#Maybe I write my own 'Almost Kiss' AU where they just make the hell out

[shaunamilfman]

Me when I see your domestic Shauna hcs and immediately decide I need a Nat version so this is my formal request for some

If you want to ofc no pressure I just love your writing

-📝

Domestic Nat Headcanons

pairing: Nat Scatorccio x Reader note: no crash au. nat in her 20's. idk why i answered this so quick tbh

in my mind, Nat's a bartender. maybe opens her own bar one day in the future so she can get away with giving a few free drinks to people that aren't assholes. she charges the assholes double, of course. 

sleeps till like 2 every day and has black-out curtains over every window in her apartment. if you like natural sunlight, your ass is going to have to go outside. 

if you're asleep by the time she gets home, your ass will be waking up. she never does it on purpose, she just has no idea how loud she really is. humming quietly in the shower after work and not even thinking about the fact that the wall would amplify it. you don't have the heart to tell her to stop. 

on the flip side, she never really gets that annoyed if you wake her up while she's asleep. just rolls her eyes as you get up, and pretends not to be pleased when you kiss her forehead. immediately rolls back over and falls right back asleep. it's almost impressive how quick she is. 

blasts music while she's getting ready, or doing just about anything that allows her too. you're always coming home to her gaming and blasting music on her days off. 

night owl even on her days off, always has been. it's a rare sight to see her up before noon, and it's only if you or one of her friends specifically asked her. leaving the house with her sunglasses on and almost hissing at the sun. 

Nat can't cook for shit except for a few staple foods that she'd eat every meal if you'd let her. she's not necessarily bad at it, she just doesn't really have the patience for it. 

her space constantly looks like a hurricane came through it, but she always miraculously knows where everything is. if you try to organize it for her, she'll be so lost. messes it back up the second your back is turned. 

You constantly catch her in the middle of the night making the weirdest snack combination known to man. If the sight of her eating it doesn't make you want to gag, then she's not doing it right. 

has a half feral cat with some mean ass name like ‘bastard’ or some shit that she leaves food out for. she saved his life when he got stuck and almost starved, and got permanent scars as a thank you. the cat comes and goes as he please, and neither of you are sure how he's getting in or out. 

she always pretends the scars were from something much cooler whenever somebody asks. it's a different story every time. you think she must have a list somewhere she adds to when she gets bored. they're starting to get really creative. 

you witness the cat getting into a nasty street fight with another cat and Nat's just like “hell yeah, go bastard!”

the first time you visited Nat's apartment, the only furniture she had in the living room was a beanbag chair and a TV setup propped up on a box. gallantly offers you the bean bag chair as she eats on the floor cross-legged next to you. 

she insists that she was always going to get more furniture and that it was just temporary, but you're not so sure. the first thing she buys is this beat to shit couch that's somehow the most comfortable thing you've ever sat on. she's so proud of it. 

if you didn't force her to get more, Nat would only own one fork, one spoon, one plate, etc. insists that she can just watch them.

likes going out with your or her friends, but isn't as much of a fan of hosting the events. makes it harder to just leave when she starts getting tired of them. always tried to make you be the bad guy whenever she wants to go. “sorry guys, she's tired.” meanwhile you're wide awake. 

Nat's really good at fixing things, mostly out of necessity. still, if something’s busted, there's a good chance Nat's already on her way to the hardware store to get parts before you've even noticed. she really enjoys the process of fixing shit and ends up getting really into cars because of it. if it wasn't for the hours, she'd consider being a mechanic. 

absolute coffee fiend. you rarely see her without a cup. only drinks it black and will turn her nose up at the sugary stuff. she's not pretentious about it though, it's just how she likes it. 

Nat randomly comes home with little gifts for you, tossing it at you without really acknowledging it. if you press her on it she'll say some shit like “saw it and thought of you.” 

she's not a big fan of surprises. she has a bit of a routine and whenever there's a major interruption to it she gets a little antsy. with the way Nat grew up ,she really appreciates knowing just about how her days going to go before she starts it. 

Nat really enjoys watching movies with you. it doesn't really matter what it is as long as she can just turn her brain off and watch. she likes physical contact, but isn't super big on cuddling per se. the type to lift your legs up into her lap when you're laying across the couch.

[amakumos]

kiss and cry — yang jungwon.

synopsis. At the age of 22, Yang Jungwon wants to retire. The ice, which was what he considered his second home, does not seem as welcoming as it used to be. Figure skating is no longer fun - the sport that he devoted his entire childhood to seems more of a chore, rather than a passion. He claims that this season will be his last as a competitive figure skater - that is, until he meets you, who somehow makes him fall in love with the ice (and you) again.

genre. fluff, slight angst, friends to lovers, slowburn (?), figure skating au

pairing. figure skater! jungwon x figure skater fem! reader

warnings. swearing, mentions of injury, coaching abuse and unhealthy training habits, jungwon is 22, reader is 21, and both compete for south korea. set during the 2025/2026 figure skating season. major character retirement (wait and find out)

word count. 22k

author's note. gosh. am i surprised that the most i've ever written is a figure skating fic? no, not particularly. i was watching so many of yuzuru hanyu's programs while writing this and oh god. only fanyus will understand the immense impact the beat drop into the chsq has in pyc seimei. fucking hell that's powerful. anyways, this fic is my baby and i hope you enjoy it as much as i enjoyed writing it ^_^ here's a playlist u can listen to while reading if you'd like and feel free to lmk what u think!

ONE. negative (goe.)

Where is home to Yang Jungwon?

Jungwon thinks that he has two.

First, he would obviously say his apartment. The plush couch, the comfort of his own bed, and sunlight peeking through the curtains in the morning – Jungwon is comfortable when he is home. 

His second home, albeit a little bit unconventional – is the ice skating rink. His blades gliding against the smooth ice, cool air hitting his face as he skates, the chatter of his training partners ringing in his ears when he’s trying to focus that he finds annoying when he’s trying to focus. 

But his second home seems a little less welcoming and comfortable lately. The passion that he once held for the sport that he loved seems to be diminishing day by day, like a fire that’s almost been put out. 

Jungwon devoted his entire life to this sport. Maybe a little too much of it, even. 

His childhood was seemingly swept away by the ice. Instead of running around the playground, making friends with other children his age, Jungwon was spending hours of his day jumping and spinning, wearing boots with blades on them.

At one point, even falling over on a jump that he’d have to repeat for hours seemed like something he could use as determination. I’ll be able to do it the next time I jump it, was his thought. 

But now, when he falls, all he feels is that he wants to quit. 

Jungwon knows that if he gave up that easily when he was younger, he wouldn’t even be half the figure skater he was today. Standing on top of that podium didn’t bring him the same amount of joy as when he stood there a couple years ago. A small smile would grace his lips, showing courtesy – but deep inside, Jungwon could only describe the feeling he felt as numbness. 

Because what did all these medals truly mean to him? Success brought him joy a couple years ago, but now it only puts pressure on him. 

Pressure to do better. Pressure to get the scores that he deserved. Pressure to show the other skaters that he was better. 

Figure skating is no longer fun for Yang Jungwon. 

The sport feels draining – as if every minute spent skating on that sheet of ice sucked all the energy out of him. The movements that he did with such vigour just a couple years ago now seem sloppy to him, even if they aren’t to the audience. His limbs move around robotically, without elegance or gracefulness. 

Yang Jungwon feels like a robot. 

Programmed to do this quad lutz at a certain moment. Programmed to execute the hydroblade to perfection a few seconds later. Even programmed to smile brightly, holding up the gold medal while standing at the top of the podium when he doesn’t feel a single emotion at all. 

So, Jungwon thinks it’s time to hang up his skates. 

Yes, 22 might be a little too early to end his career as a competitive figure skater, but Jungwon is done. He’s tired of the ice, which is something that he never thought he’d say, or even think. The ice doesn’t bring him joy, and competitions don’t bring the adrenaline and thrill that he’d used to feel. Winning doesn’t make him feel pride. Instead, he feels burdened. 

“Next season will be my last season as a competitive figure skater,” he tells his coach, Irene. 

Irene isn’t shocked. But she’s strongly against Jungwon’s decision. Jungwon knew she’d react like this. 

“You’re so young, Jungwon! You still have a couple of years to go – you can make it to the next Olympics too. You’ll be 26 then, and you can… you know, retire after skating at the biggest stage.” 

“I will be skating at the biggest stage next year, if I make it into the Olympic team. Then, I will be retiring at the biggest stage.” Jungwon tells her, lacing up his skates. Even tying the laces feels frustrating – and Jungwon knows that he truly does not want to do this anymore. 

“But you have to give a reason, Jungwon. I know you’re tired, and you lack passion for skating, but why don’t you just take a break? Maybe you’ll regain your motivation, regain your passion for the sport. You’re already one of the greats – you could be even greater.” 

Irene would consider Jungwon to be her star pupil. He’s stuck with her ever since he swapped coaches when he was 8 – and he’s never spoken a word about wanting to be coached by anyone else. In fact, Jungwon was one of Irene’s first students after she herself retired from competition. Jungwon was her first student to podium internationally, first student to land a quad in competition, and first student to make it to the Olympics in 2022, back when Jungwon was 18. 

He placed 6th. Not bad, for his first ever Olympics. 

Jungwon remembers the day when he was called up to the South Korean Olympic team. All he felt was pride. On every young athlete’s bucket list, being able to compete in the Olympics was at the top of that list, and Jungwon was no exception. He remembers being an emotional wreck, crumpling into tears of joy. The Olympics was a figure skater’s biggest stage. Skating on Olympic ice seemed unreal, until Jungwon found out that he would be doing exactly that. 

Jungwon wants to feel the exact feeling he felt when he skated on Olympic ice. He wants to feel pride, passion, and joy – not emptiness. Jungwon knew that he was competing with the best of the best, and a medal at the Olympics would be incredible, but Jungwon just wanted to skate. The Olympics seemed to be like a mark for him – he’s made it. He’s skated at the biggest stage for an athlete, and no matter the result, he would be grateful and happy that he was able to compete on Olympic ice. 

4 years ago, Jungwon just wanted to skate. 

Now, Jungwon wants to leave the ice behind. 

You could be even greater. Irene’s words have no impact on Jungwon. He doesn’t think he has any desire to become greater. If anything, Jungwon just wants to learn how to love this sport again – but he doesn’t think that he’ll be able to. 

“That’s the problem, Irene. I don’t want to be greater anymore. I’m tired of this. I have no passion in what I do – why would I continue doing something that I don’t love?” 

“Jungwon–”

“I don’t think anything can change my mind, Irene. I’m really done,” he sighs. Jungwon gives his coach a small, sad smile. “So… let’s make the next season great, hmm? I’ll go out with a bang.” 

Irene gives Jungwon a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Okay.” 

“I have music ideas already,” Jungwon says, and Irene nods. “Tell me what you have in mind, and we can go through it with Taemin.”

“I was thinking for the short program, A Walk In The Skies by Joe Hisaishi. From the Howl’s Moving Castle soundtrack, and for the free, World Dreams. Also by Joe Hisaishi. A couple fans from a few years back told me that they’d like to see me skate to those songs, so… I’ve decided I will. They gave me a list of other options, but… I like these two the best.” 

“Okay. I’ll talk with Taemin about them.” Irene says, and Jungwon notices the look on his coach’s face. He knows that she’s not happy with his decision, because Irene’s never really liked people who give up. Jungwon thinks that to her, his decision seems to be as if he’s saying that he’s giving up. 

In one way, he is. But now that Jungwon thinks about it, does he have any other goals in this sport? He’s won Nationals. He’s won Grand Prix Final. He’s won Four Continents. He’s won Worlds. He’s been to the Olympics. The one thing he hasn’t done is win an Olympic medal, and maybe he’ll be able to do it next season. But Jungwon thinks that he’s checked off most of the boxes on his figure skating career goal list, and combined with the fact that he’s simply got no love for the sport left, he thinks hanging up his skates is the best idea. 

He gives Irene an apologetic look, even though he feels like he doesn’t really have to apologise for anything. He then makes his way onto the rink, skating a few laps around to warm up. 

He skates his program from last season as practice, first jumping a quad salchow that he lands cleanly. The sound of the blades scratching the surface of the ice no longer brings him comfort, but Jungwon continues skating around the rink as he enters into a back counter triple axel, landing it cleanly as well. 

Jungwon executes the rest of the elements well, with no falls or underrotations on his jumps. He presses his lips into a thin line when he finishes skating his program, putting his hands on his hips as he sighs. 

“That was good.” Irene said. “Gold medal worthy.” 

“Thanks.” Jungwon replies. He would usually feel nothing but joy when Irene would compliment his skating like that. 

But Jungwon finds that a gold medal is something he does not desire anymore. 

TWO. triple double camel spin axel 

The off-season is great. 

The pressure of competition is gone, and you’re able to rest without intense preparation and training for a couple weeks before you’re back to your usual routine. 

You do decide to head to the rink today though, just so you can get in some skating time with your new coach. 

Irene Bae was your idol growing up. When you saw her skate at the Olympics from the comfort of your own home at the age of 4, you knew that you wanted to be like her. Graceful and elegant, yet powerful and strong on the ice.

Your parents enrolled you in skating classes at the age of 3, and it was like the ice was practically calling your name. Your first coach, Hyuna, had told your parents that you had talent — and encouraged them to let you continue skating. 

And so you did. As the years went by, what your first coach said proved to be true — you did have talent. You won medal after medal, and you were said to be a rising star. 

So when the opportunity arose for you to be coached by none other than your idol, you of course had to take it. 

When she complimented you on your skating, you nearly screamed. Having the person you’ve admired for your whole life telling you that you were doing great gave you a huge confidence boost — and you’d like to think that her words encouraged you and made you do even better than you usually did during your free skate at Worlds.

Being coached by the Irene Bae seemed surreal. She won one silver, one bronze medal at the Olympics, was a 2 time worlds winner and a six-time national champion. She was even known for being an incredible coach, coaching skaters like Yang Jungwon, and Kim Jiwon — who would now be your training mates.

You feel nothing but excitement when you enter the Taereung International Skating Rink, and you hear the sound of blades across ice that brings a smile to your lips. You see Irene, standing rinkside with her arms crossed, and skating on the rink, is Yang Jungwon.

Yang Jungwon’s made quite a name for himself in the last few years. 6th at the 2022 Olympics, a great finish for someone who was only 18 at the time. He also just won Worlds, and was a five-time national champion. 

Yang Jungwon is an incredible skater. His movements on the ice are as fluid and soft as water, but when he jumps, he’s incredibly powerful, like a rocket taking off. You’ve seen many people say that Jungwon’s one of the few ‘complete skaters’ — those who can combine artistry with jumping seem to be extremely rare nowadays. 

He’s one of those skaters that can get you mesmerised the second he steps onto the ice, and when he finishes his program, loud applause resounds throughout the arena, with tons of people throwing cat plushies onto the ice.

Jungwon is incredibly talented. Thinking about the fact that you two are going to be training mates brings a smile to your face — all the conversations you’ve had with Jungwon went quite well. You remember his pleasant voice and his kind smile, the one where his eyes crinkle into crescents and could make anyone swoon. 

You make your way over to Irene, who turns her head and greets you with a kind smile when she sees you. “(Name)!” she beams, wrapping you in a hug. “Nice to see you.” 

“It’s nice to see you too, Irene!” you say, and she smiles at you. “I’m excited to be working with you.” she tells you, and her words just fill you up with joy.

“Thank you so much,” you beam. “I’m excited to be coached by you.” A smile graces Irene’s lips at your words. “Jungwon’s on the ice right now, with Taemin. He’s just learning the last part of his choreography for his short program for next season.” she tells you, and you nod.

“Jiwon’s gone for lunch break, and Eunchae and Jongseob should be somewhere around here… you can go meet with them and say hi later.” 

“Sounds good.” 

“Irene!” Taemin, the choreographer, calls out to her. “Jungwon’s got this. He’ll absolutely kill it.” 

You notice how Irene and Taemin’s smiles seem wider than Jungwon’s when Taemin says that. The smile plastered on Jungwon’s lips barely reaches his eyes. 

“Why don’t you go lace up your skates? You and Jungwon can share the rink.” Irene suggests to you, and you nod. You find a seat, pulling out your skates from your skate bag as you take your regular sports shoes off, slipping into your skating boots. You tie the laces incredibly quickly — after all, you have been doing this for years.

You take off your skate guards, leaving them on the bench as you skate onto the rink, skating laps to warm yourself up as you put your gloves on. 

Somewhere along the way, you find yourself accompanied by Jungwon, who catches up to you. “Hey,” he says. “Heard that Irene’s coaching you now.” 

“Yeah,” you beam. “We’ll be training mates from now on, huh?” you say, and Jungwon nods. “Saw you practicing your short program for next season… you’ve started quite early. Howl’s Moving Castle soundtrack?” 

“Mhm,” Jungwon says. “I like to get started earlier, so I’m more familiar with it when it’s time to compete. Do you have any ideas for the music you might skate to?” 

“Oh, I’ve got no idea. My friend told me to skate to Bolero, though.” you say, and you see Jungwon grimace at your words. You let out a loud laugh that makes Jungwon chuckle. “Bolero? Really?” he asks.

“Riki knows nothing about figure skating, but I think he goes on Twitter to find what music people hate seeing skaters skate to the most… Bolero is definitely one of them, which is probably why he recommended it to me.” you laugh. “Once he even asked me if I could do a ‘triple double camel spin axel’. Like what in the world is that?” 

Your words make Jungwon burst into laughter, and you think it’s one of the prettiest sounds you’ve ever heard.

“A triple double camel spin axel? Your friend might just have invented a new jump.” he quips, and you nod. “Are you ready for the Olympics next year?” he asks you, and you shake your head.

“Who says I’ll make it?” 

“Of course you’ll make it. Your skating’s great.” Jungwon says, and you thank him. “You’ll definitely make it. To next year and the one after. You’ll probably make it to the one in 2034 too.” 

“Hah, that’s funny. But no, I won’t be making it to the 2030 or the 2034 one. It’s probably nice to think about, though.” Jungwon replies. 

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion. “What? Why? I mean... maybe 2034 is a bit of a stretch, but surely the 2030 one.” 

“I’m retiring after this season.” 

Your eyes nearly pop out of their sockets at his words. Yang Jungwon was going to retire? At the age of 22? Was he joking? 

You almost can’t believe it.

“What? Why?” 

“I don’t like skating anymore.” he hums, and he says it so casually. “It’s more of a chore now, rather than something I love. I guess I fell out of love with the ice.”

You can somewhat understand how he feels. You had burnout too, but you never got to the point where you wanted to quit. You just wanted to take a break, to refresh your mind and to take care of your health and body. 

But Jungwon sounds like he’s determined to quit. As if nothing will get him to change his mind.

“What would it take for you to fall back in love with it?” you ask.

Jungwon shrugs. “I don’t know. I don’t think anything would be able to change my mind at this point. Skating is just so incredibly… draining. I want to enjoy it as much as I used to, but I just don’t think I can continue competing.” 

He sounds like he’s truly given up hope on finding love for the sport again, and it makes your heart ache. Yang Jungwon is undoubtedly one of the best figure skaters you’ve ever seen, and to see him possibly end his career because he just simply ran out of love for the sport saddens you. 

And for some reason, you want to try and get him to fall back in love with the ice again. 

So with a sudden burst of confidence and determination, you decide to ask him: “Are you free any time next week?” 

Jungwon looks at you, puzzled. “Yes?”

“I’m going to try and get you to fall back in love with the ice.”

“(Name), I’ve made up my mind—” 

“That’s fine. I just want you to enjoy skating again. No competition, just having fun. You know, I was in the audience the day you won the Grand Prix final two years ago. You looked so, so, incredibly happy — I want you to feel the same feeling you felt when you were skating on that ice.” 

Jungwon looks at you hesitantly. “You’d do that for me?” 

You nod. “We can get to know each other better too. What do you say?” 

Jungwon pauses for a moment to think. 

“Sure.”

You beam at him. “Cool. I’ll give you my number after practice and we can make arrangements.” 

Jungwon nods, and you two end your conversation there, focusing on training instead. 

As you land a clean triple salchow-triple toeloop on the ice, you add a new goal to your bucket list.

Get Yang Jungwon to fall in love with figure skating again.

THREE. seal skating aid

You meet up with Jungwon two days later at a public skating rink with a bright smile on your face. 

He looks confused when he sees the amount of people who have come to the rink today. “How are we supposed to skate with this many people here?” 

You smile, lacing up your skates. “We can still skate. We just can’t jump.” 

Jungwon looks hesitantly at you. “But skating laps is boring,” he says. “How am I going to fall back in love with skating like this?” 

“Because,” you say. “This was how you first fell in love with it as a kid. You didn’t know how to jump, how to spin, or how to do spirals. Sometimes doing simple things, such as just skating around the rink can be fun. There’s no pressure of needing to execute certain elements properly — look at everyone skating here today. They’re just here to have fun.” 

Jungwon looks at the people skating on the rink. There’s a bunch of couples, holding hands as they enjoy their date. There’s also lots of kids taking classes, learning how to balance on their skates just like he did when he was younger. There’s also two or three people who do seem like they’re good skaters, and Jungwon spots one of them doing a Biellmann spin right in the middle of the rink. 

And you are right. This was what the first rink Jungwon stepped on looked like. The rink he skated on wasn’t as busy as this, but sure enough, there were couples, kids that were learning to skate, and people like the girl doing the Biellmann spin was what made him think that he wanted to be able to do something like that. 

You motion for Jungwon to join you as you step onto the ice, and he does. You two skate around the rink slowly — much slower than Jungwon is used to. He sees a couple of young kids who seemingly recognise you and him, pointing you two out to their friends.

“You’re famous,” he says, chuckling. “You’re more famous, Mr Placed 6th In The Olympics.” you reply, and he shakes his head. 

“It’s still 6th. Not a podium finish.” he says, and you sigh. “6th is crazy good for an 18 year old. Plus, you were competing with the greatest of the greats.” 

“That’s true, I suppose.” Jungwon muses. “I’ll just do better this year. Might as well go out with a bang, hmm?” 

“I guess so.” you say. 

Jungwon looks around him, seeing little kids who are seemingly learning how to skate for the first time struggle with their balance. He discreetly motions for them to put their arms out and bend their knees, to which they do. They seem to balance a lot better, and Jungwon gives them a soft smile.

Those kids remind him of himself when he was first learning how to skate. A helmet perched on his head with his knee and elbow guards on, and rental skates that Jungwon would never even dare to wear now. He ran onto the ice, falling over — then getting back up. Falling over, then getting back up.

When it comes to skating, Jungwon now feels like he’s fallen. And he can’t seem to just muster the strength to get himself back up. 

Perhaps you will be able to get him to ignite the passion that he had for figure skating once again, but there’s a chance that it won’t happen. 

Jungwon realised that it hurts to fall out of love with the very thing you sacrificed your entire life for. His childhood was spent at the rink, doing the one thing he knew best — skating. Now that he realises his passion for the sport has crumbled away, all he can ask himself is: was it worth it?

Jungwon wants to say yes. But he isn't quite sure if he believes that now, considering that the ice no longer feels like home.

“You’re thinking a lot.” you hum, and Jungwon nods. “I was just thinking about… how I started.

You motion for him to go on.

“I used to love skating. I loved it more than anything,” Jungwon says, staring at the ice. He once said that the boots on his feet somehow felt molded to his body, since he wore them so much. But now, these exact boots are uncomfortable — they are suffocating, and Jungwon knows that when he's under the pressure of competition, he’ll want nothing more than to take them off. “But now, I just feel emptiness. And I’m just thinking… what could’ve gone wrong?”

“I don’t think anything went wrong,” you reply. “I think you pushed too hard. Like you said, you devoted your entire life to this sport. Even the brightest of flames burn out. You just have to find the thing that’ll be able to light it back up again.” 

“That’s poetic.” Jungwon says. “Being a poet was my backup career option, if this whole… skating on knife boots thing didn’t work out.” you quip, and Jungwon cracks a smile.

“This conversation got deep,” Jungwon says. “Sorry for bringing the mood down. I know we’re here to have fun.” he says, and you shrug. “It’s alright. Maybe letting out your feelings about it will help too,” you say. 

“Maybe,” Jungwon says. “But I think I’ve been thinking about them too much lately. I need to try and rid myself of these emotions, because I’ll just end up overthinking and I’ll end up spiralling.” 

You nod. “That’s fair.”

You then spot a seal shaped skating aid, and you look at Jungwon with a twinkle in your eye. You skate a little faster to get to it, and you bring it back to where Jungwon’s standing, and you motion for him to sit down.

“What?” Jungwon asks, confused.

“Sit down!” you beam. “I’ll push you around the rink.” 

Jungwon reluctantly sits down, burying his face in his hands out of embarrassment. He feels like he’s 4 years old, with his sister pushing him around the rink. But he also remembers how fun it was, the cool air hitting his face as loud music played from the speakers in the rink. Christmas music, Jungwon remembered it being.

“I’m gonna push you now,” you say, and Jungwon nods. You start skating, and you begin to skate faster — your blades scratch across the surface of the ice as a small smile begins to make its way across Jungwon’s lips.

Jungwon never thought skating laps could be so… fun. It’s like he forgot this feeling — skating with no jumps, no spins, no spirals. Just moving forward. It was so simple.

Simple is fun, Jungwon realises.

Simply skating forwards seems more exciting than the intricate movements he has to make. He doesn’t need to worry about possibly falling on a quad, he doesn’t need to worry about underrotating a jump, or getting an edge call — he can just skate. 

“Wait,” Jungwon suddenly says, and then you stop.

“Let me push you,” he says, getting up. You nod, plopping yourself down onto the seat as Jungwon grips the handle on the skating aid, which is shaped like a seal’s tail.

Jungwon starts skating, pushing the skating aid forward. He skates around the rink, moving faster with each lap he makes, and you put your hands up as if you’re riding a rollercoaster.

“This is fun, isn’t it?” you ask.

Yes, Jungwon thinks. This is quite fun. 

Despite just skating laps in a public skating rink, Jungwon thinks this might be the most fun he’s had on the rink in the last year.

FOUR. one ice show, two realisations

You see Jungwon two days later at the rink. 

He waves at you from the ice, taking a sip from his water bottle. His phone pings with a message, and he picks it up to view the text.

His fingers fly over the screen as he types a response while you lace up your skates. “Who’s texting?” you ask, skating onto the rink.

“Oh, just Yuzu.” 

“You’re talking about two-time Olympic gold medalist Yuzuru Hanyu?” you ask, and Jungwon nods. “Yeah. We’re friends.” he says, placing his phone back onto the bench. 

“What’d he say?” you ask — you don’t mean to be nosy, but Jungwon seems more than comfortable with telling you what the Japanese figure skater had texted him about. “Fantasy on Ice,” Jungwon replies. “The organisers wanted to reach out to me and ask me to join them on the tour, so he probably texted to give me a heads up.” 

“You should definitely do it, Jungwon!” you smile, and Jungwon purses his lips. “I don’t know.” he says, and he seems hesitant to accept Yuzuru’s offer.

You cross your arms. “Remember, it’s not a competition. Ice shows are meant to be fun. It doesn’t matter if the performance isn’t perfect — as long as you're having fun, and the audience is having fun, then that’s all that matters.” 

“Right.” he gulps. “I just haven’t done an ice show in a while.” 

“It’ll be a good experience to have, Jungwon. You can get rid of the pressure to prepare everything for next season and just enjoy skating, and you can go make new friends too.” you say, and Jungwon seems to consider it.

“I only have one gala program prepared.”

“Choreograph a new one.”

“Taemin’s busy.” 

“You don’t have to ask Taemin. Choreograph one yourself.” you suggest, and Jungwon furrows his eyebrows. “I don’t know how to do that.” 

“Jungwon, you’re an artist. You can come up with something.”

“It’ll be bad.” 

“Have some confidence in yourself,” you say, patting his shoulder. “You won’t know if you’re good or bad at it until you try, right?” 

Jungwon gulps again. “Right.” 

“So are you going to take up Hanyu’s offer?” 

Jungwon shrugs. “Maybe.” 

“Make that maybe a yes,” you say. “Really, skating in an ice show might help you enjoy skating again. Trust me. The crowd hypes you up, the skaters are all supportive, and it’s just a really nice environment to be in.”

Jungwon ponders the idea for a moment. Maybe he should really do this ice show. He hasn’t performed in a non-competition capacity in a while, excluding the galas after competitions. Now that he thinks about it, it seems nice to skate without the pressure of competition.

But the little voice in his head tells him that he absolutely needs to work on his programs next season. He wants to go out with a bang — he can’t do that if he’s underprepared.

Then your voice rings in his head. Fuck it, he hears you say.

A few shows can’t possibly hinder his performance that much. And it’s not like he won’t get any practice time in, and he’s already learnt the choreography for both programs… so it shouldn’t be a problem… right? 

Jungwon wants to love skating again. 

Maybe an ice show is the second step out of many in his quest to possibly find his love for skating again.

“Okay.” he says, picking up his phone. He moves his thumb over Yuzuru’s contact, typing an ‘I’d be interested’ before sending it without hesitation. You look pleasantly surprised, a smile on your lips as he places down his phone before looking at you.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asks, the corner of his lips quirking up into a small grin. 

“Nothing,” you say, looking down at your skates. “I’m just happy you’re trying to regain your passion for this sport.”

Jungwon hums. “Yes. I hope I will be able to.” 

“I hope you can too.” you say. “This ice show might help you change your mind.” 

“I just wanted to ask you — why did you offer to help me try and love the ice again?” he asks, and you purse your lips. 

This conversation is not an easy one to have, you think. 

“I guess it’s because I’ve been through something similar,” you start. “There’s a whole backstory to this, so I might as well tell you. I was 13 when I started being coached by Seo Minju.”

When you brought up Seo Minju, Jungwon knew that what you were about to say was not going to be pleasant at all. A couple of friends Jungwon had were also coached by Seo Minju, and had ended up getting multiple injuries — and some even had to retire early. 

“I trained… way too much, to say the least. More than you do now. I was breaking my body and my mind from the inside out, training even though I was — excuse my language — fucking exhausted. There was a point where in the middle of JGP Courchevel, I felt like I’d black out after I did a triple axel.” you say, and pressing your lips together in a thin line as you relive the memories that you’ve always wanted to forget. 

