-up word.”

“It’s what you’re made up of, actually. How about DNA? You know that one?”

--

Lyall opened the front door with a muttered curse for the bitter wind and the worse traffic. It was brutally unfair that the one day he tried to come home early, everything went to hell and kept him an age and a half longer. What kind of karma came after a father trying to get home to his sick kid?

“It’s awfully quiet,” Hope remarked behind him. The door opened at last; warm air rushed over them. “Boys? Are you up?”

The NHL postgame show was playing at a low volume, next to a plate with crumbs on it and a mug so old the pattern had washed off it. One of Hope’s blankets from her knitting phase was haphazardly piled on the couch. The evidence of both of them there, present and accounted for and safe, plucked at his heartstrings. “Why do I feel like this is exactly where they sat for the entire day?”

She shook her head. “Good for them. I’m jealous. Remus? Julian? Are you home?”

Remus’ bedroom door was closed. The bathroom fan was still on, and steam clung to the corners of the mirror next to a still-damp towel. It couldn’t have been long since they went to bed, then. Lyall pushed Julian’s bedroom door open wider and covered his mouth with his palm.

They had nearly rendered each other invisible, save for Remus’ legs stretched over the side of the bed and Julian’s arm resting atop his pile of blankets. Julian’s congested snoring drowned out the heavy, even rhythm of Remus’ breathing. As far as he could tell, only one of them had actually been prepared for bed.

“Oh my goodness,” Hope whispered at his shoulder. Her grin was radiant, even half-covered by her palm. “I don’t want to move them.”

“Re’s going to wake up with one hell of a side cramp if we let him sleep like that.”

“You do it, then.”

“…no.”

Hope scoffed fondly and tossed her hands in the air, then kissed him on the jaw as she stepped deeper into the bedroom. The whole place felt lighter, Lyall noticed. Julian had been holed up in here for two days, refusing to come out for anything but necessities. Whatever Remus had done, it worked wonders.

“Remus,” Hope singsonged in her quietest voice. She shook his shoulder, soft enough that for a moment, Lyall forgot Remus wasn’t a toddler anymore. “Baby, you need to wake up. It’s bedtime.”

“ ‘M asleep,” Remus mumbled without opening his eyes. “In my bed.”

“This isn’t your bed, lovey,” she laughed. “Come on, up you go.”

“Goin’ to sleep, promise.” His eyelashes fluttered, nose crinkling. “Talking ‘bout—‘bout proteins. Jules wanted to know.”

At the head of the bed, Julian didn’t show so much as a hint of waking. Lyall stepped forward and braced his hands under Remus’ arms, then hoisted him into a sitting position as gently as he could manage with the unexpected weight of an athlete to counterbalance him.

Remus jolted, startling into consciousness. “Woah—”

“Shh, shh.” Lyall helped him stand on clumsy legs and guided him to the door with a last playful glance at Hope. “I’ve got you, buddy.”

“Fell asleep.” Remus blinked hard. “Jules’ bed. Wanted me to stay. Time is it?”

“Almost nine.”

“Oh, god, ‘s early.” A yawn overtook him, spilling more of his weight into Lyall. He didn’t seem to know where his own feet were, but he went easily into the room next door.

“Alright,” Lyall huffed as he helped Remus stumble toward the bed and splay over the mattress. That old thing was definitely too small for him these days. Funny, how times changed so rapidly. That same bed used to make Remus look like nothing more than a pile of sheets. “Brush your teeth?”

A drawn-out snore answered him.

Lyall smiled to himself in the darkness and ruffled the back of Remus’ hair. “Night, Re.”

A single socked foot twitched in response. That was good enough for him.

(Jules’ fever broke the next morning. By the end of the day, he was well enough to go with them to the airport and give Remus the fiercest goodbye hug either of them had experienced, with a pinky-promise that the Lions would win the next game he played.)

[14thcommander]

she lives in daydreams with me | mikasa ackerman x reader

summary: mikasa has always been the coolest girl you know- it isn’t until you go away for college that you realize your feelings are way deeper than simple admiration.

cw: 18 PLUS ONLY! internalized homophobia, queer angst, small town shenanigans, yearning, hints of mental illness and trauma, mutual pining, coming of age vibes.

author's note: i'm genuinely so excited and scared to put this out in the world. this fic holds a huge place in my heart, as well as the topics i wrote about. thank you to the amazing @strawberrystepmom for beta reading it for me! ily

dedicated to @utahimeow

You take a deep breath before exiting your car. 

As you approached your front yard, with a heavy suitcase in hand, you started naming five different things you could see – then, five things you could smell. The way your chest seemed to tighten when you rang the doorbell didn’t go unnoticed by you, although you did fully ignore it. Coming back to your hometown has always made you feel like cattle arriving at the butcher’s. 

The drive is easy, familiar – even though you only come home a couple of times a year, strictly for important holidays. It isn’t that you hate where you come from, it’s more complicated than that and, frankly, sometimes you wish it was that simple. 

Catching up with your parents seems to be the less difficult part out of all of it: their questions are simple, easy. You can’t quite tell if their interest in you only goes so far, or if they are scared of what you may answer them. Either way, it’s a routine you’re already used to.

“School’s fine, mom.” You reassure, hugging her tightly. She mentions something about how quickly time passed since you first left for Trost University, and you hum in agreement. It’s been around four years, and, although you visit on Christmas, your mom repeats the same questions. It’s a mom thing, you figure.

“How are your friends, sweetie?” Your father asks, helping move your suitcase into the house. His words are supposed to be caring, normal even – although you can’t help but feel your throat tighten with the threat of tears. 

“They’re all good.” You answer with a smile, hoping he wouldn’t ask further – and he doesn’t. This one would be hard to explain.

Despite feeling emotional about being in your old home, you can admit there’s some part of it you actively enjoy. It’s less noisy than the place you rent at downtown Trost, and, on summer nights like this one, you might be able to see a few fireflies in your front yard. It’s almost comical, how Shiganshina seems to be frozen in time – or, perhaps, you’re the one who’s been going through constant changes. 

Greeting your family members, playing with your childhood dog and sleeping in your old twin sized mattress are part of it. You feel like an external visitor when you walk up the stairs, even though you’re still very much aware of which steps snap under your weight and which doesn’t.

Your phone buzzes when you’re brushing your teeth to go to bed, an hour or so after excusing yourself from your mom’s inquiry – how’s school? Are your friends nice? Your father says Trost is a great place-

connie springer: 

long time no see, stranger

Your heart skips a beat. The toothpaste in your mouth almost burns your tongue, as you stand in front of the foggy bathroom mirror before spitting in the sink. What does your friend-from-high-school-who-you-haven’t-talked-in-a-year wants from you, at almost midnight? 

you:

hey connie, how’s it been? 

connie springer: 

eh, same as usual. u?

you: 

i’m alright

connie springer: 

cool

stori was asking for your number, can i send it to her? 

You frown at the message. None of this situation makes any sense, especially given the fact Historia Reiss definitely has your number and you text each other – as well as Ymir – on an almost daily basis. 

you:

yeah, sure

You breathe deeply, exiting the bathroom and entering your childhood bedroom, feeling suffocated by the past – polaroids, fairy lights and books on top of books don’t fail to bring back memories of which you so desperately want to forget. You cannot bring yourself to spend another night plagued by thoughts you wish wouldn’t clog your brain – your therapist wouldn’t be proud of that, you think. 

Unlocking your phone, you look for Ymir’s number, refusing to debate with yourself on whether to call her. 

“Hey.” She answers after a few seconds, seeming to expect your call. “Before you say anything, I know. Also, I’m with them right now.” The last words are whispered, muffled by loud music playing in the background – some trendy Doja Cat song indicates she’s at a get-together at one of your mutual friend’s house. You’re not upset: no one else knows you arrived at Shiganshina today, however you give a day or two before you’re spotted in public and everyone else finds out.

“Ymir, what the fuck is going on?” You question, sounding more scared than angry. Your breathing is shaky, and your friend can hear your worry through the static. She’s been that, done that and won’t judge your behavior – even though it seems a bit uncalled for.

“It’s okay, don’t worry. Historia’s birthday is next week, and we had to pretend to have lost your number since you changed it cause, you know…”

You do know. Historia and I have to pretend we’re not in touch with you, out of respect for what you asked us a couple of years ago. Your eyes shut, and you sigh. 

“You’re safe, they don’t know yet… but I don’t think you can keep running from them any longer. Jean is one step away from pulling up to your folks’ place with the whole gang.”

You snort in response, imagining a scene of your friends stuffed in Jean’s jeep. This is what you get from hiding, you guess. You hear someone calling Ymir from the background, which she doesn’t pay any mind to.

“Yeah, I understand.” you reply. “Thank you for the support, really and, um… see you soon, I guess?”

Ymir smiles genuinely at your words, lowering her head to watch the scene of Sasha running after Connie from the balcony. 

“See you soon.”

-

The sight of the local grocery store doesn’t ease the sinking of your stomach – in fact, it only makes it worse. 

Your father texted you during your morning run letting you know you ran out of eggs, and he’s in the mood for pancakes. It was your unspoken duty to get them for him, and this time you don’t whine like when you were a teenager. Moments like this with your family are more appreciated by you, now that you’re no longer around them.

Getting out of your car, you place a pair of headphones on your head and select one of your carefully made playlists. You enter the store, nodding to the customer who gets out and passes you by – a friend of a friend, maybe. Small town culture. 

“Morning.” You greet the cashier, a teenager bored out of his mind, but still greets you back. 

You walk down a couple of aisles before finding the one you were looking for. You smile to yourself, feeling proud of the muscle memory ingrained in your body. Even after all these years, you still remember small details about Shiganshina. 

The moment is short lived, given the fact someone calls your name – a raspy, almost angry voice. 

Of course Levi Ackerman, out of everyone, is who you end up bumping into. 

“Hey.” Your voice is small even when you take your headphones off. The short man eyes you up and down, opening his mouth like he was about to say something. 

“Kid, how have you been?” A stronger, more demanding voice comes from behind the both of you. “We haven’t seen you in ages.”

Wherever Levi Ackerman goes, Erwin Smith is surely with him. 

“Erwin, hi. I’m alright, just busy with school… you know how it is.”

Your tone is playful, almost as if you’re talking to an old friend – and, well, you kind of are. Levi is Mikasa’s older cousin, who took care of her ever since an early age. You remember he had a full time job, while still attending Shiganshina’s community college. He has always worked hard, for both him and Mikasa – and, when things got rough, their crazy uncle would drop by and help with groceries and rent.

And Erwin is, well… Erwin. Always with Levi, following the brunet wherever he goes. Roommates, is what the people around town call the pair – even though you, as well as other people, know better than that. 

Levi resists the urge to roll his eyes at your response, and you should be aware he’s known you enough time to get a lie straight from your lips. Despite the joyful tone you offer them, he can tell this is rehearsed. 

“Erwin, did you get the dog food?” The shorter man inquires, and his partner in crime sighs playfully. Baby blue eyes look into gray ones, as they seem to exchange a message that only they could understand. 

“Ha, I almost forgot it. And kid, don’t be a stranger.” He winks, before exiting the animal products aisle, walking towards the store entrance.

This is the second time someone says don’t be a stranger under, what, twelve hours? You resist the urge to curse under your breath, lowering your head to hide your gaze from the eldest Ackerman.

“Listen,” He starts, voice barely above a whisper – even if you’re the only two people in the aisle. Your sneakers squeak on the floor when you move your legs in order to fully face Levi. “My cousin is too much of a stubborn brat to let you know that she misses you.”

You sigh. Your brain short-circuits with information and flashbacks: the last time you saw Mikasa in person was over a year ago, and frankly, you don’t think you’re ready to see her again. Even though you know she’ll be at Historia’s birthday celebration. 

“She said that?” You ask, voice coming back to its normal tone. 

“Of course not, it’s Mikasa we’re talking about.” He replies, and before you can ask him then how the fuck do you know that, he answers it for you. “She talks about you whenever she gets the chance, though. So does the lanky blond kid.”

“Armin?”

“Yeah, think so. Either way, take care, kid.”

That morning, you left the grocery store with a carton of eggs and an even more bruised heart. 

-

You were watching reruns of a 2000’s television show a couple of days after the grocery store incident, when the doorbell rang, as your dog barked at the sound and got up from its place between your legs.Your parents had left to visit your uncle a few towns over, and miraculously didn’t make you tag along – perks of being an adult, right? You mom had said. 

“Coming.” 

You open the door to be met with the sight of your close friends. 

“Oh, it’s you.” You mumble, rubbing your eyes as shy rays of sunshine enter the living room – you had closed the curtains a few hours ago, in order to remain in the dark. “Come in.”

“You know, ever since moving to Trost you kinda became a bitch.” Ymir says, entering your house as Historia giggles beside her. “I dig it.”

You smile as your dog barks at your friends, which causes the brunette to call him a little shit just like his mom. 

“Mi casa es su casa.” You announce once you enter the kitchen, a place that holds many memories: preparing snacks for movie nights, cooking with your mom, helping your dad fix a cabinet or two…

“Speaking of Mikasa…” Ymir teases, as Historia sits on a stool near the kitchen isle, laughing at her partner’s incredulous choice of words. “It’s about time you talk to her.”

“True.” Reiss chimes in, in a soft manner. “She asked if you’re attending my birthday trip.”

“Trip?” You exclaim, opening the fridge and looking for cans of soda. 

“Yeah, if you can consider going to Jean’s lake house for a weekend to be a trip.” Ymir huffs playfully, grabbing random ingredients from the cabinet. “Anyway, you have to go or we’ll have to kidnap you.”

You close the fridge, clumsily holding three cans of Pepsi in your arms. You place them on the counter, laying your elbows on the cold marble. 

“Of course I’ll go. Wouldn’t miss Stori’s birthday.”

She smiles, letting out a soft awn sound. 

Ymir places the ingredients on the kitchen island – two bars of chocolate, brown sugar, flour, vanilla essence. It’s a scene you’ve seen many times before, but it doesn’t fail to make your heart fill up with warmth and love for your friends. 

“If you don’t talk to Mikasa willingly, I’ll make sure you will eventually. Got it?”

You laugh, despite her tone. You’re well aware it’ll happen sooner or later.

“Yes ma’am.”

-

The drive to Jean’s lake house, a few days after spending the night baking with your close friends, is less awkward than you thought it would be. 

“Psych major huh?” Connie teases, playfully elbowing your ribs. You smile, playfully rolling your eyes. 

“Yeah. It’s less glamorous than it sounds, though.”

Ymir takes a turn, brown eyes focused on the road ahead. The sun was starting to settle, bathing the world in an orange light.

“Reiner is too, right?” Historia attempts small talk, looking at you from the rear view. Her acrylic nails gently tap her bright phone case. 

“Uh, yeah.” You answer, suddenly feeling a bit sour. It’s conflicting: you don’t want your Trost life and your Shiganshina “former” life to be tangled together, although it seems inevitable. “He’s uh, he’s in my class.”

Ymir snorts. 

“That guy realized he’s gay yet?”

“Ymir!” You exclaim, even though her words earn a genuine laugh from you.

“Babe, you can’t say stuff like that.” Historia gently scolds her girlfriend, giving you a don’t mind her look. “What if he hasn’t told anyone about it?”

“Oh, please.” Sasha chimes in, through mouthfuls of potato chips. “He posts Berthold on his private account almost every day.”

Connie laughs – no, cackles actually. She’s got a point. The blond has a tendency to post pictures of his lover every now and then, drinking coffee together or having dinner at downtown Trost. 

“True that.”

At that point, your soul almost leaves your body upon realizing your friends, who know nothing about who you are now, have access to Reiner’s private social media account. It shouldn’t shock or bother you in any way – unless they put the pieces together. 

-

You arrive an hour or so after the rest of the group. 

There’s loud simultaneous calling of your names, someone calling Ymir out for being late as always (which she responds with a middle finger), Connie running towards the welcoming sofa placed in the middle of the living room. Looking around the scene, you smile, feeling like you were watching a movie. 

You see your friends interacting with each other, as you grip the handle of your duffel bag a bit harder. It feels like you’re a fly on the wall, frozen in time, doomed to watch life happen around you as your feet sink further into the hardwood floor. Armin is the first person to notice you – or, at least, the first person to be vocal about it – snapping you from your constant daydreams. 

He says your name, approaching you with a bottle of beer in hand. His kind blue eyes seem softer, not hidden behind his blond locks anymore. 

“It’s been so long, it’s good to have you back.” He offers, and you hug him.

Armin doesn’t mention the visible changes: your haircut is wilder now, but it still feels like you. There’s a few tattoos adorning your arms, peeking through your shirt. You stopped getting your eyebrows done, but it suits you better. The clothes you’re wearing are stylish, that much he can tell – although not in Shiganshina. 

Leaving for the big city really has changed you. It looks like Trost allowed you to grow into this new version of you – or, if Armin is reading this right, you’ve always been like this: Shiganshina just never allowed you to exist like this peacefully. 

“Yeah, you’re right.”

It’s been too long. Long enough for you to become someone else, you think.

“C’mon, let me show you your room. You’re staying with Sasha, I think” He says after you greet the rest of the group – which takes up about  half an hour of small talk and lies from your part, and questions from them. Yeah, Trost is amazing. Psychology is a great choice, I know. Visiting is hard, with constant exams and all that. I’m glad you guys understand. 

Armin leads you towards the stairs, before turning around and making a wait gesture towards Mikasa. 

It’ll be a long weekend.

-

Twilight is long gone, and the sky is washed in its regular black color, beautifully adorned with stars that are only visible in this sort of place. It’s the type of night that calls for drinks and exciting conversation. It’s less overwhelming than you thought it would be like, due to the fact you aren’t the only one who has been gone – although you’re the one who’s been hiding for the first time, avoiding your hometown friends like the plague. No one seems to address it, though, and for that you are grateful. 

You’re a few shots in, finally starting to let loose. It feels magically nostalgic to have the whole group together. You haven’t met up like this in ages, due to most of your friends leaving Shiganshina behind to follow their own path. It seems like you’re the only one to hide and rarely come back, though.

“Truth or dare?”

A nostalgic night calls for nostalgic games.

Ymir’s voice sounds meaner than usual, almost as if she’s taunting you with her words alone. The chatter around you dies down a bit, as a few people – mostly Armin and Jean – stop what they’re doing – stalking Sasha’s new boyfriend on social media – to watch your answer. 

You can feel your heartbeat picking up, as you unconsciously press your fingernails against your palms, creating half-moon shapes. You can feel Ymir’s laughter bubbling inside of her, regardless of the choice you make. But mostly, you can feel Mikasa’s eyes on you, and it feels like you’re the lamb who accidentally entered the lion’s den. 

“Dare.”

A variety of things happen simultaneously once the word leaves your mouth, before you could even rationalize it. Connie whistles and, as you previously imaginez, Ymir cackles – which causes Historia to shush her, attempting to protect your honor. 

You can’t bring yourself to understand why you chose dare, in the first place. Although, it felt freeing to let someone else choose your fate for you, even if it’s just a teenager’s game. Perhaps, what you’re not willing to admit to yourself yet, is the fact you know Ymir might help you make the decision you’ve been laying off for some time now. 

-

Mikasa has always been the coolest kid you know. 

Ever since you became acquaintances during freshman year, when you had braces and didn’t know how to properly do your makeup – Mikasa has had a special shine about her. You remember briefly bonding with her over the same bands you liked, given the fact she would wear metalcore band shirts like it was the school’s uniform. With her dark hair contrasting against her pale skin, and a pair of doe eyes that made all of the boys melt instantly, it was obvious she would end up like this – not popular, but cool. 

You can even recall a moment of jealousy or two, as the hairy green monster clawed at your chest repeatedly. The feeling of your eyes burning at the scene of Mikasa and Eren making out at prom, dancing together as if the world belonged to them, is something that you have engraved in your mind, deeply so. Going to college, meeting new people, having new experiences everyday – that helped you with the process of finding out who you really are, who you’ve been all along. 

It wasn’t until you turned twenty two, about to graduate university, that you realized you were never jealous of Mikasa because she got the boys’ attention – you were jealous she was dating someone who wasn’t you. 

-

“Hmm, let’s see…” Ymir’s voice echoes through the living room, filled with outdated but expensive furniture. “I dare you to spend an hour in the basement.”

You snort. That seemed like an easy task, which makes the butterflies in your stomach die down a bit. You get up from your spot between Reiner and Annie, ready to spit a smart comment to Ymir, when her voice cuts through your eardrums again, causing your blood to freeze.

“With Mikasa.”

[saints-who-never-existed]

Rereading The Terror

It's been a while! (Mainly because I went home for Christmas and didn't think to take the book with me!)

Chapter Forty-Six: Crozier

They're still going, as much as Crozier wishes that they could stop, that he could finally stop and that the bright flame of hope within him could die out "so he could surrender to the inevitable and lie down and pull the frozen tundra up over himself like a child under a blanket settling into his nap."

They've made camp once again, dubbing this one 'Hospital Camp'. and it's been a hard slog to get there across a large bay of ice. It's heartbreaking to read Crozier reminiscing almost fondly of their initial jaunt from ships to Terror Camp - as godawfully grim as we know it was, they made a "fantastic rate" then compared to the pitiful few hundred yards a day they're often covering now.

