#and despite my inability to skate

[acesofspade]

perhaps my affinity for yuri on ice comes from my childhood fixation (read: huge fucking baby lesbian crush) on tessa virtue

#shut up ace #yuri on ice #tessa virtue #i was /obsessed/ with tessa virtue as a child #and despite my inability to skate #and failure as a ballerina #i almost considered figure skating so i could be like tessa virtue

[svltzmans]

'tis the damn season - h.m.

a/n: hi! i'm sorry i haven't posted a fic in a few days things have been slightly crazy in my silly little life 🥸 i hope this fluffly little fic makes up for it!!

warnings: none!!

ice skating as a date had been hope's idea, and y/n was cursing her inability to say no to her girlfriend.

the nearby pond had finally frozen, and hope was insistent about embracing the winter weather.

y/n wasn't picky about dates, and she loved everything her and hope did together.

the only problem was that she had no clue how to ice skate.

sure, she had done it before, but not very successfully.

hope insisted that it would be fine, and that although she was no expert, she was stable enough to keep y/n on her feet.

or so she thought.

when the pair arrives to the pond, hope opens the back of her car.

"these were my old ones, but they should fit you fine," hope says, handing y/n a pair of not-so-sharp ice skates.

"oh, so i get your recycled stuff now?" y/n teases, watching as her girlfriend pulls her own pristine pair of skates out of the car.

"what, you thought i was gonna let you skate on my babies?" hope responds, pretending to swaddle her skates in her arms.

"woah, hold on, i thought i was your baby?"

"well, you're one of them."

y/n rolls her eyes playfully, and hope gasps in feigned offense.

hope extends her hand to y/n, who happily takes it in her own as they walk toward the ice.

hope leads y/n to a bench, where she ties her skates while y/n watches in awe.

"aren't you gonna put yours on?" hope asks, noticing that y/n hasn't moved.

"well, i was kinda hoping you would do it for me. i'm not good at it," y/n pleads, giving hope her best puppy dog eyes.

"gimme your foot," hope gives in immediately, gesturing to her lap and allowing y/n to rest her foot in it while she ties her skate perfectly, repeating the process for the other foot.

"how are you so good at that?" y/n asks, watching hope intently.

"it's just like tying a shoe, silly. but i like that you're staring at me," hope teases, giving y/n a smirk.

"come on, you flirt. teach me how to skate."

"gladly."

hope steps onto the ice first, holding both of y/n's hands in her own.

"come on in, the water's fine," she laughs, watching y/n tentatively step onto the ice with one foot.

"what if i fall and break my ass, hope?"

"y/n, you know i can catch you, right?"

"yeah, but what if you're in front of me?"

"i'm gonna be next to you, silly goose. come on, you can do it."

with that, y/n finally allows herself to slowly glide to hope.

"see, you're already a natural. skate to me, baby," hope encourages, widening the distance between them slightly.

although she looks like a toddler trying to walk, y/n eventually makes it close enough to grab hope's hands.

"i made it! i'm here!" y/n cheers excitedly, earning a bright smile from hope.

y/n has noticed that when she's overly happy, she can't help but to hop slightly in the air to express that excitement.

and it seems like that doesn't stop when she's on ice.

"shit," she says, and before she knows it, she's sitting on the ice after falling backwards.

hope practically jumps to y/n, risking her own balance in the process but quickly regaining it.

"are you okay? oh my god," hope mutters, her concern evident.

to her surprise, y/n just starts laughing.

"i told you i was gonna fall on my ass," she jokes, holding her hand out to hope to encourage her to pull her back to her feet.

hope can't help but to laugh too, and once she has y/n back up, she doesn't let go of her hand.

"hope, i think i can do it by myself now. i'm getting the hang of it, right?"

the pair had done several laps around the pond together, hand in hand the entire time. despite a few close calls, y/n had managed to stay upright.

"what, you don't want to hold my hand anymore?" hope pretends to be offended, playfully frowning at her girlfriend.

"of course i do. but i want you to watch me skate by myself," y/n responds, tenderly kissing hope's flushed cheek. "damn, your face is freezing."

"i wonder why," hope laughs, still squeezing y/n's hand.

"i'm gonna let go now. skate behind me in case i go down again," y/n affirms, looking to hope for approval.

"i got you, beautiful. let's see your skills."

hope notices that y/n has really gotten the hang of skating, and that her sense of balance has greatly improved.

she smiles as she watches y/n, moving freely in front of her.

the pair do a few more laps, hope following closely behind y/n.

when they finally step off the ice, y/n immediately sits on the bench.

"you're a better skater than me now," hope praises, taking a seat next to her girlfriend. "let me take those skates off for you, yeah?"

"you know i'm not gonna say no to that."

"is there a bruise on your butt yet?"

"okay, i didn't fall that hard."

they both can't help but burst out laughing thinking about y/n's fall.

"thank you for taking me here today. i'm really cold now, though," y/n declares, resting her head on hope's shoulder.

"wanna get hot chocolate?" hope offers, already knowing the answer.

"i think i'd be crazy to say no."

#hope mikaelson #hope mikaelson x reader #wlw #legacies #legacies x reader #hope mikaelson x fem reader #the originals x reader

[igotanidea]

Ice skating: Nikolai Lantsov x reader (high school!AU)

She was graceful, skilful and passionate.

Like a ballerina, not simply ice skating, but almost floating on the ice

Each of her movement and spins was trained to perfection and yet seemed like she was making them with no effort.

The definition of perfection.

And he was left on the bleachers, in the crowd of people, admiring her from the distance and grating at the though she already got the attention of one of the hockey players.

Alexander.

Of course she did. After all they both knew how to move on ice, while Nikolai never got the chance to learn it. Being trained to take over the family bussiness from the youngest age came with the inability to pursue the things that might have been of his interest and didn’t give him any space to actually be himself. It was a luxury Nikolai could rarely indulge in.

And it only got worse when his older brother, who was the main successor as a CEO got into an unfortunate and fatal accident leaving the second son forced to take over.

Not that anyone actually asked his opinion on the matter.

Nikolai was far from a looser or an outcast. To put it bluntly he was in fact quite popular at the school and familiar with Y/N, but definitely friend zoned, not sure how to move past that.

Joking and teasing and bantering was only fun for so long.

But once he got a rival for her heart?

He had to learn how to skate.

HAD TO.

It was impossible to watch his tall, dark, brooding and - well- handsome- guy flirt with the girl Nikolai had eyes on.

***

Acting like a fool in love he sneaked onto the open ice rink after the sundown, hoping that at this crazy hour no one would see him making a fool out of himself.

That part of the plan was easy, cause he was battle-hardened when it came to escaping unnoticed.

What turned out to be a tad more complicated was putting on that devil’s invention and  stepping on the ice without earning at least a few bruises all over.

„god!” he muttered to himself, grabbing the edge and fighting to keep himself straight without tripping.

„Need a hand?”

If it was going for a while, the sudden voice coming from behind got him falling.

Both metaphorically and literally.

‘Y/N” he grinned trying to get up but instead ending up on all fours pretending like it was all a part of the plan from the very beginning. „Hello sunshine.”

„what are you doing Nikolai?”

„impressing you with my skills?”

„Of grinding the ice with you knees”

„Of personally making sure it’s safe for you to train.” he retorted trying to be as smooth as possible

„now, isn’t that a sacrifice” Y/N chuckled sitting on the bench and putting on her pretty figure skates „completely unnecessary may I add?”

„now that’s what I get for trying to be nice?”

„don’t tell me you were hoping for a kiss or something?”

„and what if I was?” Nikolai sat on the ice acting casually and not letting her show that his bottom was already frostbitten

„guess you’ll have to catch me first.”

In one fluid movement, she found herself in the middle of the ice rink, sending him a cheeky smile. She knew he liked her, of course she did, even despite his sly attitude and blunt jokes Nikolai were never good at hiding his feelings for too long, and she was good at reading people. More precisely, reading their hearts. And at the moment when she was simply skating backwards, showing off only a little, his heart made her job easier, audible even from this distance.

She could feel his eyes on her and that puppy love made her melt.

„Come on.” she slid back to him with an admirable fluency and helped him up with equally admirale effort. „Get up, we can’t risk you getting sick. Now-” she fixed his hat and raised an eyebrow „you have no idea how to move on this surface so what made you come?”

God, she was so cruel to him.

And for what?

To get even for all those time he made fun of her?

To give him a heart attack?

To prove that she had leverage?

Cause damn, Nikolai would let her drag him to the middle of the rink  and risk her leaving him there and having him crawl to the exit.

He would follow her anywhere and everywhere.

But he was not going to admit it.

„Curiosity.” he shrugged holding onto her for balance

„Curiosity? Really? Don;t you think you’ve already got enough scars on you?”

„Such a coincidence you are here then, isn’t it? Hopefully you can prevent another damage to me?” his eyes met her for a brief moment and they both wanted to turn the gaze away but ended up just frozen in the moment.

Never in the history has the ice rink been this hot. It could melt from the emotions and embarrassment they were experiencing at the moment.

„we need a walker” she finally broke the silence, her tone more of a whisper than a firm voice of a teacher-to-be.

„we need a what now?” the word sound like he was some sort of invalid and he couldn’t help but think of the oldest person he knew - Baghra. Even she didn’t need a support and Nikolai was too proud to submit to some crazy schemes Y/N was plotting „I’m not-”

„Be a good boy and hold yourself for a second” she cut him off, grabbing his hand and after making sure he was at least a bit stable without her help disappeared in the storage compartment.

The sound of rummaging, a muffled groan and echo of falling objects did nothing to convince her friend (ish) that this lesson was going to end up good for him.

But he smiled regardless.

Even when she showed up again and not being alone.

Dragging something that could only be described as a giant penguin with handles.

Oh damn....

***

 „Just hold onto it!”

„It will trip!”

„It will not trip!”

„I would rather hold on to you sunshine. You are far more reliable than this penguin”

„Where’s your sense of adventure?”

„This is not an adventure, but torture!”

„You came here willingly.”

„I;m still waiting for that promised kiss.”

„I didn’t promise-”

„Now where’s your sense of adventure, sunshine?”

***

An hour later Nikolai and Y/N were sitting at the 24/7 diner sipping hot chocolate. They both survived though deciding which one had to put more effort into it was impossible.

„You’re not a very good teacher” he smirked at her

‘You;re not a very good student.” she spit back

„I got distracted....” that little whisper immediately changed the mood, turning it less teasing and  more... intimate.

‘You might need a lesson two....”

„I think I;m gonna need much more than that.” he leaned slightly forward over the table brushing hair from her forehead „you said it, I’m terrible....” he moved even more forwards almost closing the gap but still keeping an ich of distant „you’ll make me work for it, won’t you?”

„Most definitely.”

It only meant more time spend with her.

Nikolai knew how to make no progress.

#nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov fic #nikolai lantsov imagine #nikolai lantsov x you #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone imagine #nikolai lantsov fanfiction #christmas bingo #shadow and bone au

[melocores]

my OLNF oc!!!! :D

name: Cheyenne "Chey" Wu

gender/pronouns: demigirl - she/they

(details about her below 😎)

step 1 personality: "child of the flowers"

cheerful and bubbly, many people that know her describe her as a bundle of joy. she likes to tease the people around her and is shown to be a lot more perceptive than people expect her to be, many assume she is gullible due to her natural innocent expression. can be shy around adults that aren't her mommy and she can be very clumsy, bandaids appearing on her from time to time. she loves to draw and paint, as well as bake (with parental supervision ofc) she loves strawberries, flowers and many other things described as cute. she likes to explore and look for shiny or attractive things she finds outside and stores it in a box full of 'treasures'. She owns a teddy bear named Mimi who is her best friend.

fun fact: she is not afraid of any bugs, she brought a centipede home and tried to keep it as a pet but it died which made her really sad 😭

step 2 personality: "maiden of the clouds"

has become a lot more toned down but still friendly to the people around her despite being described as closed off from time to time and not having any proper friends besides her neighbours, qiu and tamarack. to qiu and tamarack, she's the same except the playful teasing has been turned up a notch, though she's very supportive of them (listens to qiu about their problems, attending tamarack's cello recitals) she started to become interested in activities related to her appearance (e.g. painting her nails, wearing a necklace, flower clip) and is seen from time to time to have stylish outfits and hairstyles of many different kinds. she becomes quite admired by her peers for this despite her being oblivious to it; she normally hangs around by herself which adds to her mystique. her hobbies remain the same with the addition of skateboarding which is her main mode of transportation and taking long naps. the problem she faces is the inability to share her feelings with other people and bottling up her emotions, even to the point that qiu and tamarack worry for her due to a past experience in elementary where her 'friends' actively bullied and made fun of her to the point that it damaged her mental state and her fear of confrontation didn't help whatsoever. those friends only wanted to be her friend to get to qiu. when they found out years later, they felt extremely horrible but she never put it against them. her trust issues and inability to express herself makes her seem disingenuine which causes her to lose a lot of friends. her main way to resolve conflict is to just run (in this case, skate) away and avoid everything. the necklace she wears was a gift from her mother. she's very comfortable in her gender identity, normally dressing up in both masc and fem fashion and has supported qiu in their gender crisis. meanwhile, she actively helps tamarack gain confidence in herself.

fun fact: her first crush was baxter (probably because of the similar ways they resolve conflict LMAOOO) she blasted chasing pavements in her room while sobbing after he graduated highschool

step 3 personality: "lady of the vogue"

fun fact: many of her family members say that she's starting to resemble her mother in her teens, which she can agree with.

planning to pursue her dream of starting her own fashion brand, cheyenne has come a long way with her battle with the fashion industry and insignificance as a whole. she still takes good care of her appearance, becoming an influencer and running a blog that showcases her daily looks and fits. she now rarely has issues with expressing herself due to the support of the people around her. she always looks out for the people around her, gaining the title of the mom friend which is a funny pair with tamarack being the 'grandma friend'. her younger self (specifically step 2) avoided striking colours like red due to not wanting to stand out (which is contradictory bc ms girl walks into class with a brand new fit every time), but her step 3 self has fully embraced the bright red that she used to proudly wear as a young child. she's become quite popular amongst her peers after realizing that she could trust other people and lives her life not caring about what other people thought. also she's madly in love with qiu but you didn't hear that from me

#our life #our life now and forever #ol mc #olnf mc #art #oc #original character #fanart #olnf oc #our life qiu #qiu lin #our life tamarack #tamarack baumann #franky second #baxter ward

[cuddletime-blog]

5 MLQC Male Leads’ Christmas Letters to MC

Dear MC,

Merry Christmas! Happy holidays. This year seems to have passed by quickly somehow too, but you’ve accomplished many things this year despite the challenges. You never cease to amaze me with your determination, creative ideas, and commitment to your work. I’m so proud of you, Miss Chips! Let’s continue to work better and make the upcoming year even more successful! Thank you for being my Muse and devoted fan/Soda. I want to write more uplifting songs to share with you and the rest of the world. Anyway, it’s Christmas so let’s enjoy the day together in our pajamas and test out all the new video games I bought for us to try. I can’t wait to just relax, eat snacks, open gifts, and spend the day talking and laughing together with you. I have planned out a night of board games as well with hot cocoa and plenty of marshmallows. Apple Box and Cello will get to see their new toys and want to play with you too.