“And I was in so much pain. I don’t know how I still trained with that much pain — I guess it was Seo who tried to make me keep going. Then one day… I just fractured my ankle,” you gulp, as Jungwon looks at you with his eyebrows knitted together, and his eyes seem to be watery. 

“The doctors said my career could have ended. That was the most terrifying thing to hear as a 14 year old kid. I had to rest, heal, and I couldn’t be on the ice for months. I swapped coaches, almost immediately after I got the diagnosis. And when I was told that I could go back onto the ice again, I was fucking terrified. I was scared that one wrong move would end my entire career for good.”

You sigh. “It took me months to heal. I still loved the ice — but my fear of it seemed stronger than my love for it. I had to relearn new techniques, get back my triples… that’s why I disappeared for a whole season. And when I managed to become comfortable with the ice again, I kind of just started thinking in a different perspective. I guess I kind of just want you to maybe think of the sport differently than the way you see it now. Because at the end of the day, when we decided to start, it was because we loved it, right?” 

Jungwon finds that a tear trickles down his cheek after you finish speaking. “Don’t cry,” you say, a frown on your face. “I’m okay now.” 

“I’m so sorry.” he says, and you smile. “It’s okay. I just kind of always have to remember to take more care of this ankle right here,” you say, pointing to your right ankle. “My problem child.” you quip, trying to lighten the mood.

Jungwon’s only gotten to know you better in the past few weeks, but he thinks that you’re the most incredible and most admirable person he’s ever met. And the fact that you would go out of your way to try and help him enjoy skating again — it makes warmth bloom across Jungwon’s chest and fills him with nothing but happiness. 

He thinks he’ll be eternally grateful for you.

“Come here,” he says, arms held out to pull you in a hug. You skate closer to him, and he wraps his arms around you, and you do the same, wrapping your arms around him.. Jungwon’s hugs are comforting, and you feel nothing but warmth despite you both standing in the middle of an ice skating rink.

He smells like fresh linen, you realise.

You also realise that you don’t really want to let go.

FIVE. spiralling 

You receive a message from the Fantasy On Ice organisers a few days later as well, asking if you’d like to join them on tour.

Of course you say yes.

Jungwon seems more cheerful lately. His mood dampens a little bit when he’s on the ice, but it seems barely noticeable to Jiwon and Jongseob — maybe you're just extra attentive when it comes to him.

Jungwon will admit that he is feeling a little bit better. Skating to a program that he knows he doesn’t have to compete with is freeing, fun even. But the little devil on his shoulder keeps pestering him, telling him that he has to focus on next season’s programs.  

Jungwon tells the devil to fuck off.

He heads back to his apartment, the weight on his shoulders slightly less heavy than it was a couple weeks ago. He thinks that maybe, just maybe, he might get to love skating again.

When he opens the door, he’s surprised by his cousin, Wonyoung, who stands in front of the door with balloons in her hands. “Congrats on your Worlds win!” 

She pulls Jungwon in for a hug. “You’re two weeks late, Wonyo.” he jokes, and Wonyoung scoffs. “I texted you, because I was in Paris and I couldn’t come watch you.”

“I know, I know.” Jungwon says, putting his skate bag away before he flops on the couch, Wonyoung sitting next to him. “How’s skating?” she asks.

“Terrible,” Jungwon responds. “Well, not entirely. But 90% terrible.” 

Wonyoung looks surprised. “What? You just won a major competition though.”

“Yeah. I guess. But it’s not exactly fun anymore,” Jungwon sighs, and Wonyoung frowns. “I feel way too much pressure to be perfect. Every day of my life, it’s just training, training, training — I feel like I know nothing outside of figure skating.” 

Jungwon’s phone rings, and he furrows his eyebrows before pulling his phone out of his pocket and checking the caller ID. It’s Jangmi, his older sister.

“Hello?” Jungwon says, putting his sister on speaker mode. 

“Why did we have to find out from Irene that you’re retiring?” Jangmi’s tone does not seem happy, and Wonyoung, who’s sitting beside him, seems shocked. 

Jungwon sits up properly, frowning at his sister’s words. “Because I didn’t think that it was any of your business at the time, and probably because I would’ve told you when I was ready?” he replies. “Why do you sound so angry?” 

“You’re like… 22. You’re way too young to retire.” 

“I don’t think that’s for you to decide, Jangmi.” Jungwon says, sighing. 

“Why are you even retiring anyways? It’s not like you’re injured or anything.” she says, and Jungwon frowns. “I just don’t love the sport anymore, Jangmi. I should be able to retire when I want to, and I think that I want to.” 

“All because you don’t love the sport? You’re throwing away all those years of your training because you don’t love it anymore? You’re just finding an excuse to quit, Jungwon — and you know our family doesn’t like quitters.”

Jangmi’s words make Jungwon fume. He’s furious, and Wonyoung can tell from the way his expression immediately changes from frustration to one of pure anger. 

“You would never understand, Jangmi. I sacrificed my entire childhood for this sport and I wish I fucking knew why I fell out of love with it but I just don’t know why, okay? I wish I could just suddenly start fucking love skating like I did when I was 4, but that’s not possible! I’ve gotten to the point where I simply just cannot continue because I’m not going to spend my days being miserable doing something that I don’t love.” Jungwon’s hands tremble as he holds his phone, tears welling in his eyes and Wonyoung pats his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him — it does not seem to work at all.

“Do your medals and titles really mean nothing to you? Do they not give you motivation to keep going? You’re literally Yang Jungwon, Olympian, 2025 World Champion, and a 5 time national champion!”

“They seem to mean more to you than they do to me.” Jungwon says.

“Jungwon, you can’t give up.”

“But I can.” 

“Jungwon—”

“Jangmi, I’m really not in the mood for this right now. Call me when you can accept my decision.” Jungwon says, before hanging up. He sighs, leaning his head back on the headrest of his couch.

He blinks away the tears in his eyes, and he lets out a loud sigh.

“Are you okay?” Wonyoung asks, even if she knows that her cousin is anything but okay.

“I’ll manage.” Jungwon replies, and Wonyoung gives him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. Jungwon gives her a stiff smile. 

None of them say a word for a while, sitting in silence until Jungwon suddenly speaks up. “I just don’t know how this happened.” 

“What?” Wonyoung asks. 

“How I managed to start disliking the one thing I swore I’d love my whole life. I spent my entire life, I sacrificed my entire life just to get here… and now that I am here, I find that I suddenly hate skating. The passion I used to have seems like it just disappeared into thin air.” 

“What Jangmi said was wrong.” Wonyoung says. “It’s your career. Do whatever you want.” 

“But now that I think about it, do I really want to retire?” Jungwon lets out a sad laugh. “I was telling my friend, (Name), that I wanted to love skating again. Maybe that’s just all I want.” 

Jangmi’s phone call somehow really struck a chord within Jungwon. He knew that his sister only cared about his titles — it’s been like that since they were kids. Saying I’m figure skater Yang Jungwon’s sister somehow gave her an automatic “cool” pass. Then it became national champion Yang Jungwon. Then, Olympian Yang Jungwon.

Figure skating is all Jungwon’s ever known. Saying that he wants to retire seems easy enough when he knows he hates what he does. But when his last competition rolls around, Jungwon knows that leaving the ice might be the most difficult thing he’s had to do, ever.

Jungwon might hate the sport he’s sacrificed his life for, but what he hates more is that he allowed himself to start hating it.

SIX. rental skates

After a few weeks of practising your gala performance and a little bit of your programs for next season, you and Jungwon are headed to Japan for Fantasy On Ice.

Jungwon hasn’t exactly been in the best mood lately. You’ve tried to cheer him up, and it works sometimes, but he still looks exhausted and tired of it whenever he steps on the ice.

You hope the ice show will make him feel better. Sometimes performing to an upbeat and supportive crowd can help cheer people up (at least that’s what it’s like for you.)

You’ve given him supportive comments while you’re watching him rehearse his program for the show, and you manage to get him to crack small smiles while he’s skating — you know he’ll have to take this one step at a time.

You two are seated beside each other on the plane, and Jungwon settles into his seat comfortably, headphones propped on his head over a baseball cap.

“Are you feeling okay?” you ask him, and he shrugs. “I haven’t participated in an ice show for a while. I really don’t know what to expect…. so I’m a bit worried.” he replies.

“Don’t worry. Ice shows are meant to just be for fun,” you say. “Skating is something you should enjoy with the audience.”

Your take is interesting. All his life, Jungwon has just been aiming for the medals — he never thought about how he was feeling while he skated. It was as if his mind was blank, only knowing that he had to do this certain element at this certain time. 

Because getting medals was what would bring him joy, right? 

That was what Jungwon used to think. 

“Mhm.” he replies. 

He doesn’t know why his sister’s words from weeks ago are still stuck in his mind. He goes quiet, lips downturned into a small frown that you notice. 

“How’d you start liking the sport?” you ask Jungwon, noticing his mood to seemingly be less than pleasant. Maybe your question will help him take his mind off whatever’s been bugging him.

“My sister’s birthday party. We all went to the ice rink together. I remember just running onto the ice, and I fell a couple times. There was this one learn to skate class being held during it, and I just saw other kids my age having so much fun. Then, I saw this one girl do a Biellmann, and she did some double jumps too. And I thought — how cool would it be if I could do that?” he says, and he smiles a little when he thinks about those good memories.

“What about you?” he asks, taking a sip from his water bottle as the pilot notifies everyone that they’re about to take off.

“My parents just signed me up for skating lessons. But then I ended up really loving it after my first class.” you reply, and Jungwon nods.

“Now that I think about it, classes were really fun for me when I was a kid.” Jungwon says, and you crack a small smile. “We should do a learn to skate class for jokes,” you say, and Jungwon chuckles. “The coach would definitely ask us what we’re doing there. They’d be so confused.” he replies. 

“Let’s wear rental skates.” 

“Oh, god no.” Jungwon grimaces at the thought. “I swear the blades at the rink haven’t been sharpened for years.” 

“You should try a triple in rental skates,” you joke, and Jungwon makes a face, wincing. “I can already feel the pain from that… I’d most definitely fall and injure myself.” 

“No, you’d be good, Mr 2025 World Champion.” 

“You try it, Ms 2025 Grand Prix Final winner.” 

Jungwon thinks that he feels the most comfortable when he’s around you. It takes him a bit to warm up to people, but you two had formed a close relationship practically the minute you guys became training mates. Talking to you is easy, and fun – he doesn’t think he’s had a good laugh on the rink in years, and Jungwon realises that skating is more fun when you’re around.

Goofing around on the rink, taking practices seriously but also not at the same time is something that seems new to Jungwon, at least in the last few years. So seeing you find joy in practice, which is something he hasn’t been able to do for years, makes him think that maybe he could do that too. 

You encourage him, as well, pulling him into your antics that make Jongseob, Jiwon and Eunchae laugh. Slowly but surely, all your training mates seem to realise that Jungwon’s loosening up – he allows himself to have fun on the rink, and he allows himself to take breaks.

During a conversation between Jongseob, Jiwon and Eunchae, Jiwon had mentioned that she thought that Jungwon would probably fall in love with you. 

“She seems to make him happy,” was what she said. She’s not wrong, too – everyone’s noticed the way Jungwon seems to seem livelier and happier lately. Jongseob remembers the way Jungwon seemed to be constantly stressed, eyebrows almost always knitted together in worry, and never-ending sighs escaping past his lips. 

Jungwon’s love for skating hasn’t fully returned yet, but he thinks that he’s starting to like it a little again. It’s not as draining as it was before, and perhaps it’s because you’ve taught him that above all, skating should be fun. Jungwon allows himself to have fun on the ice for the first time in a couple of years, and when he glides across the ice with not a single ounce of worrying about him needing to prove that he’s the best, all he feels is relief. 

And he would be eternally grateful for you. For teaching him how to have fun on the ice again. To let go of all the pressure that’s been on his shoulders for years, and just to enjoy the sport.

Gold medals and countless titles might have brought him fulfilment years ago. But now, he thinks that simply just skating would bring the same amount of fulfilment, if not maybe even more.

SEVEN. side by side (quad toe)

Ice show practices are fun. 

Everyone’s got a smile on their faces. The first thing Jungwon notices is how warm and welcoming everyone is. The minute he walks into the rink alongside you, he’s welcomed with a hug from Harua, a figure skater from Japan that he remembers having a few nice conversations with during competitions. 

“It’s nice to see you again!” Harua beams. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.” Jungwon replies, even though he saw him at Worlds just a few months ago. “I know right?” Harua says. “I’m glad you’re joining us this year, though! I remember the organisers wanted to see if you wanted to join us last year, but Irene told them you were busy.” 

Jungwon brushes his bangs out of his eyes. “Yeah, I was busy during the off-season last year. Preparing for competitions, you know… I thought I’d have a break from that and just join you guys this year.” 

“Mhm,” Harua nods, and he hears his name being called out by someone. “I think I’ve got to run along, but it was nice seeing you! It’ll be lots of fun. Nice seeing you too as well, (Name)! Let’s talk more later.” 

Harua runs off, as you give Jungwon an amused smile. “You guys seem close.” 

“We’re not super close… we’ve just talked to each other a couple times at competitions. He’s a really nice guy, though.” Jungwon says, taking his skates out of his skate bag. He looks at the rink, and there are a few skaters he recognises just warming up. 

“He does seem really nice.” you hum, sitting down next to him as you take your skates out from your bag as well.

“You ready?” he asks, standing up. You quickly finish lacing up your right boot before nodding. “Let’s go,” you say, linking arms with him as you lead him towards the rink.

You do it so casually that Jungwon needs a few seconds to process the action. He doesn’t know why his face starts feeling warm, and he doesn’t want you to let go of his arm.

The funniest thing is, the minute he thinks that, you let go, placing your hands into the pocket of your jacket.

“Hey, let’s do a side by side jump.” you suggest, and Jungwon nods. “Triple?” he asks, and you shake your head. “Nah, let’s do a quad. Quad toe?”

“Sure.” he says, and he starts skating, doing backward crossovers on the ice. “Should I count? How do pairs do this?” you say, as you skate beside him.

“Just count,” he says. 

“Okay, one, two, three.”

And you both take off, spinning four revolutions in the air before landing, completely synchronised. You look at Jungwon with a huge smile on your face, giving him a high five. “Nice.” you say.

“That was good.” Jungwon says, patting you on the shoulder. “New pairs team in the making!” you two hear Jongseob joke, and Jungwon lets out a chuckle. 

You tell Jungwon that you’re going to practise your gala program for a bit, and he nods as he watches you skate off. You glide gracefully across the ice, Jungwon admiring how beautiful your jumps and spins are.

He doesn’t realise that his expression is one of awe until Harua points it out. “You look very enamoured, Jungwon.” he smirks, and Jungwon immediately snaps out of it.

“Huh… what?” he asks, almost as if he’s in a daze. He blinks a couple times, and Harua only chuckles. “Do you like (Name)?

“Of course I like (Name). She’s my friend.” he says, completely clueless to what Harua’s hinting at. “No, no, I mean like… in a romantic way.” 

A romantic way?

It might sound a little crazy, but Jungwon does not think he’s ever had a crush on someone in his 22 years of walking on this planet. Skating was his number one priority — love wasn’t anywhere on his list of priorities. In fact, Jungwon doesn’t even think he’s thought about love at all.

So Jungwon isn’t quite sure how to tell if his feelings for you are romantic or not, because he simply just doesn’t know what having a crush feels like. He knows that you linking arms with him was nice. He knows that he didn’t want you to let go of his arm.

Was that the first sign of a crush?

Jungwon truly didn’t know.

He scratches the nape of his neck awkwardly. “I don't… think so.” he replies, but it comes out sounding more like a question, and Harua only smiles at him, amused.

“Cool. Cool… tell me that next year when you two are dating.” the boy says, and Jungwon raises an eyebrow. “We’re not going to… what?”

“You seem much happier when you’re around her, you know.” Harua says, earnestly. “At Worlds, you didn’t seem very happy. You seemed tense, as if you were always burdened by something.” 

“But now, you seem like you’re feeling better. You’re smiling again.” Harua says, and Jungwon takes a few seconds to process his words. 

“She… she’s trying to get me to like skating again.” Jungwon says, and Harua lets out a knowing ‘ah’. “I guess I have started liking skating more again… because she’s helped me learn to have fun.”

“That’s good. See, your relationship is like a whole Netflix movie plot.” Harua quips.

“I really don’t see the vision you’re trying to paint in my head, Harua.” Jungwon says, and Harua shrugs. “Just think about your feelings when you’re around her. I guess if you feel like… warm, and happy when she’s around, you like her? Or if you think about her a lot. Or if you want to kiss her, I don’t know. You should Google it. Ask Google how to tell if you like someone, or something. You know it has all the answers.” 

Jungwon’s drawn to two parts of what Harua just said. One, the part being that Harua told him to ask Google how to tell if you liked someone, and two, the part where he told Jungwon to think about whether he wanted to kiss you. 

Jungwon’s not going to Google to ask for relationship advice. 

And Jungwon also doesn’t know if he wants to kiss you or not. He doesn’t even know if he likes you romantically, either. All he knows is that you make him happy. Much happier than he used to be.

But when you skate up to him with a bright smile on your face, Jungwon feels his heart beat faster than it was just a few seconds ago. And he knows it’s not because he’s tired from skating, because after all, he has been standing still while talking to Harua.

Maybe he does like you. 

Just a little bit.

EIGHT. let me entertain you

Tonight is the first show of Fantasy on Ice for this year, and you’re bursting with excitement. 

You get dressed into the costume for the opening, and you raise an eyebrow when you see the dress. It’s not… terrible, but it’s not something you’d wear at all.

You leave the dressing room, looking into the mirror as you tilt your head. You walk towards the hair and makeup area, where Jungwon’s getting his hair done.

“Do I look okay?” 

Jungwon thinks his heart skips a beat. 

The costume is... alright, but that’s the case with Fantasy On Ice costumes every year. But, you make it look really, really good. Unconsciously, a smile makes its way to his lips, and you take it as a good sign.

“You look great.” he says, and you smile. 

“Thank you, Won!” 

You just called him a nickname. His smile seemingly gets wider as you scurry off, being called for your own hair and makeup to be done. 

“Do you see what I mean, Jungwon?” Harua says, sitting in the chair beside him. “I really don’t.” Jungwon replies.

“You two are definitely going to fall in love. I’ve got great matchmaking skills.” Harua smirks.

“Who’s falling in love?” Yuzuru asks, overhearing Harua’s words, and Jungwon buries his face in his hands. “Jungwon! And… (Name).” Harua says your voice very quietly, in fear that you might hear him.

“Oh?” Yuzuru says, wiggling his eyebrows. “You guys would be cute together. Did you guys get closer recently?” 

“Mhm,” Jungwon nods. “I don’t think I'm… in love though.”

“You’re married to the ice like Yuzu, huh?” Harua quips. “I said I wanted someone who would benefit my skating or be very supportive of it.” Yuzuru replies.

“Elsa.” 

“Enough.” 

“No, but I just haven’t thought about love, you know?” Jungwon says. “Skating takes up my whole life… I don’t exactly have the time to think about it.”

“Valid.” Yuzuru hums. “But seriously, you two would actually be really cute together. Harua says he hasn’t seen you smile genuinely in years.” 

Jungwon thinks Harua might be exaggerating a little. He would smile at Harua (genuine smiles!) after he finished skating. It was just during the skate, during the Kiss and Cry, and during the podium where Jungwon would do the smile that never quite ended up reaching his eyes. 

“You’re making me sound emo!” 

“You are though?”  Harua replies, laughing. “Wait, no… not anymore.” he nods his head in the direction of where you are, and Jungwon rolls his eyes. 

“I’m not falling in love.” he says, before getting up from his chair. He hears Harua say Whatever you say! teasingly, and Jungwon just shakes his head as he makes his way over to you. 

“Hey,” he says, greeting you as the makeup artist swipes a pretty pink colour on your lips. You look up at him, waving (because you can’t exactly smile right now.) 

“Hi! You’re lucky you’ve got a puffer jacket on. Man, it’s freezing here.” you say when the makeup artist is done, shivering slightly. For someone who’s on the ice almost all the time, your tolerance to the cold isn’t exactly high — but in your defence, they did have the aircon on in the room.

“You can just take mine,” Jungwon says, unzipping it. He drapes it over your shoulders, and the action suddenly makes your cheeks start feeling hot.

You’ve heard about this feeling before, but you don’t think you’ve ever really experienced it. If those movies and books were right, you think you might just have the tiniest crush on Yang Jungwon.

You think that becoming friends with Jungwon might’ve been one of the best decisions of your life. He’s kind — always caring about you even when he’s feeling down in the dumps. He’s funny too, but he doesn’t seem to show it to anyone other than you. And, he is undeniably one of the prettiest people you’ve ever seen.

Him lending you his jacket just makes your heart flutter. 

“Oh, thank you.” you say, and for the first time, you find yourself at a loss for words when you’re talking to Jungwon.

“It’ll keep you warm until before the show starts.” he says, and you nod. “You ready?” you ask, and Jungwon shrugs. 

“I don’t know. I’m a bit scared. I hope I do well.” 

You take his hand, giving him an encouraging squeeze. “I know you’ll do well. And just remember that this is for fun. It’s not a competition. You’re here to have fun, you’re here to let the audience have fun.” 

“Okay.” he says, taking a deep breath. “I’ll make sure to have fun.” 

“Loosen up, Wonie.” you beam at him. “The crowd will love you, I’m sure of it.” 

You see everyone starting to line up in order of their appearance for the opening, and thankfully, you’re behind Jungwon, so you two can continue your conversation.

“I just wanted to ask.” you start, and Jungwon hums, motioning for you to continue. “Do you think you’re starting to love skating again?”

Jungwon is silent for a moment.

“A little bit. Because now I know that skating is meant to be fun, above all.” he says, and you smile.

“Cool.”

“Thank you.” Jungwon grins at you.

“For what?” you ask.

“For helping me with liking skating again. I really thought I wouldn’t be able to find my love for it again. I guess I just thought that if I trained harder and got better results, I’d be happier with my skates… but I was wrong,” he replies. “I needed to learn how to have fun again. I needed to remember why I started loving the sport in the first place.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Won.”

“No, but I do. I know I wouldn’t have done this ice show if you didn’t convince me to. And from what I can tell and the cheers I can hear, I think it’ll be a lot of fun.” he smiles. “So thank you. For pushing me to loosen up. For pushing me to learn to have fun.”

“You’re welcome, then.” you smile. The organiser tells Jungwon that he’ll be up next. “You’ll kill it out there.” you say.

“So will you.”

Jungwon thinks that deciding to join this ice show might be one of the best decisions he’s made. 

NINE. ice days

Jungwon has never felt so happy to perform.

The crowd is loud, lively and cheers him on, applause sounding throughout the arena after he lands a jump. The atmosphere makes Jungwon excited to skate on the next show.

It’s been a while since Jungwon felt excitement towards the ice.

Cheers resound throughout the arena when he finishes his program, and he finds that he doesn’t have to plaster a smile on his face — he already is smiling. A huge, genuine smile. 

He doesn’t see you until the group number at the end, and when he spots you, he skates a little faster in order to catch up with you. “Hey, Won! You did great.” you say when you notice him skating beside you on your left. 

“Thank you,” he says, a smile on his lips. “You did great too.” 

“Was it fun?” you ask, playing with the coloured scarf tied around your neck. You notice that you and Jungwon have the same exact one – they’re both orange and pink (a colour combination that you’re not quite sure you like too much.)

“Yeah. It was really fun.” 

“What’d I tell you?” you say, grinning brightly at him. “There are a lot more shows after this, so you’ll get to experience all this over and over again.” 

“I’m glad you made me do this,” he says, chuckling. “I don’t think I’ve had this much fun on the ice in a long, long time.” 

“That’s good. Do you think my quest to help you love the ice again is working?” you ask.

“I think it is.” 

You take his hand and squeeze it. “That’s good. I’m glad.”

Jungwon doesn’t notice the crowd seems to get louder after seeing your action. He thinks that someone must’ve done a cool trick, like Jongseob doing a backflip. 

“That’s enough, lovebirds!” Harua says, skating up to you two. “We’re about to leave the rink.” 

All the skaters skate to the centre of the rink, and Jungwon does too, with you following him. You all link hands, bowing at the audience before each of you leave the rink, one by one.

As Jungwon’s hand is in yours, you can’t stop thinking about Harua calling you two lovebirds. Obviously, you and Jungwon weren’t together, but now you can’t stop thinking that perhaps there could be a possibility, provided that you managed to figure out all the mixed feelings you had and if he reciprocated.

But strangely, something about Jungwon just makes you feel at home.

There is something so comforting about his presence. You feel at ease with Jungwon — it’s easy to talk to him, it’s easy to crack jokes when he’s around (you realised that you do it more often when he’s around just so you can see him laugh.)

It’s also easy to just sit in silence with Jungwon. Usually you’d feel compelled to fill the awkward silence, but with Jungwon, sometimes words don’t need to be shared. You feel like you’re able to understand him, and he’s able to understand you, despite only growing close during the off-season.

You’d like to think that he’s the closest friend in your circle of skater friends.

When you’re finished getting changed out of the costume and remove your makeup, you try to find Jungwon in the packed room, but to no avail. 

“Who are you looking for?” Kaori asks, and you turn around to face her. “Oh! Jungwon.” you say, and Kaori points in the direction she saw him go in. “He’s just over there, with Harua.” 

“Thanks!” you say, grinning at Kaori before heading in the direction she pointed at. Sure enough, Jungwon’s sitting there, typing away at his phone.

“Won!” you say, and he looks up, a smile immediately on his lips. “(Name)! I was waiting for you.” he says.

Your heart flutters. Harua smirks whilst trying to stifle a giggle. Jungwon shoots a pointed look at the boy.

“Oh?” you ask. “Yeah. I was wondering if you wanted to grab dinner before heading back to the hotel together.” he says, standing up from his chair.

“Of course!” you reply, nodding. “Cool,” he says, placing his puffer jacket into his bag. “Harua says there’s a good ramen place around here.” 

“Yeah. It’s really good. I would go with you guys but then I’d be third-wheeling.” Harua says, still seated in his chair. Your cheeks flush pink at his words, whilst Jungwon furrows his eyebrows. “Why would you be third-wheeling?” 

“Oh. Just because,” Harua says, a smirk on his lips. “You guys should run along now. They close pretty soon,” he checks the time on his phone.

“Well! We should hurry then… see you tomorrow, Harua.” you say, and Jungwon waves at the skater. “Bye!” 

Have fun on your date, Harua mouths at Jungwon. Jungwon rolls his eyes in response. 

“The crowd were cheering really loud for you tonight,” you tell Jungwon. “Oh, really?” he asks — he thought they were just as loud with everybody else. 

“There were less people in the audience during the last ice show I did, but yeah. They were really loud — they seemed to really enjoy your performance.”

A small, proud smile makes its way to Jungwon’s lips. “I’m glad they enjoyed it. They seemed to like your performance too. I know I did.”

Goddamn Yang Jungwon. His words were making your heart beat as fast as it was when you were competing on the ice. 

Your cheeks feel hot, and you fan your face with your hand to try and stop them from getting warmer. Jungwon seems to notice your actions. “It’s hot, isn’t it?” he asks.

“What?”

“The weather.” he says, pulling out his phone. “It’s 32 degrees right now.” 

Thank god Jungwon is dense when it comes to any aspect of romance. You understand why though, because when he was younger, he was fully devoted to the ice. You don’t think he even gave any attention to the people who were chasing after him and yearning for his affection — because it was like his heart belonged to the ice.

“Oh. Yeah, it is.” you say. You think you dodged a bullet there. You and Jungwon arrive at the ramen shop soon after, and Harua is right — the food is absolutely delicious. 

Speaking of Harua, the ramen reminds you of him mentioning that if he came with you and Jungwon, he’d be third-wheeling. 

Somehow you feel… giddy at the thought of that. Not Harua third-wheeling, but the idea of you and Jungwon on a date. 

Wait, was this dinner a date? 

No. You shake your head to get rid of the thought. Jungwon only sees you as a friend. 

But the idea of you two possibly being something more seems to now be engraved in the back of your mind, and while eating ramen in 32 degree weather with Yang Jungwon in the streets of Makuhari, you realise:

You like Jungwon.

TEN. 4Lz (ur, fall)

Jungwon finds that Fantasy on Ice ends faster than he thinks. It was nearly two months of touring — time really does fly when you’re having fun.

He thinks he’s starting to enjoy skating again. He’s found a new appreciation for his craft — and with the knowledge that his skating is able to make so many people happy, he thinks that he should be able to make himself happy with his own skating. 

He returns to the Taereung skating rink with a bright smile, and Irene notices the change in his demeanour the second he walks in the door. 

“Welcome back, Jungwon.” she says, and Jungwon smiles. “Hi, Irene. Thanks.” he replies, placing his skate bag on the floor before taking his skates out. He takes off his usual training shoes, putting on the skating boots that've been with him every day for the last 3 years.

“How was FAOI?” Irene asks. “Good. It was fun.” Jungwon says, finishing lacing up his skates. 

“That’s good. Are you ready to practise for next season properly now?” she asks, and Jungwon nods. “Yeah.” he says, skating onto the rink. 

“You remember the choreographies, right?” she asks, and Jungwon nods. He thinks he remembers them, but now that she asks, he’s not too sure if he remembers them completely. 

“We’ll do the short program first.” Irene says, pressing play on her phone as the music plays through the speakers. 

Jungwon glides on the ice elegantly, his movements as fluid and soft as water. He spins and turns on the ice, doing backward crossovers as he prepares for the first jump — a quad lutz. 

He’s usually confident in this jump. He takes off, spinning in the air — but as he’s about to make his landing, he falls. Irene makes a noise just as Jungwon gets up, and he presses his lips together in a thin line. It’s fine. Jungwon thinks.

The next jump is a quad toeloop-triple toeloop combination, and Jungwon thinks he’ll do fine, and he lands the quad well, but he feels the landing on the triple is a little shaky.

Doubt fills his mind. Did he get worse somehow while doing the ice shows? Sure, he didn’t do as many quads when he was in Japan, but he thought he’d be okay. Or maybe he’s just having a bad day. He’s done three jumps. Two of them he wouldn’t consider done well.