The dreaded tinned food is all gone at this point. They initially swore off the stuff after Fitzjames's death with Richard Aylmore being the only man to continue to consume them, at Crozier's behest. The rest of the men only began to eat from the tins again when Aylmore showed no particular signs of ill-health, although the same cannot be said for two other seamen who went against orders to sneak in some lead-laden tinned goodness. About one such man, who died in agony after eating a stolen tin of peaches, Crozier has this to say at what passes for his funeral: "Life is solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short" the captain had intoned "It seems it is shorter for those who steal from their mates."

This blunt eulogy is a hit with the remaining men who immediately rename the boats dragged during the dreaded afternoon/evening haul - the ones they have to go back for again and again - as Solitary, Poor, Nasty, Brutish, and Short. "Crozier had grinned at this. It meant the men were not so far gone into hunger and despair that their English sailors' black humour did not still hold a cutting edge."

Crozier doesn't smile for long though - there's mutiny a-brewing! And it comes, in part, from "the last man on earth that Francis Crozier would have imagined opposing his command."! The camp is quiet, with many men and loyal officers away hunting and scouting for leads so it's easy for Crozier to hear the gathering of men outside his tent. Lieutenant Hodgson is at the head of this group, alongside several other senior men - captains of foretops and forecastles etc. In total, there are 23 of them ("...punch 23 holes into his lungs with a boat knife" anyone?!) including, of course, Manson, Aylmore, and Hickey. "Hickey looked at him with eyes so hooded and cold they could have belonged to one of the white bears they'd encountered - or perhaps to the thing on the ice itself"

In short, the 23 men want to return to the ship in hopes of a thaw. Crozier chides them all - for believing such a thing is possible, for believing they can make it back north before winter starts to set in again, for believing that the ship will still be afloat and that they'll be able to make their way out to her across the water: "Even if you steal one of the whaleboats, that will only hold ten or twelve of you with minimal supplies. Or are you planning on having ten or more of your party die before you get back to the camp? They will, you know. More than that."

His rant seems to do the trick for the most part, cowing the men, encouraging them to reconsider or at the very least to back down for now. But not Hickey. He tugs Manson's sleeve and they both step forward, threateningly, "past an alarmed-looking Hodgson". Crozier thinks quickly and grasps at the pistol in his pocket, deciding to shoot Hickey in the stomach and Manson right between the eyes - "No body shot was guaranteed to bring Manson down."

But before he can act - a commotion in the distance! "Everyone except Crozier and the caulker's mate turned to see what was happening. Crozier's gaze never left Hickey's eyes. Both men turned their heads only when the shouting started." It's Lieutenant Little, returned from a lead-scouting party with Mr Reid, Peglar and others. Making his way off the ice and onto land, he is - hilariously - completely oblivious to the mutinous drama that's just been unfolding in camp. "Open water!"

[golden-kingdom]

And the Season Feels New to Me Because You're Here - Part 3

Written for the 12 Days of Rowaelin: First Holiday Season Together (@rowaelinscourt)

Summary: A month before Christmas, rich hotel heiress Aelin Ashryver Galathynius is running away from her future after a fight with her father and hides at a resort in the Staghorn Mountains. When she has a ski accident and hits her head, she loses her memory and nobody knows who she is. Rowan Whitethorn is a widower who owns a small inn in town and father to 6-year-old Thalia. When, after much insistence from his daughter, Rowan offers Aelin a place to stay, the two have to spend time together against their will. Rowan cannot stand spoiled and self-centered Aelin, and Aelin hates how cold and guarded Rowan is. Thalia thinks it would take a Christmas miracle for them to finally get along.

Inspired by Falling for Christmas (2022)

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: None

Masterlist

Read it on AO3

Aelin handed a long piece of paper to Rowan. He looked down at it, puzzled.

"What is this?" he asked her, scratching his head.

"It’s what I need. You said I should make you a list. You’re going to the store, right?"

He nodded and looked back at the list, skimming through it. He sighed in disbelief.

"Why do you need a flat iron? Your hair is already flat. And what even is a toner?" he asked. "I’m not getting you an eyelash curler, whatever that is."

He didn’t wait for her to reply.

"I said a list of essentials, Celaena. Like deodorant or a winter coat…" he explained, annoyed.

"But those are all essential!" she argued.

He took a deep breath, trying to keep his calm.

"Listen, just try to keep it minimal, okay?"

"Alright," she replied, a little remorseful. She took back the list and crossed off some items. "Is that better?"

He looked at the piece of paper again and nodded.

"I’ll be gone for one or two hours. If you need me, you can join me at this number," he said as he handed her a piece of paper with his digits. "Thalia is with her uncle today and there aren’t many rooms occupied at the moment so you should be fine."

"How am I supposed to call you? I don’t even have a phone," she said.

"You know there’s this really useful thing called a land-line phone. There is one in your room and one at the reception. Just try not break it," he replied.

She made a face to show him she didn’t think he was funny. He left and Aelin headed to the lounge.

She had found a bookshelf there the other day. Aelin might have lost her memory, but she hadn’t lost her taste for reading. She could spend countless hours tucked away with a book, getting lost in a story. She mostly liked romance, but she could get into anything if it was well-written. She picked out a book that sounded interesting, wondering if she had read it before. It’s not like she would remember. She sat down on the sofa with a blanket and opened the first page.

…

With each day passing, Aelin felt more comfortable at the North Star. She still longed for luxury, but she was getting used to a simpler life. Rowan had bought her what she asked, and she no longer had to wear ill-fitted clothes or wash her face with a bar of soap. She was slowly learning how to do things she had struggled with at first. She made her own bed every morning and helped in the kitchen when needed. She was still far from being a chef, but she could lend a hand to Rowan when he was cooking. She got along well with Thalia. The young girl had shown her how to do laundry properly, insisting on the appropriate amount of detergent. She could be quite bossy. Aelin tried helping around the place whenever she could. She found she liked being useful.

Rowan was still acting cold towards her, but he didn’t get angry with her anymore. This was a start she assumed. She knew he didn’t like her, and the feeling was mutual. She wasn’t expecting them to be the best of friends suddenly, but it wouldn’t kill him to smile once in a while. He seemed to have a permanent frown on his face, the only exception being when he was around his daughter.

Today, they would be decorating the lodge for Christmas. Rowan had told her a few of his friend would come help them. She was reading in the lounge, something she had started doing every day, when the front door opened and a cold draft of air from outside came in. She shivered and put her arms around her body. She saw two men and a woman enter the lodge, Rowan greeting them. The woman noticed Aelin sitting on the sofa and walked over to her, extending a hand.

"You must be Celaena," she said. The first thing Aelin noticed was how short she was. She had long black hair and her round eyes were just as dark. It stood out against her porcelain skin. "I’m Elide."

Aelin couldn’t explain it, but even with her short stature, the woman had a fierceness to her that Aelin immediately liked.

"Nice to meet you," Aelin said, getting up from the couch and shaking her hand.

She gave the woman a hesitant smile and was happy when Elide returned it.

A man with long curly golden hair and bronze skin approached too. He was strikingly handsome. He looked at Aelin, his onyx eyes sparkling.

"I’m Fenrys. Pleased to meet you," he said with a warm smile. "Rowan forgot to mention how beautiful you are," he added.

Aelin felt herself blush a bit and laughed. Elide rolled her eyes at her friend and slapped him lightly behind the head.

"Ow! What was that for?" he asked.

"You know exactly what that was for," she replied, eying him pointedly.

The other man was huge and taller than everyone by a foot. He had severe features, and his dark hair was pulled in a bun. His eyes were dark too and Aelin felt his piercing stare on her for a few seconds. He was talking with Rowan in the lobby, and while the others had been friendly and introduced themselves, he ignored her. She decided right away that she didn’t like him.

"You have to forgive my husband. I’m afraid he doesn’t know good manners," said Elide as she noticed where Aelin was looking.

Aelin was shocked to hear that. She was even more shocked when Thalia came rushing down the stairs with a big smile and threw herself on the giant man.

"Uncle Lorcan!" she exclaimed as he caught her and held her in his arms.

"Hi, little monster," he told her. He patted her small head and put her down.

"I’m hurt, Thalia. I thought I was your favorite," Fenrys said with a fake sad face.

"You know I love you too, Uncle Fenrys," she replied, walking over to him and giving him a hug too.

"Alright," started Rowan, grabbing everyone’s attention. "Let’s get to work."

"You forgot the Christmas music!" said Thalia, as if he had forgotten her birthday.

Rowan quickly rectified the situation and soon upbeat Christmas songs could be heard all over the place. He explained to each of them what to do and everyone got to work.

Aelin had been tasked with putting on garlands. She took her work seriously and looked around each room to figure out where to put each of them.

When she got to lobby, she grabbed a stepladder from the closet to set a garland around the entrance’s double doors. She climbed the three stairs and put the garland on the doorframe. She made sure it was secured in place and started climbing back down. But her foot got caught and she lost her balance. Someone grabbed her by the waist and stopped her fall.

"Thank you," she said to whoever had saved her from falling and embarrassing herself once again. 

She turned around and was surprised to find Rowan. She thought he was decorating the rooms upstairs. They looked at each other, their faces at the same level because of the stepladder. His constant frown had changed into an expression she couldn’t quite decipher but that was definitely softer. He looked younger like that and as she took in his pine green eyes, his straight nose, his full pink lips, and his sharp jaw, she thought he was quite beautiful. 

Suddenly, Elide arrived and Rowan realized he was still holding Aelin by the waist. He quickly removed his hands and stepped aside.

"You should be more careful," he mumbled and then he went back up the stairs.

…

Two days later, Aelin was curled up by the fireplace, completely engrossed in her book, when Rowan walked over. He cleared his throat to get her attention, and when she looked up, she found him staring at her. He was wearing his winter coat and appeared ready to leave.

"I’m going to the toy drive in town," he explained. 

Thalia was at school and none of the guest rooms were currently occupied so he had free time for once.

"What is that?" Aelin asked.

"Every Christmas, Summit Springs organizes a toy drive for children of families who are struggling. I like to help when I can," he replied.

"That’s really sweet," she said genuinely.

"I believe every kid deserves a gift for Christmas."

"Do you need help?" she inquired.

"I wouldn’t want to take you away from your important reading."

"I want to come," she insisted.

He agreed uncertainly and Aelin went to grab her coat in her room.

When they arrived at the toy drive, Rowan introduced her to the other volunteers and put her in charge of wrapping the presents. Aelin struggled with the tape and the wrapping paper, but she managed to wrap her first gift after a few tries.

"How is it going?" asked Rowan, coming over to see her work.

Aelin showed him the present she had wrapped. It was a fair attempt, but the whole thing was covered in tape and the paper was wrinkled in places. Rowan laughed a little.

"That’s pretty good, but let me show an easier way to do it," he said as he showed her how to properly wrap a present with only three pieces of tapes and how to fold the paper. Aelin had to admit she was quite impressed.

She went back to her task, following what Rowan had taught her and he left to take care of something else.

She had wrapped around thirty gifts and the sun was setting down when Rowan came back to the table she was working on.

"Let’s head home. We can pick up Thalia at school on our way back," he said.

They drove towards Thalia’s school in silence. Aelin was tired and hungry, but she was pleased with herself.

"Thank you for taking me to the toy drive with you today. It was fun and I love that I was able to help and make a difference," she said, breaking the quietness of the car.

"Thank you for coming," Rowan replied, turning his head to give her a small smile.

He looked back at the road, and she thought this was it until she heard him clear his voice.

"I wanted to say…" started Rowan. He paused and she waited for him to continue.

"I wanted to apologize for how I’ve been acting. Especially, for losing my temper and yelling at you. I didn’t mean what I said."

Aelin wasn’t expecting this. She looked at him, surprised, and his face was soft and sincere.

"I’m just so stressed with the lodge and everything going on. And I worry so much for Thalia. But it’s not an excuse to take it out on you," he added.

"Thank you. But I admit I didn’t make it easy on you. I can be quite difficult to deal with sometimes."

He chuckled at that.

"Truce?" he asked her.

"Truce," she replied with a tentative smile.

They arrived at Thalia’s school. She came running to the car, excited to see Aelin was there too. She got into the backseat and started telling them animatedly about her day. Aelin closed her eyes and listened happily to her small enthusiastic voice. Snow was falling all around and Aelin felt weirdly content here in this car.

…

Aelin was getting ready for the day when she heard a knock at the door of her room. She got dressed and opened the door.

"Thalia and I are going to the Christmas market in town. Would you like to come with us?" asked Rowan, standing in her doorway.

"Yes! Just give me a minute and I’ll come down," she replied.

When she arrived down the stairs, Rowan and Thalia were waiting for her in the lobby. The young girl was wearing cute fluffy earmuffs on her head. She seemed excited to go to the market. Aelin didn’t remember if she had ever gone to one, so it would be a new experience, much like everything was lately.

They drove there in Rowan’s truck, Christmas music blasting from the radio. They parked in a small parking lot near the outdoor market and walked over. Thalia was holding her father’s hand, but she grabbed Aelin’s too. Aelin looked down at their entwined hands, surprised. The child smiled up at her, and Aelin couldn’t help but smile back. She was touched by the gesture.

They entered the Christmas market. There were booths covered in snow and decorated with Christmas lights everywhere. They were selling all kind of stuff, mostly hand-made. People were milling around, some shopping and others chatting with friends. There was a booth selling hot chocolate and donuts that seemed quite popular. Thalia spotted a stand and dashed towards it. Aelin and Rowan followed her, walking faster to try to keep up with the girl.

"She gets this excited about Christmas every year," Rowan said, smiling at his daughter who was looking at toys with wide eyes. "It’s something she has in common with her mother," he added in a more serious tone.

"Thalia told me about her. I’m sorry," said Aelin.

"It’s been a rough couple of years," he admitted. "I didn’t even think we would stay here after Lyria passed away."

"Where would you have gone?" she asked, curious.

"Doranelle. It’s across the ocean, in Wendlyn. That’s where I come from. All my family still lives there," he explained.

His voice got emotional.

"I miss them a lot, but the North Star was a dream project I had with Lyria. I couldn’t give up on it."

Aelin felt her heart break a little for him. She nodded in understanding.

"Daddy! Celaena!" Thalia called them over.

They entered the booth and found the girl kneeling in front of a litter of puppies. Her eyes were sparkling with wonder. A puppy licked her hand and she laughed.

"Can I get one?" she pleaded to her father.

"Thalia, we’ve already talked about this. A lodge isn’t a place for a dog. Come on," he said in a firm tone, but Aelin could see it was hurting him to refuse his daughter something.

The young girl pouted but followed along. They went around the market, looking at everything on display.

In a booth selling antiques, Aelin spotted a big snow globe. It was beautiful, the base made of wood and gold. She picked it up and shook it, watching the fake snow fall down on the tiny city inside. She couldn’t say why or how, but she had a feeling of déjà vu. The object made her feel light-hearted and nostalgic at the same time. Rowan noticed the way she was looking at it but didn’t say anything.

After visiting the market, they headed to the centre of the town. The sky was already turning dark as they walked over to a huge Christmas tree in the town square. The tree and the square were lit up and decorated beautifully. It was a magical sight. Thalia screamed in awe and Rowan picked her up, so she could see everything better. She pointed excitedly at things to show Aelin.

There were carollers singing Christmas songs near the tree. They stopped to listen to them. Rowan turned towards Aelin and gave her a soft smile, singing along to Joy to the World. Aelin couldn’t help but notice how nice his voice was and how his eyes were sparkling with the lights reflecting on them.

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[marmolita]

are we just cursed in December or??? details behind the cut, cw for cancer, death (don't worry me and my husband and kids are fine)

So last December we went to visit my family for the holidays as usual and it was kind of a total nightmare. Mr Lita was having panic attacks because we found that chipmunks had excavated a city under our porch and destabilized it and he was afraid of rodents getting into our house, my sister had COVID, and Southwest airlines totally fucked up so that we had to book a different flight home days later than we intended. It was altogether a miserable month.

This year, my mom's coming out here and everything was looking good! Mr Lita was doing fine, nothing's wrong with the house, etc.

Except, we just found out his dad has stage 4 pancreatic cancer. This was literally a couple days ago so we don't have much info yet but his parents had a friend pass from pancreatic cancer recently and it was only six weeks from her diagnosis to passing. He's already trying to sort out his financial papers and make funeral plans and he hasn't even had a biopsy yet. I believe he intends to only seek palliative or hospice care, which tbh is very reasonable given the extremely short timeline for most people with pancreatic cancer.

The day after we found that out, my kid who has anxiety and emetophobia had her first major panic attack in months because having a cold with a wet cough freaked her out, and is still not quite back to her normal yet. We haven't told the kids about their grandpa's cancer yet.

My mom's coming out to spend the holidays with us next Friday and I'm like gosh!!! How am I gonna make this a fun holiday season for my kids when their grandpa is dying!!! How am I gonna make sure my anxious kid doesn't start having panic attacks about whether she herself might have cancer!!! I don't know if he's going to die in two weeks or a month or six months and I don't know how to plan fun things for my kids with the knowledge that we may have to cancel at any moment if things go south even faster than they already are.

My sister-in-law is on vacation in New Zealand for this entire month so gosh I hope he at least has a month of time so she can get back to see him. He has a biopsy on Tuesday and his first appointment with the oncologist the day after Christmas which seems interminably far away. I feel completely helpless to help my in-laws or my husband right now and I fucking suck at keeping a brave face because i will cry at a moment's notice.

We're going to have to tell the kids tomorrow I think because my brother-in-law is gonna come down and they'll want to get together and so they'll need to know. I know it's better for my kids if I can be calm and confident talking to them about it but I simply cannot have a conversation about this without bawling.

And I wanted to do all this fun stuff with my kids and my mom for Christmas! And I know that my father in law wants my kids to be happy and having fun and not worrying about him! But how am I supposed to do that!! My sister and her family are coming a couple days after Christmas too and idk whether everything will be fine or whether there will be additional drama there. 😩 What do I do if he takes a turn for the worse very rapidly and doesn't even make it through the month?

I kind of hate how this part of it was easier at least when my dad passed away. He was in ill health for a long time and we knew he probably wouldn't be around more than another year but we didn't have a specific terminal outcome for most of that time so it was easy to not think about it too much. Then when he couldn't do dialysis anymore it was basically a very specific timeline and we knew he would not be around more than two weeks from that point. It was awful and I hated it but at least we knew.

[stranger-marauders]

unbreakable

ten: the lights

chapter summary: Will Byers is confirmed dead, and Kate meets Jonathan's mother. Kate and her father finally begin to talk to one another.

chapter warnings: language, sibling loss, parental issues, grief

word count: 3.1k

series masterlist | masterlist

KATE HAD BEEN asked to go inside with her father once they'd gotten to the Byers' home.

Even though she had only known Jonathan for a couple of hours at best, or known him well at least, she hadn't minded coming for him. She knew how awful it was to find out about something like this, your younger sibling dying. She couldn't imagine how it was for Jonathan after knowing what her experience was like. Realistically, Kate had had time to prepare herself for Sara's death. She'd been sick for over a year, barely alive for the month leading up to her passing, but Will had been healthy, full of life, and had been just as quickly taken away from them.

The car ride to the Byers' house had been quiet between Kate and her father. She didn't quite know what to say to him, and he didn't know what to say to her, either. She'd shown up at the station just to see him: Hopper couldn't think of the last time his daughter had gone to him and not someone else for comfort. He didn't know if he was supposed to ask, if he was allowed to ask, but for now, he would let her sit in silence, let her gather her thoughts before they went inside of the house.

Officers Callahan and Powell had arrived at the Byers' house before Kate and Hopper, and they had already begun searching the home for any new or relevant evidence to the Will Byers case. Whenever Kate walked inside, she couldn't help but stare at all the Christmas lights that the house currently seemed to be drowning in, the smell of drying paint on a wall where the alphabet had been painted, a corresponding Christmas light hanging above each letter.

She felt so out of place in that house. Everything had started to click into place for her: she didn't know much about the Byers, but the town's assumption of them, especially at the moment, made a lot of sense for her. The Byers, more specifically Joyce, Jonathan's mother, had always been rumored to have a few screws loose. Kate couldn't judge them for it, not in the slightest: her family was far from perfect, too.

Hopper had started to explain the situation to Joyce once he'd gotten situated. "A trooper found something in the, uh… water that's at the quarry. Our working theory right now is that Will… crashed his bike, he… made his way over the quarry and, uh… accidentally fell in. The earth must have given way…"

As Hopper went on, Joyce Byers seemed as if she could have torn at the seams.

"Joyce?" He hesitated before calling her name again. "Joyce. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"No," Joyce finally answered, her voice breathy, brittle. She visibly trembled. "Whoever you found… is not my boy. It's not Will."

"Joyce."

"No, y–you don't understand. I talked to him… a–a half-hour ago!" She sniffled as she walked over to a cupboard in the living room with even more Christmas lights sitting inside of it, these ones a solid white instead of the colored ones. "He was… He was here. He was… He was talking with these." She picked up the set of Christmas lights, showing them to Hopper.

His heart ached for her, it really did. He knew the pain of losing a child, but his loss was to illness. He hadn't been in denial like this.