                                               Yours Truly,

                                                       Kiro

  Dear MC,

           You have been once again formally invited to Christmas Eve dinner, Christmas Day brunch, and Christmas dinner at Souvenir this year. The holidays and special occasions you have not-so-subtlely-hinted, looked forward to, and worked towards are finally here. Keep up the progress and improvements with your proposals/reports. You can always come to me for advice no matter which troubles and predicaments you may find yourself in from time to time. We will solve and face them together. I look forward to seeing your many ideas, “surprises”, and results of your efforts. Anyway, today is not a workday so let’s see how you like the new Christmas menu. I can already imagine your gluttonous smile and inability to decide between having crepes, cinnamon rolls, and waffles for Christmas brunch. I have already prepared a special Christmas treat for Pudding as well.

                                                           Victor

   Dear MC,

I know we’ve both been so busy with work this year. Let’s go for a walk together in the park and have a Christmas picnic lunch. It will be good to get some exercise outdoors and then just relax. What I look forward to the most for the holidays is spending it together with you. One of my other plans is that I already have tickets to the amusement park too so we can have fun and take photos there. We can try out all of the different rides, see parades at night with Christmas lights, eat corndogs, cotton candy, peppermint chocolate cookies, and more. If there is anything else you want to try doing, just let me know. Sparky and I look forward to having new adventures with you any time of the year.

                                                                 Sincerely,

                                                                 Gavin

  Hey MC,

           The weather outside is actually not so bad today. How about we go to the skate park and practice some tricks? I want to see the progress you’ve made and what you’ve learned so far. You’re so fortunate to have such an amazingly talented, great teacher like me. Afterwards, we can make a hotpot feast for dinner. I wonder what silly gifts you bought for me this time. In return, I’ll teach you some new card games this year. We can also watch historical documentaries and movies and quiz each other. I bought a Christmas cake since you’ve been talking so much about how good the new items at the bakery are recently. Happy Holidays.

                                                                       Shaw

    Dear MC,

           I never had much of a reason to celebrate the holidays before, but you’ve changed my mind about them. Now, I see that the holidays are meant to be spent with those we appreciate and care about. Today, we can spend Christmas doing arts and crafts and baking cookies together. You can make whichever crafts and cookies you like. I picked out some arts and crafts guidebooks and baking cookbooks for you to bookmark and use them. I am glad we went groceries shopping for baking ingredients recently. We can also visit the new cat café that you’ve been talking about. Whichever plans you decide on, I look forward to trying them all together. The holidays seem special because of who we spend them with and how we spend them. Let’s continue to make more of these holiday memories this year and the next.

                                                                       Sincerely,

                                                                       Lucien

#mlqc #mlqc headcanons #mlqc gavin #mlqc kiro #mlqc victor #mlqc lucien #mlqc shaw #mlqc bai qi #mlqc baek gi #love and producer #evol x love #mr love queen's choice #mr love dream date #mr love gavin #mr love kiro #mr. love queen's choice #mr love victor #mr love lucien #mr love shaw #mr love: queen's choice #mlqc zhou qi luo mlqc li ze yan love and producer li ze yan #love and producer zhou qi luo #love and producer xumo #love and producer xu mo #love and producer ling xiao #mlqc ling xiao #mr. love kiro #mr. love gavin #mr. love victor #mr. love lucien

[hawkinsschoolcounselor]

Hi. I think I need some help understanding something regarding El. My friend recommended your blog, praising your character analyzing skills. So you might be the right person to ask. El, being the sharp and observant queen she is, obviously gets an idea of the fact that Mike's behavior towards her isn't really what one would hope for in a romantic relationship. However after their not so romantic summer break in 1985 she's still unable to connect the dots and is happy to only question his feelings instead of fully realizing things. And I can't help but feel it's odd because last year she's dumped him for it and now it feels like she's regressing. It just doesn't make sense to me.

Welcome to my blog. I hope I live up to your friend's hype.

I think, at the end of season 3, El is trying to cling to all she feels she has left. Her father figure died, she lost her powers, and she's moving away from her friends. It's really one of her lowest points, and she's losing a huge portion of her support system at the same time. Had her life not been completely torn down by the end of the season, I'm not sure she would have gone back to Mike. Unfortunately, she needed him, and the love she wanted to believe they have, to keep herself going.

This continues into season 4. We see El continuously lie to Mike, despite the fact that she got mad at him for the same thing in season 3. She's desperately trying to make herself look like an appealing girlfriend to him because she's terrified of losing him. This is why she buries her disappointment at his inability (or unwillingness) to say he loves her. If she were to acknowledge it, then it means the danger of losing all she has left becomes very real. We see her plaster a smile on her face when Mike's flowers say "From Mike," even if we don't understand it at the time, because she has a plan to, essentially, make Mike see her as a perfect girlfriend. She's going to be everything he could ever want, in her mind, but things don't go according to plan.

This all comes to a head when Mike reacts badly to El hitting Angela with a roller skate. Despite everything that happened to El, Mike essentially makes her feel like the villain. This isn't really Mike's intention, but, unbeknownst to El, Mike was also trying to force things to work out by creating his own idea of who El was, one that may or may not have been enabled by what El would lie about in her letters. This attack shattered Mike's illusion, leaving him at a loss. El was supposed to be this superhero, a mythical ideal that was impossible for her to live up to. This becomes why El decides to go "be a superhero again."

El is "regressing" because she sees herself as needing Mike's love to continue. Things are terrible for her in California, and her thoughts of Mike are apparently all that keeps her going. The thought of losing him, after losing so much already, fills her with despair, so she becomes more and more desperate. It is my solemn hope that she starts to see value in herself and her other relationships. A reunion with Hopper should do wonders to help her out, but it still leaves the underlying issue, a lack of self-worth and a fear of being alone ("I do not belong"). These issues largely come from her upbringing in the Lab, particularly when she was kept in isolation after the massacre. Hopefully, she is able to get some form of closure with Brenner, which might allow her to move on.

#stranger things 4 #eleven #jane hopper

[scrubdowner]

Just woke up from a dream where I was in some extremely fancy building that was mainly for aristocrats, but "commoners" could come in to marvel at the art galleries and eat at a restaurant inside. The eating area was very clearly separated into commoners and upper class by a railing. I was having lunch on the commoners side with a friend, and one of the fancy types who ran the place was showing presentation on a projector of new pieces in the gallery's collection.

At this point I'd like to mention that all of the fancy types were wearing like, 18th-19th century aristocrat garb, despite this being the modern day.

I was riffing on the paintings with the friend I was eating with, but writing notes down instead of talking so nobody else could tell what we were doing. One of us chuckled outside of "approved times," and they took our notes away.

After we were finished, someone pulled me aside and asked if I wanted to see the whole place. I said yes, and they brought me to a room where I was dressed up as to blend in with the aristocrats, as "commoners" couldn't see the whole building. The shoes they gave me had smooth leather treads and I was constantly sliding on the carpets and rugs that were everywhere.

After the costume change, I looked around and marveled at the incredible architecture. At some point, they had attached my joke notes to the art pieces that they were about in order to "mock the lower class's inability to understand art."

I looked around for a while longer, until a signal was given and the aristocrats all cheered and rushed towards the commoners entrance. Somehow, I knew that what they were doing was a final push to expel commoners and reinstate the divine right of kings. i immediately began looking for something I could do. I found a small counter that seemed to be a ticket exchange for an arcade, with a lot of sports equipment as prizes. I grabbed a hockey stick, and charged to the front to hit the fancy types from behind. I ended up "skating" on the carpet because of my slick leather shoes, and used to my advantage to slap the aristocrats in the face with the blade of the hockey stick until they gave up.

#mine #my dreams

[moregraceful]

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTRs72GbV/

They're infiltrating my TikTok fyp djfkfkdjd. Please tell me mr mustaches lore he has feral Travis konecny vibes and I've mentally adopted him.

- 💖

tiktok.

OH RYAN MERKLEY MY FAIL SON GONE TOO SOON (or not soon enough if you are waldorf and statler who sit behind me at cuda games.)

under a cut bc this got away from me (also this kinda reads like a eulogy....sorry)

so mr mustache is ryan merkley! merks is a 2018 first round draft pick who sadly never lived up to the hype and we recently yeeted him to colorado (at his request) in exchange for colorado's 2018 first round draft pick who also never lived up to the hype, and also the avs demanded matt nieto back for ej's mental health (we also got jacob macdonald with kauter, sorry for never hyping you up king.) on ice, merkley was an incredibly polarizing figure in the sharks fanbase because he sometimes showed real flashes of brilliance and true talent, but quite often suffered from extreme indecision, playmaking anxiety, and just a general inability to commit. he was meant to be an offensive dman in the style of erik karlsson but either through mismanagement, a failure to adapt to the sharks' systems, or just like, the hype not matching the talent, he panned out in the sharks org. i call the men who sit behind me waldorf and statler because my friend correctly identified the vibe: they spent like 70% of every game shit talking ryan merkley (not in a belligerent gross Hockey Man way, just like they'd be sitting there watching the game and every once in a while one of them would go "ahh ryan merkley you dumb motherfucker" very softly while merks failed to capitalize on a chance through his own indecision. again: incredibly polarizing figure in the sharks org, mostly in a bad way.)

i do genuinely hope the eagles rehab him because when he's good, he's really good! but in terms of playmaking, he just suffers a lot of indecision. he spent a pretty significant amount of time up with the sharks last year while their defense died a painful death but this year failed to get called up at all despite several injuries to the sharks d corps and eventually requested a trade in december. personally i think a change of scenery will be good for him and i really do hope he succeeds. i don't think the sharks system was a good fit for him and quite frankly we suck shit at developing prospects anyway so i'm willing to bet that not all of what happened in san jose was his fault.

however we're not here to talk about on ice playmaking, we're here to talk about blorbos. ryan merkley is a genuine freak who doesn't wear socks in his skates. one time my friend bunny overheard a woman at a barracuda thing call him "werewolfy" and that's just been lodged in my brain forever. he's listed at 5'11" but i saw him off ice once and there is NO fucken way he's over 5'10" AT BEST. i'm saying 5'9" and a half. he looks and acts like a small purse dog who will bite your ankles if you are not sufficiently enriching his enclosure. the past two seasons he lived in a house with four roommates and for my erotic imagines, he was sharing a room with my best boy nick cicek for two years (canoncially roommates but...roommates....) he did, despite his play, seem to be mostly well-liked in the locker room - guys were always bouncing off him and nick cicek liked to hug him. speaking of nick cicek because i always like to talk about nick cicek, when nick signed his first nhl contract, he took merks and "the boys" on a trip to mexico which is so hockey romantic i want to scream. also in their house of five people, they had three cars so like. imagine the possibilities. i do. the depression failure house this year was both strangely compelling (every single roommate was either perma-scratched at the cuda level, perma-scratched at the sharks level, or ryan merkley, and they are all having the SHITTIEST seasons) and deeply vibeless, possibly because no sharks reporter ever answered my emails requesting they ask if the boys shared a king sized bed like the gronkowskis and if they had roommate dinners. two of the five roommates were traded this month so fuck knows what morale is like in that house rn

merks liked to cause problems on purpose on ice like most of the cuda, however he always did it with a joie de vivre as opposed to a righteous fury or just chaos for chaos purposes. truly he'd start some scuffles and i'd be like oh buddy you just really wanted to be smashed against the wall by that man huh. (the tiktok you linked is a good example of that.) one time during a game against the ontario reign i actually picked up my phone mid-period and googled what team he had been drafted to bc he was flirting SO much with the reign players that i was doubting reality that he hadn't come out of the kings org. i think it was just deep familiarity from playing in the ahl so long. but YOU ARE CORRECT that this man is travis konecny-coded, but like, tk if he has a flirty streak that could NOT be beat down by anyone or anything. no ryan merkley could not shoot the puck to save his life but by god could he make the opposing team feel sexy outrage.

he has two sisters, an older and younger, and they both played canadian juniors and ncaa hockey, something i just learned right now while googling his stats. frankly him being a middle brother of two sisters makes so much sense to me bc he really does have middle brother with a skincare routine energy. his dad also played hockey but i really don't think we can call merks a nepo baby bc it was like, sunshine hockey league and colonial hockey league. the dad seems to have retired shortly before ryan's older sister was born.

this is speculation and conjecture but i do think there was probably some tension by the end of his run in san jose, given that he was healthy-scratched for 8 games in a row after requesting a trade (NOT our finest moment as a franchise and i'm actually pretty sad that that was how it ended for him in san jose bc you never really want a high draft pick go out with a whimper. like yes half the fanbase hated him or was sick of him at the very least, but i thought it sucked on a personnel level.) but he's off to greener pastures in loveland colorado, where the team vibe simply seems to be: we are fun and flirty and we will make that your problem. i think he will fit in and hopefully he succeeds and maybe nate mac makes him his pet project now that burakovsky is gone, who tf knows

to sum up, the ryan merkley experience is one of deep frustration and confusion, but some of this frustration and confusion is sexual. is he hot? can he shoot the puck? does he need to be housetrained? i have many questions and i hope i never get answers.

thank you for coming to my impromptu tedtalk! i also did not know i had this much to say about ryan merkley but uh. here we are.

cute 😤

#this is so long jesus christ and i don't even know if i said anything?? #i'm gonna go eat ice cream now #hockey for ts #cage replies #💖 anon

[off-the-deep-end]

In another case of I-didn’t-like-it-the-first-time-through-but-I’ve-made-a-complete-180: actually, Origin is bangin’.