Flying camel spin. Jungwon’s spins are always done well, and Irene nods in approval — but every thought in Jungwon’s mind is telling him that he shouldn’t have done that ice show. He slacked off, and now he’s not doing as great as he was before.

Final jump for his short program, a triple axel. He lands it cleanly, but he feels little satisfaction for it. Dread is what Jungwon feels. He shouldn’t have gone. He should’ve listened to the devil on his shoulder telling him to stay — he needs to train. He needs to practise.

Spin combination. Jungwon does them well as usual. Then the step sequence, which as he’s skating, he hears Irene make a small hum in satisfaction. But Jungwon does not feel any satisfaction from his performance at all.

The last element of his program, a sit spin, is completed perfectly. 

Jungwon is surprised he remembers the entire choreography when he’s in his finishing pose. He sighs, skating around the rink with a frown on his face.

“You didn’t have enough height on your quad lutz.” Irene says, and Jungwon nods. “I know.” 

“Train that for a bit.” 

Jungwon listens.

And he falls more than he usually does. 

The more he falls, the more his brain tells him that he should have stayed. He notices you entering the rink, and that lifts his mood slightly — but as he attempts another quad lutz, and falls, he’s just completely tired.

He motions to Irene that he’s going to have a break. He leaves the rink, putting his skate guards on as he heads towards an empty bench, burying his face in his hands.

You immediately notice the dejected look on Jungwon’s face, and you hurry over to him to ask him if he’s okay. 

“What’s wrong, Won?” you ask, sitting down next to him. “Nothing. I’m frustrated.” he replies with a sigh.

“You can talk to me.” 

“I spent too much time having fun. And now I think I forgot the choreo to my free skate, and I can’t land my quad lutz — usually, I’d be way ahead in terms of preparation. And I’m just scared that I won’t do well next season.” he says, his voice shaky, and you frown.

“I’m not blaming you for saying I should’ve gone to the ice shows, by the way. I enjoyed the ice show. But now I feel underprepared.” 

“It’s okay. But Jungwon, Grand Prix is like in… September. It’s July.” you say, in an attempt to reassure him.

“I know. I know. I’m just… worried.” 

“You have plenty, plenty of time. And hey, maybe it’s just a bad skate day. I get those sometimes.” you say in a soft voice, placing your hand on his shoulder, and Jungwon thinks your words make him feel a little better. “Doing not as well on one day doesn’t mean you’re terrible now, Jungwon. You have lots of time, and you’ll only get better. Don’t stress, okay?”

“Okay.” he says, sighing. 

“You’ll do great. I know it.” 

Your words are able to comfort him. Jungwon is thankful for that. But he feels this blooming feeling in his chest that he doesn’t really think he’s ever felt before. The words Harua said a month ago pops back into his mind. You two are definitely going to fall in love.

Love may be a bit of a stretch for now. But Jungwon thinks he certainly does like you. He feels warm and happy around you. He thinks about you a lot. And the possibility of being something more than friends has started to linger in the back of his mind.

“Thank you. You will too.” Jungwon says. You give his hand a tight squeeze as encouragement, telling him ‘fighting!’ — which makes him crack a small smile.

Shit, maybe Harua is right. Jungwon thinks. He heads back onto the rink, deciding that he should try the quad lutz again. Maybe it’s just a bad day. 

And as he lands one that he thinks is the cleanest one he’s ever done, he decides that perhaps taking Harua’s advice to ask Google how to tell if he likes someone isn’t the worst idea. 

ELEVEN. octuple flip

Grand Prix assignments roll out two weeks after you and Jungwon’s return to the Taereung rink. 

You’re assigned to Grand Prix de France and NHK Trophy, and Jungwon’s assigned to Skate Canada and like you, the NHK Trophy. 

You’re glad you’ll at least be able to see him at a Grand Prix competition. You tell him that when he’s at Skate Canada, you’ll be watching him skate from the comfort of your home. He tells you that he’ll be doing the same when you’re at Grand Prix de France.

You and Jungwon get even closer during training for the Grand Prix competitions. Like you had said, that day when he fell on the quad lutz multiple times was just a bad day. You’ve seen him do both his short program and free program cleanly multiple times now. 

Jungwon thinks he must’ve been having fun during training, because Skate Canada rolls around faster than he thinks. But of course with you around at training, it’ll always be fun. 

He did not end up asking Google for relationship advice. He instead asked Wonyoung, who had asked him to text her about you and just simply describe you and how you made him feel. He had originally texted  ‘nice to me.’, but then Wonyoung told him that he had to elaborate.

Needless to say, after his long paragraph about you that he sent to Wonyoung (she skimmed over it, the first two lines of the text were all she needed to know), she had established that Jungwon liked you. 

And with that thought in his mind, Jungwon does realise he has started to act differently around you more recently. He’s more attentive to you, he’s always by your side when you’re around, and he finds himself sometimes wanting to just hold your hand.

As you send him off to the airport, a bright smile on your lips and a cat plushie in your hand that you give to him, a pink blush tints his cheeks, even if he doesn’t know it. And if he did, he’d blame it on how hot the coffee in his hand is. 

Unbeknownst to Jungwon, your cheeks are heating up too when you see the look on his face after you give him the stuffed animal. 

There’s just something about Jungwon that makes your heart do flips. Triple flips, quadruple flips — even quintuple flips.

Your heart thumps loudly in your chest. You think it just did 8 rotations. Not humanly possible.

But, your heart just does an octuple flip. 

You text him every day too, when he’s in Canada. He responds almost immediately (if he’s awake, because of the damned time zones), and he sometimes even sends you pictures of himself on the ice too. There’s one where he’s holding up the cat plushie you gave him, a smile on his lips. You find that there are butterflies in your stomach after you see the message.

Time zones are horrible, but you set an alarm so you can remember to open up your laptop and watch him skate. 

You send him a goodluck message, that he doesn’t read immediately because he must have his phone in his bag, since he’s about to skate soon. 

And when the commentator announces Jungwon’s name, you see him skate out onto the rink. You murmur You got this! but obviously, you know he can’t hear you.

“Now, obviously Yang Jungwon is one of the most anticipated skaters at this Grand Prix competition. He delivered a sublime skate at Worlds last season, securing him the title as world champion.” you hear the commentator say, as Jungwon skates around the rink before getting into his starting position. “Yang Jungwon with the music: A Walk In The Skies.” 

The music starts, and Jungwon moves across the ice in a way you’re most familiar with now. You’ve seen him do this program hundreds, maybe thousands of times — but at a competition, Jungwon’s got his A-game on. His movements are delicate, elegant and beautiful. 

“First comes the quad lutz.” the commentator says, and you watch your screen intently as Jungwon takes off, spinning four revolutions in the air before landing cleanly. “Yes!” you say, pumping your fist. 

“Absolutely stunning.” 

You agree with the commentator wholeheartedly.

“The quad toe-triple toe.” Jungwon lands the quad toe the second the commentator says that, and takes off into the triple toe — another clean jump. 

You smile. He’s doing great, you think, as he does a flying camel spin. He looks happy as he skates as well. He seems to be enjoying the sport more and more each day.

Jungwon skates his entire program cleanly, with all green boxes on the left hand corner of your screen. His technical score is the highest among all the skaters, and he was the last to skate — you think that he’ll definitely place first in the short program.

“Yang Jungwon at his best, everyone.” the commentator says. “Yang did absolutely wonderful tonight, and I’m sure it will reflect on the scores.”

He bows, a genuine smile on his lips — one that he hasn’t shown in a long time at competitions as the cat plushies fall from the bleachers and onto the ice. He picks up as many as he can before leaving the rink while the flower kids pick up the rest, as the camera pans to him giving Irene a fist bump.

You think he’ll break 100. There’s no way he won’t. 

As he sits in the Kiss and Cry nervously waiting for his scores, you sit at home on your couch, just as nervous as he is. The camera faces towards him, and Jungwon smiles at it, holding up one of the cat plushies he had received and mouthing a thank you. 

“The scores, please.” 

“The short program score for Yang Jungwon of South Korea is 111.45, his season’s best and currently puts him in first place.” 

The crowd erupts into cheers, and you push your laptop off your lap and onto the couch, jumping up in excitement. 

You watch as Jungwon pumps his fist up into the air before hugging Irene with pure joy on his face. 

Jungwon doesn’t think he’s been this happy to place first in a long, long time. He had fun skating today. He also skated well today. And he’s currently in first. 

Having fun and winning can coexist. Jungwon finds that out today as he bows once more before leaving the Kiss and Cry.

Jungwon thinks that he’s just a few steps away from loving skating again. 

TWELVE. you, me (?) and the ice

Jungwon wins the men’s category of Skate Canada.

You welcome him back to Korea with a huge hug at the airport, slightly startling him but he hugs you back nevertheless. “You did so, so good!” you say, and Jungwon smiles.

“Thank you.” he says. “I haven’t felt this happy to win gold in so long.”

“You know I cried watching your free skate?” you say, and Jungwon looks at you, eyes widened. “Really?” he asks, as you lead him to your car. 

“I was really proud. And happy. Because you looked like you liked skating again.” you say. “I did like skating there. I haven’t enjoyed skating competitively for so long… and I feel like I just did better when I enjoyed it.” he hums.

“Jungwon, you broke a world record, and you had fun while doing it.” you say.

“I did.” he replies. “If you had told that to me at the beginning of the year, I wouldn’t have believed you.”

You load his luggage into the trunk of your car, motioning for him to get into the front seat. He does, and when you slide into the driver’s seat, he surprises you with a cute stuffed toy of an adorable polar bear — which are the plushies that your fans throw onto the ice after you skate.

“I saw this in a store window when I was heading back to the hotel, and it reminded me of you,” he says, handing it to you. “It’s so cute, Jungwon! Thank you.” you say, taking the toy in your hands. “Look, I even got it skates.” he says, pointing at the skates attached to the polar bear toy’s feet, making you chuckle. 

“That’s so cool.” you say, setting it aside so you can drive. “I’m putting this on my nightstand.” 

You do actually want to put it on your nightstand, but you decide to bring it with you to France. You pack it in your backpack the night before you leave. “You’re my good luck charm now,” you tell the stuffed toy.

And this time it’s Jungwon’s turn to send you off. 

Like what you did when Jungwon was in Canada, he texts you as much as he can, updating you on the little things that go on at the rink, such as telling you about how Jiwon bought a hot dog, or Jongseob doing backflips on the ice nonstop.

He keeps his promise of watching you skate. He watches your short program on his bed, his dog Maeumi curling up beside him as he watches in anticipation. You skated clean in the short program, and as if Jungwon was actually in the arena right now, he erupts into applause. 

“Look, Maeumi. (Name) did well.” he says, showing his dog the screen that showed the rankings. Maeumi only blinks at the screen. 

When the time to watch your free skate rolls around, Jungwon drops everything to watch it. He ends his call with Wonyoung, when they’re talking about the family gathering next month that Jungwon doesn’t think that he’ll be able to make it to. “Sorry, Wonyo — something important just came up, I’ll call you back later.” he tells her, ending the call swiftly.

He sees you in the last group of skaters warming up — you’re going to skate last, because you placed first during the short program. He watches as you land a triple loop cleanly, and unconsciously, a smile makes its way to his lips.

He watches the other skaters skate before you, and they all do pretty well. There’s a couple of falls, and Jungwon winces when one of the skaters hits the ice particularly hard. 

And when your name is announced, his eyes are immediately drawn to the screen, diverting his attention from Maeumi, who now also seems to be drawn to the laptop.

“Last to skate is (Name), representing South Korea. Now, (Name) had a wonderful season last year — placing 1st at the Grand Prix finals, and 2nd at the World Championships. Placed first in the short program, she’s surely aiming for the top of the podium here today.” the commentator says. 

Jungwon chews on the inside of his cheek nervously as your music starts. 

Every time you skate, Jungwon is in awe, and today is certainly no exception. You glide on the ice as smoothly as a flowing river, every movement of yours from your arm all the way to your fingertips controlled delicately. 

Quad flip, Jungwon thinks at the same time the commentator says that out loud. You land it beautifully, and Jungwon nods his head, murmuring ‘nice’. Maeumi looks at Jungwon’s laptop screen, just as transfixed on your skating as his owner is. 

Being able to watch your skating is a gift in itself, Jungwon thinks. Your performances are absolutely mesmerising, and Jungwon knows he wouldn’t be able to look away even if he tried. You are a master at combining technique with artistry – without a doubt, it is clear to everybody that you were born to skate. As you continue with your program, Jungwon’s eyes follow your figure on the screen.

He has watched you do this program a million times. Every single time, he gets chills – every single time, you do it better than the last time. Everything is executed to perfection, and there is one thing Jungwon notices clearly as you skate. It is your passion for it. 

You skate as if it'll be your last skate ever. You give your all, expressing every single emotion you feel and sharing it with the audience. You aren’t showing off your skills – you are telling a story. A tale of you and the ice.

You once mentioned to him that you had always wanted to fly. You might not have wings, but you have your skates. Aim higher. Soar higher. Despite how difficult figure skating is, and the injury that almost took you out of the sport — never once, have you thought to quit. Never once have you wanted to give up on your dream, and never once have you ever imagined a world without you skating.

Jungwon wants to skate with as much passion and love as you have for the sport. He has much to learn from you, and it is only when your music stops that he realises that a single tear drops from his eye. 

You have single handedly changed Jungwon’s entire perspective of skating. You managed to help him fall back in love with the sport – and he knows he’s not fully there yet, but he’s close to it, and your encouragement played a huge part in it. He knows he would be miserable on the ice if you hadn’t. 

And when your scores are announced, with everyone in the arena and everyone watching online hearing how you had broken a new world record, Jungwon jumps up from his bed with joy, a huge grin plastered on his lips. 

Nobody deserves that gold medal more than you do. 

THIRTEEN. thin ice

With each skate and each reminder that he should use the ice to release all his pressures and burdens, Jungwon enjoys skating more and more now. 

Irene notices how Jungwon finds skating more exciting. Being subjected to only frowns and sighs of disappointment only for the past few years, she thinks it’s certainly a nice change – and deep inside, she hopes that Jungwon will change his mind about retirement. 

He has been seriously considering it now. With him now being able to enjoy skating competitions, Jungwon finds himself wanting to compete next season, but still, a little part of him still wonders if he should let his first love go. 

He thinks he’ll decide after the Olympics (that is if he makes the team, of course.) Jungwon knows he’ll have to put out a really good skate at Nationals in January. Despite that little devil telling him that if he doesn’t train morning, noon and night, he’ll lose, Jungwon decides to ignore it. He finds that he skates better when he’s having fun anyways. 

NHK Trophy rolls around soon enough, and it’s both yours and Jungwon’s last Grand Prix assignment before the Final. You two are finally travelling together for the first time since the ice show, and you don’t forget to buy a cat plushie to hand to him after his free skate (you know he has plenty of them, but one more couldn’t hurt.)

Jungwon does the same, buying a polar bear plushie for you that he stuffs into his suitcase. 

The competition goes well for both of you, with both of you winning silver medals and gaining a spot in the Grand Prix Final.

You both fall once in the free skate, with the winners of the competition skating cleanly for both programs. The Jungwon a couple months ago would be terribly upset about it – but now, Jungwon is happy about silver. He podiumed whilst skating happily. Something that he didn’t think he’d be able to do again. 

When Jungwon hands you the polar bear plushie after your free skate, he doesn’t realise that a camera goes off the second you take hold of it in your hands. And when you hand him the cat plushie after his free skate, another camera goes off as well – you both don’t find out until somehow Dispatch releases an article about it. 

First of all, Jungwon wonders why you two are on Dispatch anyways. You two aren’t idols, and you doubt that the public would really care about either of your romantic lives, but Jungwon finds that he is very wrong after reading some of the comments from netizens. Second of all, he wonders why he didn’t notice the camera flash when both incidents happened. Third of all, he examines his face closely – and he thinks that the smile he’s giving you is one of the brightest ones of his that’s been seen on camera.

Harua texts him a ‘invite me to the wedding’ with a link to the article and too many emojis that it gives Jungwon an eyesore. Jungwon replies with a no and a middle finger emoji. Harua knows well enough that you and Jungwon aren’t together.

Yuzuru texts him ‘Are you two finally together? Congratulations!’ with perfect capitalisation and a link to the article. Jungwon replies with another no, but this time with a smiley face instead of the middle finger. Yuzuru texts him a thumbs up. His follow up message reads I’m sure it’ll happen soon though, and Jungwon just sends back a ‘hahahahaha’. 

And you’re subjected to merciless teasing from Riki, who spams the article link in your chat. You honestly think it’s much worse than the comments from some of the netizens you read. But honestly, what the netizens say isn't even that bad. Except for the comments from the ones who want Jungwon to be theirs. Those ones you just laugh at, because honestly, they’re quite hilarious. You’ve never read such creative insults directed at you. 

But the articles make Jungwon think. 

About the possibility of being in a relationship with you. He’s established that he thinks he likes you (or at least his feelings for you do fit what Wonyoung and Google have said about what liking someone is like), but Jungwon has never thought about… dating. 

Quite frankly, Jungwon thinks that he’d be scared to tell you about his feelings – because he knows that once you confess, that relationship would be changed forever. You can’t go back to just friends when the other knows that you want to be more than that. And what happens if the relationship doesn’t work out? Do you just act like the whole thing never happened? Or do you just cut the other person off completely? 

The latter option is absolutely not possible considering that you and Jungwon are training mates too. 

This is complicated. And thinking about it makes Jungwon’s head hurt. 

But then he looks at the cat plushie on his bed that you had given to him after he finished skating his free program. The joy that fills his heart is immense, and he can’t stop the lovestruck grin from spreading across his lips. 

Is this what the movies and books described as being struck by Cupid’s arrow? Because if so, Jungwon thinks that Cupid shot an arrow straight through his heart, with your name engraved on the tip of it. 

Jungwon can’t stop thinking about you. His day is instantly made the second he sees you walk through the doors of the Taereung ice rink, and he looks at you as if you've got the whole universe in your hands. Every single move you make, every single smile you send his way makes that blooming feeling in Jungwon’s chest get warmer, warmer, and warmer. 

Jungwon likes you. He thinks he really, really likes you. 

And coming to that conclusion doesn’t make him as afraid as he thought he'd be. He’s calm, and he thinks his conclusion just seems right. As if the final piece of the puzzle is put into place, Jungwon’s feelings for you are finally sorted out. 

Jungwon doesn’t need Harua, Wonyoung or Google to tell him that he likes you. 

He just knows it. 

Confessing is a whole other story, but Jungwon thinks that when the right time comes, he’ll do it. He doesn’t know much about love, with his entire life practically being devoted to the ice – but he knows that when it feels right, it must be the right time. 

So, Jungwon comes to two conclusions that night. 

One: he really likes you, and he doesn’t need anyone else to confirm it for him.

Two: he can’t believe that a Dispatch article made him realise that he really liked you. 

FOURTEEN. public skating session 

You ask Jungwon if you’d like to skate at another public rink after the Grand Prix Final is over.

He immediately says yes.

He doesn’t take you up on the offer to wear rental skates though, so both of you lace up your skates on the bench, Jungwon putting your bags into a cubbyhole. 

“Let’s go, Wonie!” you say, and he finds his heart fluttering at the nickname. He follows you onto the rink like the first time, and you two skate side by side, at a way slower pace than usual to be mindful of the other skaters at the rink.

“How does it feel to be the 2026 Grand Prix Final champion?” you ask him, and he smiles at you. “Hmm. I don’t know,” Jungwon replies. “I should be asking you that.”

You and Jungwon both winning in your respective categories were amazing for the media. Yang Jungwon and (Name), figure skaters rumoured to be dating win Men’s Grand Prix Final and Women’s Grand Prix Final was the headline. But at least Dispatch can add more to their article, and you and Jungwon get to go home with shiny gold medals. 

“Feels pretty good. Two years in a row,” you say, and he pats you on the back. “You deserved it,” Jungwon says. “Have I ever told you how in awe I am whenever I watch you skate?” 

“Thank you,” you say, chuckling as your cheeks turn hot at the compliment. “Your skating is amazing as well — that step sequence in World Dreams? Gave me actual chills. I saw a tear drop from a woman’s eye when I was seated in the crowd.”

“Really?” Jungwon asks, and you nod. “She was bawling by the end of it, I think.” you say, and Jungwon softly smiles. “I’m glad my skating made her feel something… hopefully all good things though.” 

“Most definitely good things. She threw 5 cat plushies onto the ice. I think she’s a hardcore fan.” you reply. “She might’ve dethroned my spot as your number one fan.” 

“Hey,” Jungwon says, pouting. “You texted me when I was at Skate Canada saying that you’d always be my number one fan.” 

“Yeah, but she was like a diehard fan,” you say. “Don’t worry though, I’ll throw out 15 cat plushies when you skate during Nationals. I’m taking my spot back.” 

“I’ll throw out more than 15 polar bear plushies when you skate at Nationals. I’ll throw out 16.” 

“Are you challenging me?” 

“Yeah,” Jungwon says, a smile never leaving his lips. 

“We can just be each other’s number one fan.” you say, and Jungwon nods. “Deal. So can I get your autograph?” he jokes. 

“Sure thing,” you say, playing along. You motion for him to hold his palm out, and you trace your autograph on his hand. “There you go!” you say, tracing a smiley face and a heart as well. 

“I’ll treasure this forever,” he quips. 

“You better.” 

You two fall into a comfortable silence as you both skate laps around the rink, observing the other people there. Like last time, there are couples on dates, there are little kids learning to skate, and there’s people who actually figure skate, doing spins in the centre of the rink. 

“Right, I was going to say. You seem way, way more happier on the ice than you were before,” you tell Jungwon, who nods. “Yeah. I think I actually like skating again. I mean… I can’t exactly say love, because you know… sometimes I just revert back to the way I used to think whenever I fail at something.” he replies. “But competitions are a lot more fun. The ice doesn’t drain me of all my energy anymore, and winning medals sort of brings me fulfilment again.”

“That’s amazing, Won.” you say. 

Now that you think about it. Jungwon wanted to retire because he didn’t love skating anymore. But now that Jungwon enjoys it again, you’re left wondering if he’ll still continue competitive skating.

It’s as if Jungwon’s able to read your mind. “I’m not sure if I’ll retire or not. On one hand, skating is fun now… and I’d like to continue at least maybe for a little longer, but I’m also wondering if I should just… let go. Explore things outside of skating, even though I know I’ll probably come back to the ice every time.”

You let his words sink in for a moment. “I think… you don’t have to decide your future plans this early. You could decide at the Olympics, after you skate. Or you could even go to Worlds after the Olympics and decide then.”

“Yeah. I could do that.” Jungwon breathes out. “I’m just… indecisive and unsure of everything right now.”

“No, I get it,” you nod. “You have time, Jungwon. Don’t rush things.” you tell him. 

Jungwon agrees with you. Thinking about too much and thinking too far ahead were two of the many reasons why he fell out of love with figure skating. Now that he’s slowly started to enjoy it again, he knows he has to rid himself of his bad habits. 

“Okay. It’s not like I’m in a hurry to retire. If I was, I would’ve already done it by now.” he says, smiling. “And if I don’t retire this season, I’ll probably just retire in 2030. I can still fulfil my dream of leaving at the biggest stage.” 

“I feel like I’d do that as well, if I’m not gonna lie.” you say, and Jungwon tilts his head. “So are we retiring together?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. “I mean… if you don’t retire during this Olympics, then probably. But do what feels right, Won. Don’t do it because you feel pressure from others to keep going. If you love the sport, you’ll always find a way back to it, like something like professional skating, or coaching, or doing commentary. If you think it’s time, then it’s time.” 

Jungwon can always count on you for giving him great advice. 

“You’re right.” he says. “Anyways… enough about that.” he spots a penguin skating aid in the corner, and he skates up to grab a hold of it. He pushes it as he skates, and you can’t help but find the mere action adorable. 

You pull out your phone to record him, and you chuckle as you see him skate faster towards you. “Cute,” you say, and Jungwon’s cheeks flush pink. If you ask, he’ll blame it on the rink being cold. 

“You use it,” he says, pushing the skating aid towards you. You gladly take it, grabbing ahold of the handles, pushing it as you skate with Jungwon by your side. 

Talking to Jungwon is easy. He tells you about how he stores his medals in ziplock bags when he needs to take them to interviews, to which you propose a better idea: using socks (a trick you learned from none other than Yuzuru Hanyu himself.) He also tells you about his dog, Maeumi, who apparently had watched your Grand Prix de France free skate with him – Jungwon says that Maeumi was absolutely mesmerised by your performance, and it’s interesting how every single thing Jungwon says is able to bring a smile to your face. 

You tell him that you’d like to meet Maeumi, and he tells you that you’re welcome over anytime. Your heart flutters at the invitation that you accept warmly. “In fact, you could come over after we leave.” 

“Really?” you ask, and Jungwon nods. “It’s not like we’ll be spending more than an hour here anyways. We already spend most of our days at another rink – we’d get way too bored if we spend hours here like everyone else.” 

Jungwon is right. After 20 minutes of more skating and just talking to each other about your lives (as if you didn’t learn nearly absolutely everything about him during the off-season), you and Jungwon head over to his apartment, where you meet Maeumi. 

And as you play with Maeumi, gushing over how cute he is, you notice the fond smile on Jungwon’s lips as he watches you two from the couch. 

You don’t know why, but that look on Jungwon’s face makes you think that perhaps you two could be something more than friends. 

FIFTEEN. last nationals skate (?)

Jangmi calls Jungwon the day before the short program for Nationals. 

“I’m sorry for getting upset,” she tells him. “It’s your career, not mine.”

Jungwon sighs. “It’s fine. I don’t think I know what I want to do with my career either. Retiring is an option, and competing… also is another option now.” 

Jangmi somehow sounds happier at the sound of Jungwon’s words. “That's… good,” she says, trying to not make it obvious that continuing to skate is still an option for Jungwon. “What changed your mind?”

“I started liking it again.” he says, gazing at the sheet of ice in the Uijeongbu ice rink. The ice finally feels like home again, and instead of bringing him dread, Jungwon feels at ease at the rink now. The pressure is no longer something that drags him under – it is now something he uses to allow himself to skate better. 

Now when he skates, he feels his passion for it again. “Even the brightest of flames burn out,” you had said. His flame dimmed, nearly being put out entirely – but he’s more than happy to have been able to ignite it again. 

And as his music starts playing for the short program, Jungwon realises something as he glides across the ice elegantly. 

If he retires, this will be his last ever Nationals. 

This crowd, this rink, this atmosphere – it’ll be the last time he ever gets to experience this. He stays completely focused on his program, but this thought lingers at the back of his mind when he lands the quad lutz. 

The audience cheers, and Jungwon’s eyes catch sight of the banners that fans have made for him in the crowd, with encouraging words that bring a smile to Jungwon’s face. 

When he finishes his short program, Jungwon pumps his fist into the air, more than satisfied with his performance. He skates around the rink as the audience throws stuffed animals onto the ice, picking some up as he thanks the crowd. 

He bows before leaving the rink, Irene pulling him into a hug after he puts his skate guards on. “You did amazing.” she says, and Jungwon smiles. “Thank you,” he replies, as he makes his way to the Kiss and Cry.

As he waits patiently for his scores, he can’t stop thinking about how if he does decide to retire at the end of this season, that was his last ever short program at Nationals. He didn’t think this far ahead when he told Irene that he wanted to hang up his skates at the beginning of the off season, and now that he realises that he may be nearing the end of his career, Jungwon suddenly starts feeling a wave of sadness. 

He was nothing but sure about his decision when he told Irene that he’d be retiring. But now, sitting in the Kiss and Cry at quite possibly one of his last competitions ever, Jungwon thinks he might just want to hold on for a little longer. 

“The scores, please.” the announcer says, ending Jungwon’s train of thought. 

“The short program score for Yang Jungwon is 112.36, which currently puts him in first place.” 

The crowd erupts into cheers at his score, and Jungwon smiles in satisfaction while Irene claps. “Good job,” she tells him, and Jungwon thanks her. He stands up, bowing once again before leaving the Kiss and Cry, and everything just slowly starts sinking in. 

If this was his last short program ever at Nationals, at least he did well. 

But Jungwon doesn’t want this to be his last ever Nationals. The feeling of wanting nothing more than to just leave the ice has completely disappeared in a matter of months, and Jungwon now just wants to stay. 

Maybe it isn’t time to hang up his skates. 

After finding his passion for skating again, Jungwon just wants to feel the thrill of competition. He dreaded competitions months ago, but now his feelings towards the ice have completely changed. Winning medals can finally bring him satisfaction again – he’s being acknowledged for being good at something that he loves. 

He can now look at the cameras while standing atop that podium with a genuine smile on his face. He doesn’t feel like he’s a robot anymore, with  every move he makes when he skates programmed into his brain – he feels like he’s a writer, or a poet, telling his story on the ice. 

He changes out of his costume, putting on a hoodie and some sweatpants before leaving the locker room. He checks the time, realising that there’s only an hour until the women’s free skate – he promised you that he’d be in the crowd.

With 16 polar bear stuffed animals that he currently does not have. 

He rushes to the nearest toy shop, asking the staff if they have polar bear plushies still in stock, and luckily, they do. The shop assistant helping him looks slightly concerned when he asks for 16, but still brings them all out in a basket. “Is this for (Name)?” she asks, and Jungwon furrows his eyebrows, confused as to how she would know that. 

“Yeah… how’d you know?” 

“Bunch of people came in asking for polar bear stuffed toys to throw onto the ice for her.” she says, scanning all the polar bears. “Oh. That’s nice of them.” Jungwon replies. 

“You bought the most.” the shop assistant says, putting all of them into a large shopping bag for Jungwon, noticing how he only has a backpack that most certainly won’t fit 16 polar bear toys. 

“Oh, cool.” he says, swiping his card on the reader. The transaction goes through, and the shop assistant smiles at him before handing him his receipt. “Good luck to both you and (Name) on your free skates,” she tells him, and Jungwon thanks her before leaving the store. 

He makes it back to the Uijeongbu ice rink just in time, with Jongseob saving him a seat. “That’s a shit ton of polar bears you’ve got there,” Jongseob says, holding a plushie of Artemis from the Sailor Moon series to throw on the ice after Jiwon skates. 

“Yeah.” Jungwon replies, putting the shopping bag onto the ground. 