Jonathan and Kate stood behind her father, watching as Hopper tried to fix things. Jonathan took a heavy breath, trying to stop himself from crying. He couldn't believe his mother was taking the thing with the lights this far even now, even after they'd found Will's body.

"Talking?"

"Uh-huh. One blink for yes, two for no." She then put those down and moved to the Christmas lights that hung on the wall with a corresponding letter underneath each light. "And… And, uh… And then I made this so he could talk to me. 'Cause he was hiding… form that… that thing."

Kate's stomach twisted into knots as she watched the woman unravel before her: she'd seen the impact of grief with her own parents, mostly her father, with losing their youngest. At least they had had some type of closure as Sara slowly spiraled—this was just all so sudden. Even through all the second-hand pain she felt for the middle-aged woman in front of her, Kate had no idea what the hell she could have possibly been talking about.

"The thing that came out of the wall? The thing that chased you?" Hopper asked, attempting to get as much clarity on the situation as possible, if he could get any. He knew she sounded absolutely insane, but he didn't blame her. He couldn't blame her. She had just found out her youngest boy was dead.

"Yeah," Joyce said, her voice breaking. Even she knew she was dangling from the edge. "Yeah."

"Mom, come on, please," Jonathan said, walking over to her. He didn't even try to fight the tears pooling in his eyes. "Please, you've got to stop this."

"No, maybe he's… It's after him!" she shouted at her oldest son. She turned to Hopper. "He's in danger. We have to find him! We—"

"What exactly is this thing? It was some kind of animal, you said?" Hopper asked her.

"Uh, no, it was… I–It was almost… human, but it wasn't. It… It had these long arms and… it didn't have a face."

Jonathan finally walked away to his room, and Kate ran after him. She knew he needed someone, quite frankly, anyone. At least, that's all she had wanted when Sara died.

He closed the door behind him, but she caught the door before it could slam into the hinges. She wouldn't let him take this alone, not when she vaguely knew what he was feeling.

"Jonathan," Kate said softly, closing the door to his room quietly.

He couldn't fight his tears any longer. "She's in denial, even after they've found his…" Instead of finishing his sentence, he exhaled shakily.

"Hey, it's gonna take some time," she said, sitting next to him on his bed as he cried into her shoulder. After this, she thought that she and Jonathan Byers were trauma-bonded. "It's okay. You're okay. He… He's home now, and at least you have some closure."

He sniffled. "I should've never taken that extra shift. I wish I could just… just switch with him, or something."

Kate looked at her newfound friend with a tight-lipped frown. "No, don't say that. You can't do that to yourself. Trust me. When Sara died, I beat myself up over everything we didn't do together, or–or stuff we never did enough of, but I've realized that you can't control everything. It sucks, and I wish it wasn't this way, but some things were just… meant to happen. You can't blame yourself for something that's completely out of your control, Jonathan."

He finally let go of her, wiping his face and turning to look at her again. "I just… I wish he was still here."

Kate still held a tight-lipped frown. "Me too."

Suddenly, pulling them back to their new reality, there was a knock at the door. When it opened, her father was revealed, standing in the doorway. "Hey, kid, we gotta go."

She stood up from his bed, looking back to Jonathan. "Call me if you need anything. Really. Even if it's three in the morning, I promise I'll answer. But please try to sleep—you need it."

Jonathan nodded once in response. He supposed if anyone were to know how to deal with something like this, it would definitely be Kate Hopper. "Thank you."

Without another word, she closed the door behind her and followed her father outside to his SUV.

The following morning, Kate had asked her father to drive her to school.

She still didn't want to talk to Steve, not after yesterday. Quite frankly, she didn't have the energy to deal with him at the moment. She had hardly slept that night, just in case Jonathan had needed her again. Even if she thought he was a tad bit quirky, no one deserved to go through something like that alone. He didn't even have his own mother to lean on: she still thought Will was alive, even after his body had been brought back home.

For most of the car ride, it had been absolutely silent. No music, no talking—only the sound of the running engine.

Hopper didn't know how to ask what he wanted to ask. He didn't know how to start the conversation that he wanted to have with her in the slightest. He wanted to ask her why she'd gone to the station for him yesterday. He wanted to ask her why Steve wasn't taking her to school that morning. He wanted to ask why she was all of a sudden hanging out with Joyce's son. He needed to know.

He finally decided Jonathan Byers would be the easiest thing to tackle first. "So, you and Joyce's kid."

Kate didn't even turn to her father as she spoke, still looking out the passenger's side window. "It's a long story."

"Well, we've got time, kid," Hopper replied.

She sighed, somewhat annoyed. "I mean, do you really care?"

Hopper hesitated to respond. "Of course I do, you're my daughter."

That was something Kate hadn't heard him say in a long time: that he cared. Even if he hadn't said it directly, it was still enough. Without any more protest, she cleared her throat, turning to face him. "Uh, Steve broke Jonathan's camera, so I skipped his basketball game and took Jonathan out to dinner to make up for it, but he heard about Will and went home. I didn't want to walk home, so I went to the station to try to catch you. I had no idea he would be…"

She trailed off, but Hopper understood what she meant. "Wait, why'd he break his camera?"

Kate's blood went cold for a second. She didn't know whether it was better to tell the truth or to try and lie about it.

"Kate."

She took a sharp breath. "When I was over at Steve's a couple nights ago, Jonathan found his backyard and took pictures of us and the other people that were there from the woods." She paused, trying to collect her thoughts. "Please don't say anything to Joyce. Steve already… He did enough to him already, and his brother just died. I mean, don't get me wrong, it was so weird, but it wasn't worth breaking his camera over. Not right now."

Hopper hesitated to ask the question that popped up in his head. "And, uh, what'd your boyfriend think about that? You ditchin' and goin' with him?"

Kate laughed once hollowly, shaking her head slowly. "Steve isn't… He's not my boyfriend, Dad. Come on, you know that."

Hopper wanted to say something along the lines of,  "Well, he sure doesn't act like it," but he decided against it—he really didn't want to start a fight with Kate this early in the morning when things were going so well, even if he knew he was right.

When Hopper said that Steve reminded him of himself in high school, that also meant that he could read Steve like a book: all the dickish behavior and girls he saw him with around town would never be enough to convince him that Steve didn't care about his daughter. From time to time, he thought that maybe, just maybe Steve had a thing for her, but he tried not to think about it, mostly for her sake (also because she was with him alone all the time). She didn't seem all that interested in him anyway, especially not right now.

"I don't think he understands that I can keep my own, to be honest with you. I skipped his game after the whole thing because he was being such an asshole," she said, looking out the window again.

"Hey, watch it," he replied, mostly referring to her language. She turned back to face him before he spoke again. "But, uh… after what? Breaking the kid's camera?"

"Yeah, it was so stupid," Kate said. Bringing it up again had almost made her blood boil. "I mean, it was like something out of one of those cheesy high school movies. You had to be there to see it, it was such bullsh—ridiculous. He was being ridiculous."

Hopper nodded, almost chuckling. If she said he was being an asshole, then he was being an asshole. As they pulled up to the front of the school, Hopper turned to his daughter. "Hey."

"Yeah?" she asked, turning back to him before she jumped out of the SUV.

He hesitated. "Be careful, okay? I love you, kid."

She smiled back at her father, and it was a genuine smile. She couldn't remember the last time they'd had such a pleasant conversation. "Love you, too, Dad."

As she jumped out of the car, melting away into the mess of students, Hopper smiled—he couldn't remember the last time that Kate had told him she loved him. He started to believe that maybe, finally, things would begin to fall into place for the two of them.

As Kate walked through the halls, she played her music loudly through her headphones, not focused on her surroundings. Even though the music was loud, it seemed so much quieter than it normally was for her in the mornings, and she knew exactly the reason why: her head wasn't currently being talked off by Steve. She didn't know how long the serene tranquility would last before he came and found her, if he came and found her, that was.

Whenever she finally arrived at her locker, she had been more than surprised to find Jamie waiting for her. While they were close friends, Jamie didn't normally talk to her at school. She figured a lot of it had to do with the fact that he was senior, that and the crowd she kept. She wouldn't want to talk to her at school either.

She pulled the headphones off her ears, the music still softly thumping from them now hanging around her neck. "Hey."

"Hey," he said, smiling slightly at her.

Her mouth parted slightly, almost as if she couldn't believe she was looking at him. It was a weird sight, Jamie Schroeder at her locker, standing in front of her at school. "What are you doing?"

"Haven't seen you since Monday night, so I thought I'd swing by."

Her eyebrows furrowed together, almost displeased with his answer as she dug through her locker to find her notated copy of The Great Gatsby. "That's all? Can't handle it without me a couple days?"

"Nah, it's not that. Last night was boring without you, though, if that makes you feel any better," he said. "Speaking of which, someone came in last night asking about Jane Austin books, and I was bummed the expert wasn't there."

When she turned around, book in hand, Kate avoided eye contact with him, trying not to smile as her face flushed pink. "Don't tell people my secrets."

He laughed in response, not scared of her in the slightest. "Why? Because you're too cool for romance, right?"

"Who said that?" she asked.

He only smiled in response. Jamie had always been infatuated with Kate Hopper, ever since the day he met her. 

He could still remember that day like it was yesterday. It had been late June 1981, the week after her fourteenth birthday. While he'd been about a year older than her, he had thought she must've been an upperclassman that he just hadn't seen around before. By looks alone, Kate had seemed much older than any of the other girls he'd met his own age because of the slight bags under her eyes, the tiredness in her face. With that, those things didn't make her any less pretty. In fact, those things had, in his eyes, made her all the more beautiful. As he'd gotten to know her over the years, he'd come to find Kate more beautiful than any other girl he'd ever met—her laugh, her smile, her (slight, as she liked to call it) caffeine addiction… Jamie had come to admire many things about Kate Hopper over the years.

"So, what are you doing tonight? Hangin' out with Harrington or something of the sort?" he asked, trying to stay composed.

"You wouldn't believe it, but no," she started, immediately earning an odd look from him. "Yeah, crazy, I know. I haven't talked to him since yesterday."

"No, that's good," Jamie said. He immediately corrected himself whenever he saw her face twitch for half a second. "Not good, I mean." He paused. "How bad is it?"

"Bad enough where I made my dad drive me to school today."

Jamie winced, giving an uneasy look. "That bad, huh?"

Kate shrugged, pushing a piece of hair out of her face. "You'd be surprised, but I think this morning was the first time I've had a pleasant conversation with my dad since, like, Thanksgiving."

"Whaaat?" Jamie asked, raising the pitch of his voice. "You gotta tell me about that. That and what Harrington did to deserve this much shunning."

Kate laughed, but when she opened her mouth to speak again, the bell for first period rang. "Damn."

"Hey, don't worry about it," Jamie said as he began to walk to his first class of the day. "It'll give me something to think about before lunch."

She raised her eyebrows at him, raising her voice slightly as he walked away from her. "Hey, who said I was eating lunch with you?"

Instead of answering, he gave a dopey smile and a shrug, and Kate couldn't fight the smile that she now carried on her face as she made her way to her English class, pulling her headphones back over her ears, her copy of The Great Gatsby in her hand still.

Kate had no idea, however, that Steve had been standing across the hall, waiting to speak with her until she got finished. As she walked away without noticing him, which he hoped was an accident, he frowned.

Maybe Kate had finally grown tired of him, after all.

next chapter

tag list:

@thatsonezesty13 @cece5 @thepowerstoner @alovelytardis @coolchick333 @stand-tall-pineapple @littlet-holmes @guichu @cinderellabecauseshebroke

[krabkrab-wontshutup]

@whats-this-madness POST ABOUT YOUR SANSES

Since i am always cringe I have redrawn some old sans ocs me and WTM made. Heres what i can fucking remember about their stories

WARNING: REALLY LONG POST UNDER CUT

MAD(written by WTM)- Mad lives in a universe where Gaster was never pushed into the core. He lives a long, somewhat happy life, with his son. He has two, but the first (Papyrus) dies early in life due to an illness. Sans nearly dies from this same sickness when he’s young but this time Gaster saves his son. Although it left him with only 1 hp, it was worth it. When Gaster dies, Sans takes his place as the royal scientist. He studies, and quickly becomes reveared as Asgores best scientist yet. So, Asgore assigns him a mission, create a wepon capable of killing a human in one hit. This, was not easy. It took him years to get even close. Somewhere along the way he creates something strange… a small skull like creature that can fire a powerful blast from its mouth. Not capable of killing somebody in one blast, but fascinating. It’s behavior and appearance are similar to those of a puppy’s. Sans also seemed to communicate with the creature, not in a palpable way… but he understood it. And it understood him. It was very emotionally intelligent. The scientist was popular in town, being friends with most of the royal guard, some people in town… he and the owner of that bar in town were pretty close. But all good things must come to an end. One day, Error gets a hold of his universe and destroys it. In the chaos, he gets saved. When he awakens, he finds himself in a white void, his Blaster hovers over him. I wonder how he got there?

MAGNUS- a somewhat warped version of Mad. for one, WD Gaster DID fall into the core. instead of error destroying his universe, magnus fucked around and found out, magic edition. He was the royal scientist after gaster, and experimented on himself causing his universe to collapse and him to be trapped in the antivoid. from there, He just has a lot of fun! stealing from AUs, messing with people, avoiding his new neighbor who has a penchant to murder. The works! Til one day he’s invited to a mysterious christmas party (AND FOR THOSE WHO UNDERSTAND, LET IT BE KNOWN THAT IM LAUGHING MY ASS OFF ABOUT THIS STORYLINE). At this party he befriends Fresh sans, and OO BOY.

PINK- idfk man he’s pink. thats it. not everything is a banger. Lust sans exists.

RAINBOW(written by WTM)- So the story behind Rainbow is that he lives in a completely inky black void, if you float to far down, it’ll get you. He lives alone, and he mostly doesn’t mind it. He picks up art and magic. Painting really cheers him up when he’s down and it’s convenient to bring stuff to yourself from across the room. He practices other things to, teleportation, and control of these cool vine things. There’s this one plant he keeps in his art room, a void flower his mother picked for him. He cares for it a lot. It’s practically his only company. He speaks to it, sings it songs, gives it snacks. [they disappear when he looks away.] One day he finds a spell that can give a plant sentience. He immediately try’s this on his plant and it works. He now has a happy, if not very confused flower. He names her Furby and they become besties. One day Furby makes him and Sans lockets, dark purple in color with crappy drawings inside, and San’s loves them. When *they* get higher in the void, San’s slaves over his books to stop *them* before they get to the house. Furby tries to convince him to rest, hang out, play some games, spend time with her. He ignores her. Eventually *they* get to close for comfort. He needed to get them out of there as soon as possible. He had been studying a way to travel between universes and there couldn’t be a better time to test it out. So he prepared the spell and he and Furby hopped dimensions in the nick of time as *they* engulfed the house. When he wakes up, he’s in a completely white void. And Furby is nowhere to be seen. He continues to hop universes to search for his one and only friend. One day he finds Madness san’s universe, through a very panicked Blaster. It’s on the verge of falling apart, so he saves Madness and gets the fuck outta there. Madness follows him around through the void and different au’s, and they become friends. There’s a little bit of drama when Mad learns Rainbow coulda saved his Au’s Grilby but chose not to and his best buddy Blaster told him not to. But it all gets worked out.

my sibling is fucking insane and im sorry this post is so long😭😭😭

[knotmagickstudios]

ADHD/Autism Diagnosis as an adult, part 5

Part 4 can be found here.

Appointment number 3 with the neuropsych was super exciting for me because it was medication day!

I normally don't talk about the specifics of my meds, but in this case it's important. I'm not advocating for any specific medication, or for medication in general, but this is my experience. If you need meds to keep your brain from exploding, please take meds. They really do help, even though they can be scary to contemplate!

So, to recap: I went to my doctor for my extreme and long lasting fatigue, which has been causing things like brain fog, difficulty understanding/remembering instructions, short term memory loss, etc. Because I have both fatigue and insomnia, she suggested I get tested for ADHD.

The neuropsych diagnosed me with mild ADHD with very low dopamine, and autism. Because I was hesitant to start a new brain med with everything going on, we waited until appointment 3 of 4 do discuss medication. We did talk about options a little bit earlier on, and I explained why I was hesitant: I already take medication for anxiety/depression, so I want something that's going to play nice with those meds. Second, because of my sleep issues, I didn't want to start on a stimulant until my sleep was under control because I didn't want to mess things up further. He listened, understood, and agreed with my concerns, so we put medication on hold for the time being.

This process started on January 1. December 1, my energy levels just crashed and took my immune system with it. I had zero energy and got sick twice between Christmas and the first week of January. I put my writing and creative work on hiatus until further notice because I just had no energy and couldn't meet any kind of deadlines. All I wanted to do was sleep. I felt like trash.

Between appointments 2 and 3 I had a brainwave that made me feel like an absolute idiot: A big chunk of my sleep problems were caused by sensory issues. I made some changes to my bedding, night clothes, and general sleep set up, and it helped a lot. It's not perfect. I'm not where I want to be. But I feel a lot better and can do more than I could in December.

But back to the meds. Because I was feeling both desperate for relief and more stable than I was before, I felt ready to start a new medication. Essentially, there are 2 options for ADHD: Stimulants (like Ritalin) and "off label" meds. These off label meds are usually designed for depression, but because they increase dopamine levels they also help with ADHD, which is exacerbated by low dopamine. I'm already taking Lexapro, which increases serotonin levels. We didn't want to mess with the Lexapro since it's working, so he suggested adding Stelara, which is the med that plays nicest with Lexapro. I was still worried about things like mood swings or severe reactions that might impact my day job--I'm already having trouble with details, focus, etc, and didn't want them to get even worse.

We spent most of the 30 minute appointment going over the side effects, what to look out for, and how to manage them. Most of the side effects are things I'm either already experiencing due to my chronic illness. The main dangers to look out for were extreme jumps or drops in blood pressure. The rest of the side effects were typically temporary and are supposed to go away after a week or two. The medication itself could take a few days to a month to reach full effectiveness.

We decided the smartest course of action was to start me on a half dose (25mg) for 2 weeks, and then go up to the recommended 40mg at our next appointment.

So far I've been on this new med for about 4 days. The only side effect I've noticed is that it's even harder than usual to regulate my body temperature (I can go from freezing when I'm sitting still to being covered in sweat the instant I move), but that's the only side effect I seem to have. I can't judge my sleep too well because my cat has been an asshole for the last four nights and keeps waking me up for food at 4am, so it's hard to judge things like quality of sleep or fatigue levels.

I am open to adding a stimulant later on, but I want to get some other things evened out first since most of the people I know who have issues with ADHD meds have them with the stimulants. Also, right now meds like Ritalin are hard to get, so I really don't need the headache of withdrawal symptoms or trying to find a pharmacy with it in stock. Hopefully in a few months my sleep will be better, my fatigue will improve, and the inventory issues will clear up, and we can talk about it more then.

So that's where things are. I have 1 more regular appointment, and then we're going to schedule a follow up for some point in the future. I know I was super lucky to get a GP and a neuropsych who have been so great, and that isn't the experience of everyone in this boat. I hope that if you are considering or are trying to get a diagnosis, you get providers who have been as great as these two (trust me, I've dealt with some shit doctors in the past few months, including one who flat out refused to see me).

As always, I'm happy to answer any questions.

[ourquicksilvered]

Why I’m No Longer Dating

Not fandom related but I needed to rant/get out my feelings/ have something that reminds me to not date men or let them in anymore. Maybe this will be inspo for future works. *Names are made up but the men and actions aren’t* **trigger warning: someone threatening to unalive themselves**

Howie who became obsessed with me when we started dating, who dumped all his problems on me and never once asked how I felt or how I was doing, who wanted me to not go to my dream school because it would be to far from him and threatened to unalive himself if I broke up with him

Sebastian who flirted with me often, wanted me to come over, introduced me to his friends but then became really mean to me and blamed his mental illness and is now trying to be friends with me -_-

George who I lost my virginity to, who was embarrassed that his friends knew we were sleeping together, even though they all thought I was hot and he didn’t even tell me goodbye when he was leaving the country for good

Fred who stood me up TWICE, called me to come over to his place late at night where he literally fell asleep on me and then made me leave and then had the nerve to contact me years later like we were friends

Frenchie. My first love and first REAL boyfriend. The one who took me to Rome and Bruge. the one who was super thoughtful, cooked for me, was adventurous, made me feel wanted and that I was sexy, the one who told me I was his wife, who really and truly loved me back, who made me tea when I was sick or cold, was proud to show me off to his friends, and always down to hook up whenever/wherever. It was great until he became jealous and accusatory, possessive, didn’t like me being friends with men, started telling me how I should do my hair and nails and what I should wear, compared me to white women and didn’t like my natural hair which he wanted long and straightened, yelled at me until I cried if I didn’t understand something or had trouble focusing when I have adhd, and lastly got so upset with me spending time with my friends fo ONE night instead of being with him that he two hand pushed me against a brick wall.

Niklaus who I went on a date with that followed an amazing hookup who then ghosted me after telling me he didn’t want a relationship with anyone only to start officially dating this blonde haired blue eyed girl weeks later.