I like the music and how the program utilizes the music! It adds to the elements and the elements add to it!

This may be the first time I really appreciated how organic Yuzu’s jumps and spins feel. He doesn’t really telegraph them; they naturally flow from the music and steps before.

Ugh. So good.

#both times I watched skate Canada 2019 #so idk why I didn’t like it the first time #I think it was because the costume had primed me to expect something completely different #like idk something like masquerade or poto #and I couldn’t get over the disconnect. #I do wonder how much of my inability to engage with yuzu’s programs comes from sky-high expectations #Seimei was really the only one that wowed me despite those expectations #it’s just so unique and different

[serosluv2]

★﹒₊‧oddly specific headcanons abt; SERO HANTA + his style

he's the gorgeous love child of Pete Davidson and Roderick Hefley.

also he's a benie/bucket hat enthusiast. he has like about 14 hats- 9 solid color ones and 5 logo type ones. he also wears a fanny pack but he wears it across his chest loosely.

finger boards... that's it. his little brothers once brought one home from on of their friends and he stole it and started getting really good at it. if you don't know what a finger board is then here

he's a really good skater and can do all sorts of bmx bike tricks

during the winter, the high school his mom taught at (see this hc) drained the pool there, so him and his friends would skate in the pool in middle school and he still does when he goes home for winter break. (idk if this is actually a skater thing, but my dad said he used to do it so)

he taught denki and mina how to skate. denki is shit but mina learns fast, she prefers roller blades tho.

he likes vegetables rather than fruits. also while at the skate park or during class denki and bakugou have those hot chips and sero pulls out his bag of celerey and carrots (cute boy)

was vegetarian until he got to ua and realized he kinda needed meat as a proteins source for hero training #sad also the meat/ protein substitutes were just wayyyy too expensive

he thinks he's a dog person but when his sister asks him to catsit for her while she's out of the country, he falls to the cat loving dark side.

despite his mom being an english teacher (again see this hc for background) he hates reading.

his whole family thinks he's had adhd or some variation bc his inability to focus was a big problem in his younger years, but now he's learned to... cope? manage? idk.

plant dad.

#🍊sero hanta #Wait i actually really lilike this new layout... #anyways more content for the sero x tag #sero x reader #mha headcanons #sero hanta #hanta sero #hanta sero fluff #sero hanta x y/n

[amjustagirl]

Notes: Title stolen from Song Of The Soul XXII by Khalil Gibran.

Companion piece: In the absence of sound (she hears her heart break)

Wrote this indulgent piece angst and fluff to reset after the very angsty The Astrophile (which took a lot of my own heart). As always, comments are gladly appreciated <3

Summary: Yaku bursts into her life like a hurricane, even whilst Akaashi lingers on like the memory of a summer breeze.

Pairings: Yaku x reader, Akaashi x reader

She runs into Yaku at the New Year’s Party the Japanese embassy in Moscow throws for expatriates (a fancy term to describe birds who’ve flown the coop after finding it unbearably small). He’s in the middle of chattering with a bemused waiter in very broken Russian about the spread when he explodes into a delighted laugh, so loud that she startles and spills her drink all over his shoes.

Pandemonium ensues – the restaurant staff scatter to fetch napkins and she’s trying to pick up the pieces of her broken glass, stammering out apologies (because dear god, her boss is going to have her head for upsetting a guest – especially one so prominent as Yaku Morisuke, the only Japanese volleyball player who broke into the Russian professional league), when his laugh cuts through the noise.

‘This was my favourite pair of shoes’ he tells her when he stops laughing, and she’s about to launch into a litany of apologies when he grins at her cheekily – ‘But you can make it up to me by buying me dinner instead’.

‘Now?’ she gapes at him in shock. ‘I can’t, I’m working’.

‘Whenever’, he answers, stealing her phone from her hands. ‘Look – here’s my number. Call me when you can’.

She’s left in shock, watching him in silence as he bounces off to join another conversation.

She texts him that night (because a deal is a deal, and she always pays her debts) and they arrange to meet the next day at a dumpling place he recommends.

She’s there five minutes early, and he bursts into the restaurant five minutes late, apologizing whilst complaining about goddamned Russian traffic. He orders for the both of them in such an excruciatingly terrible Russian accent that she winces, but he must have been here before because the waiter takes their order without batting an eye. The owner, a wizened old lady with apples in her cheeks swings by to smack kisses on his cheeks noisily.

‘It’s a little strange, but it’s the closest thing I can find to home’, he tells her when the waiter presents them with their dumplings with a flourish. It is indeed strange – the dumpling skin is thicker and doughier than she’s used to with Japanese  gyozas, stuffed with varying fillings of beef and pork and cheese, but his eyes are bright when she takes her first bite and gives a hum of appreciation because it is as he says, strange but good.

There is indeed an echo of home in her heart but she clamps it down firmly.

‘It’s good right?’ he asks and she nods mutely, mouth full of dumplings. He talks her ear away, telling her about his time in the Russian league, how he’s just made the first team this week. She learns he can’t remember a time when he doesn’t know the feel of a volleyball in his hands, and how he broke his mother’s heart when he chose to train outside of Japan, six thousand, four hundred and forty-eight miles away from home.  

He asks her why she’s in Moscow. She tells him she’s studied Russian as a child – her father, a math professor, believed it necessary for her and her sister to learn Russian, and while she’s never quite had a head for numbers, she takes to languages like a fish to water – and since she was looking for a new adventure, Moscow seemed like a good fit.

(She does not tell him she’s actually on the run from her broken heart)

‘You can teach me Russian then’, his words presumptuous, but there’s mirth and warmth flickering in his eyes that makes her hesitate to tell him off.

‘Maybe’, she responds with a shrug, standing up to pay the bill. To her surprise he lets her pay without a fight - very unlike Akaashi, who had only agreed grudgingly to allow her to split the bill on their first date.

‘It’s my turn to pay when we go out next time’, he tells her when they stand outside the restaurant about to part.

‘Will there be a next time?’ she asks him archly, and he pouts at her with puppy-dog eyes. He texts her less than five minutes after he takes his leave, inviting her to an ice skating rink.

To neither of their surprise, there is indeed, a next time, and a next time after that.

Yaku has an extremely sweet tooth, unlike Akaashi who prefers the bitterness of black coffee.

She tells him to drop in on her apartment after training (only if he’s up to it of course, she’s learnt that lesson from Akaashi after all). He does so without complaint, and she’s removing the pie from the oven when he lets himself in with the key he sweet-talked out of her.

‘Tadaima’, he calls cheerily, pressing a kiss to her cheek as he drops his gloves on the kitchen table. ‘Is that for me?’ he asks, gaping bug-eyed at the steaming pie in her hands.    

‘I don’t see anyone else it could be for’, she teases, setting the pie down on the table, cutting him a slice. The fruit seller at the corner of her street had a sale on apples, and she remembers Yaku telling her that he used to buy apple pie on the way to school every week, but would always end up giving it up to Kenma as a bribe to train harder during practice and finish running his laps.

He takes a bite and moans loudly even though he burns his tongue – it’s so good, a flaky, buttery crust hiding a jammy filling of caramelized apple and browned butter. It tastes like home in the fall when the leaves turn golden and red, when his mother brings home apples on discount from the store and he and his little brothers fight over the apples pastries his grandmother makes.

‘I love you’, he declares firmly, as he reaches for a second helping, and he pretends not to notice when she shrinks back and does not respond.

Yaku revels in public displays of affection - unlike Akaashi, who used to shy away from it.

‘I like your hair. Have you always kept it short?’ He asks her one day when they’re feeding ducks in the park near his house.

She laughs at him as he quacks exaggeratedly back at a very greedy duck chasing the bread in his hand and answers without thinking - ‘no, I cut it before I left Japan because I hear it’s what break-ups make you do’. Then she freezes, because this is the first time she’s ever alluded to Keiji to him – it’s a part of her life that she’d very much like to bury in a deep, dark vault and throw the key away.

But the expression on his face is very much like a cat eyeing a rat it’d like very much to trap and she’s right, he’s relentless (she should’ve known that, could’ve seen that from just watching one of his matches). As he walks her home, she finds herself telling him about Keiji - how his lack of affection and inability to step away from his job created a silence so still she heard her heart break.

When she finishes what she self-deprecatingly terms her tale of woe, he pulls her to a stop, ignoring the indignant protests of the people walking behind them. ‘What on earth, Mori’, she squawks, but he ignores her too, choosing instead to wind his hands into the ends of her scarf and tug her face to face with him. She does not want to look at him, does not want to see pity in his eyes – but there is none of that, only a quiet tenderness that warms her to her core.

‘I love you’, he tells her softly, and it’s a wonder she can hear every inflection of his voice through the rush of blood to her ears. ‘I will continue saying it as many times as you need, as loudly as I can until your heart is no longer broken and the silence is gone’.

Then, without an ounce of shame, he kisses her right in the middle of the busy street, completely oblivious to the glares of the people who pass them by.

Yaku is quick to anger, whereas Akaashi is the calm before the storm.

She’s told him again and again not to send her flowers – she swears she’s developed an allergy to them, the memory of Keiji sending her flowers every Friday even after they broke up sends bile up her throat (pink camellias for longing, violets for devotion, forget-me-nots for obvious reasons) – but Yaku doesn’t listen and sends her a bouquet of red roses for her birthday (for love).

So she screams at him when he pops by her flat after training –  because why on earth doesn’t he just listen to her, he knows she hates flowers, what on earth would possess him to send her flowers for her birthday, and he screams back that he does, damn it - but he’s not Keiji, he’s spent their entire time together trying to prove that, why can’t she just trust him for once.

Finally, he storms out shouting that he’ll come back when she’s calmed down, when she’s finally ready to forgive him for whatever Keiji has done – even though for the last goddamned time, he’s not bloody Keiji and she sinks to the floor, wondering why she’s allowed the ghost of Keiji to continue haunting her, six thousand, four hundred and forty-eight miles away from home.  

He’s right - it isn’t fair to him for her to keep comparing him to Keiji, to keep watching and waiting for him to slip up, not when he’s poured all his love and affection into her – into them . He’s not Keiji, never has been and never will be, and she wonders if this is the point his patience and kindness and love finally runs out.

But she’s not going to let another man she loves walk out of her life without a fight.

So she throws on her coat and climbs down the stairs, determined to march to Yaku’s apartment just a couple of streets away when she slams into him head-first at the corner of her street. ‘I’m sorry’ they both chorus immediately, and despite themselves, they break into a laugh.

‘I’m sorry for not listening’, he says, but she shakes her head, determined to say her piece. ‘You're right, it's my fault for not letting Keiji go. I should have figured this out earlier, but I know you’re not Keiji, you never have been, and I trust you never will be’.

And to drive the point home, thanking her lucky stars he’s not tall, she pulls him close by his collar and presses her lips to his. ‘I love you’, she whispers, when they finally come up for air. He looks at her like she just hung the stars up in the sky.

The next day, she presents him with a literal bushel of red roses, and he laughs at that - loud and clear and bright.

(The sound makes her heart feel whole again)

‘Why don’t you move with me’, Yaku asks her matter of factly through a mouthful of rice, at the end of her tirade about her awful landlord who just tried to stiff her by doubling her rent in less than a year with a month’s notice.

She stills, hand frozen halfway to her mouth. He does not swallow for fear of choking the mix of uncertainty and hope rising in his throat - because sometimes even though he promises to wait for her as long as she needs, he wonders if she’ll ever forget that he’s not her bloody ex – until he senses her relaxing her tense shoulders, and decides to close in for the kill.

‘Come on’, he wheedles. ‘We could even adopt a kitten so you won’t be lonely when I’m away for work’, and he laughs fondly when her face lights up. There we go.

‘You drive a hard bargain, but alright’, she pretends to grouse, but she laughs along with him when he triumphantly presses his lips to her cheek, dodging her swats when she scolds him for leaving grains of rice on her face.

They adopt a black kitten from the shelter and they name him ‘Kuroo’.