“You’re a dedicated boyf– fan!” 

“Enough.” 

There’s five groups of skaters, and you’re the last to skate. Jungwon cheers for each and every skater, but his cheers will definitely be the loudest for you. Jongseob yells as his life depends on it when Jiwon skates onto the ice. 

Soon enough, it’s your turn to skate. You look at the crowd, spotting Jungwon and Jongseob sitting together and you flash Jungwon a smile, whilst a shit-eating grin spreads across Jongseob’s lips. “Good luck,” he mouths to you, and you nod as a way of saying thank you. 

Your program goes well, for the most part – aside from falling on a quad toe loop and stepping out on a triple lutz. Jungwon knows that you’ve done enough to secure a podium spot – and a spot on the Olympic team, and it seems as if you know that too, tears streaming down your face the minute you finish your program. 

You’re going to the Olympics. You’ve finally achieved your lifelong dream.

Cheers and applause resound throughout the rink, with tons of polar bear stuffed toys being thrown out onto the ice by fans, and Jungwon is one of them. You see him throw out polar bear after polar bear from the shopping bag he’s holding, and a sweet smile spreads across Jungwon’s lips as he sees your surprised face.

“16?” you mouth at him, and Jungwon nods. You can’t help but clap your hands over your mouth to hide your laughter, and as the announcer calls your name again, you skate into the middle of the rink, bowing once again before leaving.

Eventually, it is you, Jiwon and another skater named Kim Chaeyeon who get named to the Olympic team. 

Like how Jungwon bought 16 plushies for you during your free skate, you buy 17. It’s a funny coincidence how you both end up going to the same toy shop, and the shop assistant gives you a smile when you enter. “Could I get… 17 cat plushies?”

“This is for Yang Jungwon, right?”

“How’d you know?”

“He said the same thing when he came in yesterday to get 16 polar bear plushies for you,” she says, taking the toys and putting them into a basket. You have a nice conversation with her before you leave the shop with a large bag holding exactly 17 cat plushies. 

You notice multiple things when you’re in the audience. Jiwon has a stuffed animal of a tiger in her lap that she throws out onto the ice when Jongseob skates. She also gives you a look as if to tell you not to tease her about it. You also see tons of people holding cat plushies, ready to throw onto the ice after Jungwon skates, and you’re one of those people too. 

You also notice the passion Jungwon now has for skating. He commands the ice, moving fluidly across the rink – Jungwon is a phenomenal skater. Goosebumps rise up on your skin, and you don’t think any other skater has been able to convey emotions to the audience this effectively. 

Like you, Jungwon qualifies for a spot on the Olympic team. 

He gazes at you as you throw cat plushies onto the ice, and a fond smile spreads across his lips. “17?” he mouths at you, and you nod. 

Jungwon wonders if your heart’s beating as fast as his. 

Little does he know, it is. 

SIXTEEN. born to skate

Just being able to go to the Olympics is truly sensational.

You weren’t even able to fully process it until you saw a staff member walk up to you and hand you your Olympic security pass. Your name’s on it, along with the 2026 Milano Cortina logo on the right – and under your name, it says athlete. 

You can’t believe a security pass might actually make you burst into tears. 

Jungwon hangs his security pass over his neck, and then turns to look at you. “You okay?” he asks, and you nod. “Yeah,” you reply. “It’s just kind of crazy. I’m going to compete at the Olympics – Wonie, oh my god. I’m an Olympian.” 

“You are,” he says. He takes your hand, locking his fingers with yours and gives your hand a tight squeeze. The mere action makes your face feel hot, your heart beating in your chest incredibly fast. “You’ll do great, don’t worry.” 

“You will too,” you say, beaming at him. You don’t want him to let go of your hand. Jungwon doesn’t want to let go either. 

He only let go when Jongseob and Jiwon were walking towards you two. 

That aside, time seems to go by faster for some reason. You arrived in Italy 2 days before the men’s short program event, and today’s already the day. Jungwon changes into his costume, and zips on the South Korea team jacket before he leaves the changing room. 

“You ready?” you ask him.

“Yeah. I'm a little nervous, but it’ll go away when I start skating.” he replies, and you smile. “You’ve got this, Won.” you say, pulling him into a hug. 

“Thank you,” he murmurs.

Before he starts skating, Jungwon looks into the crowd to spot where you’re seated. You give him a thumbs up, and he smiles softly before getting into his starting position. 

Jungwon has missed the Olympic ice. 

In the crowd, you notice how Jungwon’s skating even better than he did at Nationals. He skates with  pure emotion – as if this skate could very well be his last. 

Then the realisation hits you like a truck. 

If Jungwon did decide to retire, sticking with his original plans – this would be his last competitive short program, ever. And now every move he makes on the ice seems to have a whole new meaning for you. 

He skates like he’s got everything on the line. Time and time again, Jungwon tells the audience that he was born to skate – but this performance proves it. Every jump, every spin, every transition, every choreo sequence and every step sequence is executed to absolute perfection. 

Yang Jungwon is a master of his craft. Nobody can doubt that. 

Nobody will doubt that after this performance.

Jungwon has sacrificed hours, days, months and years to produce a performance like this. He has never felt such fulfilment, such satisfaction after skating – the only word he can use to describe how he feels after his skate is that he is proud. 

He is proud that he was able to put out a performance like that. He is proud that he’ll be recognised for an impeccable short program. But most importantly, he is proud that he delivered a program of such quality whilst enjoying every moment he had on that Olympic ice. 

And when the scores are announced, saying that he is currently in first, Jungwon doesn’t think he’s ever felt happier. Irene hugs him tightly, and Jungwon’s practically shaking in disbelief. 

Nobody beats his short program score for the night. Jungwon knows the medal is just within his reach. 

Feeling victory finally feels good, and Jungwon hasn’t even won yet. 

When you rush up to him immediately after he exits his changing room, you wrap him in a huge hug, and at first, he’s startled by your action. But he immediately hugs you back, his cheeks dusted with a light shade of pink that he knows he’ll get teased about if Harua sees it. 

“Won, that was incredible!” you could gush over his performance for hours and hours on end. “You were absolutely mesmerising. The image you were painting inside my head – all of our heads! It was so vivid. I felt like I could feel what you felt as you were skating. Everyone was blown away. You’re absolutely sensational.”

Jungwon thinks of you in an incredibly high regard. So hearing these words from you makes his eyes well up slightly with tears, and you immediately notice. 

“Don’t cry!” you say, wrapping him in another hug. “I just needed you to know how incredible you are.” 

Jungwon needs you to know how incredible you are as well.

He feels nothing but warmth as he’s in your embrace, and truly, perhaps this is what Jungwon thinks he might call love. Because you care for him in a way that nobody else has. You didn’t know him well at the time, but still offered to try and get him to enjoy skating again. You push him to be a better skater, and a better person – and Jungwon didn’t think he knew what love was.

But now he thinks he does.

Quite simply, love is you. 

And he cares for you more than he cares about anyone else, even if he thinks that he is terrible at showing it. He isn’t the best when it comes to love, or relationships – but he’s learning. He’s learning all because of you. 

In less than one year, you have changed Jungwon’s life entirely.

You’ve taught him how to have fun skating again. You’ve taught him to allow himself to loosen up, and not let pressure define him. You’ve also taught him what it’s like to be loved. And how to love. 

Jungwon doesn’t know if this is a stretch, but he feels like you might’ve quite literally saved him. Jungwon is forever grateful for the fact that you walked into his life the moment he needed someone like you. 

And Jungwon is more than sure that he indeed does love you. 

Jungwon feels relief when he finally admits it to himself. Perhaps it’s because deep down, he knew that he loved you all this time – he just didn’t exactly confront himself about his feelings. 

With you by his side, Jungwon feels like an Olympic gold medalist already. 

SEVENTEEN. olympic ice

The free skate rolls around faster than Jungwon thought.

But he thinks that he’s prepared. He’ll give it his all tonight. He doesn’t even think about the upcoming decision he has to make about his career – he personally believes that the idea that he could possibly win Olympic gold feels a little more important than that.

He knows you’re in the crowd, watching him. It gives him an extra boost of confidence. Jungwon doesn’t realise this until now, but he seems to skate better when you’re in the audience. Perhaps you’re his lucky charm. 

He’s last to skate, being first in the short program. Jungwon’s fully focused during the couple minutes of warm up, jumping a triple axel that he manages to land well, and a quad toe that he finds is a little shaky on the landing, but he’ll try and land it cleanly in the actual program.

Over the speaker, it’s announced that the warmup time is over. Jungwon and some of the other skaters leave the ice, and the first person skating in the group starts his program. 

Whilst the other skater performs, Jungwon runs through his entire program in his head. He can’t let the pressure get to him – he knows he’ll do worse. He reminds himself to have fun. He’ll be skating on Olympic ice for possibly the last time ever, so he knows that he’ll have to make this count. 

Your words ring in his head as he waits for the skaters before him to finish performing their programs. Skating is something that is meant to be enjoyed with the audience. 

Jungwon decides that he will enjoy every minute and every second of it. 

Irene gives him a thumbs up before he skates out to the centre of the rink. “You’ve got this, Jungwon. Stay focused, stay calm.” she tells him, and Jungwon nods. 

“You go kill it out there.” she says, smiling at him.

Jungwon skates off, and Irene just has the proudest look on her face. She knows that this could very well be the last competitive skate of Jungwon’s life. No matter the result, she would be proud – Yang Jungwon has accomplished so much in his career at the age of 22. 

“Last to skate: Yang Jungwon, of South Korea!” 

The crowd erupts into cheers and applause, Jungwon raising his arms above his head. He lets them fall back down by his sides, doing a couple twizzles around the rink before skating into the centre.

He gets into his starting position, and the music starts. 

He’s done this program tons and tons of times before. He knows exactly what to do at the exact second, twirling across the ice gracefully. First, is the quad lutz. 

You hold your breath in anticipation as he sets up the jump, taking off – and he lands it. 

With one jump, Jungwon makes the crowd go absolutely crazy. Their shouts die down soon after, allowing Jungwon to listen to the music so he knows when and what he needs to do next. 

He successfully lands more jumps, including a quad salchow-quad toe loop combo that he’s able to land flawlessly. Everything is going well, Jungwon thinks. 

As he skates beautiful transitions on the ice, you catch his eye. You’re gazing right at him with the softest look on your face, and Jungwon thinks his heart might melt. You nod at him, as a way to tell him that he’s doing great.

Jungwon doesn’t know why, he doesn’t know how, but in the middle of his Olympic free skate, he feels more compelled to confess his feelings for you than ever. 

He knows that he just has to tell you. 

When he realised he liked you, he decided that he had to wait for the right time to confess. He didn’t exactly know when the right time would be, or if he would ever even find the right time. He also certainly didn’t expect it to be right in the middle of his free skate.

But everything is crystal clear. Jungwon knows it’s the right time, and he can’t exactly shout out that he loves you when he’s currently preparing to jump a triple axel, but he knows the second he’s able to, he will. 

It’s as if time slows, and you’re the only one in the audience. Jungwon only sees you. You two are just in your little bubble – just you, him, and the ice. 

Jungwon skates with so much power, and so much emotion, trying to express every word he wants to say to you, but with his skating. The crowd’s cheers get louder every time Jungwon lands a jump, and it only gives Jungwon motivation to keep getting better and better. 

Olympic gold is so close. If he just reached up and grabbed it, the shining gold plaque would be right in his hands – and Jungwon knows that he cannot let that slip away between his fingers. His whole life has led up to this moment. Falling in love with the ice, then finding that he had let himself hate it, and then trying to ignite that love and passion he had for skating once more. All of this, allowed for him to skate the cleanest program he’s ever skated at the world’s biggest stage for figure skating. 

The music ends, and the crowd erupts with cheers. Jungwon stands there, shocked and still in his ending position. He feels like he can’t move. 

He can’t believe it. 

Did he just win Olympic gold? 

Countless cat plushies fall onto the ice around him as Jungwon just bursts into tears. Irene’s crying as well, tears of joy streaming down on her face as she claps. Jungwon tries to spot you in the crowd, and when he does, he sees you jumping up and down excitedly with Jiwon, and you just look so incredibly happy for him. 

After the toughest years of his career, fighting to try and keep going in a sport he loved no longer, Jungwon is finally able to love figure skating again, and he might have just won Olympic gold in the process. 

He’s still in shock when he leaves the rink, and Irene pulls him into the tightest hug she’s ever given him, as Jungwon cries into her shoulder. “You did it.” she says.

“I did it.” he says – he can’t even believe the words he just said. He heads to the Kiss and Cry with Irene, pulling out tissues from his tissue box nonstop to wipe his tears away. 

Jungwon waits in the Kiss and Cry for his scores – he knows that he’s won. He just needs the scores to confirm it. 

And sure enough, mere minutes later, Yang Jungwon is announced as the 2026 men’s Olympic figure skating champion.

Jungwon can’t stop crying. Tears just keep falling down his cheeks as he bows to everyone. He can’t even use the word joy to describe what he’s feeling. He never thought he could feel this happy after winning a competition. 

If you told Jungwon months ago that he’d be crying tears of joy after winning a competition, he most certainly wouldn’t have believed you. 

The venue ceremony is soon. So soon to the point where Jungwon isn’t even able to come up to you and tell you how he feels. He’ll do it as soon as the ceremony is over. 

As Jungwon steps onto the highest block on the podium, he’s still in disbelief. It isn’t until the medal actually gets hung around his neck, and he touches the shiny golden plaque. He’s not just Olympian Yang Jungwon. He’s not just 2025 World champion Yang Jungwon. He’s not just 6 time National champion Yang Jungwon. 

Now, he’s also Olympic champion Yang Jungwon. 

Falling back in love with skating was hard. Sometimes he felt like simply just giving up was the easier option – but now with the Olympic gold medal right in his hands, Jungwon knows that pushing through it was the right thing to do. He’s never been more sure of that. 

Jungwon has also never been more sure about the fact that he loves you, and he desperately needs to tell you. As soon as the venue ceremony is over, Jungwon rushes out of the rink, quickly changing from his skates to his regular training shoes – he doesn’t even bother to change out of his free skate costume. 

He finds you standing outside of his changing room, and before you can say anything, he wraps you in the tightest hug ever. He holds you like you’re oxygen, and he’s struggling to breathe. 

When he pulls away from the hug, with the gold medal dangling around his neck, he grasps ahold of your hands. “Jungwon, you did it.” you say, tears welling in your eyes. 

“I have to tell you something.” he murmurs. He opens the door of his changing room, pulling you in with him as he shuts the door. “What is it?” you ask.

“I love you.” 

Your eyes widen. 

“I have never, ever known what it’s like to love someone. Even figuring out that I liked you was so hard – because I knew that I felt differently when I was around you, but I couldn’t exactly pinpoint it on what it was. Then, I was told I had a crush on you. I liked you. And that seemed right. Liking you seemed right.” he says, as you let his words sink in. “I was going to wait until I found the right time to tell you that I liked you. But two days ago, I realised that my feelings towards you seem to be more than like. Love. Yes. I love you.” he says, his eyes brimming with tears.

“Saying it sounds right. Saying it now feels right. And I don’t know if you would feel the same way – but I just saw you in the crowd as I was skating today, and I just knew I had to tell you.” 

Jungwon can’t exactly read your reaction until you pull him into a hug. 

“I love you too.” you say.

Jungwon feels like he’s on top of the world. Four simple words managed to make him even happier than he already was after winning the Olympics – he feels like his heart is about to burst at the seams, and he can’t hide the bright grin on his lips. 

“That’s… that’s nice. I was scared you wouldn’t feel the same,” Jungwon confesses, and you frown, cupping his cheeks as you wipe his tears away with the pad of your thumb. “Why wouldn’t I feel the same way, Jungwon?”

“I don’t know.”

You smile softly at him. “I realised that I liked you after we went to the ramen shop that Harua had suggested to us.” 

“You realised earlier than me, then.” Jungwon chuckles. 

“I guess so.”

Jungwon can’t believe he only just realised the close proximity between your faces. Your gaze travels to his lips, before you look back up at his eyes. “Can I kiss you?” you whisper. 

“Yeah,” Jungwon whispers back.

You lean in, connecting your lips with his, and warmth just blooms across Jungwon’s chest, his cheeks, and all the way to the tip of his ears. He can taste the mint flavoured lip balm that he always sees you put on, and it’s only when you pull away that Jungwon realises that it was his first kiss. 

You smile at him brightly, and Jungwon mirrors the expression on your face. It’s hard not to smile when he sees you – you just make him so incredibly happy. Jungwon knows that you make him happier than any Olympic gold ever would. 

The sweet moment is cut short when Jungwon’s whisked away to the press conference, and you tell him that you’ll be seated in the crowd to watch. He gives you a chaste kiss on the cheek before running off, his cheeks tinted bright red as you chuckle at his reaction. 

“How do you feel after a wildly successful season like this, Jungwon?” a reporter asks, and Jungwon thinks about what is the best way to answer his question. 

“This was… a tough season for me mentally.” he says into the microphone. “In all honesty, I fell out of love with figure skating quite some time ago. Going into this season, I was certain that I was going to retire after the Olympics.” 

Every single person in the room looks at him with wide eyes. 

“But, during the off season, I was lucky enough to meet someone who helped me start enjoying it again.” he says, looking directly at you. “They taught me that above all, I should be enjoying myself while I skate, instead of focusing on the pressures to win and do well.” 

“I don’t think I expected to do as well as I did all season,” Jungwon says earnestly. “But I realised that the more I enjoyed skating, the better I did. I think coming into the Olympics, I just tried to focus on having fun and showing the audience my best. Because of this, I think that’s why I was able to do well.” 

“So will this be your last competition?” 

Jungwon presses his lips together in a thin line, as if he’s still unsure about what decision he’s going to make. But when he locks eyes with you, it’s like everything clicks into place. He knows what he wants. He wants to skate. 

“It’s not my last competition,” he says. “I’m going to keep competing. At least for a little while longer. I realised that I can’t exactly let go of the ice this soon when I’ve just started loving it again.”

As he says that into the microphone, Jungwon knows that it’s the right call. There’s a proud smile on your lips, and Jungwon returns the gesture.   

The ice finally feels like home once more. But, Jungwon also realises that home is also wherever you are. 

[littlepolinlover]

I have started a new fic for Polin. Not even the one I intended to start. I have absolutely no idea of what it’s about or where it’s going, but it’s going.

It’s modern AU set sometime after Colin and Penelope are married. Colin is a singer and she writes for a fashion magazine called Lady Whistledown (original, I know 🤪). I’m almost certain I’m gonna fuck it up and do some damage before making it all good again cause that’s how I’m feeling rn, but when it’s ready to be posted— I’ll post it in full on ao3.

“Ladies, do you mind if I borrow my darling wife for a few moments?”

“Colin if you try to shag her in the toilet while we’re still here– I will make sure you never have the children I know you’re aiming for.” Eloise threatens him, and he rolls his eyes at her, and reaches for Pen’s hand. She sets her glass of wine down and takes his hand and lets him lead her to their bedroom.

His lips descended upon hers as soon as she closed the door behind them. He spun them around so he could press her up against the door. She let out a tiny moan as his hand started to run up her thigh– stopping when her hand reached out for his. As much as she would love to continue this, they had company.

“No, Pen– I haven't gotten to touch you all day.”

“You literally accosted me in the shower this morning,” she laughed, pushing at his wandering hand. They really couldn’t. They had company present. There was no way in hell she was allowing that to happen. He could wait until everyone had gone home.

“And you made me late for my meeting, and the boys were giving me shit for it.” Colin pointed out and she shook her head at him, reaching for his hand and tangling her fingers with his. He was correct, essentially– she did make him late, but he started it.

They had barely woken up when he pressed into her backside, pressing his morning wood into her. And she wasn’t wearing clothes, as they had fallen asleep after a rather adventurous round the previous night.

He pressed into her, and she wasn’t inclined to not have a very good morning. Then, they were in the shower, and she was trying to shower, but the erection pressed into her backside again as she washed her hair, his lips on her neck, and she spun around and dropped to her knees. It was his own fault he was late.

“It was only a few hours,” she pushed them away from the door. She turned to open it. “It couldn’t have been that hard.”

He grinned at her, his eyes darkening a moment as he took their clasped hand and pressed it against the front of his trousers. “Do you have an idea of how hard it was today?”

“Colin!” She yelped as she felt the hardness of him underneath her hand. She could feel him pulse in her hand, and then she heard laughter coming from the kitchen and she regretfully removed her hand from his person.

“Maybe I can help you out with that later.” She leaned up and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “I need to get back out there.”

“You’re just gonna leave me like this?”

Her laughter is all he heard when the door opened and then closed with her leaving him in the bedroom alone. She was pure evil that one.

[merao-mariposa]

I have your back, you have my heart

Day three of the pissa/death duo week! This au was the idea of @amymorningstar ​​in this post I really wanted to write about the Mafia Pissa and this was a good excuse for!

“Mafia + I promised you as long as I'm with you you'll never be alone again”

(…)

Philza Minecraft had been on the dark side of the streets for a very long, long time, since his first interventions dismantling brothels that were a little too... “flexible” with the idea of consent going to authentic inhumane places, all falling under the scourge of the Angel of Death until a man, a friend, appeared in front of him with the idea of dominating the criminal world, converting it to his ideals. That was a long time ago but corruption spreads like a fire in gasoline and Phil was there to suffocate it until it went out.

Maybe it was his cruelty in how he snuffed out the lives of those corrupt men that led him to pay the karma he was paying right now, he doesn't know.

The man sitting at his desk looked miserable for say the least, from the outside you feel the discord in the trademark half-twisted hat or the uncorked bottle of wine resting on his messy desk but you can see how the damage runs deeper than that if you know Philza well enough, the immaculate two pieces-suit stand out like a sore thumb on a man so casual and relaxed, the white shirt is buttoned at the neck almost restrictively, and his trail of beard is just a little more prominent than it has been in recent months.

The last few months, that sugar-filled almost year where mafia boss BOLAS had been closer to being an angel than he would ever be since he lived in what he could only call heaven.

His arrival in heaven was a young man with messy, dark hair. His purple eyes dragged him deep into the flames of hell now that they were no longer looking at him.

The fact that he had no one else to blame but himself didn't make it any easier.

But when Sinfonia appeared everything was perfect. He was reserved but easy to smile, aloof but with loyal friends, so pathetic (and cute) yelling at the slightest threat but he was a real threat in front of some of the most ruthless members of BOLAS, selective but had two beautiful kids who looked alike barely in the whites of the eyes, even his last name “Sinfonia” evidenced the harsh contradiction that surrounds the object of the crow's loves, a man as gifted in every possible musical instrument as if he had the Midas touch, and yet that very appropriate last name wasn't real. His Missa was a set of contradictions and embarrassing coincidences over knots in lavender stems.

Which in retrospect must have been a loud alarm, a siren announcing the disaster that his false moon left in its wake in the crow's heart.

It turns out that his love lied, the fire burning inside him to abandon important meetings for the sole purpose of sharing more time of his life with him as opposed to the absolute security of being understood as someone returning to his childhood home (beloved, cared, welcome) with the ease of riding a bike. All of that had been a waste.

The soft hugs that lulled him into deep dreams (chasing away the nightmares that Missa shouldn't know about for his own good) to the chaste kisses all over the face that released the negativity from his husband's shoulders (and if instead of being a result of his low self-esteem was his guilt taking charge?) to the private kisses that said “I miss you” and “one last time, love” without the words, all were nothing but lies.

Not that he had cared much about anything at that moment, he found himself focused on his children (because now they were also Phil's children) they were angels and he only had the head to raise them with Missa, who returned with a sweeter demeanor after his night walks and long work trips, he tenderly asked for nap together as a family.

He should have questioned more why Missa disappeared like that, coincidentally, just when Phil was paying for the services of the most dangerous mercenary on the black market, unlike the assassins he had on his payroll, this guy had the prestige of killing only with his touch, too lethal and above all cautious, Phil did not even met him in person, they only contacted through third parties who agreed on the service and only told about his violet hood and his skull mask. It is said; no one has seen his face and lived to tell.

Like I said before; Phil is old, he's been in the environment for years where only an intelligent man could live as long as he does, with that in mind how was it possible that he didn't know that his sweet husband was actually the most dangerous bastard in the underworld? Shocked by the discovery, in this kind of world, someone you trust can stab you in the back so how can you trust a man who lied to you?

And Missa knew who Philza Minecraft was, what his name means, he always knew, he did always know when something had gone wrong and Philza needed more comfort, always two steps ahead of his needs because he knew it.

The time after their fight breaks up, everything is a drunken blur in the crow's mind, he doesn't remember what they said, he only knows the screams and the revolver clicking in his left pocket while Missa, The Reaper or whoever it was have knowledge of the gun in his pocket and as soon as he pointed it at the man he said he loved time ago the gun was already on the ground, rolling behind this man who was unrecognizable to Phil, the shouting match continued more heated after the blonde pointed his gun at the helpless and clumsy Missa.

That was the last time he saw Missa.

Phil has been so distracted, tired and paranoid since then, even the security is a disaster ignoring the advice of the rest of BOLAS. Philza has scattered guards in unimportant areas, some stuck to him all day but the majority watch that Missa does not return or get close to the children (his children; Missa's own children) Chayanne almost bites him at the slightest suspicion of not being able to see his father, so his impenetrable fortress suddenly becomes a weak place.

Literally and metaphorically

He ordered several guards not to even dream of setting foot in certain areas of the family mansion (those such as the music room, the kitchen and the art studio, any room with traces of Missa must remain identical to how it was before his departure, as if they were waiting for him)

Philza feels betrayed and hurt but above all he is so confused, his rational mind tells him to defend himself, to put up the highest walls to protect himself, his organization and his family but his family is Missa. He is outside and Philza once promised that he will demolish every wall in the world that did not open its doors for the man with purple eyes.

And yet here he is.

Inside his fortress it can breathe the air of a broken family, the kids have believed him for the moment but the tension is felt increasing with every minute they pass without hearing from their papa. Inside the fortress are no longer him and his chicks but a greedy and lonely crow with two brittle shells and a broken heart.

The days pass in that agony until there is a surprise attack from which they cannot respond.

Tensions with the Federal mafia had gotten much worse in recent months, after his formal alliance with Soulfire he did not believe they were going to attack seriously.

But they did.

Thank his Goddess, thank The Lady for allowing Chayanne and Tallulah to be in the school while the white clad mercenaries broke down every door and shot at anything that moved.

At least Missa would get them back and they would be together again. Just as they should have been before he and his greedy hope for a family took that away from them.

As soon as his office door is kicked down one of those white masked sons of bitches puts his hands on him, something happens.

Penetrating in his vision when he sees him but there is stealth in his steps, he is the only one to notice his presence until two bullets (how quickly are repeated) knock down two of the men to dead, wound another in the shoulder, and the last one misses just centimeters away for paint the wall with Philza's skull.

Four shots, two fired before the reaction time of their distracted predators and attacked from the purest darkness, shots fly towards the door and if it was not absolutely broken after that rude kick it is now unusable, falling from its hinges under the siege and behind it are no signs of the mysterious shooter.

Tense seconds pass until one of the feds quickly puts one of his dirty hands in Phil's hair, pulling hard on the golden strands in a hissing threat and that's when he enters the scene.

The men on each side of the door were the first to fall, one quickly takes the place of his fallen companion, his gun raised, ready to shoot, followed by the one with the shot in the shoulder, unfortunately with that wound he is not able to shoot at time to prevent another bullet from the darkness from taking the life of the other one.

The bullets fly again while the threshold of the door swallows the corpse, dragging it out and soon, very soon, his savior enters the room with a constant step carrying the dead body as a kind of human shield.

A well-placed shot, other fall.

And the guy who touched him is one of them, his screams are muffled by his mask and by the gunshots exploding around him.

Phil hides under his desk as fast as he can but not before taking a bullet in the shoulder, it hurts like shit.

But it seems that it hurts them more because he can hear how one by one the white masks fall with sharp blows, they could barely scream in horror before fall with a fatal shott.

Fast, efficient and lethal

When it seems that the rain of bullets is ending, Phil distinguishes the voices from outside his office. That sounds like… Chainsaws? And laughs Phil knows immediately that his best people, who should be with his children, are on and from what he hears they are having fun.

He slowly peeks out of his desk, his hand warm from the blood dripping from his shoulder, and finally sees the reason of his recent insomnia.

Missa, or also known as The Reaper, moves almost with grace but the anger burns in his every movement, it is a wild spectacle as soon as the bullets run out, each man who even tries to get close to Phil is shot down with ease, he watch in trance as his husband smash anyone who tries to get close to him to pieces.

“M- Missa…?” he comes out as a dismayed whisper

The Reaper turns to look at him for half a second, which one of them takes advantage of to kick him in the stomach. Missa lets out a grunt of acute pain but holds the guy's leg with his hands, taking advantage of pushing him forward, knocking another of them against the favorite glass table.

The two guys are left on the floor, one on top of the other and one's suit is now full of glass.

And just like that Missa goes for the next one and Phil can only watch in shock.

Missa is The Reaper, The Reaper is Missa. They are both the same person; they have been forever.

Missa, his Missa is his mercenary and his mercenary is his husband.

he approaches, slowly, as slowly as he can with a bullet embedded in his shoulder. The cacophony of screams shakes the floor and Philza suddenly realizes that he must have gone down to the panic room.

The weight of not doing so clings to his shoulders, the clear implications trying to cross the capo’s tired mind like a malicious whisper makes him feels so wrong, so manipulative.

But he was waiting for him to save him

Of a thousand people in this aggressive environment who swore their loyalty to him and finds himself depending on the arrival of the one who not only never swore anything to him but also betrayed him.

Oh well, who betrayed who?

After yelling at him for lying to him when he also lied, pointing a gun at him and taking him away from his own children, he knows that the Philza of the past would have sent him to hell for ruining the things with Missa.

Missa knew who he was before, he knew it from very early on and that affected Phil, it made him feel cornered and at a disadvantage. He realized at that moment that he was afraid; he didn't fear the hitman under his roof as much as he feared the man under his sheets. feared he was so vulnerable letting him walk around the red mafia's base of operations, taking the children to school every morning, training Chayanne and hearing Tallulah's flute in the distance did terrified him, his worst nightmare was in how his heart was warmed by them so soft and gentle in the reaper's expert hands he could take out his heart and the worst thing is that he would have left it in order to see the children and Missa every morning when he woke up.