Logan who seemed sweet at first but then said the n word in front of me (he was white) and asked if I liked Black OR White men and proceeded to assume that I’ve slept with all of my Black guy friends, also ended up being a trump supporter

Jorgen who I went on a date with in Germany, hooked up with for a few weeks, didn’t want to take me out again, asked me over to his place late one night and wouldn’t even let me stay the night knowing I had a 45 minute commute home and had to walk in the dark in a not so safe area to get to my train.

Malik who I had slumber parties complete with face masks with, who danced with me in the living room, who cooked for me, held my hand in public, took me out to eat and paid…..pressured me to hook up with him when I told him I was afraid to catch feelings and then threw me away when I told him I was gaining feelings and told me he had no use of me cos he had enough friends.

Tobias who I felt a connection with, who after only two days of knowing me spent 100 euros on a 4 hour bus ride to see me again, who made me laugh, held my hand and took me out to eat but knew he was leaving the country for 6 months and was upset when I told him it’s not fair to me to wait on him when we didn’t even know each other that well. And when he got back then became kinda annoying with thinking his country (Denmark) was greater than all others and critiquing other people for not being like the Danes, ended up being judgy of women who showed skin, and his hygiene became bad

Eddie, who had no personality whatsoever, who would not open up, our first “date” was at his office Christmas party, although he was 10 years older I had to initiate everything, he could only go one round when hooking up and then never provided interesting convo.

Pete, who I met on a dating app, that oddly didn’t want to date or anything else that would low key flirt but then jump out of his skin if we accidentally touched, but would hug me goodbye.

Vlad, who ended up being one of those weirdos that was obsessed with black culture and women. Felt entitled to tell me I wasn’t black enough because I didn’t fit the stereotype of what a black woman is supposed to be like. Was also oddly insulted if you ever complimented him.

Florian who I went on a date with, hooked up with but he didn’t want to hang out in public afterwards. Who said that he smoked too but turns out he could only take one hit and then would judge me for being able to finish the entire blunt that I brought and made it seem like I was higher than I was cos he can’t comfortably lay in silence for a few minutes and made it seem like I was a pothead when I only smoke on the weekend. Also stopped talking to me randomly but follows me on IG and looks at ALL my stories

Naveen who thought that just because he was poc as well, he could get away with calling me white because I didn’t fit the stereotype of a black person. Who made fun of what I liked when hooking up just because he couldn’t satisfy me and wouldn’t listen to what I liked. Never took anything seriously at all but would flip a switch and do sweet things like come over and make me breakfast. But also invited me over late at night and had me leave right after in the cold (we lived in northern Germany). Who eventually ghosted ME like I was the problem.

Lastly Joe. This is a guy I met on Hinge. An app specifically for those wanting to date seriously. This is the first man in years I was able to open up to. That I had trips planned with and was so adventurous. He had an actual personality and wasn’t afraid to talk about his feelings and family problems. He met my family. He and I would talk on the phone for hours, the sex was nice the conversations even better. Someone I felt so comfortable around and felt that I could be myself. Turns out he doesn’t want a relationship (because he wants to move again even though he just moved this this area only 6 months ago) and tells me this weeks later and only after I asked him after I noticed him acting strange. Dude has the nerve to tell me he still wants to go on trips and be good friends because he really likes my company. Like no you want all the perks of a relationship without actually being in one.

There are SO many other experiences I could add to this list and while these might not seem horrible, the fact that I haven’t had any positive experiences in years and being told by people that it’s my fault for choosing these men, or that I have to work on myself more, or stop looking when I’ve been single for 6 years drives me crazy and makes me question my self worth sometimes.

[elthegoddess]

Mind Dump:

I’ve been in such a disarray these days. It seems like I can’t stay happy. It seems like I’ve lost hope on a good portion of my dreams. I forgot what I’m even “hustlin” for anymore. It feels like ever since my dad passed on 12/31/2021 I’m really not the same. So many people have turned their backs on me. At the same time I’ve grown a lot closer with my friends and community, so for that I am grateful for. I had this guy friend, we’ll call him Tee. My guy friend Tee came along around the time my dad was severely Ill with Multiple myeloma. I was going to the hospital 2x a week to take care of my dad. Tee saw me at my worse, more intimately than I let anyone ever see me. I was crying everyday, stressed, barely sleeping and frustrated, guilty cus I knew in my core this was my dads end. On Christmas my dad had a heart attack and his heart was down for 10 mins and lost alot of oxygen to the brain and had a stroke on top of that. When the doctors called me telling me they were able to bring him back, I almost passed out and Tee was there. He held me even in times where I mentally and emotionally checked out it’s like he understood all I could handle was just being held. He was really there for me during that time all the way till my dad passed and after. We were shortly dating after that and that was probably such a huge mistake. And let’s just say I’m not one of those people who are strong enough to take care of a grown man and wait for him to get his life together cus primarily that was the reason only 3 months later we broke up. His priorities were and still are in the wrong place. I’m not perfect either, there’s things I could’ve done better but he stopped being there for me out of nowhere. He would hang out with best friend more, or sleep all day. We live 45 mins away from each other but it’s like he had ways to get to me if he wanted. I stopped overtime sharing my thoughts and feelings with him cus he’s barely been there for me. And even after the break up I chose to be friends with him and try to move on but he always questioned me about what I was doing, and who I was with and I didn’t owe him that. I knew that. I had kept my distance and boundaries. Every time we went long periods w/o us talking he would have these depressive and suicidal moments that resulted in me leaving what I was doing to go check on him. And even then in those moments we wouldn’t even talk. It would be me him, his best friend in the car while they smoke and I say nothing cus it’s like what was the point of me being there. I wasn’t even spoken too. If you’re reading this far you probably realized the focus about the grief of my father is non existent. Right ? Well even til this day it’s still like that. I’ve made some wrong decisions with Tee between communication, probably still relaying any form of words of love or feelings. We got into a fight over the other day cus our communication was still below minimum and I kinda just snapped and he spends all his time smoking, sleeping or blunt rides with his friends. Won’t come down to see me unless he wanted to. And I really just want the friend who was there for me when my dad passed. Not even the romantic, sexual or intimate parts of our relationship but the bond we had of our actual friendship when we watched anime or dorky YouTube videos. But I have my community of my real friends who actually do pour into me and love. I feel shitty to even reach out to them cus they all know what I’m going through and all of them are so happy and flourishing beautifully with their lives. And, I’m just kind of here. Stuck in my depression and my half great life. I want to move desperately out of my parents house but with the state of the world with inflation it seems damn near impossible and I don’t make enough. Even if I wanted a second job I can’t work one because I don’t have the energy too. Eh. Idk, I’ve been suicidal between losing my dad. Losing friends and people I’ve cared about, weird relationships that probably never needed to happen. Im just heartbroken and I wanna know if my life means anything anymore.

[visions-dreamers]

Hell, Iridescent

By LushDanielSon

December 15, 2020 0429

I was living in a relatable and uneasy world: school was mediocre, work was unfulfilling, I was struggling to make a love life, and family conflicts prevented most happiness in our lives together; body cyber-enhancements were commonplace; conflict plagued the streets, and a plague had plagued the streets; the country's politicians were at a loss of any agreements, and the world-wide civilization seemed at a loss of any agreements.

I was visiting the city, enjoying the sun with my ill grandma, Baledona*, my unusually amplified, sober and progressive mother, my laughable, young sister, and our pet, Richard, who was a strange animal - sort of like a cross between a cat, squirrel, and raccoon. Conversing outside their apartment complex in their neighborhood square where the garden was, we stood among a few trees and flowers. Upon discovery, I was not thrilled that my sister had ordered a 50-pound plushie Pokeball and a pair of shoes off my phone, which I had just noticed from an email. I didn't even know if she knew that she had bought them. My girlfriend, Dajita* - one of the cocktail waitresses - thusly walked past us all and she and I smiled at each other as she headed to the bar that was about to open nearby. I picked up my sister, who was almost too big to be held - though I promised myself that I will always be strong enough to be able to - and I stared into her eyes and examined her playful attempt at makeup detail.

“Christmas is coming soon, and if you like what you ordered, that's what you are going to get.” She understood my joke and chuckled.

The sun was rising over the valley, and a new type of day was to begin and change our lives forever.

I was partaking in a raid which I was summoned to. A gang of thugs was terrorizing a local business, and I was professionally tasked to help them as the first line of rescue. Past the calamity of evacuation and avoiding a hoard of their guards, I entered the main stage room on a high floor of the building where three intruders were shaking down and interrogating the company’s head boss. I snuck up and grabbed one of them from the back in a chokehold after sonically disabling his auditory systems. A speedy cybernetic fistfight ensued between the culprits and me! When guns were finally drawn by them, I bailed before they had the chance to open fire on me. My intervention only needed to give the hostages enough time to escape.

From a dead sprint I slid across the gravel outside, far away from the building, and sat up against a police cruiser. Taking this cover, I was safely hidden next to a hoard of rescue and police vehicles that were rushing to the burning scene. There was a pandemonium of screaming, fleeing business people and emergency staff. The boss I had saved collapsed next to me, quickly thanking me for helping him see his kids again. We gazed at each other's eyes for a few moments, and amid the rush and noise he ran away to be with his family. I lay there in the churned gravel, observing the SWAT team line up and begin their offensive into the building.

The world seemed to melt away in front of my eyes - an unreal distortion of the reality I once thought I knew. I was carried - on what seemed like a platform - from where I was, in a spectating manner, past the raid I had just escaped from. Past blocks of towering concrete city residentials to more open plains, I was carried towards a row of fighter jets that were neatly lined up and facing away from me on the outskirts of a train yard. A crowd of people, scurrying like ants, crowded behind them. { Censored *1} I had no choice but to helplessly witness this, and I was filled with the intensity of grief, anger, and madness!

I was carried higher, and I was delicately turned so I could have a panoramic view of this realm. The grassy freeway beneath me held long columns of unmoving vehicles, the lake glistened and lined lush mountainous plains to the right, and to the left I was captured by a hellscape of the city I once knew - a city born in front of a wall of mountains. I gasped! I froze. My eyes widened, and I became weak and breathless. Hell seemed to pall in the sky above the metropolis, and it rained down souls of insanity and mutation. Even the buildings themselves were morphing into something unknown and grotesque to me - rusting into an atramentous city. I then noticed the movement of people far below me on the freeway running from it like dark sand grains sliding down a fiery volcanic slope. From what was in this curse of ruin, I did not know, but I heard the screaming of monsters.

I was devastated from this observation of the end of the life I had just lived, and I worried greatly about my sister somewhere out there in the smoke. I wondered what was to come of me - of us - and why I was spared from the direct immersion of the fallout of this civilization. I lied down and cried myself to sleep on the metallic platform guiding me through the cataclysm.

I awoke, and my shifting perspective had taken me south, long past the city valley and into a whole new world. It was iridescent, warm and radiant. Though I had just seen my whole origin become cancerous and die, I was not burdened by fear - just grief. But this place seemed entirely untouched and safe. I drifted amidst castles, dancing trees, arching rainbows, colorful gardens, brave animals, cozy village homes, and finally down stone alleys. I spread out my arms and felt the walls as I was lowered to a gate in front of a palace fit for royalty. My spectating had finally come to a stop.

"I can feel EVERYTHING! It's all REAL!" I accepted this presentness of lucidity, and I took my time to ground myself within it. Touching the stone architecture of the gated area, I closely examined the sharp, volcanic texture. The stone’s jagged, porous surfaces scraped against the skin of my fingerprints similar as the bare, ancient desert mountains I have climbed over the years would. As if they were of the same serrating rock, this sensation brought forth memories of more pleasant times.

I dismounted the metallic platform and sauntered through a grand, polished bronze gate. This led to a wide and tall, open room with an exotically designed pond that was stocked with colorful fish and small islands. Rows of flourishing plants and marble benches decorated the hall, and large, ornate windows flooded the room with sunlight.

I was curiously identifying a fish when I heard the familiar cry of my dear pet Richard! Quickly he scuttled up next to me, jumping into my arms. We nearly cried together because we knew we were safe there, finally knowing someone we love is found. We were embracing each other, like a master and companion reuniting after years apart - except it was only moments. Droplets formed in my eyes as Richard made his enchanting little animal sounds of joy, wagging his tail and burying his face in my chest.

He abruptly halted his celebration and stared up at me, and in my disbelief, he SPOKE to me. His brown eyes stared distantly into mine, as if he was overtaken by the memory of something vitally important.

“The one you are looking for is right around the corner in the ballroom. His name is Santa. There is hope in finding our sister! She is alive in the city, and you need his guidance! Your sister needs your help, Daniel!”

A wave of emotions devoured me, and I became immobile and speechless for a moment. The reality of the disaster had returned to me. I delicately set Richard down onto the tile and turned around to where he glanced. He hastened through the archway into another room such as this, which was now growing with buzzing, disembodied voices. I followed, anxiously feeling the first steps towards what I knew was to be a living hell - the journey to save my sister.

Censors

* Names changed for privacy

*1 - Censored for Graphic Imagery

Links

Atrium Carceri & Cities Last Broadcast   -   An Atramentous City   -   YouTube

[tbhchoi]

sweater weather

pairing: best friend!mingi x reader

genre: fluff, friends to lovers

synopsis: receiving a gift from your best friends mother may lead to a beautiful christmas confession, or also a bunch of teasing from seven guys.

word count: 2.3k

warnings?: none :D

12 days of fluffmas masterlist 🎄

tall boy:

will you be okay getting to the apartment? the weather isn't the best, i could come get you

you:

ill be okay mingi. one person walking in the snow is better than two, ill see you soon <3

after quickly typing out a reply to your long term best friend, mingi, you set your down phone and begin getting ready. every year around christmas, you and mingi's friend throw a small get together. it's never anything big, just you and the eight guys spending time together and eating some amazing food.

pulling out a pair of plain jeans, you slide them up your legs and then start looking through your tops, figuring you'll need something warm due to the heavy snowfall. yanking a grey wooly sweater out of your closet, you pull it it over your head, knowing how sensitive your skin is, you add a camisole undernesth so the wool won't scratch at your skin. telling yourself that you're satisfied with the look for the day, you head out of the room and prepare to leave.

grabbing your winter hat and coat, you trot your way towards the front door. zipping it up and grabbing your apartment keys, you head out and lock up. noticing the snow outside is much worse than you recall and it's definitely colder than what the forecast was calling for. wrapping your arms around yourself, you start picking up your pace to your friends apartment. luckily, it wasn't that far of a walk for you.

"y/n!" wooyoung screeches as you walk through their front door. his remark making all of the other heads turn your way, all offering different versions of hi's and hello's.

"weather outside is pretty bad, isn't it?" yunho asks after noticing your snow covered form.

"it's even worse than it seems," you tell him, taking off your shoes and starting to undo your coat. as you finish unzipping your coat, mingi comes up to you.

"why didn't you let me walk with you," he scolds while taking the hefty jacket off your shoulders.

"i told you, you giant," you quip, "it would've just been two people walking through a blizzard."

"still," he grumbles, "i don't like you walking alone, especially in this kind of weather."

"mingi, i'm okay, i promise," you reassure him. mingi has always been a protective person, but for the last few months you feel as if it's doubled when it comes to you. that's a hopeless fantasy though, you've known for awhile the feelings towards your best friend are not reciprocated. even if they were, you're not sure if that's a chance you want to take, you value the friendship you have with mingi.

"y/n?" seonghwa calls out to you. looking towards where the voice came from, you notice all the guys sitting together in the living room. mingi must have walked away while you were lost in thought... about him.

you walk over to the group, sitting between san and mingi. san wraps his arm around your shoulder, an innocent act he does often. still, this time you couldn't help but notice the way mingi's eyes were trained on his arm. choosing to ignore the stare, you focus on the conversation at bay. it currently being about the food for dinner and how the meal that's in the oven is actually the second one. apparently, hongjoong had to run out and buy another one this morning because san and wooyoung messed the other one up.

"oh yeah, wouldn't put that past them," you joke.

"hey!" wooyoung and san whine together while san lightly nudges you with the wrapped hand. you swore you heard mingi make a noise, but you waved it off as your own imagination.

shortly, the sound of the oven time went off and everyone stood up, most running to the kitchen. never come between these guys and their food, you've learned your lesson about that.

"san don't touch that, it's going to be hot." you hear seonghwa from the kitchen, chastising san. you're still in the living room, waiting for mingi to go in together, as always.

"mingi? you alright?" you ask him, concerned. mingi really has been a tad strange tonight, from all the lingering looks to the possible discreet noises, but you can't figure out why.

mingi doesn't say anything at first, thinking he may have zoned out but then he turns to you. "can i talk to you?" he asks.

"aren't you already?" you lightly joke. he doesn't even crack a smile at your lame joke like he usually does, instead he drags you by the wrist up to his room.

"uh, mingi? what was that?" you question him. you watch has he approaches his desk. attempting to look past his tall figure, you notice a box wrapped in red. grabbing it, he turns back around.

"i saw my mom the other day," he begins, "she, uh, wanted me to give this to you."

you look up at him, confused. thinking you may have heard him wrong. yes, you've known mingi forever and you've even met his family, but this is the first time anything like this has happened.

"me?" you ask, skeptical.

"yeah," he says, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

you can't help but let a smile break out on your face. that's really nice of his mom, of course you're going to be grateful. grabbing the box from his hands, you sit back down and start ripping the wrapping paper. you feel mingi sit down next to you, staring straight at the box, almost like he's avoiding looking at you.

opening it, you come face to face with a beautiful, clearly handmade sweater. seeing intricate woven lines of red and green. the state of awe only last for a few seconds before you're furrowing your brows. you're racking your brain, swearing that you've seen this sweater before. that's when it clicks, looking up towards mingi. he's sitting next to you, adorned in the same exact sweater.

"surprise?" he says unsurely.

"not that i'm not grateful, but why?" you question.

he looks hesitant to answer at first but then he slowly begins speaking, "well, my mom may or may not think we're dating..." the end of sentence getting quieter before he speaks again, "or at least she's been hopeful about it recently."

"what!" you exclaim.

"i didn't tell her we were, but she's been so persistent about it," he explains, "she's always talking about how we should be dating since we spend most of our time together."

"we are best friends."

"i tried explaining that to her but just recently she's been really big on the idea of us dating."

"why though?" you receive no answer to your question, rather an awkward silence begins to envelop you two.

"well," you break the silence, making him look up, "i personally think the sweater is adorable, your mom did a really nice job." hoping what you said breaks some of the tension. it does, luckily. mingi gaining a small smile on his face.

"one of my moms favorite past time. i'm surprised this is the first time she's made you something honestly."

smiling at him, you stand up, "turn around."

"what?" he asks.

"just do it," you whine and this time he obliges.

after he turns around, you pull the wool fabric that's currently on your body off and over your head, replacing it with the new, much more meaningful sweater.

"mingi, you can turn around now," you tell him, watching as he notices the new top you're now sporting. staring at you for a few seconds, almost as if he's lost for words, before speaking again

"you look," he pauses, "nice, yeah nice." you let out a short giggle at him, "my mom's definitely going to want a picture of us," he groans, making you laugh, glad all the awkward tension from earlier has finally faded.

"we should go eat before the other guys complain."

"i'm surprised they haven't already."

you notice that everyone's already seated as you make your back to the kitchen. once you enter, all heads spin towards you and mingi.

"there you guys are, we've been waiting," yeosang complains.

"you guys are matching," wooyoung observes which results in everyone breaking out in comments about it.

"let's just eat," mingi says after you both sit, stopping the chatter about the matching sweaters.

as dinner continues, comments keep getting thrown about the two of you. multiple jests about you two being lovebirds or teasing you and mingi about being together. though a little embarrassing, you can't lie, you like the sounds of it. however, any hope was once again squished when mingi kept telling them to stop or shut up when the idea of you two were dating was mentioned. unrequited love at its finest you think to yourself.

the rest of dinner flies by, minimal comments being made after mingi flung a spoon at san. that being confusing to you, san didn't even say anything.

"are you sure you have to leave," jongho asks, sadly.

"i have to get up early tomorrow, im sorry guys," you tell them, "i'll be by again soon."

"yeah, to see mingi," wooyoung pokes. mingi flicks him before walking over to you.

"tell your mom i say thank you," you tell him, zipping up your coat.

"don't worry, i will," he says.

after putting your hat back on, you shout a last bye to the guys and start your journey back home. except as soon as you step outside, you feel another presence with you.

"really?" you ask up to the tall figure.

"if you didn't let me get you earlier today, then i'm walking you home now," mingi says, clearly set on walking you.

"you really don't have to do that," you tell him.

"i'm walking you home," he insists. you decide not to argue with him. besides, you could use the company, his company.

on the way to your apartment, you and mingi make the usual small talk, cracking jokes here and there, never having any beats awkward between you two. approaching your place, you turn to thank mingi for the night.

"i'm sorry about the guys at dinner," he tells you.

"it's fine, it didn't bother me," you reply honestly.

"it didn't?"

"did it bother you?" you ask him, already assuming the answer due to how he acted during dinner.

"no." it's the only answer he offers, leaving you in a sort of confused mindset. then why'd he act like that at dinner?

"you kept telling them to stop and to shut up."

"i didn't want you to be uncomfortable or to see my face getting red," saying the last part shyly .