Much like its namesake, their cat is a piece of shit and contrary as hell. He doubles over in laughter when he comes home one day to find her chasing Kuroo (the cat, not the middle blocker) around the house, furniture upended everywhere. He later understands through her huffs that she meant to give him a bath.

He sends endless pictures of Kuroo (again, the cat and not the middle blocker) to the Nekoma groupchat and they all fall head over heels in love. Kai sends him advice on how to grow catnip in an apartment. Fukunaga asks to video call the cat more than he texts him. Shibayama and Inouka ship a box of clothes for the cat because they’re worried it won’t survive the Russian winter. The worst offenders are Kenma who sets up social media accounts for it, and bloody international supermodel Lev who pours oil on flames by tagging the damn cat on his own posts. Yaku is alarmed to wake up one day and find that his cat is more popular than him.

Well, all of them save for its namesake, who threatens to retaliate by naming his dog ‘Yaku’.

He gets drafted onto the National Team, and he’s elated until he realizes that he’ll have to spend months away from her.

‘It’s fine’, she reassures him. ‘Kuroo will keep me company while you’re back home’. The little demon licks its ass and looks intolerably smug when he shoots a glare at it behind her back, because he knows damn well the cat is going to take advantage of his absence to take over his side of the bed.

He extracts a promise from her to call him every day (screw the time difference, seriously) and he in turn promises to send her tickets to watch him play. Then he packs his bags and flies back to Tokyo.

It’s nostalgic being back in his childhood home. The posters from his teenage years are still on his bedroom walls (gods – he was such a horny bastard back then), and his mother smothers him with his favourite foods and far too much attention. But he lays awake at night thinking of their little apartment filled with the smell of her baking and the sound of her singing and realizes he misses  Kuroo - again, the cat, not the middle blocker, who’d miss him - despite its despicable way of stalking him while he takes a shit and most of all - he misses  her.

He figures he has it bad when he starts turning down his grandmother’s apple pastries because they remind him too painfully of the apple pies she makes after either of them have had a hard day at work, and wonders when he started thinking of Moscow and the little apartment he shares with her as  home.

But he soldiers on because playing for Japan is his dream (and has been, ever since he first learnt the thrill of keeping the ball in flight with his hands), and gets by on video calls and texts and pictures of Kuroo and the promise of dumplings and apple pies when he comes home.

He makes the mistake of mentioning that he has a girlfriend in Miya Atsumu’s earshot after practice one day.

‘You have a girlfriend?’ the piss-haired setter asks in disbelief. ‘You? Mr bossy - under five foot five – libero-chan managed to land himself a girl that’s willing to tolerate him?’

‘Just because you have an issue keeping girls from running away from you doesn’t mean the rest of us can’t find girlfriends’, Sakusa interjects flatly, face firmly masked up, trusty bottle of sanitizer pointed in Atsumu’s direction.

Yaku is about to claw Atsumu’s eyes out when Hinata prances by and asks to see a picture of said girlfriend. Growling, he whips out his phone, and is mollified when the rest of the team crowds around and pronounces her to be very pretty. Everyone – except Atsumu, who sulks in a corner, sneering that he could do better (no he can’t - he really can’t get a girl to save his life), and Bokuto, who corners him later when he’s about to leave.

‘She used to date Akaashi, you know?’ Bokuto tells him solemnly, a marked departure from his usual jovial self. ‘They broke up on a pretty bad note’.

Yaku does not in fact know, because she’s never mentioned her ex-boyfriend’s last name, always opting to refer to him as ‘Keiji’, a fairly popular name for guys their age. ‘Oh?’ he replies, and tries his best to sound encouraging and not derisive or threatening or whatever it is that Atsumu has accused him of over the past few weeks of training.

‘Yeah. She’s a nice girl, I met her once or twice, but between you and me, I don’t think Akaashi is really over her’.

Too bad for him, he wants to say but doesn’t, because despite whatever Atsumu might say about him, he’s tactful, thank you very much, and knows it’s probably not the best idea to badmouth his teammate’s best friend to his face, especially a teammate he likes as much as Bokuto. Instead, he stuffs his shoes in his bag, shrugging and grunting noncommittally before heading off.

He doesn’t mention this to her during their nightly video calls. He tells himself it’s because he doesn’t want them to have to talk about him being an old acquaintance with her idiot ex over a call, their time together is too precious to be tainted by any mention of him. But there’s a part of him that wonders if it’s because he’s afraid that she’ll bump into Akaashi when she’s back in Japan and he might convince her to let him sweep her away. Akaashi is tall, dark and handsome, and most definitely smarter and more educated after all - a better match for her than him, an idiot that chases balls for a living.

But then her laughter chimes through his phone’s speakers as he pouts when she carries Kuroo to the screen to ask if he misses his daddy (the traitorous hell spawn refuses to even look at him) and it banishes the shadow of his doubts away. It’s as clear as day that she loves him, ball chasing idiot Yaku Morisuke.

He falls asleep to the sound of her humming his favourite songs.

She flies to Japan with their cat in tow a week before the Olympics and even though he’s moved into the Olympic dorms by then, he sneaks out to meet her for dinner as often as he can. Atsumu catches him once and grumbles something about  ‘hypocritical bossy know-it-alls’  - but shuts up when Yaku turns up for practice the next day and is too busy grinning ear to ear to yell at him for flubbing an easy receive as he usually does.

When he finally steps onto the court for his first match, it’s easy to get carried away, because the light bearing down on the court is brighter than any game he’s played in before, and the roar of the home crowd is so loud he swears the tremors in his feet are from the floor - but he doesn’t. Because there’s a girl in the VIP stands shouting his name, and maybe it’s childish of him, but he has something to prove - he wants to make her proud.

And he does, because they win.

The entire team is in the locker room when he hears the clatter of familiar footsteps, then a shrieked ‘Mori’ before she tackles him into a bone-crushing hug. Atsumu barks at her ‘not to break our dear libero-chan’, but neither of them pay him any mind - she doesn’t even care that he’s literally dripping in sweat and snot and tears - because they won, they won, they won  -

Then he looks up and sees Akaashi staring at them. Ah. The idiot ex-boyfriend has to ruin their moment.

Just as he’s wondering whether his fist should meet Akaashi’s eye or nose first, Bokuto swings by at the moment to distract her. She’s so excited at seeing a familiar face that she disengages herself from their hug and throws her arms around Bokuto instead. Yaku thinks that Bokuto is probably a lot smarter than most people give him credit for as Akaashi approaches him, his hand outstretched.

‘Take care of her’, Akaashi says with a bittersweet smile on his lips. ‘You’re a lucky man’.

He pauses briefly to glance at her - and gods she’s radiant even as she’s chattering away to Bokuto, her eyes sparkling, the light shining softly on her hair -  fuck, Atsumu’s right, he’s whipped - and tries to imagine a world where she slips through his hands. Suddenly, the twisted knot of spite in his chest unravels, and he can only feel the dregs of pity pooling in his belly. He's not blind, he can recognise the look of wistful regret on the taller man’s face, and he's certainly not deaf - he suspects that if he listens hard enough, he can hear Akaashi’s heart break.

I know, I’m lucky to have her - he wants to say but does not because that would mean twisting a knife in an already broken man. Instead, he steps forward to take Akaashi’s hand.

‘Always’, he promises firmly. Akaashi inclines his head in thanks.

Her heart is safe in my hands.

She returns to Russia first, and he follows a few weeks later, after a whirlwind of awards and press interviews.

He breaks into a run when he sees her standing at the arrivals gate with a bouquet of red roses and a cheeky grin on her face. ‘You’re rubbing it in at this point’, he pretends to pout, but rather spoils its effect when he swings her into his arms.

She cooks dumplings for dinner and there’s an apple pie waiting for him in the oven. His jaw drops in surprise when the dumplings taste exactly like his mother’s cooking. ‘I learnt it from your mum while you were at training, in case you already miss home’, she teases.

‘But with you, I am home’, he responds, his voice earnest and low. She flushes pink and blushes bright red when he carries her off to bed.

She is his home now, she and their cat in their little flat in Moscow bursting at its seams with apple pies and dumplings and  love .

‘I want this to be my forever’, he tells her later, laying his head in her lap. His heart skips a beat, waiting for her response.

‘So do I’, she finally replies, running her hands through his hair. Her heart hums quietly, finally in safe hands.

#haikyuu angst #haikyuu #haikyuu fic rec #haikyuu imagines #haikyu x reader #haikyuu!! #haikyuu! #yaku morisuke #yaku morisuke x reader #nekoma #akaashi keiji #akaashi keiji x reader #akaashi angst #akaashi imagine #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu romance

[deiliamedlini]

Slipping on Ice

Summary: Link is forced to take his little sister Aryll ice skating at 7am, and they suddenly have to share the rink.

~Modern Zelink AU ~

Word count: 4644

Or read on Ao3!

~~

“Link, you missed the turn!”

Aryll sat forward from the backseat and tried to point frantically at the road, only for the seatbelt to lock and send her backwards. There were several loud clicks, and she closed her eyes in defeat before Link could say a single smart word, because now she was stuck with the seatbelt completely trapping her.

“Can I fix my seatbelt?”

“No. We’re almost there. Suck it up.”

“You’re mean!” she groaned, leaning her head on the window.

Link glanced at her in the rearview mirror before making a U turn into the near-empty parking lot.

He leaned his head back against the hard headrest and closed his eyes, wishing he hadn’t promised his mother that he’d do anything if she let him go to a party over the weekend. He was 18, he shouldn’t even need to ask permission anymore.

“Come on! Come on! Come on!!” Aryll chanted, shaking the driver’s seat with her little hands.

“One day, Aryll, you’ll actually want to sleep in, and then I’ll wake you up to drag you somewhere stupid.”

“Nowhere is stupid!” she countered, whipping her door open and leaning against the window to eerily peer at him.

Glancing at the clock, he rolled his eyes. It was 6:58am and here he was spending the first day of his week-long vacation taking Aryll ice-skating. He double checked his wallet to make sure the 30 rupees his mother had given him were still there and then reluctantly dragged himself from the car.

Aryll was bursting with excitement, bouncing up and down as her plush coat swished with every excited move she made. She pulled her gloves from her pocket—her favorites that had seagulls on them despite the cold—and fiddled to get her fingers in as she stared into the glass door, waiting for whoever to unlock the doors.

Link, on the other hand, was miserable. He was so tired. He wasn’t one of those people who could function with a coffee and just 4 hours of sleep, so he closed his eyes for the next two minutes while leaning against the metal handrail. It didn’t feel cold; everything was cold. Why Aryll wanted to go to an indoor ice rink was beyond him, but he didn’t really care whether it was indoor, outdoor, or on the moon: he didn’t want to go.

“Fix your hat, Link,” she said to him, tapping on her own. She made a twisting motion.

Feeling for the emblem of the Rito Fliers on his knit hat, he pulled it off and retied his sloppily thrown-in ponytail before returning the hat so that the emblem was back in the center.

Finally, the employee came up to the door and stared at Link with equally weary eyes. Link didn’t recognize him, but honestly, he could have been at the party too, given his age and his general disposition that seemed ready to just die a little bit.

He let out a heavy sigh and unlocked the door.

Aryll didn’t even give him enough time to get out of the way before she’d accosted him.

“Hi! One adult and one child please! And we’ll need to rent skates!”

“I’m not skating,” Link muttered, grabbing the rupees. If he could avoid the skate rental and the admission fee, he could pocket the rest of the rupees.

Aryll glared at him as though he’d just told her that he’d killed her best friend. “You’re skating with me, or I’ll tell mom and dad that you didn’t. I’ll call them right now!”

Grimacing, Link handed over the rest of the rupees and told the man their sizes before turning toward Aryll’s smug expression. “No one wants to be friends with a dirty rat, you know.”

“I’m not dirty. And I haven’t told anyone yet, so I’m not technically a rat either.”

“No one wants to be friends with a smart mouth.”

“At least I’m smart.”

He made a face and leaned heavily against the counter until the guy returned with their skates. Link took them while Aryll bolted through the doors and into the rink.

It was freezing.

The chill hadn’t been enough to wake him up, but it was enough to make him a bit more alert. He looked around the deserted room, his footsteps echoing in the silence and making him more self-conscious than he already was about being here. What if Mipha saw him here? Would she laugh at him for his inability to skate? Would she make fun of him for spending the first day of his vacation with his little sister? Would she even notice he was there?

Not that any of that mattered. Mipha was dating Revali.

It was just a crush. On the most popular girl in school. Who was also gorgeous. But he’d never even said three words to her, so why would she care if he was here anyway?

“Hey! Link! Come on! Give me my skates!”

Shaking his head to snap himself out of it, he descended the stairs and tossed Aryll’s skates in front of her.

“Rude.”

“That’s for making me actually skate and blackmailing me.”

“I’ve seen you skate, Link. If you can even call it skating. It’s more like shuffling.”

“Shut up.”

Aryll grinned while she slid into her skates, testing them out before heading to the door onto the ice.

“Hey, wait!” Link called, gesturing to the spot in front of him.

“What?”

Link set his shoes down and knelt on the ground. “Put your foot up. It’s like mom never taught you to tie shoes.”

Groaning, Aryll threw her head back and set her skate against Link’s leg so he could retie it. The force that he pulled at the strings had her jerking back in surprise, and nearly toppling over, but she kept her balance and watched Link as he knotted the laces a few times. Admittedly, it did feel like a better fit when he was done.

“Other one.”

He shook his head as he pulled the loose strings. “Honestly, I thought you knew what you were doing.” He pulled the laces and Aryll swayed again.