My God, he was crazy, he went crazy when he fell in love with him and even crazier when Phil sabotaged his own happiness.

Loneliness tasted bitter on his lips, power and honor became poison with the diffuse days, with his cold bed at night, with his absence piercing his chest.

The last man fell and with the elegance of a dancer stabbed by a steel dagger into his chest, he did the same with the other two men on the ground. The Reaper left no witnesses or loose ends.

He could hear in the distance Baghera and Cellbit stopping their chainsaws which was a good sign. The Federation had basically sent a mini army to his grounds and he partly wondered if his men knew that Missa was there with him.

His name tasted salty when it finally left Phil's lips in a whisper, it tasted like the tears he shed every time he was sober to remember his absence. Behind that mask it is almost impossible to perceive the purple eyes but he knows well that look that is hidden in front of him.

Missa wipes the blood on his own pants with slow movements, the dagger pressed against his thigh until it's clean enough.

“Missa…” Phil insists, he shouldn't insist to the man who has the dagger, especially when he is hurt.

The hairs on the back of his neck stand on end as he feels (not sees) the intense gaze on his shrunken figure, well, at least he now has his attention. The purple eyes that he loves so much scan him from top to bottom and a wave of shame hits the stunned and guilty part of his subconscious as he remembers how he looks even worse for being in the middle of a fucking shootout. That wasn't how he would have wanted to see him again see but it was the most likely way to meet again now that he knew they were in the same work area

His eyes seem to linger on the wound on his shoulder and if he could see his husband's face, he would say he was not pleased with it.

“…Phil” Missa's voice sounds like a late greeting and is focused on him.

Goddess, how he had missed that voice

The professional, and infamous mercenary approaches, a little more hesitant than he should for a man of his reputation and a wave of affection breaks over Philza, he too takes a single step closer and they are looking at each other as the first time, feels like looking at the moon at its peak or the sun descending. He can't, he doesn't have the right to act like a wet cat after tearing up his enemies and expecting Phil to be normal about it. Missa just can't do that to him, he bites back a light laugh and takes another step in his direction. noticing that there is blood on his clothes and some cuts on it but if I had to guess I would say that most of it is from the others and Phil is already losing blood himself.

Missa takes another step, knowing the bleeding has stopped and believing the bullet grazed but he won't be sure until he concentrates on something other than mustering the words to ask him to fucking take off the mask.

Fortunately, he seems to read his mind as Phil doesn't even finish taking another slow step towards him when the mask is finally gone, The Reaper has officially left the room and his husband looms in front of him in his place. Is it strange to say that death is good for him? His face, his hair and the sparkle in his eyes or is the blonde just delirious?

Be that as it may, it doesn't take long for them to find themselves in the middle of the destroyed office as if it were his own world.

"You went"

“You kicked me out.”

“You still shouldn't have left” he replied very intelligently and Missa smiled, a little nervous.

“Does it hurt so much?” The black-haired man worried, looking at his injured shoulder and Philza wasn't having his partner distracted just like that.

"No, no. It doesn't hurt" He responded, knowing that lies were not the best for the relationship at this time.

Missa frowned like a kitten about to sneeze but he allowed this one for him, just for now.

“You… you're right Philza” Missa lowered his head in shame and a confuse “what?” died in the blonde's throat.

"I shouldn't have left-"

“I pointed at you with a gun, mate” he interrupted, feeling guilty and a little freaked out by whatever that means, it all was his fault, why was Missa saying that?

“Still, I should have stayed, I wanted to stay” hesitantly he noticed how Missa’s arms floated loosely around him. They weren't very elegant clothes, just good enough for work and Philza wanted to focus on that and the stains of blood all over his man instead of the new confession, after everything he did, but how could Missa still wanted him?

“Missa…”

“I promised, right?” Phil raised his head suddenly, searching for his gaze between the strands of black hair that escaped from his messy ponytail. “I always keep my promises, dear”

When the members of Bolas made sure they had the entire area clean, they advanced, covering the entire perimeter until they climbed the stairs that led to the red leader's office, they found themselves face to face with the splintered frame of the door, an office in an absolute disaster. with the imposing doors thrown next to the lifeless bodies and in the eye of that past storm was the mob boss.

Philza was leaning against his desk (which was out of its place) the purple cloth acted as an improvised tourniquet and in his arms was the waist of a tall man with black hair that they had trouble recognizing at first if it weren't for the clear display of affection, unaware that they had company. Now Phil kept his face buried in the taller man's torso as if he were afraid to let him go again and Missa hummed, deeply satisfied with having his little bird in his arms again, he carefully avoided the other man's shoulder but remained attentive, didn't want to leave that wound out of sight until he could drag his husband stubborn ass to the infirmary. Ignoring the living and dead audience, the couple was trapped in their own world, little giggles that didn't seem to go anywhere, dying and returning with each other's laughter in a vicious circle, finally together.

“I promised you, I didn’t? as long as I'm with you you'll never be alone again, cuervito”

EXTRA:

“You look pretty good with that ponytail you know, mate?”

“Philza!”

“So, guys, do I tell Jaiden that there will be no divorce?”

“Shut the fuck up, Charlie”

[mercurygray]

Happy weekend Merc! How about 'gravel underfoot' and 'broken zipper' from the small details prompt list for Billie doing something ill advised 😏 Juno xx

Juno, these three little snips have been sitting in my drafts for the better part of a week now, so I suppose I'd better publish them if I'm not doing anything better.

Fair warning: this is a TDS AU where the Girl Gang is flying. And it is🌶️🌶️.

--

He'd known the girls would be trouble, but why was it always her?

Harding looked at the pilot across from his desk and exhaled heavily. "I need officers who obey orders, Mitchell. None of this write your own rules nonsense."

The woman herself didn't seem to think too much of that. "Seems to be fine when Major Cleven does it, sir."

And maybe it is - for Major Cleven. But not Lieutenant Billie Mitchell, fresh from the states and here only on the sufferance of God and the manpower needs of the United States Army Air Force. "Major Cleven is a decorated officer with more flying hours than you."

"And a man, sir."

"What do you want, Mitchell?" He was in front of his desk, his face inches from hers.

"A fuck against the wall would be fine, sir." She stared him down, her smile just visible in the midst of his stunned silence. "Come on, Colonel. Who lets you off your leash? It'll be fun."

"You tired of the squad room?" He was trying not to let her get to him, and he wasn't sure he was succeeding. Had she disobeyed orders just so she could be here, in front of his desk, in front of him, alone?

"I'm tired of boys who think they know what they're doing." Her smile widened knowledgeably, trying to coax him out. "Come on, sir. I've danced with you. How long's it been?"

Too damn long, he'd almost said. "Get out of my office" was what came out instead.

--

He gave in later.

He did not say her name - did not even speak - only grabbed for her wrist and pulled her away into the dark, cool shadows of the supply shed.

He only had to shut the door behind them then she'd pulled him back by his lapels to start undoing his jacket, her lips greedy for his as her hands fumbled with belts and buttons and the front of his fly and he was pulling the shirt out of her trousers and pushing her back against the wall. His hand pushed for a moment into the front of her now- open trousers, thinking he might try with his fingers first, but she laughed into their kiss and pushed his trousers open a bit more. "A fuck, sir," she said, like she was reminding him.

"Against the wall," he growled, rubbing himself against the mound of her body and their hands, her underwear and his own. He could smell her perfume, faint and distant on her skin. "I heard you the first time."

"A real one," she replied, groping him so that he moaned. "Don't take your time."

He didn't. And she dug her nails into the back of his neck and panted with pleasure into his ear for it, hot and urgent and human, until he remembered just in time where he was and who she was and pulled himself from her so he might come between them, breathless and heavy, his whole body wrung out and, impossibly, longing to do it again. How long had it been? Too long, and now he wanted it a second time, and a third. The night was dark and full of secrets and he wanted all of hers.

How dare she stand there like that, smiling and flushed and looking for all the world like she knew what he was thinking? "Damn you to hell, Billie."

“I thought we were already here,” she said with a smile. “Might as well make the most of it.”

--

Wasn't it always the same story?

Marion's office had a view of the supply shed door - hardly busy on a Friday afternoon without a mission in the air tomorrow. The sound of footsteps on the gravel made her look up. Who was it this time, looking for privacy?

Billie Mitchell, hair a mess and uniform crumpled, was struggling with a zipper that was probably broken, looking for all the world like the cat that ate the canary. Not a surprise - those blue eyes and red hair had never had a problem getting a date for a dance, or for something after, either. Marion couldn't help watching the door, wondering whose heart she would be breaking in a few days time when she moved on to her next conquest, who would be mooning after her when she told him no.

But the face that emerged next was not one she expected to see looking around with boyish, fearful eyes like he expected to be caught, carefully closing the door behind him. Oh, no. Not you. In the moment she could smell his aftershave.

He stepped out from the supply shed and looked carefully around in the approaching evening light, adjusting his tie, smoothing his jacket, and then, somehow, impossibly, his eyes found her window and the semi-open shade. The guilt in his eyes went straight through and left her breathless. She stepped back from the window, feeling shaken. He'd seen her - and seen that she knew.

Oh, Chick. What have you done?

[altruisticalastor]

So, I saw your AlastorXWife!reader fic and loved it, did a bit of an AU where it goes in a little bit of a different direction. Feel free to have a tidy up or a rewrite and post it if you like - or dont, and you are the only person other than me that is gonna see it. I relinquish all the sin for writing this apon thee if you do though ;}

Personally I'd like to see the scene upstairs afterwards but I have never written smut before.

---

Lucifer was a rather charming man, but you were spoken for. So when he grasped your hand and placed a chaste kiss on the back of your palm, your hand yanked away in the blink of an eye. You could have sworn you heard a crackling growl escape your husband's lips as he watched Lucifer offer you a lustful gaze- and that was simply unacceptable.

"I see you've met my wife!" Alastor let out a forced chuckle as he looped his arm around your waist, pulling you close to his side. You let out a sigh of relief. All thanks to your husband's rescue. Lucifer gave Alastor a pointed look before he blurted out, "You're joking... right?" He scoffed. 

Your face scrunched up in anger at Lucifer's rude remark. "Oh, he's as serious as a heart attack." You spat, snaking your own arm around Alastor's back. You squeezed his waist, a habit of yours that let your dear husband know when you were livid.

 

"But- look at you! You're gorgeous, sweetheart, and he's just... freaky." You were about to snap back before your husband's maniacal laughter tore through the room. "Ha Ha! That's rich coming from the short stack!" Alastor quipped, grip tensing around your waist. Lucifer's chest puffed up in defense before he let out an airy laugh. 

"Aha! The height I lack up here, I surely make up for below the belt! Maybe I can show your wife sometime." Lucifer shot you a playful wink, causing your face to scrunch up in disgust. Alastor tensed beside you.

---

'well' you said, releasing Alastor and beginning circling behind hells overlord 'I thought you had seen my darling husband grow into a 20ft tall ravenous beast. Let's just say, things stay proportional in the bedroom. I am sure you've seen those tendrils of his too?' you place your hands on his shoulders and lean in almost conspiritorially. 'he can do far more with them than you've seen, incredible skill - one might even call it...heavenly.'

Lucifer let out an audible gulp as he seemed suddenly rooted to the spot. Seeing his confidence waver as he couldn't help but imagine the depravity you suggested, you quickly gave the back of his ear a sharp lick and turned to saunter up the stairs pausing briefly to address your husband.

'Al dearest, our schedules for this afternoon are both suddenly... very...full.' managing only a half turn before adding 'Thanks for the inspiration Luci baby' and delivering a suggestive wink at the demon, whos face was flushing deeply.

After a short pause Alastor chuckled, his usual bravado returned.

'well well' he said, eyeing the bulge in the front of Lucifers trousers. 'looks like we are all busy this afternoon. Enjoy your date with your right hand dear fellow. I do hope your imagination measures up.' Melting into the shadows with a resounding chuckle that could be heard long after he could no longer be seen.

After a very long and awkward silence with Lucifer seeming to have short circuited in place - Husk decided to be the one to break the tension, Slowly placing down the glass he was cleaning on the bar and clearing his throat

'So Angel, I've been wanting to try out this new place that opened up on the other side of the pentagram.'

Angel finally managed tear his eyes from the top of the stairs to respond.

'yea man, you uh, wanna go right now?' he stood 'Last time I was here when those two got busy I got super fuckin traumatised by the noise, and I do that kinda shit for a livin!'

I LOVE YOUR RENDITION SO MUCH!! definitely sassy and fun, thanks for sharing!! 🩷🩷

[coldpintglass]

💖👖💭👀 for the fanfic asks!

RIVER!!! Thank you so much for the ask, you’re a babe. Also a great compliment because I love your stuff so much 💖🥺

💖What do you like most about your own writing?

I really enjoy the sort of personable way I write a characters POV/ internal dialogue! Take this snippet from “you’re my baby, say it to me” where Southgate has a clanging realisation about his future:

“He has to quit.

He sits with the thought for a minute, it’s been rattling around his head for days, shadowing him every step of the way. He knows they’ve been calling for his head back home, pundit and public alike.

He should have quit already.  

Fucking hell, he thinks, and then swigs the whole mug of whiskey in one go.”

Because that’s how people think through events. They talk in their head! They bat it around and imagine scenarios and have horrible moments of clarity. It keeps you up at night! 

From a writing perspective: it makes it easier to understand motives, to make a fic memorable plus, frankly, it’s so much fun to both write AND read as if you’re in the characters shoes. Not just watching them from the outside! 

👖 Are you a planner, plantser, or pantser? Is it consistent

BOTH. A rough outline of what I want to go down will get plotted, plus I’ll probably spend some time mulling it about my brain to see what jumps out (or more recently, chat about on discord with likeminded folk, HELLO CARRAVILLE DISCORD, LOVE YOU 💖) 

Catch is, I think I have it plotted out and then fuck me, this is taking a turn isn’t it? Whoosh, out goes the plan and in come the vibes. So, swing and a miss tbh. This has happened with all 3 fics I’ve published so far…! 

Like “Amensalism” started life as something else, in fact the section where Southgate dreams about Harry agreeing to letting him care for him was the first part I wrote. It was meant to be much much much more bleak and grim for Harry.

💭 What is a headcanon you have about your own work?

That it is painfully obvious that I am English and grew up on British comedy 😔🇬🇧🍺💷

 I think it was Sara (@storyshark2005) who asked in the comment of “i thought maybe we could kiss tonight” if I was British because of my dialogue I’d given Jamie!!! I actually quite love being able to flag that sort of regional U.K. dialogue with words/phrases. Think it puts a nice stamp on the work and also makes me feel I can do a decent job at fleshing out characters. 

👀 Do you have any WIPs that you would never let see the light of day? If yes, what are they about?

I think I want this WIP to see the light of day BUT it’s probably the most unsavoury and grim thing I’ve written. I’m not sure how many people would want to imagine it, let alone read it. Anyway, as mentioned above, I totally intended Amensalism to be a much more bleak and nasty fic. I literally dubbed it “SouthKane Misery AU” when writing it as a draft header. 

And then I realised actually where I wanted to go with this. Let’s just say it’s slowly becoming more “Dead Dove: Do Not Eat” then I care to admit. 

Here is a snippet of it.

NB: warnings for abandonment, unhealthy relationship, and BDSM. Probably rate this section as a hard T, so nothing explicit. Sorry don’t know how to describe this more specifically but you’ll know fairly quickly if you want to touch this or not. Behind a read more it goes:

“Come on Harry, it’s not difficult” He tugs his hair sharply “Be a good boy now”

“P-please, please I’m sorry, boss, please-“ he chokes on a sob. 

It’s exceedingly easy to get Harry to cry, that’s not a problem necessarily, quite the opposite. But Gareth is almost suprised it’s this easy to start seeing cracks in him - he’s a ugly crier, lips pulled up high, nose and eyes streaming, blotchy red face. 

However, tears means he’s making progress.

“All you have to do is let go, I’m not sure why that’s so hard for you” Another tug, another sob. 

“I-I’m not a dog” he croaks out “Boss, please, Gareth -“

Defiance and using his name? Christ, can’t even piss outside without making a huge deal about it. Gareth tuts, it’s a shame really, two steps forward and one step back. 

Still, nothing a night outside in the stables can’t fix. 

He lets go of Harry hair, turns on his heel and locks the door.

*

Gareth finds he’s almost tempted to flick the heating on, it’s gotten chilly this morning, a welcome reprieve after a week of hot afternoons and muggy evenings. Woven silk threads are scattered across the grass, coated in dew, glinting in the dappled sunlight from the trees. He couldn’t ask for a better a view out over the window by the kitchen sink. It’s times like this hes especially glad for the house, even if it needs constant matience and having to wrangle around the council if he wants to do anything. But a Quick Look at the vistas outside and all is forgiven.

Speaking of. 

He grabs a bowl from the cabinet, filling it with tap water, and pulls a banana off from the bunch in the fruit bowl. He’ll give Harry something a bit more substantial once he’s inside and got him to ask for it nicely. It’s finding the right balance that’s tricky, he does love him, honest, even after everything. 

But that doesn’t mean he’s above correcting Harry when he goes wrong. 

As he opens the door, the cold nips at Gareth, that’s a little bit fresher than he was expecting to be. Well, he’s not a monster, he throws the dogs blanket over his shoulder. He pulls on his outdoor shoes he keeps by the door and walks across to the stables, the dawn chorus starting to wind down to make way for the rest of the day. 

A quick turn of the key in the lock and he is greeted by Harry blearily staring up at him from the floor. He’s hit by the stench of piss and body odour as he step inside, a dark puddle shaped stain on the concrete beneath Harry.

He puts the bowl and banana down in front of Harry, bending down as he reaches round to click open the lock on his wrists and is taken a back by how grimy Harry feels, specks of dirt and dust covering his goose flesh skin. His skin blossoming under different shades of pink and red, the chill slowly creeping around his body. 

Not a peep from Harry. No crying, no whinging, no sharp comments. It’s lovely. Gareth can’t resist indulging him with a kiss to his temple, he’s done so well, wrapping the blanket round his shoulders. 

“You ready to be nice and listen to me now, sweetheart?”

Harry manages a shallow nod, his hands shaking as he tugs the blanket right around him. 

“Good boy, have a drink and I’ll feed you after” 

[fixfoxnox]

I was the one who asked for the reverse au and ASGDHDOEJSUCJ

Amazing. Brilliant. Showstopping

Villain Roach making me act UP, if you don't mind writing another drabble of it, please do. Roach was perfect and Makarov is so strong, if I were him I would've folded at the tounge move

Thank you again (⁠´⁠∩⁠｡⁠•⁠ ⁠ᵕ⁠ ⁠•⁠｡⁠∩⁠`⁠)

Okay its finished you may read it now, I apologize for posting early i am too clumsy apparently

Anon you are iconic for coming up with the idea, we adore you and ultranationalist Roach will be making many more appearances here! Here is another drabble for you my friend

Warnings: Dub-con, threats, little bit of knife play, some minor nsfw

Makarov felt like he was being tested. This entire thing had to be some elaborate test or scheme from Sanderson. It just had to be. There was no way that the man had actually left him alone, in a house, with a working computer and phone.

He stared at them carefully, his hand itching to reach out and grab one. He could just call his teammates, they could get a track on him, they'd have the place surrounded in hours. But it was too easy. Because surely, surely, a man who had gone through whatever great lengths to kidnap him, wouldn't leave him alone, in a house, with a working phone and computer. It just didn't make sense.

Perhaps he was hallucinating? That would certainly explain things. Maybe the previous night had all been a hallucination too. Sanderson, the way he'd kissed his neck, how he'd grinned at him and claimed him as his own before taking his mouth. Perhaps what had followed had been a hallucination too? Being guided up the stairs and led to a room that seemed almost personalized to his tastes. The way Sanderson had pressed up against him with a purr and kissed him again before leaving him by himself. If all of that had truly happened, then why the hell had he woken up in an empty house, alone, with a working phone and computer left out on the counter of the kitchen.

He hesitated for a moment, looking around him to see if there were any visible cameras. This had to be a trap. He stared at the computer and phone for a moment longer. His thoughts raced around his head. He slowly began to reach out for the phone.

"If you're thinking about trying to contact your team, it won't work."

Makarov nearly jumped out of his skin, turning with rising panic in his chest as he met the gaze of the figure that had managed to sneak up on him. It was a man in a wheelchair. He was almost unassuming, but Makarov could see the muscles of his arms and, more threateningly, he could see a gun strapped to his leg. "Who are you?" His eyes narrowed onto the weapon.

"Paul Jackson," the man moved toward him just slightly. Makarov recognized the name, his eyes went wide and his heart picked up speed as he looked the man over in a new light.

"You're-"

"Roach's second in command?" Jackson gave him a smirk, "You're tense, don't worry, I'm not here to hurt you."

Makarov pressed himself back against the counter behind him, "Really?" He scoffed, "Then what are you here for, and why the gun?"

Jackson looked down at his lap, as though he'd forgotten that he was wearing the weapon. "The gun is for protection," he looked back up at him, "Roach wanted me to have it in case you tried to attack me. Don't worry, takedown shots only though."

Makarov tried to ignore the fact that Sanderson didn't want him dead, even if he attacked his second in command. He really didn't want to think about what that meant for him or the way that the knowledge burned pleasantly through his mind. "And the other? Why are you here?"

"Roach wanted me to show you everything, give you a quick rundown," Jackson looked him up and down for a moment, "we'll be seeing more of each other soon, and he wants us to get along at least a bit."

"And," Makarov hesitated for a moment, "Where is Sanderson?"

"Roach," Jackson was quick to correct, "Call him Sanderson and you might actually make him mad. You're a friend, you call him Roach."

Makarov hesitated for a moment, but at the man's warning look he was quick to acquiesce, "Alright, where is Roach?"

Jackson gave him a grin, "He's in some meetings for the day, he'll be back tonight. Now then, I'll show you the ropes." He motioned behind Makarov to the kitchen. "As I'm sure you can tell, this is the kitchen," Makarov gave a small snort at the man's words, "Fully stocked at all times, use whatever you want to, make whatever you want to. If we don't have something, there's a number on the fridge for a local grocer. Just call and tell them what you need and they'll get it for you and have it sent to the house. If its less urgent, you can put it on the list on the fridge," he pointed toward a little notepad stuck with a magnet to the large stainless steel fridge. "If you want something permanently stocked in the kitchen just ask Roach and he'll put it on the list for you." Jackson motioned for him to follow with his hand and Makarov had no choice but to follow the man into one of the back hallways, to a sliding glass door.

"I assume they're here to keep me from leaving?" He raised an eyebrow at the several guards that he could see milling around the property.

"Surely you didn't think Roach was going to just let you stay here unsupervised?" Jackson shot him an unimpressed look. It made Makarov flush, just a bit of anger running through him. He glared at the man, but all it seemed to do was pull a grin from his lips. "There," Jackson pointed to one of the buildings, "Is the personal gym. Connected to it is the indoor pool. The guards will let you go over there, by the way. You can also use the outdoor pool when its warm enough, which," he shrugged, "isn't right now."

"Well I could guess that," Makarov raised an eyebrow at the man, the frost outside the window making it fairly clear that there would be no swimming.

"Just had to say," Jackson turned away, beginning to guide him back into the living area, "I never know with you Russians."

Makarov glared at the back of the man's head again. He had to be doing this to fuck with him. No way he was actually such an asshole. He didn't say that though, instead he just let himself be lead into the living room.

"Every other room on the first floor is entertainment," Jackson stopped, turning his wheelchair to face him. "Games, TV, Internet, books, whatever you could want. If there's something you want that we don't have, just ask Roach and he'll order it for you." He pointed to the TV, "About the internet and phone shit, do yourself a favor and don't try to contact your team. If you do, the system will know and boot you out for a bit." The man turned away from him, beginning toward the front door, "Thats really it. Like I said, Roach will be back later. Have fun."

With that, the man was out the front door, leaving Makarov by himself in an unfamiliar home, apparently just waiting around for a terrorist to come back home. The thought made him want to tug his hair out.

He was sleeping when Roach got back. Laid out on the couch in the living room, his eyes had betrayed him and he'd found himself slipping off into darkness. He was woken up by something, or someone, crawling into his lap and laying their head on his chest.

His eyes flew open when a hand began to rub across his chest teasingly. His face went red as he met the bright grin and wide eyes of Roach, the younger man looking at him like he wanted to eat him alive. It made his heart race faster as much as it made heat creep over his skin.

"Roach," he acknowledged weakly.

Roach only gave a hum, leaning up closer to him teasingly before asking, "You just had to try didn't you?"

Makarov felt his face go red. He knew exactly what Roach was referring to. Nearly every computer and electronic in the house was currently on a countdown. Jackson hadn't been lying when he warned that if Makarov tried to contact his team, he would be booted from the system.

It was frustratingly quick how fast the system had picked up on what he was trying to do. It was almost like a child safety lock, the entire computer going black as a little timer popped up telling him that he would have to wait twenty four hours before being let back into the system.

"Can you blame me," He asked, his face bright red.

Roach gave another hum, burying his face into his neck to begin placing kisses along his throat. "No," he muttered finally. He didn't say anything else, just kept his hands running teasingly over his chest as his mouth worked at his throat.

Makarov was flustered, but he was also terribly surprised. He'd expected for Roach to be enraged with him, to maybe hit him or do something other than just touch him and leave oh so tempting little kisses across his throat. "You," Makarov gasped, feeling Roach grind his lower half against him. It pulled a mischievous grin to the younger man's face and he left a bruising nip just under Makarov's jaw, "You- you're not mad," he finally managed to get out. His voice was absolutely wrecked, sounding high and needy to his own ears. It was frustrating, like his own body was fighting against him.

Roach pulled away from his neck, sitting up to straddle him fully. "Of course I'm not mad. I expected you to do it silly." He grinned at him, "besides, I'm sure being locked out of the system and bored all day was punishment enough. No need for me to do more." He bit his lip, staring down at him with a demure little smile as he ground his hips into him. It was clear to see that any and all innocence he had was fake.

Makarov could say nothing as Roach fixed his hands against his chest and started to slowly, languidly, rock his hips against him. He could feel how hard the other man was against him and, much to his own embarrassment, how hard he was from the attention. He watched as Roach tilted his head back temptingly, little gasps escaping his throat as he rutted against him. It was almost too distracting. Almost.

Makarov had a plan though. He had a plan and he intended to stick by it. He let his hands slowly move, trying not to gain the other man's attention as he slipped one hand into his jacket pocket, searching for the little blade he'd hidden there earlier. To his confusion, his hands met nothing. He tried his other pocket. Nothing.

Suddenly, the rutting against him stopped and there was a snicker from the man above him. "Looking for this?" Makarov watched in horror as Roach twirled the little knife he'd stashed in his pocket between his fingers.

"How did you-" there was a knife against his throat. It didn't press hard, just sat there against his skin. The threat was somehow worse.

"Checked you while you were alseep," Roach leaned down, their noses touching as he pouted at the man, "I figured you try something like this. I'm a little offended," he rolled his hips down again, still achingly hard in his jeans, "I thought we were enjoying ourselves."

"I-"

Roach tutted, cutting him off by pressing the knife closer to his skin. He spoke to him again, his voice dropped into a tone that one would use when encouraging a child who'd just failed at something, "You did such a good job though! It was such a good try, maybe next time baby." Makarov flushed red at the man's mocking tone, his eyes narrowing in anger. Roach seemed to take delight in the fire in his eyes. "Oh, isn't that a fun look to see." He pushed himself back up, removing the knife from Makarov's neck and twirling it in his fingers again. "Apologize, baby. C'mon, say you're sorry."

"Sorry?" Makarov hissed out, "You kidnapped me! You're crazy! I'm not-" Roach wrapped a hand around his throat, the knife pressing threteningly at his cheek. That face that had been fixed into a teasing grin was now hard and cold, watching him, daring him to continue speaking.

"Apologize," Roach said again, his voice almost scarily calm.

Makarov grit his teeth, cool shame running through his system as he bit out, "I'm sorry."

Roach closed his eyes, a small smiled crossing his lips as he tilted his head back. "Again," he ordered with a roll of his hips. Makarov gasped in response.

"I'm sorry."

That grin returned to Roach's face. The knife was removed from his skin and the hand at his throat moved up to stroke along his cheek. Roach leaned down, quickly and excitedly placing kisses all along his face before lunging down to crash their lips together again, his tongue quickly forcing its way into Makaorv's mouth to enthusiastically explore. "What a good boy," Roach muttered against his lips. Makarov tried not to shiver at the words, but with the delighted giggle that pulled from the man above him, he assumed he'd failed.

After a moment, Roach pulled back, "Lets get rid of this thing," he held up the knife, quickly twisting it in his hands before pulling back and throwing it, impaling the little piece of metal into a little dartboard hung on the wall with surprising accuracy. The thing had stuck directly in the center of the board. "Now then," Roach looked down at him, his hands drifting down his chest to slip under the edge of his shirt. He rocked his hips down on him again, pulling a choked out moan from Makarov, "I think you should show me how sorry you really are, don't you think?"

[sailorblossoms-snowbaz]

So I have more thoughts about labels. Yeah yeah, no one cares, I’m talking to myself here, please save your tomatoes and bricks. (Writing down my thoughts helps me stop overthinking things, like “I did something with this so now my brain will let me be free,” I treat this like a diary etc etc) (I’ve always been A Blogger haha). My disclaimer is always that Simon not labelling and not knowing himself is important and cool (I approach my own identity like that, I’m not super big on labels). 

When I first read these books last year, I did it as a casual reader. I looked at fanarts and some discussions between books (which I read pretty quickly). It actually made me think Simon Snow being bisexual was canon! so I was pretty shocked when I first read the scene discussing bisexuality. It almost made me feel like I was reading a direct answer to what turned out to be headcanon and... it wasn’t a yes. (so freaking popular that it apparently still has strength in certain parts of the fandom? as someone who grew up believing I was straight, and picked bisexuality as my first step into embracing my queerness – I now know I’m also somewhere in the acespec and honestly? Simon helped me accept that – Simon’s reactions alone would be enough for me to never want to call him bi again haha his gut reaction was “hell no, what are you talking about??”). Nowadays I’ll insist Simon Snow is a gay man who struggles but who slowly comes to terms with it (it’s a small part, but we can’t ignore that Simon found himself wondering “am I legally allowed to kiss Baz in this state?” that’s heavy stuff) and that the writing in these books is very acespec friendly. 