"why would it be red?" a silence once again covers you both. as you stare up at him, it seems as if he's debating on saying something.

"mingi, you can tell me anything you know."

"i know," he says but there's a tone to his voice that you can't quite understand.

after what feels like forever but in retrospect has most likely only been a handful of seconds, he grabs your hands.

"mingi?" you question, now staring at your entwined hands. your heartbeat starting to speed up and a little part of your mind starts feeding you thoughts you only wish would be coming true right now. there's no way that is what's happening right now, right?

"i think i need to tell you something," he starts, trying to speak as steadily as possible, "my mother made the sweater for you because i told her something a few months back."

"which was?" once again, a short moment of silence.

"yn, i really really like you. i know we've been best friends for as long as we both can remember, but these last few months my feelings for have become very obvious to me. i didn't want to tell you because if anything were to happen to us, i'd be destroyed but it's getting so hard to ignore it. i wanted to be the one to wrap my arm around your shoulder, not san. i want to wear matching sweaters and have the rest of the guys laugh at us because we're that cringey couple," he confesses, letting out a giant breath, one you could see due to how cold it is.

"i'm sorry," he says, "i shouldn't have said all of that, there's a chance you don't even like me and-" you cut him off by wrapping your arms around his figure.

"shut up," you tell him, "i want all of that too."

he leans back to look at your face, "you do?"

"yes mingi," you confess, "i thought it was obvious." you watch as a giant smile begins to overtake his face.

"does this mean we can make it official?" he asks, happily.

"i would love to," you tell him, not even thinking about it for a second. you might have been worried about the long term future but right now this is a chance you knew you had to take. you and him both stare up at each other, smiles so large, you fear your face might hurt tomorrow.

"now, can we go inside, it's freezing outside. i can make us some hot chocolate," you say, "i mean, if you're not in any rush to get home that is."

"oh? you're inviting me inside already," he teases. you jokingly hit him with your hand, "i'd love that, ill help you the drinks," he tells you as he takes your hand in his, kissing the top of your forehead.

"oh, don't forget, we have to send your mom a picture of us," you remind him, hearing him let out a small groan.

—

© tbhchoi. all rights reserved. all reposts, along with translations are prohibited.

[bucky-hues]

bucky barnes fic recs

here are some bucky fics i loved reading!

many of these are 18+ and there are some dark fics in here, so please read the warnings for each fic! if any of the writers i’ve included want anything removed/edited, please let me know!

one shots

jack pendleton | @roger-that-cap

author!bucky x reader

moving into an apartment to get away from your last relationship was fun all fun and games until you met your extremely attractive across-the-hall neighbor, who makes awesome cookies and even better novels.

grip | @pellucid-constellations

bucky x reader

You knew Bucky didn’t like his arm. You just didn’t know how much until he accidentally hurt you with it.

voicemails to an unmanned inbox | @pellucid-constellations

bucky x reader

When Bucky takes an argument a little too far, you take off. All he wants is for you to come back home.

can’t get the words out | @pellucid-constellations

bucky x avenger!reader

Bucky’s been awfully distant lately. You don’t think your heart can take what you know he’s about to say.

his everything | @likeahorribledream

bucky x avenger!reader

Bucky has trouble talking about his feelings and he ends up pushing away the one person he needs the most.

eavesdrop | @bestofbucky

bucky x avenger!reader

things spies don't notice | @starrysebastians

bucky x avenger!reader

don't you worry (your pretty little head) | @babyboibucky

guitarist!bucky x reader

You agree to spend twelve hours with Bucky whom you just met.

suburbia | @wkemeup

bucky x avenger!reader

Posing as husband and wife, you and Bucky infiltrate a quaint suburban neighborhood in search of a Hydra hacker. Perhaps if you weren’t so in love with him and he hadn’t broken your heart, the act of pretending wouldn’t hurt so much.

sparklin' eyes | @19ana45

roommate!bucky x reader

Prompt: Character A’s current boyfriend/girlfriend/partner mocks Character B for their crush on their best friend, [A]. [B], feeling humiliated, withdraws from the friendship with [A], who is completely oblivious [B] has feelings for them.

reoccurring face | @swtbbybarnes

bucky x reader

he’s been around a lot lately, sometimes multiple times a day, and you’re starting to wonder how much coffee one man can actually drink.

falling for you | @comfortbucky

roommate!bucky

moving on | @bucky-bucket-barnes

bucky x reader

After Bucky had been missing for a year, you had presumed him dead. Time passed, yet you seemed unable to move on from his death. That was until a familiar face came to your doorstep one winter night.

bucky bitchass barnes to the rescue | @bucky-bucket-barnes

bucky x avenger!reader

In an attempt to escape from hectic life as an Avenger, you decided to go out on a date. Unfortunately, you got stood up. While Bucky hates you, he hates seeing you embarrassed more and decides to fill in for your M.I.A. date.

pansies, pain, and other things about bucky | @bucky-bucket-barnes

bucky x avenger!reader

You and Bucky are begrudgingly paired on a mission together. This is less than ideal considering neither of you are too keen on the other tagging along. All goes as normal until a surprise attack severely hurts both of you. Feeling incredibly guilty, Bucky helps you tend to your wounds. He has trouble admitting it, but he wants to make sure you’re safe.

the lost converse | @firefly-in-darkness

bucky x reader

Last nights party was a bit of a mad one, what do you do when you wake up in someone else’s bed?

nervous | @dailyreverie

bucky x reader

A nervous Bucky introduces you to his fellow Avengers during game night

fever | @dailyreverie

bucky x reader

a little old fashioned | @gogolucky13

bucky x reader

Bucky is a bit subtle in telling you he likes you.

sweetart | @onlyjamesbarnes

soft!bucky x baker!reader

your best friend bucky tries to stay platonic with you, letting you live out your dreams, but his instincts soon get the better of him.

the things you've done | @divine-mistake

bucky x reader

what if the world ended tomorrow and all he did was spend his last day with you thinking about how you never hold his metal hand and you never walk on his left side and you constantly reach out for his right arm?

do you still love me? | @thatfangirl42

bucky x reader

2:00am | @thatfangirl42

bucky x avenger!reader

miscommunications | @empyreanwritings

bucky x avenger!reader

cookies, kisses, and such | @sweetbucky

neighbour!bucky

pretending | @multifandomwriter

bucky x reader

Bucky notices you at a party and is instantly attracted to you. Steve instantly notices the lovestruck look in his eyes, but also his nerves that are stopping him from talking to you. So Steve plays on Bucky’s jealousy to get him to make a move.

good together | @irndad

bucky barnes x avenger!reader

bucky and his girlfriend are in secret, and they think they are absolutely perfect for each other. literally everyone else in the compound thinks bucky and nat are made for each other.

l-o-v-e | @irndad

college!bucky x reader

college!bucky meets reader in a library and it’s all downhill from there. He’s desperately in love and pining and it’s all ridiculous and he doesn’t think she could like him back.

tell me the truth | @bwhitewolfbarnes 

bucky x avenger!reader

Bucky finds himself overhearing your conversation with his younger self, and he hates the way it makes him ache. He needs to know what is real.

the staring contest | @jobean12-blog

bucky x avenger!reader

Bucky has a staring/glaring problem and you can’t figure out why!

lavender | @wkemeup

bucky x reader

Not every nightmare is the same and Bucky doesn’t always wake up as the man you know.

little lion man | @wkemeup

bucky x avenger!reader 

Sent on an assignment back to 1943, you encounter a drastically different version of the man you know

purgatory | @wkemeup

bucky x avenger!reader

While on a mission, Bucky becomes dissociated into the Winter Soldier. But instead of becoming a threat, his instinct is to protect.

i love you, you idiot | @chrisevansjellybeans 

bucky x reader

all the good things | @houseravenclaws 

bucky x avenger!reader

bucky’s been more than a little happy recently. sam thinks it has something to do with the pretty girl on the team.

tap | @houseravenclaws

bucky x avenger!reader

bucky never talked much. he fell in love anyway.

shaking | @clintbartonswife

bucky x avengers!reader

after you get injured on a mission, the usually stoic Bucky breaks, and you see a side to him that he’s kept hidden ever since his acceptance into the Avengers.

deserving | @hanoella 

bucky x healer!reader

When someone bad mouths Bucky in your presence, you set things straight.

keep me cool | @chouettedubois

bucky x avenger!reader

You and Bucky are on your third undercover mission acting as a couple. Things go awry when you fall ill. Cue caretaker!Bucky to the rescue.

on, off and repeat | @avasparks

neighbour!bucky x reader

i wished on the moon for you | @sunmoonandbucky 

bucky x reader

After losing Bucky, you were devastated. So when Howard Stark asks for volunteers for an experiment, you’re the first in line.

the hottest avenger | @watchmegetobsessed

bucky x avenger!reader

Being locked together with Sam and Bucky brings the worst out of you, picking on each other constantly. Following an arguement Bucky accidentally calls you his girlfriend in front of Sam when your relationship was supposed to be a secret.

hey daddy | @watchmegetobsessed

bucky x avenger!reader

You join Peter and his friends for a game of Truth Or Dare but you wish you stayed in your room when MJ challenges you to do a task that will definitely out your secret relationship with Bucky.

crash course | @watchmegetobsessed

bucky x reader

Bucky is a regular at the café where you work at and seeing him struggling with technology, you offer to help him, teaching him the basics while you are both thinking about taking it a little further than just a crash course.

little things | @watchmegetobsessed 

bucky x avenger!reader

missed chances | @soap-bubble-nebula 

bucky x avenger!reader

Bucky is about to ask out the reader, but right before she could answer him her ex calls her up and she answers happily as she always wanted a second chance with said ex

truth or dare? | @soap-bubble-nebula 

bucky x avenger!reader

the experiment | @soap-bubble-nebula 

bucky x reader

make believe on christmas eve | @green-eyeddragonfanfiction 

bucky x reader

When your family insists you bring your [nonexistent] long-term boyfriend over for Christmas, you panic. You hadn’t expected to be put in this situation; you never thought you’d actually have to bring “him” over.

sick day | @nastybuckybarnes

bucky x avenger!reader

you tell a little white lie to escape Avenging for a day, and Bucky finds out. He’s hurt and upset, until he finds out your reason why.

spies and secrets | @barnesandco 

bucky x reader

Bucky buys a new jacket that is… uncharacteristically bright. Sam ribs him for it, and you- you don’t know what to do with yourself.

the bar rules | @buckyhoney (18+)

bartender!bucky x reader

the family lunch |  @buckyhoney​ (18+)

dad'sbestfriend!bucky x reader

forbidden fruit | @bucksfucks (18+)

dad'sbestfriend!bucky x reader

you attempt to set your ex’s things on fire. bucky has a better idea.

mr. brightside | @bucksfucks (18+)

ex'sdad!bucky x reader

the one where you fuck your ex's dad

left gasping for air | @bucksfucks (18+)

bucky x reader

doused with sex pollen, you & bucky are met with a difficult decision.

love me harder | @celestialbarnes (18+)

bucky x avenger!reader

you and bucky have been flirting and screwing around for months now, after seeing him getting frisky with someone else, you decide to do the same and bucky’s just about had enough.

sweeter than sugar | @angrythingstarlight (18+)

chubbybaker!bucky x reader

look my way | @sableseb (18+)

neighbour!bucky x reader

boyfriend upgrade | @multifandomwriter (18+)

roommate!bucky x reader

You have always been close with your roommate, Bucky, but tensions start to rise when your boyfriend begins to stay over at your apartment. You feel like you’re drifting apart until Bucky accidentally sees you almost naked.

lure | @bccky (18+) dark

bucky x reader

it’s all about the perfect lure

plan | @sergeantxrogers (18+)

bucky x reader

“I was supposed to forget about you, and you were supposed to forget about me, but damn it if I could ever forget about you because since the day I saw you, you never left my mind and you were all I thought about,” he rambled, focusing on anything his eyes could land on that wasn’t you. “You’re… you’re still all I think about,” he whispered, voice tired and beaten, like the very sentence had been waiting in his throat for years just to get a chance to come out into the open.

play pretend | @wkemeup (18+)

bucky x avenger!reader

When Bucky is injected with a substance that leaves him desperate for release, you offer your help.

you’re mine | @marveicinematics (18+)

bucky x reader

Having a secret relationship with a man as insecure and complex as James Buchanan Barnes may not have been the best idea you had, but one thing was certain: you knew how to make him feel better about the things that bothered him.

white lies and truth serum | @mariessecretfantasies (18+) dark

dark!bucky x avenger!reader

You and Bucky share a dance, a few too many drinks, and a night in bed together. Unfortunately, he neglects to tell you that he can’t get drunk.

bitter fruit | @divine-mistake (18+)

bucky x avenger!reader

“The mission was already a success!” you say and you can feel tears burning the back of your eyes. You will yourself to blink them back. “You had the files, the base was set to detonate, I don’t understand why you didn’t just stay on the fucking jet.”

“Because you were going to die.”

always here | @simsadventures (18+)

bucky x avenger!reader

You have an obvious crush on Bucky, and kind of hope he feels the same. But when you overhear agents talking about you, and then even Bucky, you realise there is no hope for you. At least you think there isn’t.

your captain | @onlyjamesbarnes (18+)

dark!bucky x reader, husband!steve x reader

a perfect anniversary night gets interrupted by his best friend, who happens to be your boss.

series/multi-chap

graveyard , sacrifice | @wkemeup

bucky x healer!reader

As the unofficial healer for the Avengers, you pride yourself on the ability to mend heroes with the touch of your hand. Only, your gift comes at a heavy price — one you keep secret from your friends —and when Bucky asks you to do the impossible, they’ll discover why your gift is called a sacrifice, too.

sunrise | @wkemeup​ (18+)

veteran!bucky x librarian!reader

After an explosion takes his arm and his only sense of belonging, Bucky is discharged from active duty and sent back to civilian life. Left with a storm of unchecked guilt, Bucky is content to live out the rest of his days in the hollow comfort of the dark. This is, until Sam drags him down to the local VA and he meets you.

TiMER | @xbuchananbarnes (ongoing) (18+)

bartender!bucky x reader (soulmate au)

“If a clock could count down to the exact moment you’ll meet your soulmate, would you want to know?”

the match | @babyboibucky (ongoing) (18+)

ceo!bucky x reader

You come across your boss’ Tinder profile.

the holiday hack | @gogolucky13 

bucky x reader (modern au)

You ask Bucky to be your stand-in boyfriend for your family’s Christmas party.

sexual healing , medicine | @gogolucky13 (18+)

bucky x avenger!reader

You ask a touch-starved Bucky if he wants to try something new in an attempt to take your minds off work.

vacant mirrors | @whirlybirbs (18+)

bucky x reader

shit's been rough. shit was rough even before the blip. dr. hart shares an office with dr. raynor, and you share with waiting room with bucky barnes. set before tfatws; a friends-to-lovers, slowburn, eventual smut.

salvatore | @nsfwsebbie (18+) dark

dark!bucky x reader

Bucky Barnes doesn’t believe in love anymore. Especially after the tragic, unknown death of his wife, Natasha. He thinks it’s stupid and a waste of time and- oh my. Hello there, you. There you were, with your notebooks and your novels, writing your heart away. He’s hellbent on saving you from this nasty world, his elusive neighbor that has him under the stupid spell of love. You soon find yourself trapped in a tragic love story with Bluebeard, not Prince Charming.

polyonymous | @bubblebuckys

bucky x reader (social media au)

You met James on Twitter three months ago, and you’ve talked everyday since. You really like him, and you don’t think you’ve met anyone like him. That is, until the fateful night that brings the Avengers to you. You meet Bucky Barnes, and then you’re stuck choosing between two guys so alike you find yourself asking why they couldn’t be the same person.

going live , offline | @ritesofreverie (18+)

camboy!bucky x reader

your new neighbour looks so familiar, where had you seen him before?

heavy metal lover | @mypoisonedvine (ongoing) (18+)

sub!bucky x dominatrix!reader

working as a dominatrix is never exactly easy, but a new client brings challenges you never expected.

fake boyfriend real orgasms | @bucksfucks (ongoing) (18+)

roommate!bucky x reader

when bucky needs a date to sam’s wedding, he makes a deal with you. when it starts to turn into something a little more real, you realize how deep you’re in.

almost had me believing it | @tuiccim (18+)

bucky x avenger!reader

An undercover operation playing Bucky Barnes’ wife is a dream come true. Playing house in the suburbs while trying to take down a drug ring brings you and Bucky closer but a nosy neighbor causes trouble in paradise.

it's brooklyn, baby | @my-divine-death (ongoing) (18+)

college!bucky x reader

hush 1 2 | @starbuckie (ongoing)

bucky x reader

in quiet corners and selfish moments, y/n and bucky have kept their relationship a secret, one love that was pure and untouched by the darkness that surrounded them. but after bucky is able to walk the streets a free man once again, will their love be able to survive?

misconceptions | @firefly-in-darkness (18+)

bucky x avenger!reader

Bucky Barnes overhears a conversation that he shouldn’t have…

what a night | @jurassicbarnes

bucky x reader

Bucky Barnes is out in the new world, navigating through everyday life and it’s trials and tribulations. His therapist insists he tries new things. He has collected a few new hobbies. But when it comes to making new acquaintances, what’s a better way to meet new people than a little dating site called Tinder.

hey, professor | @balenciagabucky (ongoing) (18+) dark

professor!bucky x reader

professor barnes always had his eye on you, you noticed it, your girlfriend noticed it, even his friends and after one raunchy photo sent to him, a joke, nothing more, in his world you become more than just a student

missing piece 1 2 3 4 | @likeahorribledream

bucky x avenger!reader

seeing red | @mypoisonedvine (18+)

bodyguard!bucky x actress!reader

bucky used to brag that he didn’t have a celebrity crush, or really care about famous people at all, which is what made him the perfect person to start working for a celebrity like yourself.  except, of course, it’s just his luck that he’d fall for you.

flight risk , no control | @wkemeup

bucky barnes x avenger!reader

Bucky becomes a flight risk after a failed mission and is put in lockup under Steve’s orders. Even though Bucky won’t say a word of what happened, you camp outside the door to his cell so he knows he isn’t alone.

bad match | @justreadingfics (18+)

bucky x reader

Bucky and the Reader are set up on a date, but things don’t go as well as expected.  

unbroken | @constantwriter85 (18+)

bucky x hacker!reader

Bucky isn’t happy about being paired with a snarky, untested hacker on a stealth mission to infiltrate Hammer Industries. But when the mission spirals out of control and they’re both captured, he finds out just how much heart his hacker has–and how far she’s willing to go to protect the lives of others.

if i only had a heart 1 2 | @chouettedubois​ (18+)

bucky x reader

Team Cap is back at the compound after being pardoned. Bucky is suffering from the shoddy work HYDRA did with his prosthetic. Tony brings reader in to fix it—and maybe help him find his heart in the process.

text me | @soap-bubble-nebula​ 

bucky x reader

Tony and the other’s are off on a mission, and it’s up to you to help Bucky get comfortable and assimilate into normal life. He texts you because Tony told him he could.

[hansolmates]

busted in busan 

summary; you’re snowbound at the airport, when the only thing you want is to be homebound. your anxieties heighten as the snow rises, worried that you won’t make it in time for christmas where your fiancé and his parents expect you—picture perfect. when all flights are cancelled due to a massive storm, you have to turn to the hands of an unlikely, hard-headed hero who knows the fastest way out of busan (and into your heart) pairing; jungkook x (f) reader genre/warnings; a christmas detour!au, fluff, angst, slice of life, strangers to lovers, enemies to lovers, pining, this is a total romcom, hallmark movie galore! tw–microcheating (or not however you look at it) mentions of sex, making out, profanity w/c; 10k   a/n; for @suhdays​ holiday hallmark event! this event was totally up my lane, i couldn’t wait to post it! a huge thank u for @eerieedits​ for making this wonderful fic banner! this is totally unedited, i’ll to go back to it tonight but pls enjoy! for those of u who need a little more christmas charm this year, this is for u

if you loved this icy couple, please consider giving it a like n’share!⛄⛄⛄

“The Korean Air 1102 flight from Gimhae International Airport to Incheon International Airport will be delayed six hours due to the intense weather conditions. Please be on standby for any further updates.” 

You’re twitching, fighting the urge to nibble on your nails because you’ve just got them done for Christmas. They’re a sleek champagne gold, because your fiancé insisted that they’re far more mature than your usual red and brown reindeer art. This is awful, and is only going to get progressively worse as the snow builds and builds. Right now the weather isn’t that bad, the snow isn’t even sticking to the ground and—oh. 

Gnawing at your lip, your fingers brush over the cold window, a clear view of the landing strip you should currently be boarding. The touch is icy, and the pads of your fingers are enveloped in little rings of fog at the sudden warmth nudging the glass. Upon closer inspection and a squint of your eyes reveal that in fact, the snow is now sticking to the ground. Big, fat clumps are covering the freeway and destroying your Christmas plans. 

Your fiancé will understand if you’re a little late for their Christmas Eve party, but you’re not sure if his parents will. You’ve been on livewire all week, wanting to at least spend the morning of Christmas Eve with your family back home. Knowing that your fiancé’s Christmas Eve party would run until very late, you booked a noon flight with enough time to get ready and impress his parents. Evidently, it was an ill-prepared idea. 