“I do! I’m just… not the best shoe-tier.”

Satisfied, he patted the side of her foot. “Okay; go ahead. I’ll be out in a minute. But you know you’re kind of on your own, right?”

“Oh, I know!” she laughed, finally gliding onto the ice with an ease that Link was reluctant to admit he envied.

He put his own skates on slowly, glancing up every now and then to make sure Aryll hadn’t cracked her head open or anything terrible like that. He’d have no idea how to get to her if something happened, but she had been adamant that her classes made her good enough to know how to fall and how to jump and how to glide.

No one else knew how to ice skate, so sending Link was as good as sending anyone else with her. Plus, despite their occasional snippiness, Link would protect Aryll with his life, and their parents knew that enough to trust him alone with her at an ice rink. He’d find a way onto that ice faster than someone could call an ambulance.  

Link let out a deep breath again and set his phone inside his shoe before standing up. It wasn’t as bad as he remembered. He could do this, for sure.

That attitude went out the window the second his first skate hit the ice.

“Oh, shit,” he hissed, already unsteady with one foot still on land. Land? Is that what it was called now?

“Sound carries in here!” Aryll chided, swishing by him tauntingly.

He waited until she was on the opposite side of the rink before clutching the boards for dear life, throwing his other foot over and slipping like was… on ice, he supposed. His feet couldn’t stabilize, and it was all up to his arms to hold him up until he managed to regain his balance.

Sliding his hand along the boards, he pulled himself as far as he could until the plexiglass took over, and he was forced to slide his fingers into the narrow gap for any grip.

He hadn’t lifted his legs yet, but he was where the net would be in hockey, so he let go for a second and glanced back at Aryll. “Better than you thought I could do, huh?”

She skated up to him and then turned herself backwards, judging him with her arms across her chest as she disappeared.

“Critic,” he muttered, trying to lift his foot. He could only manage to get his right off the ground, and he kept trying to dig the front of his skate into the ice to push himself forward, because that’s what everyone in those videos Aryll made him watch with her last night did. He managed a shuffle, and every time he felt himself going, he grabbed for that little spot under the glass to steady himself, and then dragged himself along.

“You really suck,” Aryll said on her next pass.

“Hey! Language! You’re like, five!”

“I’m not five!” she called back. It was a running joke between them because Link needed to do math to figure out Aryll’s age. He always had to subtract six years from his own age to figure hers out, but she still seemed younger to him. Maybe she’d always be that way just because he was the oldest. Maybe, she’d be in her thirties one day and Link would still think she was a teenager.

It took a long time and several taunts from Aryll, but Link made it around the whole rink once, while Aryll had probably circled it nearly two hundred times. He’d gone around again, but he was stopped, watching Aryll practice her jumps when he heard the echo of footsteps entering the rink.

It was a public place, he knew, but they’d gone early to avoid people, not to share.

But wow, any semblance of annoyance he had disappeared when he saw the girl hurrying down the steps with a gym bag slung over her shoulder.

She had long blonde hair that fell over her shoulders, and really that was all Link could see from that distance, but he did have a thing for blondes, and that was all he needed to feel an instant infatuation. But of course, his nerves shot up tenfold because now there was a hot blonde who’d watch him not know how to skate and probably fall on his ass.

He dragged himself around a bit more, trying to just keep his eyes on his feet instead of on her, but he was a sucker and glanced up.

She was watching Aryll with a fond smile on her face before she stood up and moved onto the ice.

Link shivered while he looked her over. She had a loose short-sleeved shirt on, her sports bra straps showing on her shoulders, and she was in a pair of leggings that hugged her a little too perfectly. He groaned to himself. She had to be hot. Physically, not temperature wise because honestly, she looked like she might be pretty cold.

After pulling himself along a little more—and then trying to shuffle his feet rather than drag himself like he was trying to lead a stubborn horse—he needed to pause to rest. So, he watched Aryll and the girl skate around the rink.

The girl neared him as she was making a turn around the rink, like a warmup, and smiled shyly at him when she noticed his gaze on her.

Shit. She probably didn’t want to be watched just as much as he didn’t. And Goddess, her eyes had been so green they’d nearly made him do a double take. But no! No double takes! She didn’t want to be watched!

It wasn’t until he heard Aryll’s loud “Whoa!” that he looked back out, clutching the boards again as he whipped his head and lost his balance. He expected to see Aryll on the ground, but she was just watching the other girl in awe. And honestly, so was Link.

She was spinning, but not like a normal person. Her arms were tucked against her chest and she spun like those people on the television who competed for medals and awards.

Her arms went out gracefully as she ended it like it was no big deal. Like she didn’t look like someone had just perfectly spun a coin.

She smiled at Aryll, and Goddess above, her smile was gorgeous and inviting and why did she have to be here?

The girl then leaped, some sort of near perfect split in the air before landing and sending Aryll another grin.

“How do you do that?” Aryll asked.

“Aryll!” Link called, chastising her. “Let the lady practice in peace.”

“No, it’s okay with me if it’s okay with you,” she said, stopping just in front of him.

Oh, she was so much prettier up close: freckles that scattered along her face, her long hair tied back into a much better ponytail than his own, glowing skin, impressive muscles. And she wasn’t too bad in the… no, he had to keep his eyes up! Only to be captured in her green ones. Expectant.

“What?” he asked, realizing that she was waiting for an answer from him, but entirely forgetting the question.

“I don’t want to talk to her or help her out if you’re not okay with it. That’s all. You are with her, right?”

“Yeah,” he said quickly, looking at Aryll’s clear eavesdropping expression as she pretended to be distracted, though her eager face gave her away. “Yeah, go ahead. She likes all that… spinning stuff.”

The girl bit her lip to stop herself from giggling at ‘spinning stuff.’ Goddess, he was stupid. What a stupid thing to say to someone who clearly knows what they’re doing.

He kept shuffling, trying in earnest now to block out their conversation so he could focus on the simple task of going forward.

His attention was torn between making sure Aryll wasn’t being kidnapped and wondering how he’d ever cross the rink to save her if she was. But all he saw was the girl demonstrating something before Aryll tried it, and the girl’s face lit up as she clapped in encouragement.

The entrance of the rink was back in his sight, so he was less concerned about watching Aryll and more focused on his feet.

Which is why he didn’t see the girl until she was right in front of him.

“You should move away from the boards and look up rather than at your feet. It’ll help.”

Even her voice was gorgeous. Goddess above…

“I’ll fall,” he said simply, his hand still on the board.

“Yeah. You have to fall.”

“You haven’t fallen and you’re doing all those… spins. So I don’t think that logic works.”

The girl skated backwards in front of him. “Do you really think I haven’t fallen?”

“No, of course not,” he muttered. Someone who was that good had to have learned through a few spills over the years.

“Then trust me. Look up and get away from the boards. Stop worrying about falling.”

She skated back over to Aryll, demonstrating something else for his sister to try.

With their attention diverted, he pushed away from the boards and kept his eyes on the wall straight ahead.

And promptly felt his skates slide away from him, wide and uneven, throwing him entirely off balance until he hit the ice with a hard thud.

Knowing that both their eyes were on him now, he tried to get to his feet quickly, but that only ended with him slipping and hitting his chin on the ground. So, face burning with utter embarrassment, he rested his forehead against his arm so he could scream internally for a hot second before trying again.

When he looked up, the girl was crouched down in front of him. “Do you need help?”

He could either: stay on the ice like a flattened pancake, or let the hot girl realize that he really is an embarrassment for being unable to get to his own feet.

Looking back at her, he was struck by how she didn’t smile. She wasn’t laughing at him, or enjoying his pain. She wasn’t pitying him either. She just looked… like this was normal.

“Y-yeah,” he found himself saying, taking her outstretched hand.

He shuddered at the contact of her skin on his. She helped him flip onto his stomach and then to his knees before she pulled him up. “Is this your first time skating?”

Lie, or tell the truth?

Something about her wide, earnest green eyes had him sucking up his pride. “No, I just suck.”

“Everyone sucks at the beginning. Once you get it, you’ll be flying like the Rito,” she laughed, tapping the emblem on his hat. Then she blushed furiously, her whole face turning a shade of pink as she let go of his hand and moved backwards. “Sorry. Personal space issues sometimes when I’m on the rink.”

“No, it’s okay,” he muttered, unable to get his voice any louder. His hands were out to steady himself, but he slipped again, landing on his knee.

This time, she did smile, but it was soft and she held her hand out again.

“Your sister could teach you. She said she’s been taking skating lessons for a while.”

Scoffing harshly, Link shook his head and glanced at Aryll, who was blissfully making loops around the rink, unconcerned with them. But he took her hand again.

This time, she didn’t let go. She shook it. “I’m Zelda.”

He glanced at their clasped hands and raised his eyebrows, shocked that she was even telling him her name. “Link.”

She gave him a tug before letting go of him, letting him coast in the momentum. “So, you… um… go to school around here?”

He looked back at his feet so they didn’t get away from him, but he heard Zelda tsk, so he looked back at her. “Yeah. I’m in my last year at Faron High.”

Her smile broadened. “I’m in my last year at Labrynna!”

Hot, kind, and his own age.

Link took her in, suddenly feeling guilty; as much as he wanted to fall again just so she’d offer her hand one more time, he didn’t know her. “I’m sorry for taking up your time. Thanks for helping.”

“I don’t mind,” she said, glancing at Aryll for a while. “I’m always here, so it’s nice to have a different morning. And I like meeting new people.”

And just like that, the guilt faded away from him. “Always here? You a professional skater?”

“Not professional,” she said, offering her hand again. “I’ve done competitions.”

This time, he didn’t know why she was offering, so he hesitated before getting sucked in by her genuine smile. She tugged him again and he started to glide with her again.

He chuckled and kept his eyes off his feet. “You good at it?” Zelda raised an eyebrow, so he quickly waved his hands. “I-I mean, you looked incredible, but anyone who can move forward deserves a medal in my eyes. So, my comparisons aren’t great.”

Zelda bit her lip and shrugged. “I’ve done well.”

That, Link knew, was code for ‘yes, I’m very good,’ but from someone far humbler than himself.

After checking on Aryll, Zelda nodded to herself as she looked over Link. “You’re doing better already.”

“I am?” he asked, glancing at his feet.

Which, of course, sent him lurching forward until he hit the ice.

Zelda giggled this time, covering her mouth to try to stifle it. “I’m sorry! I threw off your focus!”

Link groaned and made it halfway to his feet before taking her hand this time. Well, he was getting better at falling anyway.

She didn’t let go.

Instead, she held out her other hand. “I can help keep you balanced so you can try moving your feet.”

One more hit, and Link was sure he’d wake up from this dream. Because what was even happening right now?

Well, if this was a dream, might as well go for it. And if it wasn’t… what could he do that’s more embarrassing than he’d already done?

So, he took her hand.

She pulled him with her for a moment before gesturing to his feet. “You should try… you know… skating.”

“Right,” he said, admittedly holding her a little tighter as he tried to push off the ice but stumbled.

She steadied him, but before he knew it, she was clicking her tongue at him again. “Link, stop looking at your feet.”

The sound of his name on her lips had his head jerking up far faster than he meant to. He was like an eager puppy, and he knew it.

Once they’d gone around a little more, Zelda loosened her grip. “I’m going to let go. Keep going. You’re doing really good.”

He blew out some air as she released him, and his arms shot out to his sides to keep him steady. But he was doing it. He was going forward.

He couldn’t help the triumphant little laugh that escaped from his lips.

“So, you’re not hopeless after all!” Aryll said as she skated beside him. “It’s taken him forever to figure this out! I even tried to show him videos yesterday.”

Defensive, Link glared at Aryll. “I tried to do it their way. But I couldn’t figure out the toe thing.”

Zelda raised an eyebrow again. “Toe thing?”

“Yeah, they kept pushing off with their toe or something, but I can’t get it.”

Goddess, Zelda was perfect, because she lifted her foot up to show off her skate while still skimming backwards in front of him. “This thing?” she asked, pointing to a sharp barb looking thing in the front of the blade.

“Yeah, they pushed off with that, but I couldn’t figure out how to do it.”

Zelda laughed again as she set her foot down. “These are for figure skating. The ones you have on are for hockey. No toe pick. They’re different.”

“They are?” he asked, trying—and failing—to get a good look at his own skates. “I thought they were all the same.”

“They’re not,” she said, her cheeks pinching her eyes with her smile. “You know, you’ve been skating this whole time without falling.”

“It’s a miracle,” Aryll muttered.

Link turned to her with a glare. “You’d better watch it, because when I get really good, I’m going to pick you up and throw you across the ice, and you better know how to stick that landing or you’ll end up on your ass.”

“First off, language,” Aryll huffed. “Second off, that sounds fun, so go ahead.”

He scoffed and playfully pushed her, though it did little more than throw him off balance for a moment. And when he looked up, he could see that people were starting to come into the rink quickly.

Zelda sighed and watched them with a sad expression. “I know them. They always just completely take over the ice. It’s a pain.”

Link finally stopped moving when he saw who it was. Mipha, Revali, and their friends were laughing boisterously as they took their seats in the bleachers to get their skates on.

Zelda looked between them and Link. “Do you know them?”

“Kind of. They go to my school, but we don’t talk.”

Zelda stared at them, specifically at Mipha, before muttering to herself. “Wow. She’s really pretty. I’d kill to look like her.”

Looking Zelda  over, Link was glad that Aryll had taken a turn around the rink without them. Because he didn’t think he’d have the courage to say anything if she’d been around as his audience.

“I know a stranger’s opinion isn’t worth anything but… personally, I prefer blondes.”