Reading My Rosebud Boy (an AU where the author tries to make them feel like the same people) makes me more confident that I’m not just seeing shit in the main trilogy. Simon in his early thirties explicitly says “yeah I’m gay, I used to have an issue with that (in his teenage years, when he dates girls, and maybe early 20s) but I’m cool with it now” (only dating men as an adult). I think we can find that sentiment in the trilogy. In Simon’s questions about women (“mayhaps I was never attracted to women in the first place” he says, while staring at the distant boobs, after not noticing boobs that were on his face or literally never in his life) (Baz having “a problem” with boobs while Simon doesn’t is not about Baz being gay while Simon isn’t. It’s about Baz, living in fear that Simon doesn’t want him anymore after spending his entire adolescence believing he’s straight, worrying that Simon would be into the boobs, and on that deeper level, that Simon would leave him. Note that every mild ass comment Simon makes about a girl being “cute” puts a focus on Baz's reaction. It’s more about Baz’s insecurities! And what we have is writing choices that make it so the timing of boobs being almost on Simon’s arms has Simon looking sick and green – a hell of a choice to not do it on purpose – Simon not even looking, Simon focusing only on the food, Simon thinking “maybe not for me and I don’t know what I am, but if a lady wants to show off her tits, why would I object?” While considering he might only be into Baz) (maybe his thoughts are also big tit solidarity. Ha.)  

I think the popularity of bisexual Simon could start with a misunderstanding of his feelings for Agatha. I have written lots of posts on why the “inanimate objects” comment about her is overcompensation and deliberately silly (inanimate objects don’t have feelings, don’t have wants and desires, don’t have choices) and equating the way he sees she’s pretty to the way Baz, a gay man can see it, etc etc. Him saying “I always wanted her” and then proceeding to make comments that indicates he wants to be like her, not that he desires her, but people interpreting the latter because well, boy and girl. Which takes me to the other reason I think this took off: media tropes and general assumptions. But media tropes and assumptions outside of the books. Like reading “maybe I’m half gay” and your mind instantly goes to “ah shit, here we go again” because how many of us have seen bisexuality described that way? Like it’s mathematical? A perfect 50/50 every single time? How many of us have been frustrated at reading sexuality struggles in media that has you like “this would be so much easier for y’all if you consider bisexuality is a thing that exists, that it’s fluid and can vary from bisexual to bisexual” etc etc. I’d bet this played into the reviewers I’ve seen writing off CO as bi erasure. But I don’t think this is on the books. It’s not what they were going for. I think this is on the reader. 

I include his comments about other girls here. “She’s cute” “she’s beautiful” so are kittens and flowers. I understand that someone horny can use “cute” when they’re attracted, but within the parameters of these specific books, I think it’s a stretch to see it that way. Attraction in these books can be measured in: repetition, hyper-fixation (on details no one else notice) and derailed thoughts (they go insane over it!). Shepard says Penny is cute! But note that he doesn’t says it and moves on. Oh no, Shepard has a whole fucking meltdown because Penny is cute. You would never think about Penny’s knees if it wasn’t for Shepard. It drives him insane that Penny is cute. He can’t cope! Cute, cute, cute. Repetition. Cute knees. Hyper-fixation. Derailed thoughts. Simon doesn’t linger on those comments. Baz also calls girls beautiful and gorgeous. Neither of them lingers on that. For Simon, All Horny Roads lead to Baz (even in my rosebud boy! yes I can write that post goddammit). I also think there might be some projecting in the sense that a reader can see the how horny he can be around Baz and project that into him, even when he just said “cute” and moved on immediately.

It also picks my attention that a common bullshit regarding bi erasure in media (looking at you, old trashy... guilty pleasure manga) is having the MC being all “I’m not gay!! I'm only about [male love interest]’s dick and that’s that” and maybe even putting on his clown shoes to insist he’s totally straight and totally only likes women. Or this would come in the character being asked questions about men in general or just called gay (so... much to unpack in those stories... I used to blog about old manga. Fun times). Simon doesn’t consider men in general (already telling). He considers women when he’s like “yeah... maybe not for me... i don’t know” and upon getting close to see the answer is maybe a nope, he goes to a place that gives him security: being a certified Baz-fucker. And the biggest thing that doesn’t play into those tropes or ideas or assumptions? Simon never thought he was straight. The mere suggestion irritates him. 

I wrote some posts about that, but I’m too lazy to search for it. It’s clearly lazy saturday (I also wrote too many fucking posts so linking starts to feel like work haha) The summary: Simon never thought about his sexuality at all, the repression of his desires and his crazy magic (can't get worked up without danger of going off) make it unlikely he’s ever even masturbated (using other outlets like practicing with his sword/jumping Baz to fight to work off some steam haha), his rejection of bisexuality (because he does reject it! Especially notable because it would have been “the easy” answer for him, the maybe more comfortable, and yet it inspires nothing but discomfort! and when he opens himself more to consider it, he’s still leaning more to the negative, he still always goes back to “gay” and never once to consider “bisexuality” — and putting 2 and 2 together, about Simon having a knee-jerk rejection of his relationship with Agatha being understood as sexual attraction, or him being seen as a woman-fucker. It’s Baz insisting that Simon must have liked/being attracted to her what frustrates and bothers Simon and pushes him enough to process in real time that the answer is no. It’s wild to me to read him saying “what I liked about her is that she awoke absolutely nothing in me,” which he demonstrates with his thoughts, and then still seeing the argument that he ever had a single horny feeling for her). 

I think that something that also complicates it is the negative idea that being bisexual is not good enough. Not gay enough. Not straight enough. We belong nowhere. Our validity is questioned every single fucking minute. The idea that bisexual Simon is contested because “that’s not good enough.” But I don’t think that’s it here. I don’t think that’s the intent of the books, or the people who have been seeing Agatha and Simon as lesbian and gay so far into the closet they don’t even know they’re there from day one (or mine!) 

I respect the author always replying “I don’t think Simon knows!” when directly asked if he’s bisexual, because it honors his struggles and journeys, but I also think the answer is on the page. I think Simon’s journey there is both about not feeling pressured to define himself, that he’s allowed to live and love without picking an exact word or a flag to fly at pride, and also about becoming comfortable being gay. He goes from “I’m not even remotely ready to think whether I’m gay” to “if we’re not safe to be gay in ikea, where would we be?”/"gets off with gay PSA with Baz” to “I’m totally gay for all intents and purposes” – there’s a progression. There’s growth and acceptance. And it’s always around the word “gay” (not as an umbrella term) and never anything else: not straight, not bi. Not even when it’s offered as a reasonable alternative. 

[dukeofdelirium]

Can I ask your top 10 fav fics ever (from any fandom, if you don't mind)?

Also, just curious, is there a story behind your name "dukeofdelirium "?

Oh lord. Fav fanfics? Idk if I could even come up with 10.

I don’t really read fanfic that much these days unfortunately, mostly bc I haven’t rlly had time with my current job. I do write fanfic on my AO3 though (but my updating is random bc I work a lot). You can find me on AO3 at dukeofdelirium

I have multiple ongoing fanfics, including a Death Note/lawlight one that I’m writing the 2nd chapter for when I have free time.

As for my all time fav fanfics? Ummmmmmm

1) Genius Is a Curse by Bloodshot Eyes both on ao3 and fanfiction.net.

This is a DN AU where Light never finds the DN. I will say it’s very heavy on mental illness and things like that, and ppl might find the content triggering so I would read with caution if this is the case for you. It’s a fanfic that I still think about to this day and that I’ve reread maybe 5 times in the last 14 yrs. Something about it rlly stuck with me and I still think about it all the time.

2) The Hinterland Doctrine aka Those Who Stand For Nothing Fall For Anything by Halfpromise both on ao3 and fanfiction.net

We all know where we were when this shit dropped lmfao. This is one of the most iconic death note/lawlight fanfics ever written and just so you’re aware, it’s almost 800,000 words. It has its own tv tropes article and everything 😂 I remember reading this fic in highschool and it had me fucked up in all sorts of ways. I’ve been thinking about rereading it bc I haven’t read it in years but I remember how much I loved it. It’s also an AU where Light is a politician, I’m not telling you anything else 🤫

3) motion picture soundtrack by lowlightt on ao3

this author…. This AUTHOR…. Nahhhhhh their writing makes me actually insane I’m serious. Me and my bestie kept sending their fics back and forth in our group chat and we were literally quoting the fics and going crazy until like 4am for multiple nights in a row 😂 see I’ll do it right now. IT’S VIOLENCE, THIS KISS! god that knocks the wind out of me 🤣

4) Drag You Down by chocomd on ao3

This is a Katara x Aang long fic where they break up and eventually get back together. I rlly love this author and I’ve read most of their works. I recommend all their stuff, especially Midnight Meditations and Without Water which are both one shots I believe? Don’t quote me on that tho

The only other fics coming to my mind are fanfics that my friends have written. Like I said, I don’t rlly read too much fanfic these days and when I do read them, I am very selective and picky about it. For a fic to hold my interest and actually be memorable, they rlly have to scratch a highly niche itch in my brain lol. I’ll link some of my besties fanfics if anyone wants to check them out :)

5) Golden Hour by FuelMyDelusions on ao3

This is a Jacob x Bella longfic and a Breaking Dawn rewrite (thank god cuz we all know it needs that) and I’m WAITING FOR BESTIE TO UPDATE 🙄 jk I can’t talk cuz I know she’s waiting for me to update my shit too 😔🤚🏻

6) Aurora - A New Dawn by poizonivory on ao3

This is another twilight Jacob x Bella longfic that is fixing the hot mess that Breaking Dawn aka Smeyer Hell created. I love this fic so much 👹 you’ll catch me in the comments acting weird

Anyway lol, I can’t think of any other fanfics at the moment. Feel free to shoot me other asks if you want, but yeah I don’t rlly read too many fics these days except for what my friends write and stuff that rlly catches my attention.

And to answer your last question, there isn’t any particular story or meaning behind my username. I’ve just had the username for years and so I use it for practically everything. My URL used to be different over a decade ago when I joined tumblr (I was a 100% death note blog at the time) but then I changed it to dukeofdelirium so I’ve kept this username for many years 😋✌🏻

[masterqwertster]

My internet died while sending the first ask so I case it didn’t go through 31 with Orym and opal or Fearne for the touch prompts?

Prompt Oh, good thing you sent again. That first one did not come through. I'm going to take this one to my Accidental Ascension AU because I've been meaning to write something more for it, but every time I sit down for it, the writing juice is gone. 31 Doing a pinky swear

Orym's kind of been expecting this ever since the idea that Bells Hells' ascended trio could be warlock patrons came up.

Fearne is possessive and there's very little she wouldn't do for her friends. To offer them power in return for binding themselves to her is almost more a continuation of their friendship than the controlling contract that a Pact is supposed to be.

And the truth is, while the continuous solstice has been brought to an end, there are still battles to be fought against the Ruby Vanguard. After all, their leadership is not dead. Yet.

But...

"I'm not a magic kind of guy, Fearnie," Orym gently rejects her offer of warlock powers.

"But, but. I can make your sword extra magical! Like the captain's," Fearne pleads.

The child-like innocence and eagerness contrasts heavily with her sharpened and lengthened Archfey features as Fearne crouches lower than ever to be on his eye level.

"I don't need my sword to be more magical," Orym earnestly says, taking one of her long-fingered, burning coal looking hands between his own small hands. "I just need my friends to be there and back me up."

"You're sure?" Fearne asks, goat-like eyes still wide and pleading.

"Yeah."

"Pinky promise?" she tempts, clawed pinky held out towards him.

There's something in her eyes, her bearing, that hints at something more than a child's unbreakable vow. Or maybe he's just seeing things. Orym's not entirely used to the changes made in his friends by what they did at the Malleus Key, how unnerving the sheer power of their presences can be.

"...Okay," Orym relents, curling his tiny pinky around hers and shaking on it.

A little splurge of magic flows into Orym from where their fingers are intertwined, just a bit stronger than his gift for druidcraft and gusts. It settles into him almost as soon as he notices it, there to stay.

"Fearne," he admonishes.

"It's not a Pact. Just a boon for my best friend," Fearne shamelessly reassures him, placing a warm kiss on his forehead.

"A bit of magic to let you go where you need to be, a bit of magic to help you bring down your prey." A predatory grin splits Fearne's face as she describes the second of the spells she's gifted him, showing off sharpened teeth.

Orym sighs, and hugs her anyway. "Thanks, Fearnie. I'll put them to good use."

"I know. That's why I gave them to you," Fearne says, returning the hug with her own near-burning embrace.

So I don't think Orym would take a warlock multi-class, even with his best friend as the Patron. But Fearne's stubborn, so she gave Orym the Fey Touched feat (by literally touching him as an Archfey😝), granting him access to a daily casting of Misty Step and Hunter's Mark. I thought about giving Orym Aid for his 1st level spell selection, as that is a very Orym spell, but given there's still Otohan and Ludinus and Liliana(?) left to find and kill, I felt Hunter's Mark was more fun/appropriate. No foe shall escape his sight!

[lesbianwyllravengard]

Hell yeah i got some recs!! Most of mine are going to be more Hank and Connor or Reed900 centric, so keep that in mind.

From it's Own Wreck by Jivvin is my current favorite! It's a ghost au based on the film Just Like Heaven (2005) and it's full of gorgeous writing and has lots of great moments in it. I can't recommend it enough. It is incomplete, but the author regularly updates and it's a few chapters away from being finished.

Deviating and Solving Crime with 100% Human Detective Connor by CaptainKenway. Exactly what it says. You're solving crime with a 100% human detective, nothing else. Nothing suspicious about him. 0_0 It has some good angst and funny moments, and i really enjoyed reading it.

Detroit 07 by Rhinozilla is INCREDIBLE! It's a 38 part series (i know, im stilling working through it) and it's got so much angst, found family, comfort, crack shenanigans, and just as much plot as there is silly oneshots. It's got some OCs in it that are amazing and fit so well into the story, and it does deviate a little bit from the norm (different name for Nines for example, and no reed900) but it's still really good. Since there are so many parts to it and two of the parts are over 400k each, here are some of the smaller oneshots that can be read easily by themselves:

Color Wheel: Connor sustains minor damage to the hardware controlling his appearance. Everybody in the bullpen is united with one singular mission: do not let Connor know that his hair keeps changing colors.

The Breathing Graveyard: The DPD sends Connor to talk down a volatile deviant that's holed up in a trailer near the android scrapyard. It doesn't go the way any of them expect.

Bubbles: Connor gets stuck watching a lost little girl while they wait for her parents to come pick her up at the station.

And then i'd recommend Chapter 51 of Camaraderie if you're up for a wholesome father-son moment.

Through Your Veins by AceEmerson: Nines gets hurt and Gavin takes him back to his apartment to patch them up. There is also an android cat, first kiss, and TENSION

Secret by sv962: Role-reversal Reed900, first kiss. Tis very good. Semi-short at less than 5k and you want a good little role reversal, i recommend it.

The unexpected benefits of having a therapist terminator by texs_sins: Undeviated Nines decides to become Gavin's therapist to help improve their work partnership. 'Surely exposing himself to human emotions won't make a difference, after all nothing has ever made him deviate, right?' it's a fantastic fic and i love their take on Machine Nines and Deviated Nines. (fair warning because it's not listed in the tags, there's a little bit of smut in the last chapter, but easily skippable if you aren't up for it)

Beautifully Unique and Strange by cliffhanging: autistic Connor oneshot because we need more autistic Connor fics

Only Skin Deep by the AsexualofSpades: pre-relationship Reed900, where Nines tries to hide as much of his androidness in response to his anti-android partner five times and the one time he doesn't. It has a nice follow up fic too and i recommend it!

i think that's a fair amount to stop at, oh my god. And thanks again for your recs!! I'm gonna get reading to them tonight!! <3<3<3

Ahhh hell yes! Thank you so much!!

I have read the texs_sins fic (and most of theirs) but I'd definitely reread them bc I love them a lot so thank you for reminding me!

I am ALWAYS DOWN for more father son content with Hank and Connor, thank you SO much. It's so hard for me to find any these days.

Detroit 07... Almost sounds like a kind of Brooklyn 99 AU? In which case idk if I should read it just yet because I am also writing a dbh brooklyn 99 AU and I don't want to accidentally steal ideas or be influenced by someone else, but maybe after I post my own work I'll check it out! (two cakes!)

These all sound super fun thank you for the recommendations!! <333

[shinidamachu]

Hi Ma’am who works at Wendy’s!!!!! Can you give me your take on inukag’s almost kiss in TFA?? Not sure if you’ve covered this already :$

Hi, ma’am. Here at Wendy’s we got you!

I most definitely haven’t covered this topic yet and for two simple reasons: one, it frustrates me to no end! Like, I’m already getting riled up just thinking about it, LMAO! Two, anything I say on the subject will fall flat to the brilliance that is @dyaz-stories take on it. Her thoughts on it took the form of the amazing one-shot Opposites.

That’s right! You’re getting a fic rec as a treat, totally on the house. For those of you who haven’t read it yet (you should), this is our big, old “What If Sota Hadn’t Walked Into The Damn Bedroom?” trope, except that instead of the Epic Kiss™ Kagome actually takes time to sort her feelings out.

As we all know, this event happened after Kikyo’s final death and with that in mind, in Opposites, Kagome can’t help but think Inuyasha is only making a move on her because Kikyo is no longer around, so she feels like second best and tells him so. And I absolutely love that.

I still think that, without the interruption, they would have definitely kissed in canon. But only because throught the whole story, Kagome’s feelings are pushed aside (or not adressed at all) by the narrative when they’re not convinient. It sucks because this shit end up creating plot inconsistencies and hurting hers and Inuyasha’s character development, both as individuals and as a couple.

In my opinion, the almost kiss scene is a classic example of that. It was pretty obvious that they both wanted it. In fact, Kagome had wanted it for a while. Of course, Inuyasha was in love with her too, but even thought they acted like a married couple for most of their journey, he hadn’t been as forward about his feelings since the very first time he tried to kiss her, right at the beginning (creating one of the best Inukag paralels ever, at least in the anime):

On both occasions, Inuyasha is the one making a move. On both occasions, Inuyasha looks at her with this soft, decided, almost solemn expression. On both occasions, he gently takes her hands on his before leaning in. On both occasions, Kikyo isn’t in the equation at all. In the first “almost kiss”, because she hasn’t been ressurected yet. In the second, because she was dead. For real this time. And on both occasions, the kiss doesn’t happen.

It’s not hard for us, the audience, to recognize and understand this padron. Once Kikyo is gone, Inuyasha feels free to seek a relationship with Kagome, which clearly is what he wants to do. But with Kikyo around, comes duty. And guilt. How can he allow himself to be happy when Kikyo is miserable out there? How can he turn his back on her after everything they went trought? He feels responsable, even though he isn’t.

Kagome, God bless her (canonically) large ass soul, doesn’t fully understand that. She tries. We can all agree that she tries. But her jealousy gets the best of her and clouds her judgement. To make matters worse, Inuyasha is far from helpful whenever it comes down to this issue.

Ironically (or not), when he tried to kiss her for the first time, she was just calling him out for not looking her in the eye since the day before, assuming it’s because she looks like Kikyo and that’s why he hates her, to which Inuyasha replies that it’s nothing like that.

What I’m trying to say is: Kagome doesn’t shy away from calling Inuyasha out on his bullshit, especially if it’s Kikyo related. On the contrary, she has been pretty vocal about it through the whole story. To me, the TFA almost kiss should have been one of those occasions because I think it would be more in character for her (again, read Opposites and tell me I’m wrong) and more consistent with the bagage she now has, courtesy of the insecurity the love triangle caused.

From Kagome’s perspective, I feel like she had every right to question Inuyasha’s motivations. How could she not, when he went from 0 to 100 with no further explanation? She was by his side the whole time and... nothing. Now, all of a sudden, he wants to kiss her? Sure, another canon kiss would have been amazing! But Kagome (and the audience), deserved to hear from Inuyasha’s lips that she was not a consolation prize, that she was not the second best.

Because, yes, she has been his first choice all along. Inuyasha told that to us time and time again through his actions, and as meaningful as it all was, using words to show his true feelings is a very important thing to his character development and we only got that when he made his “Kagome was born for me” speech, but Kagome herself never heard it (which... you know... it’s a war crime).

So we could have an epic kiss. We could have a honest conversation that would set things right between them. We could have both! Or we could have Sota interrupting them for the sake of comedy.

Guess what happened.

[sanjoongie]

Bestie

ღPairing: Yunho x Reader (f)

ღGenre: non-idol au, Yunho and reader are besties

ღWarnings: male dom/female reader sub, choking, spitting, clit rubbing, pantie gag, rough angry unsafe sex, male orgasm, female orgasm, dirty talk, degradation kink, spanking, male receiving oral, cum swallowing

ღWord count: 3,575

ღRated: 18+, smut, angst if you squint

ღSummery: Yunho is tired of being your best friend and is looking for something more. Luckily, he's got something you want too

ღDedicated to my sunshine @mejuii because without her I would not be writing this {Sorry Yunho, my bestie, she made me do it} Happy Birthday Yunho~

Today was Yunho’s birthday and you were especially excited to be celebrating it with your best friend. Yunho, being the nice guy and social butterfly that he was, usually needed to rent out an air bnb to house all the partygoers when he threw his birthday parties. So, you as the loyal hoe you were, went out to get Yunho’s cake, the one he forgot to order for his own damn self. You had just pushed the large sheet cake on top of the marble countertop, after fighting with the backdoor on this particularly stormy day.

Yunho bursts through the doorway separating the posh kitchen from the large entry way. “Hey Bestie, how’s the birthday go……...ing?” Your mouth drops a bit and you almost forget to finish your question as Yunho walks into the room.

Normally, your bff was sporting casual gear and fluffy hair, but today was a completely different story. He was dressed to the nines in a suit and tie, with his hair pushed back just so. That alone would have been enough to mess with you. But it was the angry look on his face that shook you to your core. You and Yunho had been friends for a long time and had never fought, not to that extent. By the look on Yunho’s face, he was about to make the thunderclouds envious of his fury.

Yunho is curt with you and every bit accusatory. “Where have you been? And could you please call me by my name today? It is my birthday after all.”

Your eyes widen and you're starting to feel a bit hurt. Where was all this reserved rage coming from and why was it being directed to you? So, you go on the defensive. “Where have I been? Oh, I don’t know, maybe picking up the world’s biggest cake so that you can faceplant into it later when you’re beyond drunk and enjoying the attention. And I always call you Bestie, what’s up your arse today, geez.”

Yunho took all of two strides with his long legs to plant himself directly in front of you. The anger was practically vibrating through every fiber of his being. And it was still directed towards you. “I am sick and tired of you putting me in that damn box. Today I have decided to give myself a birthday gift.” His eyes softened for a millisecond. That was all the warning you got before he bent down and kissed you.

His lips touch yours and you freeze. You were expecting soft and shy, because Yunho at his core is a soft, shy guy. But instead what you got from him was a ravenous hunger for your lips and a hand gripping the back of your neck.

You push him away with all your might, which is nothing compared to the tall, broad-shouldered boy who was kissing you, but you did it nonetheless. Now, the best friend that you knew and loved would have totally pulled away, laughing and telling you that it had just been a dare from San. But this Yunho, whoever he was, was not laughing. In fact, Yunho gently bit down on your lip and pulled it a bit before letting go. His eyes focused on you, dark and secretive, unlike anything you had ever experienced.

“What the hell was that, Yunho?” You yell, pushing at his chest even more.

“That was the past ten years of built up frustration,” Yunho sighs heavily but doesn’t budge.

You did not like the sound of that. “Well great, is that what you do to Wooyoung when he pisses you off too?”

Yunho runs a hand through his hair. “You still don’t get it, do you?”

"What is there to get?" You demand angrily.

Yunho speaks in a low tone as he slowly backs you into the cupboards. "I don't want to kiss Wooyoung, I want to kiss you. I want every single one of my friends to stop mocking me because you literally act like my girlfriend and yet you don't even see me as a man. Must I always be the puppy to you? Can't I be angry instead of always cheering you up? What if I want to be pissed and drunk? Can't I, just on my birthday? Then I can go back to being your golden bestie."

Except, even though everything Yunho had just said was about him saying fuck you to you, his hands had found their way along your collarbones. His palms were flush against your chest, the fingers splayed out and curling, looking to move up to your neck. And you couldn't move a damn muscle.

"Or," Yunho locks eyes with you and you have never dropped your gaze so quickly in your entire life. There was something about being able to see into his eyes that physically hurt. "You could let me show you what I've been wanting to do since high school when you said Mingi was such a sloppy eater."

It took you a moment for you to realize that Yunho was referring to the time you had complained about Mingi eating you out and not being able to find your clit. He had been like a dog munching down at his bowl. It had been an interesting first sexual encounter. You hadn't actually intended to tell Yunho about it, you didn’t exactly feel right talking to a male about about how his best friend ate you out. BUT you had been drunk one night, and loud, and Yunho had clearly overheard you complaining to your female best friend. That was embarrassing.

“You heard that? Oh god, forget you heard that. Better yet, let’s just put this all behind us, and celebrate your birthday. I promise I’ll call you Yunho all night, just like the birthday boy requested.” You smile but it was strained because Yunho still hadn't backed the fuck off yet.

Yunho’s fingers move up, loosely fitting around your neck, and he uses his thumbs to lift your head up so that you look at him. “If you’re taking requests, I have something else in mind.”

Your eyes settle on his right ear instead, to stay away from his eyes. “What are you doing?” You can’t help but whisper.

“Please, just look into my eyes.”

“Don’t do this, Yunho,” You beg.

“If I don’t do this right now, I’ll never do it, and I think I’m going to regret it,” Yunho admits.

You hear the tiny bit of loss in his voice and you can’t help but glance upwards to meet his eyes. Yunho has a small, sad smile on his face and it makes you frown immediately. As his best friend, you want to do whatever it takes to remove that look off of his face. He doesn’t deserve to be so sad on his birthday.

That was your first mistake.

Yunho’s tongue curls around his upper teeth, a slight smirk pulling the corners of his lips upwards. "You do wanna hear what I have in mind, don't you?" Fear must have shown in your eyes because Yunho’s smirk became a full fledged one. "I wanna hold you in place with my hands around your neck as I fuck you against these cupboards. I want you to scream my name so loud, that Seonghwa runs in here worried and catches us in the act. I want you to succumb to my every desire."

You gulp and you wince how it echoes throughout the kitchen like a mating call. Your whole body is tingling with excitement. You can't help what comes out of your mouth next. "You're willing to be rough with me?"

Yunho raises an eyebrow in question, "What, like you've asked before?"

You nod eagerly, "Everyone keeps saying they'll hurt me more than I think I want."

Yunho’s fingers tighten ever so slightly along your neck, and you gasp, as if you're ready to hold in your breath. Yunho appears amused at this. "You really just want someone to own you, don't you?"

"I--" You don't really know how to own up to that. "I want someone to take me."

"We need a safe word," Yunho says in a raspy voice, getting turned on with each sentence you say.

"You need a safe word," You quietly correct him.

"Me? Are you saying you're willing to go harder than I can?"

Your eyes are back to the floor now. This was a bit much for you. "Just pick something!" You whine.

"Hmmm," Yunho tips your head to the side and kisses the place just below your jaw but above his fingers. "What should my safe word be?" His tongue comes out between the kisses, sneaky little thing it is. Then he starts to suck harshly where he's kissed and you groan. "How about cake?"

"Fine fine, just, quickly before someone looks for us!"

You don't see it but Yunho’s eyes flash with anger. He doesn't like this attitude now. "I've changed my mind."

"What?" If you wanna be honest, you're having a bit of a hard time focusing with his hands around your neck.

"Open your mouth," Yunho demands. You open your mouth, obediently sticking your tongue out. "I'm going to spit in your whore mouth and then you're going to swallow it like the dutiful little brat you are. Then you will be mine until the sun rises. And I do not want to hear any form of the word no. Do you understand?"

You nod and Yunho spits onto your tongue. You swallow it exactly how he instructs and you keep your eyes lowered. "Yes. What now, Sir…?"

Yunho turns your body around so that your back is flush with his chest. You watch as his hands hover over and follow the plunge of your neckline. He doesn't touch you as he moves along the planes of your stomach and you hold your breath.

Yunho’s voice is gravelly as he says into your ear, "Hongjoong couldn't shut up one night about how fucking tight you were during that week we all went to Cabo. And not that I like to brag but you're going to need all the help you can get with me so…" Yunho puts both of his hands on top of your thighs, fingers languidly moving to pull your dress up. Your thighs are slowly revealed, followed by your crotch which happened to be covered in cotton pink underwear. "Cute," Yunho laughs into your ear and you wince. You had not planned on anyone seeing you without your dress on tonight.

"Yunho," You huff, head turned so you could tuck your chin into your shoulder.

"What?" God, you could hear the smirk in his voice, "Getting impatient for my fingers?" You purse your lips because you can't say no but you're too proud to say yes.

Oh, but Yunho doesn't like your lack of response. So he gets a big handful of your underwear, and with a resounding ripping noise, yanked them clean from your body.

"What the hell?!" You yell.

"Open your mouth, pretty baby," Yunho coos and you do what you're told even though your inner thighs and ass cheeks are stinging from Yunho literally ripping your underwear from your body. Yunho shoves your underwear into your mouth. "You're going to need this."

Yunho sucks on his index and middle finger before he mercilessly rubs your clit, those beautiful fingers of his making a maddening circle that make you push your pelvis forward. "Weren't you just telling me to stop? You sure you wanna come on my fingers now?"

You whine and breath deeply through your nose. Yunho was teasing you and it was driving you wild. "Patience isn't your strong suit, isn't it?"

You roll your hips, whimpering for more. Yunho obliges you, rubbing harder. But he needs a better angle so he lifts one of your legs up. With your clit more fully exposed, Yunho was able to coat one single index finger in your juices and then swipe back and forth along that swollen clit of yours. The direct contact would have made you hiss if you didn't have underwear in your mouth. With the speed and pressure, Yunho abuses your pussy so that you can enjoy that fine line of pleasure and pain. He almost stops when you stop whimpering but when your spine goes ramrod straight, Yunho knows he's done the right thing by you.