Immediately falling into your terminal’s line, you hope that you can talk with the receptionist in hopes they could put you at ease. 

“How soon will you announce our flight’s departure?” A sad smile. 

“Is there any way you can put me on the next possible flight?” A shake of the head. 

“Will the weather let up?” A frown. 

Every bit of rejection weighs you down, and you’ve run out of questions to ask. For a receptionist, she’s not very receptive. 

“C’mon lady, you’re holding up the line,” a voice tugs you from behind, “you’re not the only one who’s gotta get down to the city on Christmas.” 

You fight the urge to roll your eyes, wanting to slap the rudeness off this man’s face. Instead of falling back in line, you move to the side to glare at him. He’s unfortunately attractive, albeit in a rugged sort-of way—nothing like your fiancé. The leather jacket that he carries tall is worn and crackly at the collar. Wavy dark hair he constantly has to hold back, a gesture that looks flirtatious and to your chagrin the receptionist is definitely recepting to him. 

“Your refund should be processed in about two to four business days, Mr. Jeon,” the receptionist murmurs, the simultaneously sultry and chirpy voice making you twitch in your spot. Maybe if you drank a cup of tall, dark and handsome you’d be getting the same kind of treatment. 

“Thanks,” he replies shortly, and it’s then you notice the extremely large luggage next to him. It’s the size of you, and despite the broad shoulders under the baggy jacket, he lugs it with careful force, making sure not to bump into anyone as he wheels it away from the counter. 

It seems that your trainers have a mind of your own as you follow him down the terminal. He side eyes you as your feet pick up the pace to match his long legs, but he waits for you to say something first. 

“Why did you ask for a refund?” you ask, frowning at him, “the flight is only delayed.” 

He scoffs, “Do you see the snow? They’re just saying it’s delayed so they can hold onto your money a little longer. Besides, it’s a win-win. I get my refund sooner and some other poor sap can take the ticket and wait until five in the morning.” 

“Five A.M.,” you exhale to yourself, slowing down. 

It would be too late by then, far too late. Your shoulders slump, people start to bump into you without a care. 

“Besides,” you hear his voice say from your stricken form, “I had a backup plan.” 

That’s when your feet start to burn up, and you whip around to pump your legs, catching up with the man who’s already far down the hall. “What kind of backup plan?” you blurt, raising your voice because the crowds are starting to get noisier and deeper the further you follow him. 

He hooks his lips into a confused frown, “You’re awfully nosy.” 

“I’m in a pinch, my fiancé’s parents will kill me if I don’t show up to their party tonight.” 

“Your fiancé’s parents… will kill you?” 

“That’s an exaggeration,” you cough, immediately feeling self-conscious, “they’d kill me with their eyes. They’re really big, really pretty corporate people. They have high expectations for their future in-law.” 

“Ah, and you're the country pumpkin who managed to sweep the rich guy off his feet?” 

“Something like that,” you reply, rocking on your heels, “my dad was his dad’s former secretary, and we grew up together.” 

The stranger with a plan stops in front of a long line. It’s so long that you’re not entirely sure where it leads to. People are piling out the door two at a time, and you can see they’re trying to get through the process as fast as possible. The window leading outside is blurry and caked in white ice. He hooks one leg over his luggage, the metal and plastic case is so high that his feet barely touch the ground. Like a kid with a flat scooter, he wheels himself through the line. 

“These lines are for busses going in the direction of our flight,” he jabs a finger out the door, “if the flight got cancelled I was just going to ride one of these,” out of his pocket he pulls out two tickets, flicking it in front of your face.

“Are there any tickets left?” your eyes bug, and you immediately pull out your phone to reserve a spot. 

“Nah, been booked since last month.” 

It’s then that your eyes zero in on the second ticket he has in hand. Both tickets are addressed to the same name. You lower your phone in your pocket, narrowing your eyes. “Why do you have two for yourself?” 

He pats his luggage as a response. 

“That’s not fair!” 

“It is when you buy it, sweetheart.” 

“A literal human could be in that spot, wanting to go home for Christmas!”

“You’re just salty you don’t have a ticket, don’t take it out on my luggage,” he feigns a pout, rubbing the handle of the heavy container, “you’re hurting it’s feelings.” 

It doesn’t take long for you and the stranger to reach the end of the line. To others in line the two of you look like two companions bickering good-naturedly, but in reality the only thing you want to do is slap that smug smile off his face. 

“You want my ticket,” he states. 

“I want your luggage’s ticket,” you bite back, staring petulantly at where he sits comfortably between the handle. 

Unbeknownst to you, the man’s face morphs into a teasing grin upon seeing you glare a little too hard at the silver and black case. It just so happens that your eyes gravitate to the middle of the luggage, at the apex between his long legs leading up to a pair of black sweats. Despite the soft, baggy fabric you can see how the bulge of his thighs outline the thin cotton, looking large and inviting which—

Fuck. You’re engaged. Why are you checking out some stranger’s thighs? Your fiancé also has nice thighs, think about those! 

“How much do you want for it?” you cough, crossing your arms and turning to the side to hide your flaming cheeks. 

“Who said I was offering?” 

“I’ll pay that and then some.”

“With your rich-boy’s money?” 

If your hands were not digging into your elbows and you weren’t so concerned about your gold-foiled manicure, you’d deck him. Do the holidays normally make this person so snappy? He simply flips his hair, and you catch the shaved ends of his sides. 

“Three-hundred,” he says easily, and if he notices you staring he doesn’t say anything, “including any extra fees for my luggage.”

“Done,” you hold out your hand for him to shake. 

“I’m Jungkook, if you care,” the man named Jungkook adds wryly, practically swallowing your small hand with his larger one. You shortly reply with your name, and he merely nods, “a thank you would suffice.” 

“Thanks,” and it’s then that you manage a scarily pretty smile, one that Jungkook finds both alarming and amusing. It’s a catered smile, one that you’ve trained yourself to accomplish after hours in the mirror in fear of your fiancé’s parents seeing right through you. It’s the smile you give during work when you don’t give a shit but you need to suck it up. It’s a 9/10 success rate. 

“Scary,” he shivers, and then you realize he’s the 1/10. 

The only bus for you two to pile on is one of the smallest. Probably half the size of a regular coach bus, but at this rate you don’t care. You’ll fly by hot air balloon if the weather wasn’t so crappy. 

“Taehyung!” you startle at Jungkook’s sudden belt, and he does a big, beefy-chested bro-hug to the driver. Ah, so he has connections. You watch the two interact from your corner, pulling up your hood to stop the rapidfire snowflakes from pelting your eyes. 

The driver is a classically handsome thing, dark eyes and dark fluffy hair. His paperbag pants look absolutely frigid however, and his teeth are chattering as he regards Jungkook with annoyed eyes. 

“Listen, so plans have changed—”

“As always, Kook.” 

“—and I need you to do me another solid. Do you have room in the compartment for my babies?” 

“The answer is, and always no. That’s why you bought two tickets.” 

“I know but,” he gestures to you with a jab of his thumb, “like I said, plans have changed.” 

“Jungkook,” Taehyung frowns, “trying to do some Christmas miracles? In this snowstorm?” Taehyung shakes his head, eyes flickering to the running bus. Most of the ticket holders are already on it. “I can save you two a three-seater, but there’s no room in the compartment. It’ll be a tight fight but—” 

“It’s perfect. You’re dynamite, Tae,” Jungkook even has the audacity to reach his hands out and squish the driver’s cheeks, much to his distain. 

The two of you are ushered quickly into the bus, leaving you in the very front diagonal to where Taehyung is sitting. The three seats are tiny, it probably barely fits Jungkook’s thighs with the large luggage nestled in the other two seats. The two of you suggest to put the luggage out in the aisle and take turns holding it, but Taehyung interjects that the luggage is a fire hazard. 

“But not a human,” Jungkook decides, and he gestures for you to sit down in the available seat. You’re practically shoved against the window as Jungkook manages to squeeze his gargantuan luggage in the other two seats. He’s tall enough to grab the metal rungs of the bus, steeling himself in the middle of the aisle.

Taehyung doesn’t fight with that, and finally puts the bus into drive. Pulling out of the airport feels akin to leaving the eye of the storm. It’s going to be a long journey, and it makes you worry as to whether you’re going to make it on time or not. 

Your favorite pastime is watching the window on a long car ride, especially when the snowflakes crystalize and melt away through the warmth of the vehicle. However, you’re irked. You thought Jungkook was a bit of a wank, a little too full of himself and far too mysterious for your own good. 

Exhibit A, the luggage that’s currently threatening to wheel over and crush you against the glass. You wonder what’s so special about this luggage that Jungkook so desperately wants to protect, even so far as to buy its own seat. Sneakily, you lean over to smell the zipper. Surprisingly, it smells a little vinegary, the fumes getting you a little lightheaded within seconds. Your eyes dart to Jungkook, who’s currently engaged in conversation with Taehyung. You tilt your head and sniff again, confirming the slightly rancid smell. 

It’s then you take in Jungkook’s form once more. He dresses a little schlubby, his clothes are old, his eyes are sunken in, and his luggage is filled with weird-smelling things. 

Oh no. Is Jungkook a drug dealer? 

Your fiancé’s parents would surely have a fit if this man gets arrested and you come up in the report as an accused accomplice. It makes sense, he would want to make sure that his goods are in his view at all times, and it explains why he so easily gave you his ticket for triple the actual price. 

A giggle interrupts your thoughts. Yes, a tired, yet bubbly giggle. Jungkook’s face is pressed against his bicep, and you catch the fluttering of his eyes as he tries to keep up with Taehyung’s rambling. His grip is starting to loosen on the metal bars, and you’re worried that he might accidentally slip, or not hold tight enough in the event the car takes a sharp turn or slips on black ice. 

“J-Jungkook,” it’s the first time you’re saying his name out loud, tasting it on your tongue as you regard him steadily, “why don’t we take turns sitting? I don’t mind standing for an hour while you sleep.” 

He regards you with a sleepy smirk, shaking his head against the fabric of his jacket. “You’ll be flung in two seconds, besides can you even reach the handles?” 

Good point, but Jungkook is far more muscular and if he does end up flying he’ll crash through the window and further hinder your commute. It’s why you choose your next words carefully, and you convince yourself it’s the only reason as to why you propose your solution. 

“I’ll sit on your lap,” and since it sounds super weird coming out of your mouth, you tack on, “I’ll put your jacket over your lap as a barrier.” 

He slacks, regarding you with a scrunched face. “Is the jacket supposed to make that situation any better? I’m fine standing like this.” 

“This ride is going to take hours and you’re barely on your own two feet,” your point is made when the bus topples over a speed bump, and Jungkook looks awfully small as he moves to grapple the top bar with both hands, “my fiancé doesn’t get jealous, I’ve sat in plenty of friend’s laps before.” 

“We’re not friends,” he blurts with a raise of his brows.

“Yes, I know that,” you’re a little insulted by the curt reply, but he still looks rather horrified that you’re proposing the following, “I don’t like it either, but I’m sitting in your seat and now I’m feeling guilty as hell.” 

It’s a lot of shuffling and shifting after that. You try not to laugh as Jungkook rips off his leather jacket, folding it into a perfect square, ironing out the corners of the crinkly fabric as he gestures for you to take a seat. You try not to take note of how sturdy his thighs are, or how the muscle stretches across the seat so well that there’s no way for you to fall between the cracks. 

“You’re going to sleep anyway,” you try to assure him, side eying him as he presses his forehead against the window, “it’ll be like being with a dead body.” 

“Didn’t know you were into necrophilia, but whatever floats your boat,” Jungkook mumbles, eyes immediately fluttering shut. 

At first it was easy, ignoring the fact that you’re sitting on top of a human. The drive seems endless however, Taehyung driving further and further into a sea of white ice. You force yourself to thread your fingers together, sitting on the very edge of his knees with your back ramrod straight. Eventually, you tire out and relax against Jungkook’s lax body. Your face is centimeters away from Jungkook’s. Long, dark lashes, and a strand of equally dark hair falls in front of his eyes. His cheeks are flushed from the blaring heater, and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in. 

Hm, for a drug dealer, he smells pretty. 

Despite the weird-smelling luggage that looms over the two of you, the white long-sleeved shirt he wears is soft to the touch and smells fresh. 

You huff, and shift in your seat. 

“Stop,” Jungkook mumbles into your shoulder, and you don’t have the heart to look at him. 

“I’m sorry, it’s cramped,” you reply. 

“I get that, but you don’t have to—hike yourself so far up here,” he sounds almost embarrassed saying it, and his hand shuffles to adjust his belt. “Literally can’t sleep because you’re making me pop a boner.” 

“Why, I’m engaged!” 

“God, I know. It’s like your personality trait or something,” Jungkook retorts, “just because you’re engaged doesn’t stop my body from reacting. I’m sure your fiancé has reacted like this, stop acting like a blushing virgin.” 

You tense, your eyes glued to the window in front of you. How do you even make a comeback to that? Wringing your hands in your lap, you feel your palms sweat with nerves the longer it takes for you to reply. This causes the gears to run in Jungkook’s mind. 

“Holy fuck, have you two not—” 

“Shut up,” you hiss, turning your body around to slap him in the chest, “shut up shut upupupshutup!” 

You make seething, burning eye contact with Jungkook. You expect him to have a shit-eating grin on his face, teasing you for your relationship. Instead, Jungkook is wide-eyed, mouth parted open like a confused guppy and his big bug-eyes looking stricken. He says nothing. 

The road starts to get bumpier, and the drive swerves from time to time to avoid black ice. Neither of you are relaxed. Combined with the heart of the storm, your heart is currently wrung on electrical wire, pumping blood with a fervor you cannot stifle. 

“I’m going to put my arms around your waist,” Jungkook murmurs softly, and you lift your arms slightly to see him lace his fingers over your belly button. “Like a seatbelt.” 

You sigh, relaxing in his hold. Now it’s awkward. He feels compelled to hold you to keep you safe, even though he clearly finds it awkward you’ve already put him in this position. 

Jungkook isn’t so bad, you think as you let your gaze linger on his hands. They anchor you to his lap, making sure you’re not jostling during the ride. He may have a razor sharp tongue and gets under your nerves just for the heck of it, but he’s kind of nice. Under the prickly leather jacket, there’s a softness to him you can’t help but gravitate to. 

It’s dark outside, save for the speedily descending flakes and the dim lights of the highway. You’re sitting on the lap of a total stranger, yet it’s a stranger who’s holding your waist like he’s a seatbelt, a stranger who’s making you feel safe to say the words that have been haunting you for the past few months. 

“I’ve tried to initiate sex,” you finally say. “I don’t know why he doesn’t want me, it’s already been two years.” 

Your eyes turn red with bloody horror. Your vision blurred by the insanity of what you’ve just blurted out to this surprisingly kind stranger who’s offered his seat (both times) to you. 

“I didn’t mean to word vomit like that. Forget I said anything—” 

“Must be his loss,” Jungkook cuts you off, and when he says it doesn’t feel impolite at all. However, Jungkook doesn’t continue on, doesn’t give you rhyme or reason, just lets you linger on his reply like a madwoman. 

Maybe it’s because you’re so touch starved, maybe you’re just seeing things, but for some reason Jungkook’s fingers feel more apparent against the seam of your jacket. They tighten a fraction, drum around the metal zipper that holds the thick fabric together. Your palms feel like a fountain, and you try to ignore the burn between your legs, the liquid heat betraying the commitment that sits on your finger. 

You’re engaged to be married, you chastise yourself. All eighteen carats that symbolize that bond glare at you, bright and eager to make you feel guilty. The whole reason why you’re on this cramped bus ride is to get to your soon-to-be husband. Some pretty stranger with strong hands won’t change that. 

“We’re here! Finally!” Taehyung cheers, and you realize now that you’re parked into a tunnel surrounded by other buses. 

Jungkook and you wait until everyone steps off the bus. The pads of Jungkook’s fingers play an unsung tune, absentmindedly drumming to a song you can’t put your mind to. 

“God, you can’t just pay the extra money for someone to take care of this?” Taehyung hauls the large luggage in the aisle seat, and you feel like you’re being revealed under a curtain, doing something you’re not supposed to be doing. 

You hop off his lap, scoop your backpack in your arm and scramble off the bus. The cold, winter air bites into every available pore in your body, replacing the warmth that Jungkook gave in the tiny bus. You hike the collar of your oversized turtleneck higher up your chin, prickling in shivers as you wait for Jungkook. 

“I don’t remember Seoul being this, empty,” you say to yourself, frowning at the lack of humans past the bus station. You peer curiously at the dark, dark road off the terminal. There’s no flicker of light, or a skyline filled with bustling sounds and flickering head beams. 

“That’s because we’re only halfway there,” Jungkook walks past you, luggage in tow. 

“What?” you pull out your phone, it’s already 4PM and it’s pitch dark outside. 

The snow is beating down as you two speed walk out of the hangar, reaching a nearly vacant parking lot save for a pure white minivan. You barely notice the vehicle with all the snow, blending in perfectly as wave after wave of ice beats down on it. The pops of rust by the tires, gaudy orange stripes is the only thing you can focus on as you try to make it to the car as fast as possible. 

“Get in and start the car,” Jungkook practically shoves the keys in your hands, gesturing for you to take the passenger seat. 

When you enter his car, you’re hit with a scent scarily identical to the one in Jungkook’s luggage. You nearly gag when you inhale too much, and your eyes flicker over to the lemon air freshener attached to the exhaust, trying its best to mask the smell. You vaguely remember all the warning stories your parents told you as a kid—never enter the white van. 

Ohmygod, you’re in a white van and all of Jungkook’s drugs are in the back. 

You shake your head, willing the car to start as you arch your back over the console to start it up. You’ve been around your fiancé’s parents too long, letting them fill your head with judgemental gab and crazy assumptions only rich people have about people lesser than them. 

Once the car spurs to life, soft holiday music plays from a pop station. The front window of the car is absolutely covered in snow, you can’t even budge the windshield wipers to scrape the layer of ice off. 

Suddenly, a blanket of ice slides off the window, swept to the concrete. You’re met with Jungkook’s toothy smile and horror-esque stare, and you have this jerk reaction to nervously laugh and jump in your seat. Your nails dig into the cheap fabric of your seat as Jungkook’s scary expression melts into a more softened one, as if happy to have gotten you to laugh in such sucky times. Jungkook continues to brush your windows, meticulously making sure no ice can cause any damage as you two go into the night. 

“Alright, let’s get this show on the road!” Jungkook whips the door open, throwing the snow brush at the space between your feet. 

As soon as he shuts the door, your stomachs growl simultaneously. 

The two of you break into a quick laugh, giggles that overlap the twinkly holiday chimes and the packed snow crunching under Jungkook’s boots. 

“After McDonalds,” Jungkook declares, setting up the GPS for a quick pitstop to the nearest fast food joint. 

Ten minutes into the drive, you pull into a generic food joint, too starved to find gourmet McDonalds. You make it a point to flick your card and lean over his body to meet the cashier, telling him you’re spotting the meal. Jungkook doesn’t complain, and tells the cashier to add in a vanilla sundae for good measure. 

Color yourself impressed, but you can’t help but gawk as Jungkook expertly sets up his food on the dashboard like a five-star meal, with fries in the cupholder and a burger unwrapped perfectly to catch any spills and to keep his fingers from getting greased up. For such a terrible snowstorm, he pulls out of the joint gracefully, a brief intermission in your long journey. 

“So, is my fiancé’s place far from where you need to be?” 

Jungkook shrugs, a stray fry hanging from his mouth. “It’s not far, not close either. I don’t mind, I like driving.” 

“Do you drive around a lot?” 

“Yeah, for work. It’s a little annoying that I have to spend Christmas alone, but it is what it is.” 

Pausing on your speculation, you take a big bite of your burger. You were hoping that your conversation would spur on a little more detail about his drug-esque job. However, all you start to feel is the heaviness of your fast food meal, stemming from your chest and filling your grease-filled stomach. 

“You’re spending Christmas alone?” you say, and you don’t mean to sound so sad saying it, but the thought of him being alone tonight makes you feel pinched with pain. 

“I can practically feel your puppy-eyes,” Jungkook shakes his head, not even needing to look at you as he focuses on the road. “I’m fine, don’t you worry.” 

“Do you wanna come to the party?” you offer, trying to sound as neutral as possible as you throw the suggestion on the dash.

“Not my thing,” Jungkook scrunches his nose, “with my line of work, I prefer to lay low.” 

Trying not to feel a hurt by the sudden (but expected) rejection, you practically eat your burger whole, eyes glaring on the road. You surmise it’s a valid excuse, drug dealers aren’t exactly one for highly-populated areas and with your fiancé’s reputation, you’re sure his parents would smell Jungkook’s reputation in a micro-minute. 

The drive isn’t anything special. You’re sure if it were spring, the foliage would be pretty and the sun would be setting into melty orange hues by now. It’s all black and white, boring shades that are aggressively pelting at the van and hindering your evening. 

“So, what other character traits do you have?” Jungkook cuts through your semi-brooding, as easily as one slices through butter, “other than the obvious that you’re engaged, and that you’re getting married. And oh yeah, you have a fiancé!” 