Whipping around, an incredulous look on her face, Zelda lost her balance and fell back onto the ice. She barely seemed like she noticed, pulling her legs up to her so she could stare open mouthed at Link until she regained her composure.

Her face was bright red, and she couldn’t quite meet Link’s eyes as she laughed to herself. But finally, she worked up to it and her gaze had him pinned.

“Yeah, I do too.”

Link nodded nervously before he started to chuckle and held his hand out to help her up.

She took it as a courtesy, but got up on her own so she didn’t pull him down when he’d spent so long getting his balance.

This time, when their hands lingered too long, the energy between them was palpable, and both of them were blushing.

Aryll skated up to them. “I’m hungry. Can we go to Windy’s?”

Link glanced apologetically at Zelda, and she followed them back to the gate, watching as they both pulled at the laces in much the same aggressively impatient manner. It had her grinning.

“You know,” she said when Link stood up. “I’m here at 7:30 whenever there isn’t school. I’ll be here tomorrow, if Aryll would like some more help.”

Her eyes were distinctively flirty, and Link was beyond glad that Aryll was still too young to recognize it, because she gasped in excitement. “Can we, Link?”

He didn’t look at Aryll, too entranced by Zelda’s blatant invitation. “We’ll ask mom, but if she says you can, I’ll bring you. If not… I might just come here alone.” His lips tipped up, and he prayed that the red in his cheeks and down his neck just looked like it was from the cold.

“No fair! But mom will say yes if you’re bringing me so she can go back to sleep!”

Link didn’t even realize how awake he’d become since Zelda came into the rink.

Zelda pushed a loose piece of hair behind her ears that had come free in her fall. “Okay then. I’ll see you both tomorrow. For lessons.”

Aryll beamed. “Maybe you can come for lunch with us tomorrow?”

Zelda bit her lip and looked over at Link, who was now staring at the floor so she couldn’t see his expression. But she thought he was cute when he was nervous. “Link? What do you think?”

Forced to look up at her, he knew she could see how eager he was to just straight out say yes. It was all over his face, and burning in his eyes. “If you’d like to,” he said carefully. “I have no objections.” He finished sliding his normal shoes back on before standing up.

“Okay. I look forward to it. I’ll see you tomorrow Aryll. Link.”

He stepped forward, a little too close to where she leaned on the board. “Zelda.”

Her mouth dropped into a smile as he used her name for the first time.

Link patted Aryll’s shoulder to lead her up the stairs before taking one more look behind him at Zelda.

They were halfway up the steps when Link pointed to Aryll. “Do not tell mom that there is a pretty girl involved.”

But Aryll smiled. “Your voice carries, Link.”

Spinning around on the stairs, he saw Zelda beaming as she giggled. But she—thankfully—pushed off the board and twirled once before skating away, her eyes on them until she no longer could see where they stood.

And when Link glanced at Mipha as they passed, and he felt that his infatuation with her had faded to near nothing from the time he’d gotten out of the car to the time he got into it once again. He knew he was doomed. because the only one on his mind now was Zelda.

He’d never been more excited to set an early alarm.

#legend of zelda #LoZ AU #modern au #ice skating #link #zelda #aryll #zelink #happy fic #for once! #was this inspire by my inability to ice skate? yes. #I'm sorry the title sucks but I could think of NOTHING #This is another 6am oneshot that I forgot to post the day I wrote it #oneshot #writing

[jetaime-jespere]

Under The Weather

Some pointless fluff that's been floating around my head for a few days. Also on ao3 🙂

It’s not the usual alarm clock that wakes her this time - the tauntingly peaceful melody that she now associates with being ousted from a dream every morning.

In fact, Emily is hardly awake. Her eyes are still sealed shut, she’s still nestled under the covers because the thought of moving is almost unbearable. Even in her sleep induced haze, the only thing she’s fully aware of is just how shitty she feels, like every part of her body has somehow teamed up against her in unison. What started last night as a subtle headache is now accompanied by a persistent rawness in the back of her throat. The same pain has crept in to settle behind her eyes, and now radiates around her head, like a pair of gnarled hands wrapped and clenched around her brain. But that isn’t the only thing - everything just hurts. Her limbs feel like lead, her throat is now on fire, lips cracked and chapped from the winter air. Her mouth is dry as dust as she grapples for the glass of water Aaron had left on her nightstand hours ago - something he’s done since they moved in together.

Cracking one eye open takes monumentally more effort than it should. The wind rattles against the windows, whistling through the bitterly cold February morning and Emily groans at the prospect of even moving from the safety of their warm bed. A glance at the clock tells her it’s 5:40. Aaron’s side is empty, the sheets cooled, but she can hear the steady pulse of the shower, see the steam curling out from under the door. The cloying pull of sleep is too consuming, the glass of water all but forgotten as Emily groans. The notion of having to get up in less than a half an hour is making her stomach roil in protest.

Instead, she burrows herself deeper into the blankets, wishing somehow this day would somehow restart itself. Her eyelids are too heavy to stay open, even though the looming reality of her alarm hovers over her, along with the daunting challenge of making it through the day. Emily remembers the stack of unfinished case reports left on her desk from yesterday, abandoned in the wake of remembering Ava’s ballet class just a few minutes too late to be early for once. That’s about the time the headache started, subtle enough to temporarily ignore as their daughter happily chattered away in the backseat, little legs kicking against the leather upholstered seat - a story about unicorns and fairies, one Emily could probably retell herself she’s heard it so many times. If only she knew then.

The next thing she’s aware of is Aaron bending down to kiss her awake, fresh from the shower and half dressed in an undershirt, his skin still damp as he murmurs good morning . The whiff of eucalyptus soap and his mouthwash only makes her dizzy as she all but pushes her husband away from her with an ill attempted protest against his affection. “Five more minutes,” she croaks. “S’tired.”

“Sweetheart?” Aaron questions even though he doesn’t have to. He’s no stranger to her indifference to early mornings, the way her arms wind around his neck to pull him close most days when he wakes her with the same kisses, the same sweet nothings in her ear. On the rare occasion when they have more time, he ends up back in bed with her, making the most of a few precious moments. Those mornings are his favorites - the ones where he gets to press her into the mattress, get her leg over his shoulder, seal his mouth against hers to muffle the moans he hasn’t grown tired of hearing even years after he first heard them. But this is different. He figures it out immediately, knuckles brushing against her flaming cheek, skin clammy under his touch.

“Hmmph?” Emily shrugs out from under his touch, the cool hand on her burning forehead a reminder of just how awful she feels. “Five more minutes and I’ll get up.”

Aaron laughs softly, already reaching for his phone on the dresser. “Not a chance.”

“I’ll be fine in a half hour.” It’s a futile attempt; Aaron knows her better than she knows herself by now. Emily doesn’t get sick often, maybe once every few years. But when she does, it hits hard and fast, rendering her inherently useless for a day or two, and they’re all a little thrown off kilter without her. Even though her eyes are closed she can practically see him making arrangements - school dropoff and pickup, soccer practice for Jack, ice skating lessons for Ava. It’s also a Wednesday, the one day a week he spends mostly in meetings as unit chief. It’s the day she picks up more slack around the house, handles the after school activities in addition to her own professional responsibilities. It’s a routine they’ve perfected through trial and error over time.

“You weren’t yourself last night,” he sinks down beside her, his weight dipping the mattress down as he pushes some hair from her face. “You barely touched your dinner. You fell asleep with the light on,” he adds pointedly, pressing his lips to his wife’s forehead for confirmation. “And you definitely have a fever.”

“Do not,” she argues. It’s becoming harder and harder to challenge him, a battle she knows she’ll ultimately lose. There’s no way he’ll let her out the door let alone into the BAU at this point. Despite the sweat that trickles down her back, her teeth chatter together.

Aaron wraps her into his arms, aware of how she melds against his chest as she seeks the warm comfort of his body. “Do too.” His tone is light, which only manages to frustrate her more. “And you’re staying home today. Don’t even try to argue with me.”

Emily attempts to pull away from his embrace. “I have a meeting too, you know. Jack has practice and Ava -”

“Has ice skating. I know, Sweetheart.” Aaron gently pushes her back down, tucking the blankets around her. “I know their schedule. And yours. We’ll manage.” But he’s already reaching for his phone, dialing a number he knows by heart.

“Who are you calling?” She asks weakly, succumbing to his insistence. The sky has lightened to a shade of dark blue instead of inky black, the first traces of the winter morning starting to peek through the curtains.

“I’m texting Garcia. If she can take Ava this afternoon, I can get Jack to soccer after my last meeting.”

Emily grumbles while he taps out a message as she runs through her day ahead. There are her own meetings, of course, a slew of chores around the house waiting when she gets home, all the little things that accumulate during the week without fail, over and over. Aaron can almost read her mind as he gets dressed, disappearing into the depths of their closet to pluck a suit from the rack on his side. “Things won’t implode without you, Em. We can survive one day.”

From her place in bed, Emily watches him dress, securing the sleeves of his dress shirt, the jacket stretching across his broad shoulders over the crisp fabric of his shirt. Some days, she can’t believe they’ve come this far. Seven years of marriage has brought its fair share of ups and downs, most recently an ill-timed miscarriage in the days before Christmas. She hadn’t been too far along - ten weeks - but December 23rd was spent at her doctor, Aaron’s hand wrapped around hers as the news was broken, their eyes glued to the ultrasound screen. They hadn’t been trying at all. It was a surprise neither of them expected, which only seemed to worsen the blow when it abruptly ended. Emily had been the picture of composed, smiling through her grief on Christmas Eve, distracted by Ava and Jack’s excitement, the endless mountain of gifts to smuggle from their closet under the tree, only to spend the early hours of Christmas morning crying in his arms until he rocked her to sleep. She closes her eyes, wills herself not to think of it. It’s still a little too soon.

When he’s fully dressed, traces of cologne lingering in the air, Aaron gathers a box of tissues and fills a glass of water, setting both down next to Emily. “I’ll bring you some toast before I leave. You need to eat something.”

“You need to wake -”

“I’m already -”

“Mommy?” The voice outside the door tells them at least one more Hotchner is already awake. Aaron drops a quick kiss on Emily’s head, frowning when he notes how warm she is. He makes a mental note to bring some ibuprofen with the toast and opens the door just a crack to find their daughter on the other side, fully dressed, not a hair out of place.

“Where’s Mommy?” He’s met with the round, concerned eyes that belong to Ava. Even at six, she could be Emily’s clone, with sleek dark locks and the same pale skin. Ava is precocious, sharp as a tack yet sensitive, hesitant to trust but loyal to a fault. Her arrival in the world had been dramatic, at one point downright terrifying for a few minutes, shoulder dystocia to blame. Aaron had turned ghostly pale as the doctors rattled off medical jargon he’d only ever seen dramatized on primetime television. Yet it was that same efficiency and urgency that ultimately brought their daughter safely into the world a short time later. The moment she was placed in his hands, Aaron was completely smitten, his world forever changed.

“Mommy isn’t feeling well, Ava.” Aaron explains with an abundance of patience, his tone soft and reassuring. In the days after Christmas, following the miscarriage, Ava had been confused when Aaron took Emily’s usual place at the new, massive dollhouse from Santa, doing his best to display the same enthusiasm his wife so effortlessly showed. He’d uttered the same words - Mommy isn't feeling well - when she protested, complaining about his doll handling skills and seeming inability to make their hair look half as good as Emily did. Even though his placations  held an entirely different meaning then, Ava questioned him relentlessly. Telling a version of the truth had been harder than he anticipated, for more reasons that one.

“Is Mommy okay?” Ava asks, persistent as ever.

“She’s fine, honey. Just the flu. Remember when you had it in Kindergarten? You got to stay home while Jack went to school. Mommy and I took turns staying home with you? You got to eat popsicles in bed and watch TV during the day?”

Ava nods, not fully convinced as she tries to poke her head further into their bedroom. “I guess.”

“That’s what Mommy has, honey. Grown-ups get sick too. So Daddy is going to drive you to school. Aunt Penelope is going to take you to ice skating lessons this afternoon.”

Ava squeals with delight at the mention of Garcia, clapping her tiny hands together, only to have the expression melt off her face seconds later. Then she frowns. “But Daddy,” she whispers slowly, her resemblance to Emily and similar mannerisms uncanny, as if profiling him even at the tender age of six. “You don’t know the Good Morning song.”

Aaron checks his watch and pinches the bridge of his nose as he peers into the hallway. Jack’s bedroom door is still firmly closed, indicating his son is most likely still sound asleep. Waking him is the next battle, one of his least favorite tasks as of late. “What song, Ava?” He sighs, not missing the fleeting touch of amusement that crosses Emily’s face from across the room, the softest of laughs. Even in her current state, pale and tired, clearly more than under the weather, Aaron thinks she’s stunning.

“Mommy and I always sing the Good Morning song on the way to school.” Ava folds her arms across her chest, tapping her foot against the floor. “If you don’t know the words -” Her dark eyes double in size, widening impossibly as she stubs her toe with disappointment. “How can you drive me to school?”

“Honey -”

“Mommy knows all the words.”

“Ava - “

“Daddy.” She challenges, sticking her lower lip out in a whiny pout. Aaron knows what’s ahead. Even though Ava has him completely wrapped around her tiny finger, their daughter absolutely adores her mother, never missing an opportunity to steal a few quiet moments together. He often finds Ava curled in Emily’s lap, listening to a story, or playing dress up with some of Emily’s old clothes. Aaron has caught a few misplaced tubes of lipstick hidden in her dress-up box, ones Emily thought she lost long ago. He’s seen the pictures she draws, the way Ava always draws Emily next to her in each one. It tugs on every single one of his heartstrings, every single time.