Your climax rips through your body, radiating from your lower half and lapping at your fingertips. You're still whining as you come down from your high. In between your legs you are an absolute mess. You are swollen, sensitive beyond measure and still tensing from the pleasure.

"That's it, pretty baby. Look how well you came on my fingers. I bet your pussy is just clenching, thinking about my cock inside of you."

You gulp at Yunho’s dirty talk. It's like he knew exactly what you liked to hear. You whine for him to remove the underwear and he agrees. If he was just about to split you apart, he definitely wants to hear you singing his name.

"...how?" You really, really try not to be as fucked out as you are right now but Yunho really edged you in the best way. How was he going to fuck you because you weren't sure you were going to be making any coherent thoughts anytime soon.

"I can make it easy for you, how about that?" Yunho pushes his fingers into your mouth and you clean them like it was natural.

You nod eagerly and that, coupled with his fingers in your mouth, and your eyes looking at him, is enough to make Yunho groan. "I can't wait any longer."

Yunho places his hands around your waist and lifts you onto the counter top, not that far from the cake you had slid on top. Your upper half is squished against the marble and your lower half is hanging off. With zero underwear and a very wet pussy, Yunho has no trouble stretching you to the max. But boy, did you feel fucking full. No, full implied you could take more, but you were pretty sure from Yunho’s first shallow thrusts, that he had more to push into you.

You try to wiggle your hips to get that extra more but Yunho presses firmly on your lower back. "Not yet," he says and he sounds a little strained.

"Please!" You begin the begging. "I want more. Fuck me so hard I have finger bruises on my hips where you held me. Fuck me so fast that I'm gasping for air between chanting your name. Fuck me with a fistful of hair pulling back. Please, Yunho, please."

Your last mistake was this monologue. Yunho can't hold back anymore, not with those mental pictures. Normally, he's terrified of hurting any girl with his thrusts. He's heard complaints about being too big, it's true, I promise. And with you, he probably would have held back, if not for that one look of yours that begged to be hurt but terrified of how it would be coming from him. Yunho had one chance to show you that he could be everything you wanted.

Yunho fucks you, rocking into you from behind and it's like the best thing since sliced bread. The way he's hitting you within, that gasp you do because it feels so good, you don't know if you have the breath to keep going. It's a bad angle for him to hit your g spot, but hitting your uterus walls was a whole other pleasure.

All you can do is keen at how good it all feels. You're not even thinking about how anyone could walk in and know exactly what's happening. You're not thinking about Yeosang holding this over your head for the next foreseeable five years or more. The only thing you're thinking about is getting that orgasm you're chasing.

"Mmmm Yunho, it feels so good, please don't stop, I'm so close."

Not that Yunho didn't want you whining and begging under him, but his brains kicked in at that moment. What if…

Yunho, with a lot of perseverance, pulled himself out of you. You're a scrambled ball of want right now so you cannot do anything but wait and see what the birthday boy wants.

You feel his fingers admire your ass and then a resounding smack fills the kitchen. You can only feel the slight pain but Yunho didn't realize how much he'd enjoy seeing his hand print on your ass. "Off the counter," he commands abruptly.

You wiggle but whose got energy after this up and down roller-coaster which is sex with dominating Yunho? So the tall boy helps you slide down. That makes you moan as your ass slides down the roughness of his pants. You can only manage to bend your legs under you as you sit on the floor. It's a long way to look up to Yunho, your dress spread over your legs, making you look innocent for a moment.

Yunho cups the side of your head tenderly. Before he had the daydreams of making you scream his name, his heartstrings had tugged when you had hugged him for the first time. Yunho was head over heels in love with you but the lust would have to do, for now.

"What I wouldn't give to just rub one out and bukake you right now," Yunho says in a rough and low voice.

You giggle softly, "You watch way too much Hentai, you weeb."

His hand moves to your chin, pulling your lower lip down with his thumb, "Open up," he demands.

You pout. Now you know you aren't getting your second orgasm. "Really?!"

Yunho is at the height of his glory. His proud face looks down at you, dark eyes commanding and tempting. You genuinely want this man to ruin you, time and time again. "Really," he replies firmly.

You open and Yunho slides his cock between your lips. You hollow out your cheeks immediately, bobbing along his length experimentally. If you thought he was big inside of you, he seemed even bigger in your mouth. If Yunho got out of control… You grin, internally at least. He didn't know what he was about to get.

The moan that comes from Yunho is almost worthy of recording for some personal time. Partly it's the blow job, but the other part is the visual. You're on your knees for him, looking up at him as his dick disappears in your mouth; he has to dig half-moons into his palms so he doesn't come right then and there.

But you don't let it stay cute for long. Eventually Yunho loses his control. His eyes are tightly shut and his thrusting is out of control. He is hitting the back of your throat and then he is moving far down enough to make you choke. You have to time your breathing with his thrusts, and even with that knowledge, you still choke.

"Oh fuck, you're gonna swallow right?" Yunho opens his eyes to see if you nod or shake your head and he stops abruptly. Yes, he wants to see you debauched and crumbling for him, but it's the tears at the corner of your eyes that gets him. Next, he quietly murmurs, "Cake."

You let Yunho leave your mouth with a resounding pop. You smile happily. "Told you so."

Yunho still narrows his eyes at you, making you even more smug. "Who said I was done?"

You roll your eyes, "Fine, I'll finish it."

You grab two fistfuls of his trousers, and force him down your throat. You deep throat Yunho until he is a whimpering mess. He holds onto your shoulders for dear life as he spills his seed down your throat. You swallow and swallow for ages before Yunho pulls out due to sensitivity. You wipe the corners of your mouth in satisfaction. "Now how is that for a birthday gift?"

Yunho is a bit starstruck right now. He was the one with the fucked out expression but he smiles tiredly. "Better than my daydreams."

You stand up and pat his head, "That's nice, Bestie."

That earns you a second slap on the other ass cheek. Matching big ass hand prints on each cheek was kind of a gift too, right?

"Yunho!" You cry out in indignation.

"Why are you teasing her, didn't she just buy your forgetful ass a whole cake?" Hongjoong announces his entrance into the kitchen.

You quickly shove some cake into your mouth, terrified you'll blurt out what had just happened out of sheer panic and your tendency to always utter the truth. Yunho grabs your hand as you go to take a second helping, putting those fingers in his mouth and swirling his tongue around them for the frosting.

"Really you two? Eating the cake before we even blow out the candles?" Hongjoong rolls his eyes dramatically before leaving the kitchen, not noting the sexual tension in the room at all.

"You're an asshole, Jung Yunho," You mutter under your breath, snatching back your hand.

Yunho picks up some icing with his index finger and swipes it playfully on your nose. "And you wouldn't have it any other way."

There was no fucking way Yunho wasn't going to ask for a part two…you were his until sunrise after all.

[healinghyunjin]

Moonlight

Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin x Reader (fem)

Genre: smut, romance, fluff, crack(?); historical!AU, arranged marriage!AU, 18+ (this continues where my last fic, Moonrise, leaves off, so this is almost PWP lol - be warned!!)

Word Count: 6.5k

Warnings: swearing, explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, switch dynamics

Author’s Note: As soon as Play With Fire dropped, I knew I had to finish out that cliffhanger from Moonrise. This is very rushed by my standards, so please excuse any egregious errors or mistakes. My writing here is very much based off the energy/vibes I’ve been running off from the cover, so if Hyunjin’s character here is a little OOC from how he was depicted in Moonrise - please forgive me [there’s also a detail I couldn’t leave out of this from the video lol, idk if that makes this crack]!! This is thirsty and smutty as HELL - so have your holy water ready (and if this is not your thing, please just keep scrolling!). 

Taglist: @the7thcrow​ @ohmysparkle​ @dreamofamor @tenclouds​ @honeydewhyunjinnie​

And finally: Just to repeat what others have said: if you enjoy reading fics on this site, please reblog them and interact with the writers! Yes, a lot of us try to be “writing for ourselves,” but plotting, outlining, and writing longer, more detailed fics can take days, weeks, and even months’ worth of effort. Even quick messages or asks can really make our day and give us the motivation to keep writing. So please - reblog, engage, and slide into our DMs!!

While you could *maybe* read this standalone for just the smut, I would suggest that you read Moonrise first (linked here!) for more context, characterization and plot (along with the first part of the smut scene lol)!!

You felt fire blazing through your veins as you gazed down at your husband – your lover – laying beneath you, head lolled back against the pillows as you trailed your fingers down his throat.

You’d just managed to get the laces of Hyunjin’s doublet undone, hands trembling from urgency, from the need to see, to touch, to feel. Now, having hastily disposed of it, you were left with your husband clad simply in a thin, white shirt, tantalizing flashes of skin peeking through with every rise and fall of his chest.

You’d thought that there was no greater pleasure than laying under Hyunjin, trembling in his arms and submitting to him as he lovingly, passionately wrecked you. Now that he had let you take the reins however, wanting you to feel more comfortable with his body – you found that the thought of dictating, directing his pleasure; the thought of having the freedom to do whatever you wanted to him…it did things to your insides.

You’d never thought that unselfishly giving someone pleasure could give you the same high that receiving pleasure yourself could – and you wanted more.

Crawling back over him, you straddled his hips and laid yourself, still naked, on top of his chest, hissing as your sensitized nipples caught against the fabric of his shirt.  

Tugging at the neckline of his shirt – and ripping off a few buttons in the process – you exposed more and more of his skin to the hazy moonlight. Hyunjin looked like an angel, dragged out of heaven by your own hands – his plump lips swollen from your kisses, his hair a wild mess from your fingers, his clothing torn from his body by your lecherous hands.

“Eager, aren’t we?” Hyunjin squeezed out, clearly affected by your advances – and the slow, seemingly careless motion of your hips rubbing down on his. Still, you clucked your tongue in disapproval – he’d had managed to render you speechless earlier, but you clearly hadn’t done as good of a job – yet.

“Not as much as you’ll be in a few minutes.” With that, you dived into his neck, clumsily but fervently worshipping the dips of his collarbones, the smooth column of his throat – nipping and biting at the supple flesh – marking him just as he’d done to you earlier.

Underneath you, Hyunjin was losing his mind. The feeling of your lips sucking on his, your hips rolling against his, your body on top of his – everything felt so new, so wanton. It felt strange for him to give up control – to just lay there and be pleasured like this. Here, in your arms, he didn’t have to be a king anymore, he didn’t have to be Hwang Hyunjin anymore – he was just a man, passionately being loved on by his woman.

He couldn’t get enough. And he just hoped, prayed that he wouldn’t explode in his pants before you even got there.

“Ugh, this needs to come off.” Detaching yourself from his throat, you sat up on him, furiously undoing the remaining buttons holding his shirt closed. In the process, you inadvertently ground your core into his dick, almost your full body weight driving the motion.

Hyunjin choked, hips bucking up involuntarily.

You bit your lip, trying to hide your satisfaction at that delicious ridge once again digging into where you wanted it the most. But, as you felt your husband’s hands trying to sneak up onto your waist, attempting to grind you down onto him again, you lightly slapped his hands away, playfully frowning down at him.

You called the shots here – and you couldn’t have him distracting you if you were going to get this shirt unbuttoned any time soon.  

“Love, you’re so mean. I wasn’t this mean to you,” Hyunjin pouted, his expression contrasting hilariously with just how lewd, how fucked out the rest of his body looked. “I took such good care of you, and this is what I get in re-”

His whining cut off sharply as he realized that you’d finally gotten his shirt fully unbuttoned – and your eyes were fixed on his stomach, your lips curling up in a slow, wicked smile.

As you’d predicted from the feeling of his body pressed up against yours, Hyunjin had a beautiful set of abs: well-defined, tight and toned – so gorgeous that you wanted to outline them with your tongue, pay court to them with your lips.

But – there, right in the middle, twinkling prettily in the moonlight, was a dainty little piece of jewelry, one that you’d never expected your husband of all people to have.

“Hyunjin,” you gushed, a smug, shit-eating grin plastered across your face. “What is this?”

He blushed – violently. You watched, fascinated, as a warm flush suffused his skin, painting his ears, his cheeks, his chest a pretty, vibrant shade of red.

“It-it was just a bet! Jisung dared me to get it a little while ago, and I didn’t want to chicken out…”

You couldn’t take your eyes off the piercing. It was the first time you’d ever seen anything like it on a man, but it just fit Hyunjin – your elegant, beautiful husband – so well.

It looked so breathtakingly, so devastatingly sexy on him that you just had to do something about it.

You tapped his thighs, and Hyunjin obediently parted his legs for you, eagerly anticipating what you would be doing next. As you prowled down between his thighs, you kneeled, bending so that you had easy access to his lower stomach – and his crotch.

“Does it hurt at all? Like is it sore or anything?”

“No, I don’t think s-oh!” Hyunjin broke off in a loud gasp when your tongue immediately made contact with the taut skin of his belly button, softly licking a wet stripe around the cold piece of metal.

“Tell me if anything I do hurts or bothers it, okay?” Hyunjin quickly nodded before he was forced to fling an arm across his face, moaning as you went to town on him.

You had to work the skin of his stomach a little hard to get the beautiful purple bruises you wanted, but it didn’t seem like Hyunjin minded very much at all. To the contrary, his moans only started getting more and more breathy, more high-pitched as you worked your magic, painting the hollows of his abs with marks of your love.

Once you were satisfied with your artwork, you turned again to that tempting, tantalizing little piercing. You looked up to meet Hyunjin’s gaze, watch his half-lidded, tortured eyes as you softly flicked at the metal bar with your tongue before gently suckling the metal beads at either end.

“How does that feel?” You asked, smirking as you saw Hyunjin panting above you; while you waited for him to catch his breath, you gently massaged the jewelry with your fingertips, feeling his muscles tense and relax under your touch.

“Really, really good – really fucking good,” he moaned out, still on edge from the sensation of your hands on his stomach; so close – but so far – from where he needed them the most.

“But…”

“But what, love?” You asked, teasingly emphasizing the pet name he always used for you. “Is there something you want from me, hmm?”

You smirked to yourself, knowing exactly what Hyunjin needed from you.

Languidly, lazily, you danced your fingers in patterns around his belly button, swooping lower and lower with each pass. The closer you got to Hyunjin’s waistband, the heavier his breathing got.

You fingered the edge of his pants, eyes drawn to the sizable tent struggling against the tight leather. Your curiosity – and desire to keep tormenting Hyunjin – overcame your shyness, so you deliberately traced your fingers over the fabric, moving downwards until your palm rested firmly against his bulge.

It felt…intriguing, a seemingly odd combination of softness and hardness, clearly straining to escape its increasingly tight confines. Biting your lip in curiosity, in desire, you gave it a singular, inquisitive squeeze.

Hyunjin let out his most plaintive moan yet at the added, tortuous pressure, desperate for some relief from the tension. “Please, love, just please…”

“Please what, Hyunjin? You need to tell me what I should do for you, angel.”

You knew you were playing with fire, that you were pushing Hyunjin’s limits with all of your mocking and teasing. But seeing him squirming under you, so obedient, so desperate for your touch – you were willing to get burned for it.

“T-take off my pants,” he groaned out. “Please.”

“There we go,” you smirked, pressing a soft, open-mouthed kiss to the skin right above the fabric before bringing your fingers to his pants, swiftly untying the laces and working them and his stockings down his slender hips and legs.

You softly gasped as his length popped free, slapping against his stomach and making Hyunjin hiss in relief. While you had nothing to really compare it to, only two words came to mind for some reason: large, much larger than the fingers he’d fucked you with before – and pretty, just like literally everything else about him. You gently ran your thumb over the weeping, red tip, making Hyunjin moan from sensitivity as you collected the clear fluid on your fingertip.

Hyunjin’s eyes watched you darkly as you brought your finger to your mouth, darting your tongue out to seductively lap the droplets up. You shivered under the intensity of his gaze, a niggling sense at the back of your mind that you were operating on borrowed time. Yes, your husband had seemed more than content to let you have your way with him, giving into all of your teasing and little cruelties with soft, plaintive moans – until now. You had a foreboding feeling that you were steadily approaching the edge, the point after which your world would be flipped again, and your husband would get payback for every groan, every whine you’d wrung out of him – and more.

You tentatively lowered your head once again to Hyunjin’s length, your confidence much lower than before. You were in completely uncharted waters here, so you weren’t sure of what you should do next, how you could best please him.

“If you want, you could spit on it, angel, and then use your hand to work it up and down.” You jerked your head up to see Hyunjin staring down at you, propped against the pillows with a carefully neutral expression on his face.

You realized that, having picked up on your uncertainty, he was giving you the power to decide how your dynamic should evolve from here – whether you would continue to be in charge, dictating his pleasure – or whether he could slowly start taking back over again.

It was such a thoughtful, such a Hyunjin thing for him to do that your heart couldn’t help but melt.

You lunged up into his arms, Hyunjin huffing as he caught you against his chest, a searching but warm look in his eyes. Running your hands up the side of his face, you brought him down for a sweet, tender kiss – no nipping, no biting, just a slow tasting and enjoying of one another. When the two of you finally broke apart, Hyunjin pressed a tender kiss to your forehead, waiting for you to show him how you wanted to go from here.

You didn’t even have to hesitate.

Keeping your eyes locked with his, you wrapped your hand around his wrist, bringing his large, warm palm to the softness of your stomach. From there, you guided his hand to drag up your body bit by bit, passing over your ribcage, through the valley between your breasts, and over your chest, until it arrived at your neck. There, you leaned your head back, allowing him to fully wrap his hand around your throat, the gentle pressure drawing a moan out of your lips.

When you looked back up at him, Hyunjin’s eyes were dark, a small smirk starting to pull at his lips. He deliberately dragged his thumb across the soft skin of your neck, sending shivers down your spine, before pulling away from you, leaning back serenely against the pillows.

“I think I asked you to do something for me, sweetheart?”

And he was back.

Judging from the volume of Hyunjin’s moans, from the way his thighs clenched and seized under your hands – you were doing a pretty good job for your first time pleasuring a man.

Hyunjin had quickly taught you what he liked: wet, sloppy kisses to the head; long, languid licks up and down the underside, fast bobs up and down with your mouth while thoroughly tonguing his shaft. Now, he had his fingers tangled up in your hair, working your mouth over his length with firm, but gentle strokes.

“You’re doing so well for me, love,” he moaned out, the feeling of your warm, wet mouth around his cock driving him to distraction.

“Do you like me using you like this, just for my pleasure?” Looking up at him from underneath your eyelashes, you nodded as best as you could, mouth still stuffed full with his cock.

Hyunjin couldn’t help but groan at the sight of you, enthralled by just how fucked out you looked – your wide, teary eyes; drool slowly dripping from the side of your mouth.

“Well, we’re going to have to stop now, angel, unless we want to bring the night to an end too early,” he laughed, gently easing your head off his dick. Once free, you couldn’t help but cough; while your mouth missed the weight of his length, your jaw was sore from hanging open for so long.

Hyunjin’s thumbs came up to your face, softly rubbing your cheeks and jaw to try and ease the strain. He watched you closely with tender eyes.

“Do you need a second, angel?”

You vehemently shook your head. “No!” Hyunjin watched you, amused, as you crawled back up to his side, placing your hand on his chest. “I want more.”

“You want more?” Hyunjin eyed you, a devilish glint in his eyes, as he leaned closer. 

“You know, you really were so mean to me earlier, love,” his gaze bore into you as he ever so slowly, tauntingly traced his fingertips up your arm, leaving goosebumps trailing in the wake of his touch.

“And I deserve some retribution, don’t you think?” His fingers had now made it up to your shoulders, heat pooling between your thighs at his words, at the hypnotic feeling of his hand dragging across your chest, straying teasingly close to where you wanted his touch – but leaving you hanging.

You nodded mutely, the sarcastic fire from before gone as you willingly, needily submitted to him, letting him lay you down against the sheets. You couldn’t care less about being in charge – you just craved, ached for the pleasure you knew he could bring you.

But, as Hyunjin prowled over you – his lean, lithe body reminding you of a panther, slyly stalking its prey – you knew you were in for a rough night.

Keeping his body propped up on his hands, depriving you of the gratification of feeling him against you, he leaned his head down to yours, tonguing at the shell of your ear. Smiling at the sound of your whimpers, he softly, sensually whispered to you.

“Well – don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

And with that, he caught your lips up in a searing, fiery kiss as he pressed his weight down onto you, your two bodies finally entangled in blissful skin-to-skin contact. Your eyes fluttered shut as you let everything slip away that wasn’t him: the heat of his skin against yours, the feeling of his supple flesh, his lean muscle under your hands – the delicious slide of his hard cock, trying to nestle itself into your slickening folds. He had you trapped in a sea of sensation, and he wasn’t going to let you escape any time soon.

“Look at me, angel.” Your eyes flickered open at the sound of his breathy voice, only to be greeted with a sight straight from heaven – or hell – itself.

Hyunjin – his thick hair, mussed and even more wild after your exertions; lips, bruised and plumped up; his eyes, black with lust and hunger.

“Watch me take you apart, love – keep your eyes on me.” And watch you did – you took in the sinfully gorgeous image of his delicate, pianist’s hands torturing your breasts, squeezing them until the flesh overflowed between his fingers. You watched his fingertips, teasingly dancing over the tender bruises he’d painted your chest with, making you whimper at the added pressure. You watched him lower his mouth to your poor, chafed-up nipple, the wet heat of his tongue alternately soothing the pain and riling you up even more. And you watched his eyes, such dark promise, such tempting sin swirling in his gaze that you wondered whether you’d make it through the night in one piece.

“How are you so pretty, my queen?” You shivered as Hyunjin started trailing one of his hands downwards, the cool metal of his bracelets dragging against your skin, making a delicious contrast with the heat of his wet kisses. Instead of heading between your legs however, you were surprised to feel his hand traveling to your side, grabbing your wrist and bringing your hand to his lips.

What was he doing? You had no idea what your husband was planning as he pressed a tender kiss to the back of your hand, the action sending familiar tingles through you.

“I want to try something with you, my love. Do you trust me?” Almost before the words were even completely out of Hyunjin’s mouth, you nodded firmly, bringing a warm smile to his lips.

“I’m glad, angel. Now, what I want to do is…” he squeezed your hand tightly in his as he shifted, his toned thighs flexing powerfully as he moved to kneel between your legs.

He reached up to hold your chin, forcing you to keep your eyes directly on his. “I want you to touch yourself for me, love. I want you to feel how tight your pretty little pussy is, how wet and ready it is for me.” He leaned up to press a sweet kiss to your lips, staying close so he could read your expression.

“Is that something you’d want to do?”

“Y-yeah, I want to.” You’d do anything he asked of you. You’d do anything to put that dimpled smile onto his face, to make his beautiful brown eyes sparkle with mischief.

“Good. But before we do that…”

Hyunjin gently folded down your three shorter fingers, leaving just your index and middle fingers standing. Then, he slowly, deliberately brought your fingers to his lips, letting your fingerpads just barely graze their plush surface - before taking them into his mouth.

You would never have thought that such a simple act could be so erotic, but here you were: moaning, heart pounding, slick pooling between your thighs as Hyunjin suckled your fingers, licking and slicking them up with his hot, wet tongue.

Letting your fingers go with a wet smack, Hyunjin guided your hand down to your soaking pussy.

“Now, push them in for me, angel – yes, just like that…” Your pussy, aching for any kind of relief, ate up your fingers with barely any resistance.

Shoving his shoulders back down between your thighs, Hyunjin spread your legs wide open, greedily eyeing your tight hole as you pumped your fingers in and out, steadily fucking it open for him. 

You couldn’t help but let your other hand trail down to your core as well, drawn like a magnet to your neglected, throbbing clit. It felt strangely intense, uniquely vulnerable, to be playing with yourself like this, under his watchful eye – at his command. It definitely felt good, and the heat of his gaze on you, following your every movement, only added to the pleasure. 

But – you couldn’t keep your mind from wandering, thinking back to earlier – just how good it felt when it was him doing these things to you. His fingers. His tongue.

Hyunjin watched, smiling to himself, as you steadily worked your hand and rubbed increasingly frantic circles into your clit, but all to no avail – you just couldn’t recreate his magic.

You paused at the sound of Hyunjin’s voice, addressing you with just a hint of smugness.

“It isn’t enough for you, is it?” You shook your head no, slightly disappointed that you weren’t able to pleasure yourself like he wanted you to. You made to pull your fingers out of yourself, but Hyunjin stopped you with a firm hand on your wrist.

Ghosting his other hand down over your thighs, he slowly gathered up the slick dripping out of you, using it to thoroughly lube up his own fingers. As you realized what he wanted to do, you couldn’t help but moan, heat rising in you at the thought of feeling that full.

“I’m going to go very slowly, okay sweetheart? If it hurts, I’ll stop right away.”

You mewled as you felt his fingers ever-so-carefully, gently push into your pussy. Your walls, still relaxed from your orgasm before, gave easily to the intrusion, letting his fingers slide in right beside yours.

You bit your lip, your free hand digging into Hyunjin’s shoulder as you felt, for the first time, what it was like to be so stretched out, so open.

You realized, with a pleasurable clench, that his dick would stretch you out even more.

Now, it was Hyunjin’s turn to moan, cock twitching as he felt your walls clamp down on his fingers.

“F-fuck, sweetheart – your pussy likes being filled up, doesn’t it?” He pumped his fingers, once, twice, before pulling out, bringing them to his mouth to clean up.

“Mmmh – still tastes delicious too.” He licked them clean, looking like Eros incarnate, before placing his hands by your head, caging you in underneath him.

“You sure you still want my cock, angel?” He covered your body with his once again, pressing sweet, tender kisses all over your face as you cradled his hips between your legs. “You can still say no; I’d die a happy man even if I just spent the rest of the night with my face between your thighs.”

You giggled – and creamed, just a little, at the thought of him doing exactly that, all night long. Some day.

“Hyunjin,” you savored the feeling of his name – the name of your lover – on your lips. “I really, really want you.”

A blindingly bright smile on his face, Hyunjin swooped down to catch your lips in a thorough, toe-tingling kiss before parting your legs further, opening you up for him. Propping himself on one hand above you, he quickly jerked himself to full hardness, teasing your entrance with wide swipes of his broad, soft head.

“Hyun-jiin,” you whimpered, approaching your limit. “Please, don’t tease me,” you whined, increasingly desperate for him to take care of you, to fill you up.

“Yes, my lady.” And with one last kiss to your palm, one last squeeze of your hip, he slowly pushed himself into you, groans falling from both your lips as each inch after delicious inch sank into your needy, leaking pussy.

He’d prepared you so thoroughly, pleasured you so meticulously that the stretch, deep as it was, felt nothing but divine. Your eyes rolled back into your head, a broken moan spilling from your lips as he seated himself fully in your cunt.

You heard Hyunjin curse under his breath as he felt your tight, slick walls enveloping him, the desire to thrust and pound and fuck making him almost tremble with the strain of holding himself back.

“Let m-me know when I can move, love.” And he just held himself there, panting, as he waited for your approval.

“Please, Hyunjin – move.”

“But…” you trailed off.

Your husband was an angel – a considerate, loving angel. You appreciated him thoughtfully checking in with you like this – you genuinely did.

At the same time though…you wanted your hypersexual, aggressive, teasing Hyunjin back for a bit. And you knew what to do to bring him out.

With the lightest, most delicate of touches, you ran your fingertips up the taut, defined muscles of his lower abs to his belly button, stopping to play with that damned piercing. Mustering up your most coy expression, you looked at him through your eyelashes, softly biting your lower lip.

“I thought you were supposed to be punishing me…my lord.”

You watched as Hyunjin closed his eyes for a second, clearly trying to get a grip on himself. “Angel…I was going to go easy on you…be sweet to my little virgin for her first time.” His hands fisted in the bedsheets, twisting them up into his grip. 

“But – but I should have known…that you just want to be fucked.” He punctuated the last word with a brutal thrust, one that made you almost scream in pleasure – and immediately crave more.

“Do it then – fuck me.”

And with that, you broke the very last string of Hyunjin’s tenuous self-control.

With a growl, he pinned your hips down with one hand, slowly pulling almost all the way out of you – only to ram back in, making you gasp in surprise – and toe-curling pleasure.

His pace was dizzying: fast, hard bounces – so hard that you were sure your poor pussy would be bruised from the force of his thrusts – punctuated by periods of slow, deep rolls, the deliberate drag of his cock against your tight walls driving you absolutely crazy. His toned, muscular hips rocked into you, pubic bone brushing up against your swollen clit with every delicious crash of his hips into yours.

As your moans continued to crescendo, hands desperately grasping at his shoulders for some stability, some level of purchase, you felt his hand leave your hip, fingers moving to tap at your cheek. You opened your eyes to find Hyunjin gazing down at you with a cat-like, almost unhinged smirk on his face, still steadily rutting into you at the same, punishing pace.

“Oh no, my sweet, sweet angel – is this too much for you, hmm?” Hyunjin mockingly cooed at you, wrapping his hand around your chin and squeezing your cheeks, making you look up into his face.

“N-no,” you forced out – and you were being honest. It felt so good – too good – but you were going to spontaneously combust if he stopped.

“Really?” He raised a curious eyebrow, a dangerous smile settling onto his face as he pulled out of you, leaving you whimpering at the emptiness. “Well – we’ll just have to fix that then, won’t we?”

In sudden, aggressive movements, he yanked your hips into his and grabbed your right leg, hoisting it onto his shoulder. Leaning down on top of you, and pushing your knee almost to your shoulder, he spread you wide open for him, placed your fingers back onto your clit – and immediately speared you back onto his cock.

Hyunjin knew he wasn’t going to last for much longer – it had been way too long for him, and you felt way too good around him. But he was determined to take you down with him – by any means necessary.

So, he proceeded to pound you into the mattress, balls slapping into your pussy with every thrust. You could hear the bed creaking wildly under you as Hyunjin rammed into you, driving you both towards your peaks at a breakneck pace. You rubbed at your clit furiously, so lost in sensation that you couldn’t process conscious thought anymore – couldn’t process anything other than him.

“I-I’m getting c-close, Hyunjin – s-so close,” you wailed, feeling that familiar, welcome cord knotting itself up in your belly. “Then let go,” he squeezed out, maintaining that same, punishing pace to get you to release. “Come all over me, angel – let me feel you milk my cock.”