You scoff at his cheesy joke, folding your arms together. “I like spending time with my family. Watching movies under a weighted blanket. Plants.” 

His stare dips away from the road for a fraction, enough for you to catch that he’s rolling his eyes, “Fascinating. Not a plant person myself. I like those cute little succulents though. Had a bunch of those in college.” 

“I am also a ramen connoisseur,” you say pointedly, turning up your nose. 

“Ah, are you?” you smile a little when you see Jungkook’s eyes light up at the mention of food, “what’s the criteria for good ramen?” 

“Deep, creamy broth. Also, the egg. Gotta look like a custard-y, eggy sunset. It’s just,” you smack your lips together, mimicking a chef’s kiss, “perfect.” 

He chuckles, and goes on to tell you a story about a ramen shop he’s visited on his travels. It’s one he declares that you need to visit, one he still dreams about often. It takes a ferry and it’s a bit of a trek, but he says it’s worth it, and the eggs are as custard-y and sunset-y as you’d like. 

It’s between pockets of his story and pulling yourself out of this little bubble of a van you realize:  are you flirting with Jungkook? 

The longer this trip goes, the more your stares linger. They linger like the snow that sticks to the ground, unable to do nothing but cling. Layer after layer of confusing feelings, building up to a blizzard that you’re unable to quell. 

“So, your family’s also going to be at your fiancé’s party?” Jungkook asks, poking at yet another one of your personal facets. He’s being blatantly nosy, yet neither of you seem to mind. 

“Oh, no,” you shove your hands in your pockets, “they wanted to stay back in our hometown with the extended family. Y’know, the older members can’t really travel as much as they used to.” 

“Ah, so you’re splitting up your time,” Jungkook drums his hands on the wheel, eyes drooped slightly as he continues along the monotonous road, “your fiancé couldn’t make it?” 

“Couldn’t,” you reply lightly, “just, y’know, work.” 

“Been there, done that,” Jungkook replies, “I’m sure he missed out though. What’s your family like? Are they the type to bake cookies until 3 A.M.? Oh, or do they get wine drunk and talk shit about their annoying cousins—” 

“Jungkook,” the words fly out of your mouth before you can even think, “I’m engaged.” 

The weight of your words holds differently now. A whole day has passed with this man, and you’ve developed an attachment that simultaneously scares and thrills you. Not an hour goes by that you have to think to yourself that you’re taken, to the point that you can’t even tell what’s in your head and what’s being spoken out in the air. 

Instead of a snippy comment, a snarky retort of, “I know, I know!” like you anticipate, Jungkook stops the car. 

There’s no human trace for miles, so it doesn’t scare you when he slows down and pulls off to the side. He gears the car into park, roughly pulling the handle. He lays his arm over the steering wheel, turning his body so he can face you fully. The heat in the car suddenly feels too cloying, and you shrink in the seat as he leans in on you. 

“What is that supposed to mean?” he asks, and from the looks of it, he’s genuinely hurt. 

“I—Jungkook,” you plant your feet on the ground, trying to find some power in this situation, “I mean I, we—you just can’t keep doing this.” 

“Do you feel like I’m trying to steal you away? Or, seduce you or something?” Jungkook is starting to talk himself into a stupor, eyes flickering from the window, to you, to behind you, and back to you. It’s almost jarring, seeing how self-conscious he starts to get without the presence of an audience. Gone is the smooth talker that you met at the terminal, willing to haggle it all for your cash. “Are you uncomfortable? Is it weird I have a crush on you?” 

“Wait, you have a crush on me?” 

He reels back, nearly pressing his head against the window. Jungkook runs a hand through his hair, exhaling deep from his lungs. “Adults still get crushes, y’know.” 

“Yeah, but not to people you met eight hours ago.” 

Jungkook arches a brow, “People fall for people in the most unlikely of ways.” 

That singular statement hits you, hard. 

Jungkook looks like he wants to get out of the van. He seems stuffy, and he unzips his coat and shoves it under his legs. 

“You’re cute,” he echoes the statement like he can’t believe that in a short amount of time, he’s attached to you, “you seem to have good taste, you love family, and your personality isn’t half bad,” the last bit is meant to be teasing, a lighthearted way to end his bout of emotion, but it only makes you ache further, “And it makes me upset knowing that you have to keep convincing yourself that you’re in a relationship that isn’t as fulfilling as you hope. This whole drive, you’ve been anxious about going to his parents, worrying that you’re not going to make it on time instead of relaxing with your family. Where you actually want to be.” 

“I also want to be with Jimin,” you say weakly, a half-hearted attempt to defend yourself. 

You never mentioned your fiancé’s name until this point. It makes Jungkook stiffen a little, finally putting a name to the man that’s supposed to have your heart. It makes the relationship concrete, palpable. 

“I’m sure you do,” Jungkook smacks his lips, evidently sealing the conversation to suffocate under the snow. 

Jungkook puts the car into drive, sliding back into your current route. 

“And to answer your question, Jungkook. No, you having a crush on me is not weird,” and smaller, quieter, you reply, “because it’s weird that I might have a crush on you, too.”

You know that Jungkook catches your statement, because he cranks the volume of the radio harder, effectively shutting you out.  

The first thing Jungkook says when you finally reach the Park’s house is: “Wow.” 

His van looks completely out of place, parked on the side as limos and Escalades drop off more and more people into the large estate. It’s pouring with elegant piano music, and the large window in the middle of their home reveals a century-old chandelier, crystals beaming and winking against the hundreds of guests that lie underneath. 

The rest of the way driving was almost painfully fast. After that awkward wave of emotion, neither of you said anything. Well, you didn’t at least. Jungkook attempted to clear the air by singing along to the Christmas songs on the radio, but it only further attracted you because to your chagrin—Jungkook’s a pretty good singer. 

The estate isn’t in Seoul persay, it’s a sizable plot of land that definitely comes from old money. It’s decked up like the North Pole, lit up and tiny crystal lines dotting the expanse of the rooftops. The snow certainly adds to it, and many guests are outside taking pictures of the picture-perfect holiday show. The blizzard has finally subsided, leaving a clean blanket of snow across their yard.

You scoff to yourself. What they find to be a Christmas miracle only derailed yours. 

Jungkook stares at you while you send a quick text to Jimin. You tell him he needs to come fast, because you don’t want his parents to see you all sweaty and dressed like you’ve been traveling for hours. 

“Oh, uh,” you finally take a look at him, and you immediately regret it because you’re getting sucked into his gaze, “I think you put my bag in the trunk?” 

“Right,” he shakes his head, “follow me.” 

He tilts his head down when he’s outside, as if the snow’s going to start back up and drown him. Your thumb scratches the ring on your finger as you hop out of the van, effectively popping the bubble the two of you have been sealed in for the better half of the evening. Is this going to be it? Is the last you’ll see of Jeon Jungkook? 

All those thoughts evaporate when Jungkook opens the trunk. 

There’s no drugs. 

In fact, you don’t even know what to think. The van is absolutely filled, wall-to-wall art supplies and canvas carefully lined up like Tetris blocks to avoid damage. The floor of the van seems to receive the brunt of the messes, and you catch recent paint stains and spray cans stacked to the side. It explains the smell. 

There’s some clear cases in a corner, protecting completed prints that are already framed. Your eyes cling to a vibrant hyacinth, coral and satin blue petals bunching in the middle of a black background. It’s absolutely gorgeous, if it wasn’t for all the paint lying around, you’d think it’s real. 

Jungkook’s an artist. 

“Holy shit, I thought you were a drug dealer,” you blurt, and you want to smack yourself in the face. 

 “Excuse me?” Jungkook jerks his head towards you, “did you think I was a drug dealer this whole time?” 

“N-no,” you frown petulantly, letting Jungkook loop your arms through the straps of your backpack. “Maybe. You were very shady.” 

He laughs, a genuine laugh. It confuses you, the way he tucks his hands in his pockets and bends his back over to look up at you through his dark lashes. It’s like nothing’s wrong, like he’s trying to erase the past eight hours and leave with no qualms. You don’t know if that comforts you or terrifies you. 

“So, you were willing to let a potentially dangerous man be your travel partner for eight hours so you can make it to your fiancé’s party?” Jungkook’s eyes flicker over to the front door, “you must really love him.” 

“I do,” you say the phrase like it’s second nature. Rehearsed. Practiced. 

“Merry Christmas,” Jungkook pulls out his hand, and you don’t hesitate to grasp it. 

Liquid heat sparks through your skin, one that tingles from where his large palm encases yours, all the way to your heart. 

“Merry Christmas,” you echo, and your feet feel like lead as you back away from him. 

Jungkook waits until you go inside the house, even though the valet is side eyeing him and mentally telling him to leave already. Turning your back to him is rough, like you’re without snowshoes and you’re trudging through snow. 

The goodbye feels rushed. Your heart is cold and heavy. Unfortunately, by the time you realize you haven’t paid Jungkook for his bus ticket and the ride, it’s too late. Jimin has already pulled you in his awaiting arms, and Jungkook has peeled out of the driveway. 

“You look awful,” Jimin coddles you, dusting the invisible dirt off your jacket. You know Jimin means well by the statement, but you can’t help but feel a little unsupported by his words. You did all you could to make it to Jimin in time for this party full of faceless, nameless people. And yet, Jimin inadvertently manages to put you down for finally making it. 

The hallway is relatively empty, save for one staff member who cleans the wet linoleum floors whenever someone with snow steps in. You can easily make out where the heart of the party is, the tinkly holiday music playing from the speakers, along with all the bodies huddled by the extra large Christmas tree that is brimming with presents. 

You do feel like a wet noodle, in comparison to Jimin and Namjoon’s complementary pinstripe suits. Jimin’s deep burgundy suit pops in the endless hallway of marble and light wood as he quickly leads you upstairs to a spare room for you to change. Namjoon’s more muted grey still looks stunning on him, cutting his tall figure nicely. You think it’s cute that Jimin made an effort to match with his assistant, not making him feel out of place in this big party. 

“I hope you don’t mind,” Namjoon interjects softly, gesturing to the garment bag hanging on the boudoir, “I picked out your dress.” 

“I’m sure whatever you bought is beautiful,” you assure softly, stepping fully into the room. It’s an extra bedroom, you’re assuming it might be yours. 

“We’ll give you some time to freshen up and get ready,” Jimin squeezes your arm, a touch you can barely feel due to the puffiness of your down jacket. It’s just an awkward escape of air to you, a sssttt that you catch Namjoon hiding his smile for, “we’ll walk around a bit and bring you some food.” 

“I want cupcakes,” you blurt impulsively, and the two of them laugh on their way out the door. 

Once you’re finally alone, you strip yourself bare. Jacket, shirt, socks, underwear. You make quick work of taking a hot, damp towel to wash your arms and legs, scrubbing your face of any oil and dirt from the day. You wrap yourself in an indulgent fluffy robe, the plush material comforting you as you flop on the bed. 

It’s been a day. 

You take a five minute cat nap, the weight of the day taking its toll on you. When you finally flutter your eyes open however, you see him. 

It’s not exactly him, it’s his art. It’s mounted right atop the headboard, a large blown up painting of a tiger lily. The orange and gold flecks flicker and go perfectly with the decor of the room. The piece is longing, aching for you to go back to two hours ago when you could’ve phrased your words better, balm the situation into something to salvage. This must be a sign, you think. Upon closer look, you see the signature Jeon JK etched in silver in the corner. Who knew the Parks were buying Jeon Jungkook’s work, the world is smaller than you’d originally thought. 

It ignites you. You rip the zipper of the garment bag, pulling on the slinky glittery gold dress Namjoon picked out for you. It’s gorgeous, and you don’t know how he managed to find your proportions, but you figure an assistant of his caliber has access to many things. You don’t have much time, so you slap on some light makeup and swipe some highlights across your eyes. By the time Jimin returns, you’re pulling your hair up and out of your face. 

Jimin walks to the bed with a pretty red velvet cupcake, “You look beautiful,” he says immediately, and you follow to sit with him at the foot of the bed. 

You don’t hesitate to grab the cupcake from his tea plate, nearly shoving it in your mouth. You definitely need a rush, something to curb you over for the plans you have tonight. “Sugar sugar,” you chant like a mantra, and you don’t care that your lipgloss is smudged and crumbs cling to your cheeks. 

Jimin just rubs circles onto your thigh, letting you eat and relax. He knows you’re not a fan of these kinds of parties, preferring to wallflower it, preferably at  a wall closest to the buffet. His touch is comforting, and you chew slower in order to prolong the inevitable. It takes a beat for you to finish your cupcake. 

“I need to talk to you,” the two of you blurt at the same time, and you point and giggle at each other like you’re still five year olds tinkering in the sandbox. 

Jimin pouts, “Can I go first? Mine’s kind of important.” 

“Mine’s also really important,” you don’t mean to invalidate Jimin, but you really need to get this out. “I might explode if I don’t say this now.” 

The blonde scrunches his nose, obviously weak to your unusual distress, “I guess I wouldn’t want that.” 

You clutch his hand, the hand that holds the plain wedding band he picked out for himself two years ago. Your eyes flicker to how your ring kisses his, “Jimin. I love you, like really love you. I can’t imagine my life without you, you’ve been my best friend since we could crawl. But as I traveled down here, I realized that even though I love you, I think I’m not in love,” you wince at how cheesy that sounds, “I don’t want you to feel like you’re not good enough, but the whole trip down here made me realize I don’t think I can commit to this.” 

“Oh, thank fuck,” you gasp, watching relief wash over Jimin’s features. You’re not even done with your whole spiel and he’s already unbuttoning his blouse, “this makes what I’m about to say a whole lot easier.” 

“Jimin,” you trail off, squeezing his palm, “what do you mean?” 

“I mean, I think I’m in love.” 

Your jaw slackens slightly, seeing the sweat that lines Jimin’s slicked back hair. He must’ve been thinking about this all night, waiting for you to tell you this. Your chest aches, weighing in on all the sudden facts. “Who is it?” you ask. 

Jimin shrugs, “The man who does my taxes and makes sure I sleep at least seven hours a night.” 

“Namjoon,” you conclude, eyes moving to the sealed door. You think Namjoon is waiting out there right now, silently supporting you two as you go through this. Of course, Jimin’s parents would be livid if anything would tarnish his reputation. A broken engagement would be sticky to cover up, and Jimin falling for his assistant is a headline right for the books. 

“I’m sorry,” Jimin whispers, despite the room being vacant he feels the need to keep his words short, “You came all this way to hear this. But I guess we’re on the same page, huh?” His soft fingers make a beeline for your ring finger, removing the diamond band, “And by the way, I love you too. Which is why we’re going to come clean in the morning and work this out with my parents, together. I’m sorry if you felt obligated to follow me all this time just because our parents did.” 

“Hey, like you said, we’re in this together. Both in and out,” you chastise, pulling your engagement ring from his grasp and holding it to the light. “Can I keep this? Instead of an engagement band, it can be our best friend band. I’ll even get it re-sized so it can go on another finger.” 

Jimin pulls you into his arms, crushing you. The silky material of your dress bunches and rides, but you don’t care. The two of  you can’t help but be a little crybaby-ish about it, feeling much like your younger-selves when you had to pull each other out of trouble. 

The two of you walk out of the bedroom hand-in-hand, and Namjoon is leaning against the banister in the hallway, a soft smile melting on his tanned skin. 

“I’m so happy for you,” you gush, hugging Namjoon tightly. You’ve only known the man for a few months, but you can tell he’s taking care of Jimin and that’s enough for you. 

“I… really thought you’d be more upset.” Namjoon marvels, patting your back. 

Jimin interjects, “I think she’s found someone hotter than me.” 

“Impossible!” 

You could stay at this party, lay low until you and Jimin have to confront his parents in the morning. They suggest to get all the food they need and sneak out to the home theatre. The three of you hustle it down the stairs to another part of the house, in order for you to make your getaway and avoid Jimin’s family. 

“Hey,” you stop in front of another painting, pulling the two men to a stop. Your eyes lock on a framed droopy peony, tipped with pink dye. You realize you can’t stay here, not when someone’s home alone tonight. “Namjoon, I need you to locate someone for me.” 

Jungkook does not expect to see you at his front door. 

You’re stunning, and look as breathless as he feels. The liquid champagne number that hugs your frame does things to him, and he’s strangely attracted to the fact that you paired this expensive dress with your snow-drenched trainers. 

You showing up at the wee hours of the morning was the last thing Jungkook thought would happen. It’s nothing short of a holiday event, you look like you’ve just walked out of a gala and then ran a marathon to reach him. 

He thought when he said goodbye, it would be the last time you’d cross paths. At first, he was okay with that. After all, feelings come and go, and spontaneity only works a percentage of the time. Seeing you presently however, throws all those half-hearted concedings out the window. 

“Hi,” you finally say, drinking from the fact that you actually found him. 

“Hey,” Jungkook breathes, “you look, beautiful.” 

“Thanks,” you smile. 

“So, is this about you not paying me back for the ticket?” Jungkook suddenly feels guilty, having dipped out of Jimin’s manor once he saw him appear at the door. It was unrightful jealousy, and because of that he needed to drive away as fast as possible. “Because honestly, it was me messing with you. I really don’t need the money.” 

“I figured, from the fact that I had to take the elevator up to the penthouse of the building.” 

“So then why are you here?” Jungkook wobbles on the balls of his feet, unsure of what to do with himself. 

“My ex-fiancé is in love with someone else,” you lay your cards out just like that, and Jungkook’s unprepared to deal.  

“Holy shit, I’m so sorry—” 

“Let me finish,” you cut in gently, “my ex-fiancé is in love with someone else, and that’s okay. We’ve been best friends since we were little, and we want nothing but happiness for each other. And for me? Happiness is right in front of me.” 

You bite your lip, and Jungkook fights down the urge to run up and pull you into his arms. You must be so cold, running out without a jacket and rushing to his home. However, he lets you finish, and he holds himself down by clutching the door frame as casually as possible. 

“I also have a big, fat crush on you,” you say boldly, “and I had to tell you as soon as I could. It took a twenty-minute phone call and some serious leverage from Jimin’s company to figure out where you lived. That receptionist is definitely not letting me use my frequent flyer miles next flight.” 

“You harassed an airport receptionist just for me?” he smiles wanly, placing a hand on his chest, “I’m touched.” 

“You make me excited to try new things, to be spontaneous and do things for myself,” with every statement you take a step further, and soon enough you’re in his dimly lit apartment. The plush couch in his living room looks awfully warm and comfy, and the light music that plays from his speakers is soft and soothing. “So, let’s spend the holidays together and see where this goes. And go to your art gallery tomorrow, because I did research you on the drive and found out you had to rush here because of a big show.” 

“So you’re actually a stalker?” Jungkook teases, tugging you over to the couch. 

He takes the lead, plopping himself on the couch first and inviting you to sit next to him. You take a detour and plant your body atop of him, and with an ‘oof’ the two of you are sinking. 

“A stalker and a potential drug dealer does sound like a promising pair,” Jungkook jests, his hand palming the silky material of your ruched up ball gown. 

“I’m sorry,” you pout, wrapping your fingers around the long tresses of his hair, “can you please stop bringing that up? It was judgemental of me.” 

“I like when you’re judgemental,” he pokes your puppy-faced cheeks, ruddied with embarrassment. “I like picking fights with you and getting you all riled up.” 

“Will you rile me up now?” 

Sexy, he thinks. He figures a vixen has been hidden under you, one suppressed by a complicated engagement and many other factors he’d love to learn about in the near future. The situation at hand however, is far more pressing. Your body is finally warming up, and Jungkook tries to ignore the weight your body is causing, re-igniting an ache he felt hours ago when you two were squished against each other in the coach bus.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” you declare, and you look a little frustrated that Jungkook is taking so long to process this information, “and I hope I take your breath away.” 

You taste like sugar and the softness that comes with the holidays. It’s tender and oh-so comforting, and Jungkook can’t help but squeeze your hips closer as your lips brush fervently against his. The feeling is both new and old, and Jungkook figures you’ve finally uncoiled a flame that you can no longer quell. 

Soon enough your kisses turn hungry, and Jungkook has to remind himself that you two have only known each other for a total of twelve hours, and he isn’t sure of what’s appropriate to jump to due to the speed of your relationship. Once he feels the first roll of your hips, a liquid heat that Jungkook can’t help but return back, he pulls away from your soft lips. Not too far, but a few centimeters apart so that Jungkook and you can catch your breath. 

“We should take this slow,” he starts, trying to make a reasonable impression now that you’re a guest at his home and finally settled from their long trip. “I really, really want to get to know you. And you’re so beautiful and I really do want to have sex but—” 

“Jungkook, I have not had sex with someone in two years,” you speak with a depraved tone, as if it’s been centuries since you’ve been touched. He can’t help but throw his head back and laugh, “a night full of sex sounds like the best last-minute present ever.” 

You bring his hand over to your core, the shiny glassy material of your gown doing nothing to hide the glimpses of pleasure you’re minutes away from experiencing. You whine desperately at the thought, and Jungkook’s a goner. 

“Well, I guess I’m about to pull a Christmas miracle,” he murmurs against your lips, ready to work his magic. 

[forthehpfanboys]

Christmas Break

Pair: Draco Malfoy x Reader; he/him.