“Mommy will teach me,” he assures her, crouching down to her level, bringing her to lean on his knee. “Daddy will do his best to know all the words before I take you to school.” He ruffles Ava’s hair as she beams, seemingly appeased by his effort. “Can you be my special helper this morning and wake Jack for me?”

Her face brightens instantly, a mischievous grin spreading across her face at the thought of what she’s being asked to do - something that, most of the time, she’s actively told not to do. “Okay!”

Aaron grimaces slightly as Ava skips off down the hall. There’s a finite window of time until he’s left to deal with Jack’s morning moodiness, exacerbated by his sister’s surprise wakeup call. But it’s worth the few extra minutes he’ll get to spend with his wife. Emily is now fully awake, looking even more miserable than she had moments before.

“You’re on your own for the good morning song,” she rasps sarcastically. Her voice is hoarse, even as she tries to smile. “Couldn’t sing it for you if I tried.”

“I think I’m going to take her for donuts. Those strawberry frosted ones she loves?” He slips back in bed beside Emily, pulling her into his arms once again. “Distraction at its finest.”

“The ones I love,” Emily reminds him, swiping her thumb across his cheek. “Good luck.”

“Right. Hopefully she’ll forget all about it.” Then he remembers just who he’s talking about - a miniature version of the woman he somehow got lucky enough to call his wife, instantly realizing how wrong he is. He’s a goner; he won’t hear the end of this for days.

“I doubt it. But you can give it a try.” Emily snuggles into his chest, savoring their final few minutes of peace.

…

Winter sun streams through the windows, casting the bedroom in a mix of shadows and blinding light.

She isn’t sure how much time has passed - an hour could easily be three, maybe five. Sleep has consumed her, on and off all morning. Yet she’s uncomfortable, alternating between throwing the covers off and disappearing into them, unable to seek enough warmth as she reaches for one more blanket. Everything still hurts, and topped off by a congestion that settles deep in her lungs, rattles her chest with every cough. She almost feels worse now than she did earlier, if that’s even possible.

The house is quiet, so she hears the subtle rumbling of the garage opening, the soft creak of the door leading into the house. Emily smiles to herself - she’d recognize his footsteps anywhere as he makes his way through the living room. He’s undoubtedly picking up wayward shoes and toys along the way, most likely grumbling about the clutter. He’d never admit it (even if she knows it to be true) but it’s one of his favorite tasks. The mess is a reminder of what they’ve built over time, that sometimes things work out just as they were meant to. Even if it means their house will never be spotless.

She pries one eye open as he shoulders through the bedroom door, slipping his suit jacket off to drape over a chair. “You could have stayed at work.” Emily isn’t surprised at all. She knows him sell enough by now.

“I know.” And while Aaron is fully aware of that, there was never a chance he wasn’t going to come home to tend to her. He stayed at the BAU long enough to get things squared away, arranging plans for the kids, and delegating tasks as needed before making a hasty exit. And now, only a few hours later, he’s back. He checks her forehead, refreshes the glass of water on the nightstand and tosses some tissues into the trash. “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit.” Emily shifts to make room beside her. “Worse than before, if that’s possible.” She sighs a little when he wraps her into his embrace. Her head falls against his chest on its own accord. “Ava and Jack?”

“Garcia is taking Ava to ice skating. She’s taking her out for ice cream afterward.” He gets a hand in her hair, rocks her back and forth a little bit until she relaxes fully against him. Almost.

“What about dinner?” Emily mumbles, stifling a cough into her fist. It rattles within her chest, reverberating through her ribs. “She needs real dinner, Aaron.”

“I think she’ll live without vegetables for one night, Emily.”

She’s too tired to argue. “Jack?”

“Dave offered to take him to soccer,” Aaron says, patting her back through the last of the coughing fit and grappling for the water glass on the table. “It’s all taken care of.” His hands are soothing, gentle and strong against the sore, stiff muscles. “You sound terrible.”

Emily pointedly ignores him. “What about you?”

“I cleared my schedule for the rest of the day. Tomorrow too,” he adds with a wink, taking her hands in his own when she starts to object. “I’m making it my mission to get you better.” He shows her the package of popsicles he’d stopped for on the way home, tosses the bag away to the floor. “And I got some of these. Just for you.”

The soft laughter that comes from her is accompanied by yet another hacking cough. It’s the little things he does that are the most thoughtful - a pit stop to the grocery store in the middle of a work day is just one example. “Sounds like you have quite the job ahead of you.” But she’s eyeing the popsicles - it’s the first thing that’s sounded appealing all morning.

“You’re not an easy patient,” Aaron chides as he hands her a cherry flavored one, taking a lemon flavored for himself. “One of the worst I’ve ever dealt with, actually.” He flicks her nose lovingly.

“Is that so?” The cool chill of the frozen ice against her lips and throat is a temporary relief, a moment of reprieve. She doesn’t even notice when a little piece of it breaks off to leave a tiny red stain on the sheets. “You’re no picnic yourself, you know.”

It’s his turn to laugh, because she’s right. He’s just as stubborn, the art of rest and healing lost on them both. “I feel called out.”

“It’s because I’m right,” she quips. And she is.

Emily sleeps fitfully in his arms, only waking up once as the sun sets over the trees in the distance. When her eyes drift open, he has the television remote in one hand, the other anchoring her across his chest. “What time is it?” She mumbles, blinking furiously as her eyes adjust to the dim light.

“Close to five.” He kisses her, rocks her a little to wake her up. “You’ve been sleeping for hours.” Aaron sounds almost pleased that she finally got some solid rest. “I’m going to make you some soup. And don’t tell me I don’t have to.” He untangles himself from her, somehow without disturbing her comfort within their bed. “I’ll be up in a few minutes.”

His fingers brush across her cheek; she’s not as hot to the touch this time. Emily leans into his hand, curling her fingers around his wrist.

“Thank you for coming home.” She hardly sounds any better, certainly doesn’t feel it either. But having him there somehow makes it slightly more bearable, an unexpected silver lining to all of this. And the reverence in his eyes, the same one she sees every time he looks at her, confirms the fact that he’d do it without question. Another example of the unconditional love he’d promised years before when they exchanged vows in Dave’s backyard.

“There’s nowhere else I should be, Sweetheart.”

Four days later, Aaron wakes up with the same aching muscles and raw throat, barely able to keep his eyes open as a new week awaits them. Emily is only more than happy to return his favor.

#hotchniss #hotchniss fanfiction #hotchniss fic #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #hotch x prentiss #domestic hotchniss #happy hotchners #pointless plotless fluff

[beauvibaby]

proud papa – t.seguin

a/n: enjoy the random baby fic I wrote 🥺

When you told Tyler you were pregnant, you were certain you’d never seen him so happy, the tears in his eyes and a smile that didn’t leave his face for over a week.

That was until the pregnancy started hitting you hard, you were constantly nauseous, you were lucky if you could keep anything in your stomach for more than an hour. Fine, you could deal with that, it all ended after you hit three months anyways, right?

Wrong.

You were sick well into your seventh month of pregnancy, Tyler hated it, because there really was nothing he could do to help, aside from holding your hair back and helping you off the floor. It killed him, even though he knew it was worth it in the long run, that didn’t make it any easier during the moment. Then, just finally when you stopped being nauseous over every little smell, the inability to sleep kicked in, and it was the end of the hockey season, so Tyler was extremely busy, and going for roadies a lot, which only made it harder for you.

It was one in the morning, you knew Tyler would most likely be asleep, having to get up early the next day for the trip home, but you couldn’t lay here staring at the wall any longer. You rubbed your bloated belly, wishing your daughter would just settle down in there, you picked up your phone, FaceTiming Tyler before you could calm yourself down and talk yourself out of it. The phone rang, and rang, and just when you thought he wasn’t going to pick up, it connected the call. “Y/N, what’s wrong? Is everything ok?” He rushed the second he saw your face, tear stained and all. “It’s fine, I shouldn’t have called.” You panicked, rubbing the tears away, you could see him visibly relax once he knew nothing was seriously wrong. “Baby, what’s the matter?” He mumbled, frowning when you started to cry all over again. “I can’t sleep!” You groaned, situating your body with the pillow, he chuckled softly, “it’s not funny! I can’t sleep on my stomach, I can’t sleep on my back, and then every time I think I’m comfortable, she starts kicking me in the ribs.” You ranted, letting out an exasperated groan. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. When I get home we can take all the naps you want.” He shot you a smile, you nodded, still crying. “Promise?” You mumbled. He laughed, “promise.”

He kept his promise, and became your personal body pillow, but he didn’t mind one bit as you finally got some well deserved rest and he got to keep his hand on your stomach the whole time, feeling everytime the baby moved around.

It was all worth it now though, as you watched Tyler tend to your newborn daughter, you having to take it a little easy considering the c-section you just had, you couldn’t say you were surprised, considering how everything else in the pregnancy went crazy, she just had to make a shocking debut into the world. You truly think Tyler cried more than you, he was a nervous wreck, sitting behind the curtain by your head as he listened to them saying all sorts of things, you on the other hand were abnormally calm, maybe it was all the medication they had pumped into you, but the tears started flowing the second they held your daughter up over the curtain for the two of you to see. It felt like an eternity until she started to cry, but once she did the both of you let out a breath that you didn’t know you were holding in.

***

It was finally time for your daughter, Callie, to go to her first hockey game, and you had her dressed in her Seguin jersey, although you weren’t down by the ice, for ease of being able to get her to sleep during the game, you were up in a viewers suite, but it was still exciting nonetheless. Even if you missed most of the game because you were trying to settle her down, she was still only five months old, but knowing how excited Tyler was to have her here, made it worthwhile.

The second they skated off the ice, you were gathering your things and heading down to the locker room, bouncing the baby on your hip as she took in the new surroundings. You knew Tyler, so you knew he was going to want to take her in there to show her off to all the guys, despite them all having seen her multiple times. And you were right, the second he was showered and the guys were all clothed to some capacity, he brought her in there, towing you along.

She gurgled and clapped to the best of her ability as she had all the attention on her, much more like her father in that sense. Of course, not shocking to anyone, her favorite guy in the room aside from Tyler, was Jamie. You couldn’t help but grin and take pictures as they all swarmed around to see her, Roope rubbing her little back when she looked up at him with wide eyes. “Hi, Callie.” Anton spoke with his heavy accent, the baby giving him an incredulous look, making Tyler laugh deeply, she turned to her dad, lightly patting at his face. Miro came up briefly, Callie hid from him, which was odd, but you laughed it off, feeling bad when he walked away with a pout. Alex came up, cooing to her, and she happily giggled in response, like she could tell he had children of his own. Esa popped up from behind Tyler’s shoulder, sending Callie into tears. “Oh, no, no.” He panicked, reaching to touch her, only making her scream more. “It’s alright.” You assured him, walking over to them, rubbing her back when she threw her head into her dad's neck. Tyler patted her butt lightly as he bounced, trying to get her to calm down. Jamie emerged from the showers, pants pulled on, knowing you were in the room. Callie stared at him as he approached, making a face you couldn’t quite decipher, she waited until the last second and started laughing and reaching for him, much to Tyler’s dismay.

You gave him a look, and he handed Callie over, knowing she would scream until she got her way anyways. Jamie happily took her, holding her up slightly as she laughed, knowing the second she was close enough, she would be yanking on his beard. Something she did to Tyler as well, “don’t be such a grump, Ty.” You sighed as he stood behind you, his arms lightly around your neck, his chin on your head. “I’m not being a grump.” He grumbled, you tilted your head back to look at him, “oh really?” You quipped, seeing the way he watched Callie with Jamie, he was jealous, without reason. “She loves you, you’re her favorite person, she just likes him because she doesn’t see him as much.” You assured your disgruntled husband, “now, finish getting dressed, she’s going to have a meltdown soon, it’s way past her bedtime.” You added, pushing him off of you with a kiss to his cheek.

The second Callie saw him turn away she started screaming, startling Jamie who looked at her with wide, worried eyes. You chuckled, taking the short few steps over to him, taking your crying daughter as the younger guys cringed at the way she could shriek, Tyler scrambling to get dressed. You swayed and held her to your chest as she continued to wail, you flung the diaper bag back on your shoulder and went to the hallway, walking back and forth to calm her down. Slowly, she stopped shrieking, but she was still doing her sniffling, her body jerking with every sharp breath she took. “Aw, baby girl.” Tyler approached, dressed back in his pregame suit, taking her from you with ease as she nuzzled into him, falling asleep before you even reached the parking garage.

“Are you happy now?” You teased him, he was leaning against the wall in the elevator to the level you parked on, Callie asleep on his shoulder, his head resting against her, his own eyes shut as he savored the moment, knowing that, before he knew it she wouldn’t be sleeping on him all the time. “Very.” He whispered, pressing a light kiss to her head, she stirred, but didn’t wake as she loosened her fisted grip on his shirt. You quickly snapped a picture as he let his eyes shut again, you posted it to your Instagram, captioning it with Proud Papa.

“I love you.” You spoke as you walked out of the elevator, he glanced over at you, “I love you.” He smiled, holding her with one arm, using the other to pull you into his side as you walked. “You’ve gotta bring her to more games.” He added, you shook your head, laughing, “she’s not going to remember any of this, you know.” You reminded him, “yeah, but I will.”

taglist: @vinceduhn​ @jackiesquinn​ @wtfkie​ @literarycharleton​ @kempe​ @vincecdunn​

#Tyler seguin #Tyler seguin fic #Tyler seguin imagine #Tyler seguin blurb #Dallas stars

[hwascomfort]

fake masterlist ; chapter 14 / chapter 15 / chapter 16

When yourself and the boys had agreed to hang out, you werent expecting to go roller skating.