Summary: You liked Winter Break Draco. Unfortunately, he was replaced by Usual Dick Bag Draco who becomes ruthless. At least Harry is there to make you feel better.

Warnings: SMUT (MDI), jealousy sex, dirty talk, swearing, spanking, short mention of slapping and hair pulling, sir kink and degrading a tad- fluffy ending tho. I may have taken the kinks too far but ya know-

Notes: Requested by @the-offical-yn​, who I must apologize too. A lot of my stories got away from me so I’m very sorry this is late- but um- enjoy getting railed by Draco guys! Yo, I made a shit plot for this. I’m so sorry if it’s baaddd.

~DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE~

-

For years, he had this twisted mind against anyone not a pure-blood or a Slytherin. He had zero shame with cussing out Gryffindor's, spitting at Ravenclaw’s during quidditch games and tripping Hufflepuff's. But, suddenly, just before Christmas break, he changed and there was nothing blunt about it. He would help Ravenclaw first years pick up their books if they stumbled on the fake steps on the moving staircases, tutor third year Hufflepuff's in Herbology after hours and helped a few Gryffindor students fix their potions.

Draco changed faster than water turns to ice in a freezer. It was almost alarming. Even Snape seemed to be concerned, probably more than others. The greasy git kept yelling at Gryffindor's (mostly the Golden Trio [mostly Harry]) about what would happen when he found out who jinxed Malfoy. You couldn’t pinpoint exactly when he changed, but everyone else could. To the day, infact.

It was just a few days before October, when it started. Draco was strutting down the halls, using Crabbe and Goyle as shields from the dozens of students who walked by him. They stood at his sides, knocking students out of the way, acting like Draco owned this bubble of space as they walked, but somehow, you slipped through. You were crossing in front of him, trying to hurry to class and ended up tripping over your own feet.

Your instincts kicked in and you tried to catch yourself, but instead you fumbled right into Draco, landing heavily against his side. He scoffed, shoving you off and getting ready to cuss you out when you began to apologize (even if you don’t like him) and gather your things off the floor. With your head tilted down you didn’t notice the Slytherin staring at you like you were a puppy. When you gathered your things, you scurried off, apologizing to more students as you went by.

Apparently, that day, he saw you tutoring a whole table of students, all houses included, and you were being so nice to them, so kind and your voice was soft and he heard you say “Hey, no! It’s ok! There is no such thing as a dumb question, ask away”. He had this urge in his chest to just be different, to be someone you would want to be around and be a friend, maybe even be more. It made him feel sick.

It took about a week to get your attention, then a quick growing friendship blossomed. Your relationship with Draco changed- just like he had. It changed from funny jokes, sassy remarks and late night games of exploding snaps to flirting contests, long hugs and what could be considered dates. 

By December, you and Draco were dating without the official titles. Everyday, you two were growing closer and the relationship was growing more rock solid with every passing event. Soon enough, winter break was coming around and everyone was genuinely surprised when they saw the blonde Slytherin strutting through the halls during Christmas break. Usually, the pureblood went home to spend the holidays in a cabin in a warmer climate with his family.

And it was weird for everyone to see him not bragging and tripping students and spitting at kids. But for you? It was a blissful few weeks. Even the Golden Trio got a break. They were some of your closer friends, so Draco gave them a bigger break. The blonde even went as far as helping Harry during potions. It was terrifying.

Until Christmas break was passing and Draco went through another change, which was what you were going to confront him about. 

"Malfoy!" You found him out in the courtyard, a teary-eyed (y/h) first year trailing behind you. The poor kid was shaking with fear and let out a sniffle. "You have some very good explaining to do!"

The blonde looked from Goyle to you, his eyes slowly dragging down your form before darting back up to your flaming eyes. His smile had dropped and was now replaced with a sharp frown. His nose scrunched up, his eyebrows furrowed and his arms crisscrossed over his chest.

“I don’t have to explain anything to the likes of you.” He sneered. He looked over your shoulder and locked eyes with the first year, who scooted over to hide himself better.  He made a scoff and turned back to Goyle, shaking his head while snorting. “Look at this- he’s tryin’ to be a hero.” As if on a cue, his little posse of Slytherins broke out into laughter, forcing your face to heat up from humiliation.

“Seriously? Are you fucking five?” You called over the idiots laughter, which morphed into pathetic ‘ooh’s. “Draco, stop being a child and a douchebag and just apologize to the first year.”

“Why should I?” Draco stepped closer to you. His eyes, stance and voice all held a challenging undertone. He moved some blonde hair out of his face, but you didn’t miss how his eyes flicked down to your lips.

“Because you called him a mud-blood for bumping into you. Grow a pair, gain some manners and apologize to him.” You crossed your arms over your chest, putting on your best angry face. If Draco was pulling a prank, you were going to punch him, without hesitation. And how the hell did an asshole like this become a prefect??

“Oh, your right, I definitely should apologize when the kid bumped into me. But I think I have a better idea.” He brought a finger to his lips, tapping it in mock thought. Sarcasm and sass was radiating from him and it only served to piss you off more. “How about you fuck off and leave me alone, (L/n).” He smirked, turning to his posse and symboling them to leave with him for a dramatic exit. You took a deep breath, your hands balling at your sides. 

“I’m sorry for him.” You turned around and put a hand on the kids back and gave him a soft push back toward the castle. “Go tell the head of the house, ok? I’m gonna keep talking to him.” When he nodded and began to walk out of the courtyard, you hurried in the direction Draco left in. You found him heading across the bridge, in the middle of his group, who were effectively taking up the whole span of the bridge. His laughter echoed in the hollow build, which only had your blood boiling worse.

So, you called his name again, effectively getting his attention. He turned so fast you thought his head would’ve spun all the way around like an owl. You stared into his now burning eyes, walking closer to him. You could feel the adrenaline mixing with rage in your veins. You weren’t thinking straight, but you didn’t care. 

“Wanna explain why you're being an ass all of a sudden or are you just gonna insult me and strut off with your orgy party?” You glared at him, ignoring his irritated sneer. It was making your face red (or whatever hue, I wanna be as inclusive as possible) with anger.

“I don’t have to tell you a thing.” Draco was, naturally, turning defensive, even if he knew deep down how he was acting was wrong. Honestly, you couldn’t tell if he knew he was actually being an ass or not.

“Ok. I get it. You stay the fuck here with your friends and I’ll just leave you alone then. Merlin, why did I think you’d change?” Your face showed disappointment before contouring back to anger and frustration and aggression. You ran your tongue over your teeth, a frown etching across your lips. “My mistake.” You turned around, still going off pure adrenaline. You felt a hand grasp your wrist and immediately tugged it free with all of your strength. “No, I really don’t wanna hear it, fuck off.”

You didn’t look back, and you certainly didn’t hear him say anything. Of course it hurt, but you didn’t care at the moment. Your heart was thumping in your chest and all you felt was anger. He had the audacity to befriend you, say he really liked you for fucks sake, and then do a complete 180. You were grateful it was the weekend so you didn’t have to sit next to him in class.

You stomped through the snow, hurrying across the school grounds to the library (can you tell I have no idea what Hogwarts layout is?). You pushed open the doors and decided to basically hide yourself in an empty corner to try to cool down. After pulling the seat out, you sat down, slouching and resting your forehead on the table. You want to know what happened, why it happened

Was it his dad? Was it his friends? Was he jinxed or something? You let out a sigh of frustration. The idea of his dad convincing him to start treating people like trash again brought your anger back. You rolled your neck and ran your hands through it.

Pulling your wand out of your pocket, you waved it casually, summoning a book from one of the carts beside the isles. You didn't care what it was. You just wanted a distraction. 

Luckily, for you, it didn't take long to get distracted. A few pages and more than a few dreadful minutes into your "reading", someone sat across from you. You looked over the rim of the book to see a smiling Gryffindor with big, round glasses slipping down his nose. He gave an awkward greeting while pushing his glasses back up. 

"Hi to you too, Harry. This is a pleasant surprise. What can I do for you?" You smiled, shutting the book and crossing your arms over it.

"Well, I just heard about the Draco fiasco that took place a few hours ago-" had it really been hours? "-and I wanted to make sure you were OK." Harry scooted closer to the table, his cheeks a soft pink.

"I'm fine, man. You don't gotta stress about me." You stretched your arms over your head while leaning back in your chair. You were trying to give the illusion of calmness and it was sorta working.

"Oh, good! I'm- I'm glad you're ok!" He began to fiddle with his fingers, digging at the nails nervously. "Because I also wanted to ask.. Um.. If you are free? Like this weekend? To hang out?" His green eyes barely met yours and, instead, opted for staring right over your shoulder. 

"Oh, I'm n-"

"He's not free, Potter. We have plans covering every minute of the weekend. Scram."

Your smile faded as Draco's voice filled the small corner. You looked up, immediately catching his stern gaze. He was leaning against the end of a bookshelf, his arms crossed and one foot crossed over the other. He was clearly chewing on his tongue, not that he'd admit it. You gave him a glare, your arms crossing over your chest. 

"But, Draco. I thought I canceled our plans." Your voice was condescending and it only fueled his anger. Harry, noting the weird tension, ducked out of there quickly, swerving around Draco and speed walking to a safer, less awkward part of the library. 

"What the fuck are you doing?" The blonde hissed while taking long steps over to the table. He was still staring you right in the eyes. Draco moved the chair Potter was sitting in and put his hands flat against the table. He made eye contact with him. 

"Why should it matter to you? I thought I was just being a selfish hero." You narrowed your eyes at him, daring him to make a move. You could feel the anger returning from earlier.

"I never said selfish. Why are you making this so complicated? I have a reputation to withhold, (Y/n)." His eyes softened a bit. He looked down at the polished wood before looking at you again. Draco tried to give you a smile, but you didn’t return it; you just tapped your fingers against the table top.

"I don't give a rats ass about your shitty reputation! You bully pre-teens and they actually fear you and you think that's a good thing? That's what you wanna leave behind when you graduate here?" Your face was turning a deep shade of (insert skin color please). He knew he fucked up, not that he’d admit it, and his soft eyes hardened again.

"Remember who's in charge in this relationship, boy." His hand snaked around the back of your neck, tugging you forward. Your nostrils flared as you released a sigh. Was he really pulling out the dominant card right now?

"I told you there was no relationship." you shoved his hand away, standing straight up and walking past him. You didn’t get far before he grabbed the hood of your robe and tugged you back. He guided you so your back collided roughly with the end of the book case he was leaning against.

“I know you can’t quit me like that, love.” The pure-blood spat out the pet name as his thumb and index finger roughly grabbed your chin and tugged your head up. “We both know I infected you like a virus- I know you're obsessed with me, sweetie.” A menacing grin spread across Draco’s pale lips when your jaw dropped open and your mouth fumbled to find words to combat him.

He moved his leg between yours, his hands moving from the scrunched fabric of your hood to your neck. He leaned in, planting a rough kiss to your lips while his other hand untucked your shirt. He pushed his hand under the shirt, rubbing the skin of your hip while he deepened the kiss. He managed to push his tongue past your lips and ran along yours.

Draco angled his leg to brush against your crotch causing you to jolt in the kiss. He pulled back, his tongue licking your teeth while pulling back. 

“Told you.” He purred out. The hand on your neck gives you a squeeze around the neck while his icy eyes go from your lips to your eyes. He could read you like a book. You hated it. “Don’t be a slut, darling. Let’s head to my room, yeah?” He didn’t move until you nodded your head slowly. “Good boy. Come on.”

The walk to the common room was long, but the hand around the back of your neck was sturdy. It didn't take long for him to have you pressed against the wall of his prefect bedroom, chest first, your pants basically vanished from your legs and his hand wrapped around your hard dick. 

“You’re such a whore, aren’t ya, baby boy, hmm?” Draco’s voice boomed in your ear as his fingers interlocked into your skelp. You couldn’t help but sob. The hand on your dick was going faster, but refused to slide over the swollen head. Your nails scraped down the wall pressed against your front and Draco pressed your cheek harder against the brick. “Been such a bad boy- using that dirty mouth to talk so poorly about me and to flirt with my anime. If you wanted a three-some you should’ve asked Zabini. But Potter? You know that’s a firm no, baby.”

He was tsking before biting down on the side of your neck, the grip he had around your cock only tightened to the point of painful. Tears of humiliation and pain gathered in your eyeline, threatening to boil over. Your legs subconsciously spread when he began to grind into the bulge of your ass, his hard dick prominent into your crack. He licked a strip up from the bite to your ear.

“You know very well what happens to slutty bad boys who flirt with sir’s enemy, right, baby?” He was growling in your ear again, his hand coming to a tight hold at your base. He let out a mocking laugh when your legs clamped shut and your hips tried to wiggle out of his grasp.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, Draco!” You squeaked out, voice a few octaves higher than usual. It made Draco happy to hear your pathetic pleas, but his joy was melting away due to you still squirming in his grasp. He shook his head, tsking again. He tugged your hair, yanking your head back and forcing you to bow against his body. He gave you a firm slap against the cheek before cupping your cheeks together and forcing your lips to pout, his hand still in your hair.

“You know that’s not my name right now, kitten. Use the right one.”

“I’m sorry, sir.” Your voice was weak compared to Draco’s, the obvious authority he had over you made you shiver. Abruptly, he pushed you against the wall, letting go of your hair and he was backing away from you. 

“Not yet your not, kitten. Finish stripping then get your arse over here.” Draco spoke, sitting down on the bed, patting the top of his thighs. He smirked when you did what he said, tossing your shirt off into the corner and approaching him slowly. He reached out to grab your arm and tug you over his lap. 

He used one hand to push your face into the mattress while the other ran over your right cheek. He loved watching your hips try to duck and avoid the cold silver of his rings. He let out a mocking laugh, his hands grabbing into your bum, nails digging into the skin to leave marks that had your back arching. 

"Aw, baby. Is it too cold for you?" He laughed louder, feeling you nod against his left hand tangled in your hair. "Aw, poor baby. Wait until you feel them bruise your skin. Now, do you remember what you say?"

"Yes, sir." your voice sounded strained--like you were mentally preparing yourself for the bite of the rings, the puncture of his smacks. You were, in all honesty. He never held back during punishments. 

"See? It isn't so hard to be a good boy after all, is it?" he patted your head before brushing your hair back. "Remember the safe system, darling? Good. Color?" 

"Green, sir." your legs were clenching together and wiggling, but a swat to the back of the sensitive skin of your thighs made you stop. "I'm sorry sir." 

"Good.. Now, how many does a horny little whore like you deserve, hmm? Ten? Fifteen?"

You knew what he was looking for. 

"T-Twenty." You swallowed. The anticipation and degrading was making your head cloudy. 

"Twenty? Well, you must've been really naughty, huh?" His hand ran to your lower back, caressing the skin before dragging his nails back down, leaving a trail of red marks down your skin.

You nodded your head quickly, biting your lip to conceal a moan. You could feel the pre-cum going down your hard dick, which was pressing into Draco's thigh.

"No response? Maybe we should add another ten then, since you wanna be so bad." 

"I-I'm sorry, sir! Twenty is what I deserve." You said quickly, trying to turn back and give him the huge innocent eyes he always went weak for. 

"No. Thirty seems far more fitting." He chose now to start the punishment with a raised hand and a harsh slap over the perfect curve of your ass. He watched the skin bounce and groaned, gripping the flesh again.

"One! Thank you sir." You squeaked out, back arching at the familiar sting of the hit. The cold silver of his rings colliding with your skin caused your toes to curl. 

"Atta boy." he purred out, repeating the action on the other side.

“Two, thank you sir!”

By the tenth spank, tears were falling freely down your cheeks. By the fifteenth, your voice was breaking with each shout. By the twentieth, you were trying to crawl away. By the twenty-fifth, you were kicking your legs like a brat. Somehow you managed to count to thirty without losing track. 

"You did so good, baby. Even if you were being a brat." Draco chuckled, running his fingers through your hair. His other hand rubbed your cheeks, trying to sooth the deep red (or whatever tint shows up with your skin, I wanna be as inclusive as possible) marks on your skin.

You let out another sniffle, propping yourself up on an elbow and wiping the tears off your cheeks. His hand ran up your sweat thighs, his palms rubbing the already sore skin of your ass once he got to it.

“Color?”

“Green, sir.” You turned your head to look at him. Your legs shifted, creating a shattering hyper awareness of how hard and how wet your cock was against his thigh. You caught his dirty smirk before he flipped you over. Suddenly, it was stoic and he was tugging your lower half back onto his lap. This time, Draco was sitting back on his calves, and he was steadily putting your legs around his waist.

“Good. Now,” he paused to lick his lips, “I’m going to fuck the brat out of you, got it?” His hands moved down your thighs before moving up to your pelvic bone. While you were responding with a polite, but breathless ‘yessir’, his hand was lazily wrapping around your cock.

He was still fully dressed, and the smooth fabric of his uniform pants rubbed against the sore spots on your ass. Your hips moved upward, trying to get more of his moving hand and less of the fabric against your bottom. You let out a breathy moan while his thumb idly swiped across the swollen head of your dick.

“That’s it.” He mumbled to himself over the sound of his zipper dropping. He mumbled a preparing, lubrication and cleaning spell, his hand still working you slowly. The blonde stuck his tongue out in concentration while pushing his own cock into your lubed ass. Draco let out a hum, his teeth clamping down onto his tongue. “Fuck yes. Such a good boy- my good little slut.” He let go of your dick and clamped his hands onto your waist and used the leverage to pull you down onto his cock.

You clamped a hand over your mouth, trying to muffle the cry as he stuffed his cock into you. You felt the wind knocked out of you. You gripped the sheets, whining pathetically. The head of his dick nudged against your sweet spot while he sat there, waiting patiently for you to adjust. It had been a bit of time since the last time you guys had fun sexy time. Your dick was literally throbbing, occasionally twitching, at the idea of him literally fucking you stupid. Your eyes were staring at the top of his four post bed, lost in your own thoughts when he began to move.

He tested the waters with the quick thrust, which yanked a moan from you. When you finally looked at him, you realized he was watching you intently, a menacing grin spread across his face.

“How’s your arse?” Draco asked, his voice condescending and cocky as he gave another thrust. His hand snaked around to your sore ass cheeks and gave one a tough squeeze, his nails digging in.

A cry left your lips, this time pain filled instead of pleasure. You planted your feet flat on the bed and tried to wiggle away from his grasp, which only made it worse.

“Sore, you dick!” You reached around, grabbing his wrist and trying to pull his hand away. “Ow! Let go, Draco!” You dug your nails into his wrist, trying to show him a small level of the pain he was causing but he just laughed, mocking your voice.

“Owie, it hurts! Take it, babe. You can do it.” He let go, his hands coming to hold your hips again before moving you at a punishingly rough pace. His muscular thighs rubbed against your ass, not that he cared. The pain was somehow starting to make the pleasure stronger. Soon it was filling your veins and fogging your brain.

Draco relished every moan, every gasp, every little sound you made. He listened to you whine out his name and it only fueled him more. He watched the sweat bead across your forehead and felt proud of himself.

“Atta boy. Gonna cum soon? Gonna cum completely untouched, like a whore? Hmm?” He purred out, leaning down to leave hickies across your neck and scratches down your chest. Your back arched pathetically off the bed while a woeful affirmative left your lips- but it wasn’t good enough for him.

“Say it.” He snarled, his voice too close to your ear to be that loud.

“G’nna cum, please.” You didn’t know what you were begging for, but your arms wrapped around his neck and pulling him closer. He shifted so he could rail you into the mattress and fulfill his promise.

“Please what? How can I help you if I don’t know what you want? What do you need, kitten?” 

It was like he used the imperius curse on you. You bent to fit his mold and he couldn’t have asked for more.

“Please, sir. Please let me cum, please.” You whimpered, your toes curling in the air. Your ankles locked behind his waist and dug into him, effectively pulling him closer. His palm glided up your chest again and he gave you a smile.

“Course you can, love. Whenever you're good to go.” Draco didn’t ease up his hips, but his voice was softer and after a few thrusts hitting your prostate and a brush of his stomach against your weeping cock had you cumming. Your head tossed back and you didn’t bother to muffle the cry of his name.

It didn’t take much to follow you for Draco, it never did. He always thought one of the most beautiful expressions you could make was while you were cumming on his bed. That, and when he gave you candy and you smiled at him. He kissed every bruise he left on your skin before landing on your lips and laid next to you.

He pulled a sheet over the two of you- the room had gotten hot but he knew both of you were too tired to get cleaned and shower. He pulled you to his chest, kissing your temple.

“You did so good, baby. I love you.” He rested his chin against the top of your head, completely delving you in his shirt covered chest. He rubbed a hand down your back. Your boyfriend didn’t care about sweat. 

“I love you too, Draco.” Your voice was rough and raspy. You planted a kiss to his cheek and nuzzled deeper into him somehow. “I miss you. The nice you- not the mean Slytherin you. He can suck my dick.”

“I know, I know. I’ll work on it. I promise.” Draco spoke between laughs. He hesitated, his mind bouncing between two questions he wanted to ask at once. “Do you want me to get you a bottle of water and we go take a bubble bath?” His voice was soft, but a massive grin spread across his lips when you nodded.

“Can we take a nap first?” You looked up at him with those big innocent eyes and gave him that smile he loved.

“Of course, dove.”