Taehyun walks infront of you with Beomgyu. Soobin and Yeonjun holding hands while they go round. Kai is nearly tripping over his own feet while Felix trails behind him. Wooyoung is off somewhere outside of the rink getting food. You trail behind everyone with Minho, holding onto his arm in an effort to not fall over.

Although, it doesnt take long for Minho to leave you. You watch as Felix wonders away from Kai and drapes himself over Minho.

With an abrupt push to your back, by someone you can't see or hear, you smack right into Taehyun, who nearly falls at the impact but is held up by Beomgyu.

"Oh my god! I am so sorry Taehyun. Someone pushed me and-"

Your words are cut off by Taehyun turning around and looking over your head with one of the fiercest glares you've ever seen.

Beomgyu abruptly wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you away while you watch Taehyun do his best to chase after a boy with black hair, who you're surprised hasn't fallen (given the fact that he's hobbling and looks as though he'll fall any second).

"Dearest Y/n, have you given the plan any thought?"

Of course that's the first thing out of his mouth.

You hold onto his hand (the one hanging over your shoulder), doing your best to keep up with his smooth steps as you think for a moment.

"I do want to get over Sunghoon, and I want him to be happy... but at the same time, I want to be selfish and try to get his attention" The words feel sour as they leave your mouth.

Beomgyu snorts from beside you, as if your words are the stupidest he's ever heard.

"Then be selfish. Make him jealous. You can stop anytime you want if it makes you uncomfortable"

Even when he says that, you can't help but think about Sunghoon and Dia. Dia's one year older, the same age as Beomgyu. You can't ignore the way you've seen Sunghoon stare at her during lunch, or when you're both at the café and she comes in with her friends. He's in awe every time.

"I want to, but I don't want to ruin anything for him"

You feel Beomgyu shrug, and before he can fully start talking, Taehyun comes strolling up to the two of you with a boy in tow.

A boy who looks strikingly familiar.

"Riki!" Beomgyu squeals from beside you, letting go to pull the younger into a hug.

You nearly topple over, if not for the fact that Taehyun is now next to you and holding your hand.

When you glance up at him, you find him staring at everything but you.

Riki pulls away from Beomgyu, face scrunched up in disgust.

"What are you doing here?" Beomgyu wraps an arm around Riki's shoulders as he asks.

"Bahiyyih wanted to come before she heads off for a vacation with Kai and Lea"

Riki almost looks embarrassed, especially so when he glances away and seems to notice someone.

You glance to the side and see Kai skating with a girl.

It takes a few moments to connect the dots, but when the two of them look in your direction with smiles, it all makes sense.

Bahiyyih and Kai are siblings, so Lea must be their sister.

"Riki" Taehyun's voice is almost authoritive.

Riki's eyes snap back to you and you watch as he bows.

"I'm sorry for pushing you"

You blink at Riki's words.

Despite your inability to skate, you pull away from Taehyun and chase after Riki, who's voice is the highest you've ever heard it.

~

All eleven of you are seated at a large table, six pizzas set in front of you, along with various bottles of drinks and a stack of cups.

On the opposite side of the table, left to right; Riki, Bahiyyih, Wooyoung, Felix, Yeonjun, Soobin.

On your side, left to right; Kai, Beomgyu, you, Taehyun, Minho.

It's mostly silent while you all eat, save for Felix and Beomgyu talking animatedly about Paramore.

After a while, despite your efforts of trying to not to feel tired, you let your head fall onto Taehyun's shoulder.

You were somewhat opposed to skinship, but when you were tired, it all went out the window.

You don't know if Taehyun did it absentmindedly or purposely, but you could feel his fingers rubbing into your scalp for a couple moments.

"I forgot you did that Y/n" Wooyoung says from across the table.

"What?"

You lift your head, setting it on your hands in front of you.

"You know, getting tired after you eat. The last time I saw it happen was when we went bowling with Seonghwa and Hongjoong, you ended up falling asleep using Seonghwa's shoulder as a pillow"

You flush lightly at the memory, suddenly feeling more awake.

"I can vaguely remember Seonghwa giving up on trying to wake you, so he just sat there on his phone for the next hour" Minho suddenly quips.

You groan at that, head dropping onto your arms.

You can hear Beomgyu laughing from beside you.

"Soobin was right when he said you're like a baby"

You can hear Soobin choke on his food, along with Yeonjun laughing to the point where you hear a thud and even more laughing.

Then a hand is rubbing your back and Soobin is trying to explain himself.

You sit up after a moment, leaning into Taehyun again despite your inner war not to.

"On another note, what have you decided to do, Y/n?" Yeonjun asks, leaning forward.

The table goes silent.

"I'm... not entirely sure"

Beomgyu goes on to explaining your thoughts, leaving the table of people to make noises of understanding.

Riki, who didn't even know the plan until now, shrugs and leans forward.

"I say go for it. Dia's nice and all but we don't even know if they've talked or not, take what you want and all that"

Bahiyyih and Kai both reach out their hands and deliver and slap to his head and shoulder.

No one seems to disagree though, even going on about how "Sunghoon definitely has some sort of feelings towards you, make him act on them"

"But the whole plan was to stop me from liking him!"

Taehyun shrugs from beside you, and you're surprised when he wraps his arm around your waist.

But then you look up, finding yourself staring directly at Sunghoon, arm to arm with Dia herself.

Notes: part 1 of the double update as I forgot to update yesterday

taglist:

@enhacolor @soobin-chois @pr0dbeomgyu @papiibuprofen @joti17 @woniewhite

#tomorrow x together #txt #tomorrow by together #ateez #enhypen #stray kids #txt kai #txt soobin #txt yeonjun #txt beomgyu #txt taehyun #choi beomgyu #choi yeonjun #choi soobin #kang taehyun #huening kai #ateez wooyoung #jung wooyoung #txt social media au #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen riki #park sunghoon #park seonghwa #nishimura riki #taehyun x reader #sunghoon x reader

[sourwormsaresour]

what are your thoughts on La Squadra's sexualities?

First off, Happy Pride Month! Please have a safe one. Before I start, I just want to let you guys know that I’m a straight cisgender woman so I’m not 100% knowledgeable on sexualities so these are based on my current knowledge of the community. I’m open to all head-canons about La Squadra’s sexualities besides my own :)

Sorbet and Gelato are gay, both using he/him pronouns, and are the most out compared to everyone in the team. Even though La Squadra knew about their relationships, the two themselves aren’t open about it outside of the team and their families. This is especially because relationships can be used against you in the crime world but also because their families rely on them to have a “good reputation” to live comfortably. I head-canon that they are both breadwinners of their families: Gelato has siblings that go to very conservative, academic institutions and rely on scholarships that look into family history for recommendations, and Sorbet’s mother requires medical attention from reputable doctors that also have homophobic biases that can be used against her. They’ve secretly used some of their money to help a street kid or two that they learned was disowned after being outed or assassinated a few people for hurting kids for being part of the LGBTQ+ community or even preying on them. The two men probably both went through phases where they thought they only liked women, tried to be in heterosexual relationships, and their enemies-to-lovers type of relationship had probably stemmed from their inability to properly process their attraction to each other at the time.

Formaggio is bisexual and prefers using he/him pronouns; he has a stronger attraction to women but is unaware that he’s attracted to men as well. A big part of why he’s so unaware or in denial of it came from his conservative upbringing in a working-class family and lack of representation growing up. Formaggio knew that men can be attracted to other men, but other aspects of the LGBTQ+ community is either unknown to him or seen in a negative perception; he’s learning more about the community and how to be a better ally, especially after meeting Sorbet and Gelato, but he’s still struggling to reverse the anti-LGBTQ+ sentiments he grew up believing. As a result of his past, Formaggio assumed that one can only be attracted to one gender and never crossed his mind that people can be attracted to more than one. He often tries to hide his attraction to men via “straight guy who’s unaware he’s gay occasionally spits homophobic jokes and says ‘no homo’ every time he says "I love you" to his friends but he means full homo” approach.

Illuso is pansexual and gender fluid, preferring he/him/they/them pronouns most of the time but also likes using neo-pronouns and occasionally prefers to use she/her pronouns. As a former intern for a fashion designer before he joined La Squadra, he’s relatively more exposed to meeting different people in the LGBTQ+ community through fashion; those who were higher in status and power would be more out about it than those in lower ranking and the community was a huge source for avant-garde, counter-culture influences. Despite getting more inspiration for his designs from his interactions and developing his identity in the LGBTQ+ space, that also led to him witnessing discrimination, abuse, and powerplay caused by the higher-ups; some became victims simply because of rumors that they may be part of the LGBTQ+ community or being forcibly outed, some are forced into relationships in exchange for opportunities and privileges, etc. He remains closeted and part of his arrogance stems from him hiding his sexuality due to the trauma of enduring the abuse and witnessing it as well. La Squadra doesn’t know his sexuality or know that he’s genderfluid, but they’re fine with adapting to his pronouns whenever they change.  

Pesci is unaware that they’re gay and are non-binary that prefers they/them pronouns. Although they try to stick to he/him pronouns to avoid being out, they like using they/them more and get secretly happy when someone refers to them as such. I head-canon that they’re actually younger than Giorno when they encountered Team Bucciarati, which would explain why he never killed anyone up until this point (they’re a literal kid that’s slowly getting involved in the team when Sorbet and Gelato were killed, albeit they’re on the buffer side despite their age), and with their sheltered childhood and Prosciutto’s strict mentorship, they never got to sit down and think about their sexual and gender identity. They often try to pretend they’re a macho straight man alongside Formaggio but they end up feeling bad about it after trying to say a bad comment or joke to fit in. Pesci themselves feel like they’re alone in terms of the emotions of not being able to put your sexuality into words. It doesn’t help that they’re rather isolated compared to everyone except Risotto; they only knew La Squadra as their family ever since they joined the team and they never talk to anyone outside of the group.

Prosciutto is bisexual and genderfluid, preferring to identify with he/him pronouns, but he’s also the most closeted and probably has the most internalized homophobia as well. Growing up in the entertainment industry, especially in acting, means adhering to heteronormative standards; controversies of any kind would make or break a career and he constantly heard homophobic statements “disguised” as critiques around him from all levels of the entertainment industry. The fact that he was overworked up until his “career retirement” also didn’t give him the time to sit down and realize both his sexuality and how fucked up the film industry is in terms of its treatment towards the LGBTQ+ community. With his upbringing of being presentable and hiding his sexuality, he tries to present himself in the most Italian metrosexual straight machismo man he could and uses his “gentleman charms” towards women to avoid people from questioning further about his sexuality. But at the end of the day, he knows he’s lying to himself about his sexuality. And unfortunately, his anger at being unable to express that is often misdirected.

Melone is demi-sexual, though he presents himself as asexual and panromantic, and prefers using any pronouns. Like his teammates, he prefers using he/him for his safety. As a former scientist, he learned and got to know about the LGBTQ+ community through a more scientific perspective, but also knew there are hidden homophobic biases in the science community as well. Still, he does his best to be an ally for his peers before realizing he is demisexual and panromantic. His sexuality allows him to view the incubation and child-rearing aspect of his Stand without emotions or feelings involved and further explains how he views fornication and training his Juniors in a very scientific and analytical way without guilt taking over. Despite presenting himself as ace/straight (mostly for safety and because it’s easier to explain that he has no attraction to people than being a demisexual), I also see someone who yearns to have a strong emotional connection to someone and would give his all to the person he loves most. His overtly sexual nature is more of an act (I've heard that some aces tend to act overtly sexual, either to avoid being outed or as a result of growing up thinking that need to feel an attraction is necessary) and Melone secretly desires being attracted to someone he learns to trust, admire, and love over time. I have a backstory that plays into that but I might disclose it another time. ;)

Ghiaccio is on the same boat with Prosciutto in terms of having internalized homophobia due to his childhood career as a child athlete. At the time he was training to be an Olympic hopeful as a solo figure skater, Ghiaccio was born female and had to remain in the closet due to the conservative nature of the ice skating world and his step-father being notorious for his opinions favoring homophobia and sexism. Once he joined La Squadra, Ghiaccio began experimenting with himself and ultimately came out as transgender, presenting himself with he/him pronouns, and had been using testosterone ever since. Most members that joined after him only knew Ghiaccio as male while the other members are either indifferent about his gender or are involved in helping Ghiaccio transition to be male. Transitioning also helped him realized he was aromantic and gay, which provided him closure from the years of struggle he had trying to fit into the heteronormative expectations he thought he had to conform to when he was female. The effect of testosterone also explains his brash and short-tempered nature, although that stems more from him finally being able to express himself after years of repressing his emotions as a child.

Risotto is also aromantic and asexual, preferring he/him/they/them pronouns, although he doesn’t know that he is aro/ace, to begin with. Growing up, he never really cared when he heard his older relatives or adults making comments about how “he’d make a good husband” or “have the girls chase him”, because all he cared about was his family and friends. He just assumes that once he becomes a “big boy”, then he’ll have thoughts of wanting to get married like the fairytales say. Just let his future spouse have children with him in any way and he'll play the role of husband regardless. Since his cousin’s death, he gave up the idea of having any sexual or romantic interest in anyone. Why to go out of your way to find any relationship when they’ll be dead soon enough- that was Risotto’s logic. He’s not aware that he can define himself as aro/ace, he just assumes that the trauma he went through with his cousin’s death stops him from feeling any attraction and doesn’t make an effort to figure out why.  

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