The cord snapped – and you came violently, so hard that you almost jerked out of Hyunjin’s arms. Your thigh muscles, your hip muscles were all pulsing, contracting and releasing with such intensity that your body was shaking, your mind lost to the pleasure.

Hyunjin had slowed down as you hit your peak, letting you ride out your high, just watching in awe as you trembled and gasped prettily under him.

Even after you’d finally fallen still, your body feeling like jelly, still twitching here and there from sensitivity – your pussy was still spasming, convulsing around him – and Hyunjin couldn’t take it any longer.

Muttering soft, heartfelt apologies to you, he roughly splayed your legs out for him again, and started slamming into you once again. “Just a little longer, angel, just a little bit.”

Of course, you didn’t mind at all. It was now your turn to stare at him, admire his beauty as he single-mindedly, lustfully chased his high: his pink tongue, darting out to lick at his lips; his thick neck, on prominent display as he threw his head back in pleasure – you didn’t think any other man could look as sensual, as exquisite as your Hyunjin.

When the fluid motion of his hips started to stutter, you knew he was close; to help him along, you used your remaining energy to clench down around his cock.

Hyunjin gasped. You felt his length go rigid inside you, drawing a tired moan from your lips, before he exploded with one final thrust, spurts of thick, white cum filling you up, splashing against your walls. You whimpered at the sensation, overwhelmed – you hadn’t anticipated just how warm his cum would feel, the added heat feeling delicious inside your sore, battered pussy.

Hyunjin collapsed onto you, his arms too tired to hold up his weight any longer. You pulled him into your chest, letting him nuzzle into your breasts as he caught his breath. His cock was still buried inside of you, slowly softening as he relaxed – you found that you liked the warm, full pressure.

“Ugh,” Hyunjin tore himself away from your chest with difficulty, rubbing his face as he sat up. “I made you so messy, angel – let me clean you up, it must be uncomfortable.”

You were going to disagree, telling him that you felt perfectly fine, but your words turned into a whine, both of you wincing in sensitivity as Hyunjin pulled out of you. Hyunjin’s eyes widened as his cum started dripping out of you as a result, running down all over your folds.

“Mine,” he muttered possessively. “All mine,” he looked up at you, the heat in his gaze almost tempting you to push him down all over again – almost. Instead, you let Hyunjin drag himself out of bed, getting a pleasant eyeful of his pert, shapely ass as he wet a washcloth to clean you up with.

“Like what you see?” Hyunjin grinned down at you, leaning over you to gently wipe you clean.

“Very, very much,” you smiled back, running your fingers through his hair as you watched him take care of you so lovingly.

Once he was done, you yanked him back down next to you, curling into him and his warmth like you’d never let go again.

“Was that good for you, love?” Hyunjin asked quietly, head buried in the crook of your neck. “I’m sorry if I was too rough or intense or –”

“Hyunjin.” You put a warning hand on his back, stopping him from going on. “It was perfect. You were perfect.”

You felt his lips curl into a smile against your skin, his arms pulling you in even tighter. The two of you lay there quietly for a moment, just enjoying each other’s warmth.

“In that case then…” Hyunjin lifted his head, gazing straight at you with a teasing glint in his eyes, running his fingers up and down the soft skin of your waist.

“Round 2?”

Your mouth dropped open, and Hyunjin immediately cracked up at the look on your face. As his face scrunched up in laughter, you smacked his shoulder, pushing him away in mock outrage.

“Not unless you want me to pass out on you, Hyunjin!”

“But what if I do?” You hated yourself for the shiver that passed through you, at the flicker of heat in your veins. You were going to hold him to that – one day. But for now, you were going to sleep. So, you rolled onto your other side, turning away from your tease of a husband with a dramatic huff.

But, of course, he wasn’t just going to leave you like that. You smiled to yourself as you felt toned arms wrap around you, pulling you back into Hyunjin’s warmth. “I’m sorry, love,” he giggled into your ear, pressing placating kisses to your neck and shoulder. “I’m just messing with you. I know you’re probably tired and sore…and anyways,” he ducked his head into your neck again, piping up with a small, shy voice.

“Right now, I think I’d rather learn what it feels like to have you fall asleep in my arms, if that’s okay.”

And that was perfectly, perfectly fine with you. 

For a short while, at least.

In reality, Round 2 ended up being your fault. Hyunjin had wanted to stay cuddled as the two of you slept, you the little spoon to his big spoon. But, when you woke up in the middle of the night to the pleasurable feeling of his length half-hard against your ass, you couldn’t help but grind back on to him, waking him up with your moans as his cock brushed through your folds.

He ended up just taking you in that position, propping your leg up on his arm as he fucked you from behind, growling into your ear about how desperate and naughty you were for him. He filled you up, yet again, and this time, the two of you just fell asleep connected like that, too tired to clean up or do anything else.

The third “round” though – if you could even call it that – was all Hyunjin; you woke up in the dim light of early morning, already dripping, to find your husband laying between your legs and unwilling to move until you’d released onto his mouth – twice.

There probably could have been a fourth round too, in all honesty. But, when you both woke up for the final time, bright morning light streaming into your chambers, you found that you were content just holding each other, exchanging soft, heartfelt kisses and staring into each other’s eyes. 

After all, this was your first morning together – just the first of many, many more to come.

You and Hyunjin both limped into breakfast the next morning with bloodshot eyes and matching scarves tied closely around your necks. You did your best to mask your wince as you sat down, sore and tender beyond belief from your husband’s incredibly thorough attentions, but you weren’t entirely sure if you succeeded.

Minho looked like he didn’t know whether he should throttle you or Hyunjin first.

Chan, despite all his snark and bluster beforehand, couldn’t look either of you in the face. Ironically, he somehow had been forced into taking guard himself outside your chambers last night – and he’d heard enough to keep his ears flaming bright red around the two of you – permanently.

And the rest of the boys just seemed fit to burst.

Jisung kicked it off, opening his round eyes wide in a display of fake innocence. “Oh no, did you not sleep well, Your Majesties? They do say parts of the castle are haunted you know…with all of this weird moaning and things going bump in the night.” Felix, leaning against the wall at your side, couldn’t hold back a snicker; a dark, ominous glare from Hyunjin, however, quickly shut him up.

“That’s ridiculous, Han – you know the castle isn’t haunted.” You gave Seungmin one of your most charming smiles, thinking that maybe he was on your side this time – but you should have known better.

“I’m just worried about your health, Your Highness. I mean – scarves? In this weather? The only way that makes sense is if you’re both getting sick – and in that case, you should probably be back in bed.”

This time, it was Jeongin who cracked up, trying to hide his smirk behind a serving tray. Hyunjin glared at him too, but it didn’t faze Jeongin at all. You were honestly impressed.

Either way, your husband had clearly had enough.

“Shut up, right now, or I’ll throw each and every one of you in the stocks for a week…yes, even you, Minho, I don’t care if it starts a war.” Hyunjin’s ever expressive face was positively seething with annoyance – if glares could kill, all of you would have been incinerated.

You, however, just found it all funny at this point. While you tried to be serious, maintaining an appropriately stern expression at Hyunjin’s side, you couldn’t help but let a small giggle escape. Hyunjin’s eyes snapped to you, face contorted into his best “you too?” expression; but, at the happiness on your face, he couldn’t hold back a grin either. Looking on, the boys decided to pipe down, secretly pleased to see the two of you so happy together.

As Seungmin roped Hyunjin into a discussion about new letters and updates, you turned to your brother, who was sitting on your other side, and softly slid your hand over his.

“Minho…do you have to go so soon?” You’d been startled when Hyunjin told you, on your way to breakfast, that Minho was planning to leave almost immediately afterwards.

“Yeah, I really should.” Minho looked at you, a wistful smile on his face. “As much as I want to stay with you and Hyunjin for a while, I know I shouldn’t antagonize them too much.” You knew he was right – still, it really, really hurt to think about him going.  

The two of you sat quietly for a second, hands clasped together tightly.

“But honestly, I’m not worried.” Minho paused, a small, soft smile on his face as he looked between you and Hyunjin.

“I think you’re in good hands here.”

A matching smile crept onto your face as well as you turned to contemplate your husband. While Hyunjin was still engrossed in his conversation, he still somehow managed to pick up on your thoughtful glance. Covertly, under the table, he slid his hand into your lap, holding your free hand and rubbing his thumb over your palm: a quiet acknowledgement of you, and a small modicum of comfort before he could see to you fully.

Yes, you smiled to yourself, squeezing Hyunjin’s hand tightly in your own. You were in really good hands.

[chateautae]

maybe i do | kth. II

➵ summary :  maybe you love each other, maybe you don’t. when a deal between your fathers leaves you forcefully wedding kim taehyung, arguably seoul’s most powerful CEO, you’re prepared for a loveless marriage of eternal regret and unhappiness. but maybe, it doesn’t turn out that way after all.

↳  part of the high-class series!

➵ pairing : taehyung x reader

➵ genre :  arranged marriage!au, ceo!tae, s2l!au, eventual smut, fluff, angst

➵ rating : 18+

➵ word count : 10k

➵ warnings : none really, swearing, mainly fluffy and funny interactions, some angst! :o 

➵ a/n: and i’m back with chapter two! i really wanted to say thank you for the love and support i received on the first part of maybe i do, it was astounding!! i’m so grateful so many people loved the story and asked to be tagged (all at the bottom <3), it made me feel so motivated to write. if you would also like to be tagged please message me. your feedback is always appreciated! 

chapter two : “on my pillow, can’t get me tired” 

prev. ↞ || ↠ next  || masterlist

Taehyung didn’t remember sleeping anywhere near you last night. 

He remembered that even though you willingly agreed to share the same bed, he still opted for caution and slept with the most space between you two as possible.

Though when his eyes fluttered open the next morning, eyeballs burning from the light that bled into the suite, the first thing he realized was that he was not on his side of the bed from last night. 

No, he had somehow gravitated towards the center, and as if almost on cue, your slight movement and the sound of your breathing alerted him of your nearby presence. 

Peering down at you, Taehyung caught sight of your sleepy head turned towards him and lying on his arm, his other thrown over your torso with you unsuspectingly nuzzled into his side.

Taehyung’s eyes shot open, acknowledging he had succumbed to his habit of hugging something to sleep during the course of the night and he internally panicked. He began retracting his arms slowly, just about drawing himself from you until alarms rang in his head at the sight of you stirring in your sleep. 

Taehyung took the golden opportunity to sit up in a flash, having to physically shake his head to rid the image of your tranquil, sleeping face from his brain, crushing the thought that it was kind of cute.

He found himself chanting the same denial from last night, he couldn’t be thinking of such complicated things concerning you when he knew the second he’d step foot inside his home, there’d be a mountain of paperwork ready for him; even more on his work desk.

He had to be thinking about his job, not you.  

Even if Taehyung was married now, it wouldn’t lessen the amount of work that plagued his life nor make it any less demanding. If anything, his life would be harder now considering the fact that he had another priority to add to his list, another aspect of his life he had to split his attention between. 

He didn’t necessarily hate the idea, just found himself needing to work harder than he already was. 

Taehyung sighed heavily at the thought and swung his legs off the bed, rubbing his tired eyes. He took a moment to look back at you, thinking if he observed you a second time he’d be able to piece together how the hell you two ended up in that position, that close. 

By evidence of the forgotten blanket half-thrown off you, he could see you were the tossing-and-turning type, maybe the only explanation for your proximity considering he was the same. 

He also noticed you slept all curled up, like you were cold and the only warmth you knew was snuggling yourself.

Cute.

There it was again, cute. 

Why does that word even exist? 

Taehyung discarded the notion altogether and stood to his feet, stretching out his stiff muscles. He made for the bathroom eagerly to begin his day, though not without fixing at least some of the blanket back onto you. 

“You don’t have a driver?” 

“Not for everywhere I go. I have two hands, I can drive myself.” Taehyung made it a statement to jazz hands at you, showcasing the perfectly capable limbs he was gifted with.

“That’s.. nice, actually. I always see asshole CEO’s getting other people to drive them around.” You relayed as you trailed behind Taehyung, letting him lead you towards the front of the hotel where dozens of expensive cars lined the curb side.

You had no clue which luxury vehicle belonged to Taehyung because quite frankly, he could probably afford every car your eyes caught sight of. It wasn’t until he approached a certain one and retrieved his keys from the valet that your jaw completely dropped, floored.

“This is your car?” You gawked, the sleek design, crispness of its shape and nearly sparkling gloss completely sweeping you off your feet.

“Yeah, think someone like me can’t get a car like this?” Taehyung cocked an eyebrow, gesturing towards himself.   

“It’s just-wow. Mercedes CLS?” You inquired without really looking at him, inspecting the car instead as you admired its every curve. Safe to say, you were beyond in love with it. Even if you were always more of a minimalist and preferred the average product, there was just something gorgeous about luxury cars that appealed to you.

“Yeah, actually it is.” Taehyung looked at you impressed, momentarily reminded of just how different you were compared to any other woman he’s chanced upon. 

How many of them knew car models?

Taehyung was intrigued by the fact before speaking with one of the hotel workers, confirming if they had loaded his car with both your luggage and some wedding sentiments your parents insisted you keep. 

Once receiving affirmation Taehyung made towards your side of the car and pulled the door open. He flashed you a tight-lipped smile as he gestured for you to hop in, drawing you out of your stupor. You thanked him warmly before sliding into your seat. 

He let you scramble in comfortably before shutting the door and walking to his side, positioning himself in and clicking on his seatbelt. He watched as your expression lit up once occupying the car, face beaming with excitement as you touched and drank in at the high-end features the vehicle had to offer. Taehyung found himself smiling before he licked his lips and straightened his face, igniting the engine and beginning the smooth drive. 

It was easy to settle the debate on where you both would be living. Taehyung was an enormously rich CEO who lived in an expensive, massive home while you lived in a measly apartment. You knew it was useless to live separately, even more useless to have him live with you. And so you agreed without protest to pack your things and relocate, begin your move into the house you’d share with him for a lifetime. 

The car ride remained quite silent, you mindlessly bopping your head to whatever mainstream song played on the radio, while Taehyung tapped his fingers against the steering wheel or his lap. 

You found your eyes wandering to his slender fingers wrapped around the wheel every so often, sometimes venturing to the other one he placed against his thigh. You began reprimanding yourself once you realized with all the staring, observing and ogling, you most certainly had a thing for his hands already. 

Fuck. 

They were just so big, bigger than what you’ve seen of the average man and it didn’t help that they looked crafted to perfection. 

There was just something about the veins that decorated them, his palm large in size as his fingers seemed deft turning and working the steering wheel. His little accessories like a ring or two, bracelets and his watch did absolutely nothing to deter your interest either.

It only increased once you realized he looked good driving, really good. You knew men had this common attractiveness to them when they drove, watching them all focused and effortlessly working the car somehow sexy; but watching Taehyung drive was another experience entirely. 

He looked insanely hot, and you felt like throwing yourself out your window for even thinking such a thing. It was another case of you ogling him without realizing until his deep voice suddenly fished you out of your thoughts, questioning. “Did you like the wedding?” 

“Huh?” 

“The wedding, did you like it?” Taehyung repeated, glancing at you. 

“Does it really matter if I did?” You asked, this one phrase seeming to perfectly sum up the misfortune of your life, provoking an ironic laugh even. 

“I think it does. A bride should always enjoy her wedding.” 

“Well, I didn’t.” You deadpanned, your expression turning frustrated having to remember that one of, if not the most special night of your life had just been robbed of you, thrown to the wolves while you were only left to accept the sad fact. 

“C’mon, you didn’t enjoy a single thing?” Taehyung didn’t mean to flash back to the kiss you two shared, though found himself doing exactly so. 

You didn’t enjoy that? he questioned in his head. 

“Not really, I just imagined having more choice in the wedding.” You answered honestly, trying not to sulk so much. “It’s not you, I just... thought I’d be able to decide things at my own wedding. I’m grateful your parents did so much, but I didn’t really get to choose anything.” You grew more solemn as your gaze fixated on nothing, watching the world pass you by through the car window. 

“My favourite flowers weren’t even there.” You said only despondently to yourself, shoulders drooping, though Taehyung didn’t miss it. 

“You don’t like roses?”

Your eyes flashed towards him with furrowed eyebrows, surprised he heard your comment. You straightened up before shrugging back a response. “I like peonies.” 

Taehyung looked at your side profile as you turned away, finding the conversation turning more sorrowful than he liked. He allowed some silence to linger as you leaned your chin against your palm, boringly watching the bustling streets.  

He decided to change the subject.

“So you don’t think I’m an asshole, huh?” 

“What?”

“You said you always see ‘asshole CEO’s’ getting people to drive them around. But I don’t, so I’m not an asshole to you?” Taehyung halved his attention between you and the road, glancing in your direction with one hand working the steering wheel.

You thought the question over, “No, you’re not an asshole.” You said simply, distracted by the thoughts that previously occupied your mind. 

“I see.” Taehyung pursed his lips. Another beat of silence passed through the downcast air before Taehyung perked up again.

“Is it just the driving? Or do you have other criteria?” Taehyung asked inquisitively, leaning back into his seat as he observed you. 

You could detect from the corner of your eyes the way his stance drew attention to his legs, thighs broad as he sat. “I guess there is.” 

“Like what?”

You didn’t really know why Taehyung was so curious. You thought it was common knowledge what the stereotypical asshole CEO was like; they were nearly all jerks with horrible one-percenter mentalities and treated people like gravel.  

You scoffed a bit. “They’re usually so full of themselves. They act like they own the place all the time, which makes sense at their own companies but not everywhere else. It’s like the position gets to their heads. Even the way they talk is condescending, belittling, or straight up rude to anyone not on their level. It wouldn’t kill to be nice.” You revealed almost too eagerly, avoiding eye contact with Taehyung as you viewed the traffic on the road ahead, remembering he was a CEO himself. 

Long story short, you’ve had your fair share of experiences meeting them as you grew up during the beginnings of your father’s company. They were quick to skew your opinion ever since you watched the way they treated your father all due to having a start-up, for simply being small in name or reputation. They acted like he was less than, some even daring to behave as though his company would simply never make it. 

It always boiled your blood, left an extremely distasteful image of CEOs and the business world in your head. 

And you were certain it all sucked after that. 

“Understandable.” Taehyung nodded agreeably. “But you think I don’t fit any of that?” He rested a hand against his thigh, sitting laxed as he spread his legs apart further. This time it was definitely hard to miss the way they appeared, all laid out and long as your eyes drank him in, following up his thighs all the way to his-

“You don’t. I thought maybe since you’re super successful you’d be full of yourself. But you’re not, really.” You snapped yourself out of whatever the hell you were doing, trying to refocus on the conversation.

“Ah, seems like a stepping stone.” 

“Stepping stone? Towards what?”

“Towards you not hating me.” His voice came out with a more solemn timbre than you expected, his jaw tightening for a mere second. 

Taehyung only thought such a thing because even if he decided you didn’t harbour negative feelings towards him, there was no way of him determining whether that was true or not without your real input. 

“I don’t hate you, Taehyung. I don’t.. think I can.” You claimed with poignancy, his statement causing you to reflect on your own feelings about him. 

You don’t hate Taehyung, you couldn’t because he did absolutely nothing wrong in this situation. He was dragged in just like you were. You only despised the unfairness of the arrangement, not him. 

There wasn’t much to hate about him.  

“So you’re saying you like me then, aren’t you?” Taehyung suddenly teased light-heartedly, all smug as his amused eyes flickered to you. 

“Shut up, I never said that.” You turned away, scandalized by his remark. 

“I’m kidding. But, why do you think you can’t hate me? I pretty much.. ruined your life.” Taehyung internally felt his chest tighten at the words, remembering the exact thoughts from where he stood no less than 24 hours ago, seconds from lawfully marrying you. 

“And I didn’t ruin yours?” This time you turned your gaze towards Taehyung, meaningfully. Your eyes instinctively communicated your emotions as they locked with his for a moment, Taehyung all attentive. 

“I took away from you just as much you took away from me. We both ruined each other’s lives, there’s no use in blaming each other. That’s why I can’t hate you.” You finalized, crossing your arms and opting to watch the passing buildings through your window again. 

Taehyung absorbed your sudden confession with reason, realizing that in a sense, you two were partners in this unfortunate case. Even if your matrimony constituted a forced partnership neither of you liked, there seemed to be a natural comradery in having to deal with the aftermath of that forced partnership. 

Trying to accept it. 

“I don’t think I can hate you, either.” Taehyung admitted, ending the more miserable part of the conversation as you fell silent. You thought he was done until he decided to bother you again. 

“I think you’re still saying you like me, though.” 

You turned to him half-appalled before pointing towards the road, eyes narrowed. “Just drive us home, will you?” 

Taehyung laughed at the moment and pressed down on the accelerator, internally grinning at the fact you never said no to his statement. 

“This is your house?” You found yourself gawking again at something that belonged to Taehyung, stepping inside a luxury home you’ve only ever dreamed of living in. Sure, you lived with your parents until you were 18, though your father was still starting out with his company for most of those years, not exactly owning anything too luxurious until after you permanently moved out.

So as you stood trying to prop your heels off yourself, your jaw dropped at the sheer elegance and high-status look to the interior of Taehyung’s home. You had already done enough gawking at the exterior, but being inside and processing the fact that you were now to inhabit this home for the rest of your life sent another wave of shock. 

You immediately observed Taehyung was the type who decorated his home with only the finest, his taste easily identifiable. Aesthetic, lavish, charming. He seemed like a man of utter simplicity though his home said otherwise, showcasing an artistic, exquisite feel you never really expected from him. 

“When will you stop saying that?” He titled his head and smiled through a laugh, removing his shoes and slipping into his indoor slippers. 

“Right, sorry.” You were still struggling for normalcy, somehow forgetting almost every hour Taehyung’s wealth and only registering it once you saw something that indicated it. 

Taehyung sauntered inside and took a deep breath, enjoying the feel of his abode. He enjoyed nothing more than being home, in the comfort of his own space. Especially for someone who worked so busily, he found pleasure in doing the bare minimum at home. Relishing in the feeling right now, he pressed his lips together in a smile before glancing back at your struggling figure, catching sight of your size. 

His eyebrows shot up to the sky. “Woah, you’re short.” 

“Huh?” 

“I think I’ve only ever seen you in heels.” Taehyung informed. “Now that you’re not wearing them you’re a lot shorter than I thought. You’re tiny.” He pointed out as he eyed you from head to toe, processing the amount of height you lost simply from removing your shoes. 

“I mean, that’s kind of what heels do, you know, they add height.” You deadpanned, stating the obvious for him. 

“Sorry, it’s just..” Kind of cute, he thought, though fought for another response. “I could probably throw you.” 

Nice save. 

“Excuse me? It’s not my fault you’re so tall.” You scowled at him. “Besides, you’re all height and no muscle, you probably can’t even carry me.” 

“Wanna see me try?” Taehyung was already coming towards you with his arms held out and you sputtered immediately, “No, no, no.” you held your hands up defensively. “Let’s just start the house tour, yeah?” you offered a smile for compromise. 

“That’s what I thought.” Taehyung narrowed his eyes coyly and turned on his heel, signaling you to follow him. 

What you realized strolling through the home as Taehyung discussed its details was that it emphatically represented him like an open book. Even if Taehyung was predominantly unreadable and seemed to always hide a mystery behind his eyes, you could see nearly all of him reflected in his home. 

You often found valuable trinkets or sentiments scattered around the house. It seemed like he cherished a lot of things in his life, namely memories or people. It would also be hard to miss the exquisite selection of paintings and embellishments he draped the walls with, all harbouring their own charm and adding to the overall artistic feel of his home. 

There were famous works consisting of Vincent Van Gogh all the way to local Korean artists you’ve never heard of, though admired their work. 

It seemed as though he selected the paintings himself. 

Another large aspect you couldn’t miss were the many photos he kept, calling to question whether they were of his own work. 

“Did you take these?” You approached a shelf in one of his grand hallways on the second floor, hand brushing the wooden frame of a captured photo; six men including Taehyung himself posing comfortably, like they were extremely close, backdrop reflecting what seemed to be a trip.  

“I took all of them.” He stated casually, hands tucked into his pockets as he eyed the shelf along with you. 

“All?” 

He simply nodded and didn’t elaborate further as he watched you admire the photos, yourself impressed by his adeptness for photography. 

“You’re really good.” You complimented absentmindedly, enjoying the other photos of not only people but scenery, empty streets, candid shots from what looked to be his own little adventures. 

“Thanks.” Was all Taehyung could manage, trying to mask the sheer gratitude he felt hearing the first ever person to admire his work; something that wasn’t related to being a CEO or a businessman. 

He also felt slightly embarrassed you’d seen a small part of him he usually hid.

Taehyung continued walking down the hallway until he reached the end, revealing what you could tell was the largest room in the house. You were thrown off by just how unnecessarily large it was. It seriously reminded you of an extravagant hotel suite, more like the grandest one among them. 

“This is our room.” Taehyung introduced, gesturing towards its interior. 

“Our?” 

Taehyung nodded “I should’ve told you earlier but I wanted us to sleep in the same room. If we slept apart our marriage wouldn’t look convincing to my two housekeepers. I trust them but I don’t want any information about us getting out to the public, not over my dead body.” Taehyung stated in earnest as he relayed the information, wandering further into the room. 

“You really care that much about publicity?” you genuinely questioned. 

Taehyung scoffed. “Not me, I couldn’t care less about what people think.” He denied instantly, almost laughably. “It’s my father. He hates bad press, especially concerning our family or the company.” 

“I thought bad press is still press, so it’s good.” You suggested as you followed him further into the room, admiring that though large, his room held a sense of comfort to it. Quite frankly, all of his home felt rather welcoming and cozy, surprising of a CEO who ran such a monstrously successful company.

“My father doesn’t think so. Kim Enterprises has always been generational, each of our CEO positions strictly kept within the family. Our name is our brand and pride, it alone accounts for at least half of our success. We’re extremely well-known for our high status, it’s just plain fact in the upper social circles of Korea. We can’t afford to taint our name with petty things like bad press or corruption, our reputation is too valuable.” Taehyung stated this all nonchalantly as he adjusted his suit jacket in his mirror, like it was something he’s grown accustomed to and has known all his life. 

You found your opinion impeding his words.  

“So you can never just, escape this life? As long as you’re a Kim you’re bound to this company?” You found the concept wildly restrictive, clearly shackling down any person that would run the business and you felt a disagreeing shiver shoot through your spine. 

“Of course, why would you want anything else?” Taehyung tiled his head to the side, eyeing you in genuine questioning and your entire being was trying to bite back the desire to correct him, tell him there’s so much more to life than just some company your family owns. Though you opted for changing the subject instead, unwilling to step on his toes and dictate his life when you knew next to nothing about it. 

It wasn’t your place. 

“Woah, you have a balcony?!” You exclaimed with a simper, eyes flickering towards the curtains that revealed two ajar French doors leading to an open space.

You made towards it excitedly and stopped just in the middle of the platform, enjoying the breeze of the fresh air.

“It’s my favourite part of the house.” You didn’t even realize Taehyung followed you until his towering figure stood directly behind you, feeling his proximity permeate through your body. 

You swallowed. 

“Why don’t you look at the view?” Taehyung cocked his head towards the railing of the balcony, though you didn’t move a step. 

You weren’t about to tell Taehyung you’re terribly afraid of heights.

“I-I can see from here. Wow, looks beautiful.” You perked up superficially, trying to throw him off and changing the subject again. “By the way, what’s our closet situation gonna look like?” 

“Ah, let me show you.” Taehyung strided back into the room towards the sliding double doors you spotted earlier. He almost theatrically glided both dark wooden panels open and your jaw dropped for the 47th time today. 

You were welcomed by a ridiculously large walk-in closet, enough to be renovated into its own bedroom. You simply couldn’t normalize its size, especially after registering every suit, tie, watch or accessory Taehyung stored in the gracious space. 

You couldn’t even begin to imagine how much money lied in here. 

“Oh my God.” Was all you could manage, meandering in sparingly as you viewed each and every expensive piece he owned in the room, no doubt of the highest quality designers, finest of men’s fashion. 

“You don’t have to worry about unpacking and moving in here, the housekeepers will do that for you.” Taehyung watched as you looked upon in awe, finding the way your eyes sparkled with emotion very similar to that of Bambi’s.  

“How will I fit-”

“I specifically made space for you, there’s enough.” Taehyung stated, leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed. He’d resolved a while ago he really would try to take this marriage seriously, victoriously achieve the work-life balance his father kept preaching. 

He saw giving up his closet space as the first step. 

It was indeed so because Taehyung thoroughly enjoyed fashion. He genuinely adored every suit, accessory and outfit in his collection, though if he wanted to reach this new goal of balance, successfully add you to his list of priorities, then he had to be willing to cut down. 

Even if that meant reallocating a third of his exorbitant wardrobe just for you, he’d try not to mind. 

“Are you sure? I could just use another room’s-” 

“I want to.” Taehyung finalized as his eyes turned unreadable from across the room, locking his gaze with yours and you were only left to look back impressed, his generosity unforeseen. 

“Thank you.” You voiced a little weak, still shy by the suffocating nature of his stare. 

“Don’t mention it.” He offered plainly, propping himself off the wall. He looked off to the side eyeing the empty pockets of space he left for you, until your voice called out to him.  

“Taehyung.”

“Hm?” He snapped his vision back to you. 

You wanted to ask him something, more so a favour and you were unsure how to word the request. “Um.. I didn’t want to ask so openly, but..” You found yourself beating around the bush, timid of what his response would be. 

“Go on.” 

“Um, so it seemed like there were a lot of empty rooms in this house, and I was just wondering if I could maybe.. transform one of them into an art studio for myself?” You winced at your own request. 

“I’m sorry, it’s just I had one at my old place and it really grew on me. I would get most of my work done in that room and gained a lot of inspiration from it. I have a lot of art supplies and designed often in that studio, so I need a home for all my supplies and it would suck getting rid of it all. I’m sorry it means I would have to steal one of your rooms in the house, if you don’t want me to then-” 

Taehyung couldn’t help but break out into a small grin as he watched you ramble on, shyly fidget with your fingers, so apprehensive of asking him for something and it reminded him why he was so eager to provide you with anything you wanted. 

You spent too long trying to do everything on your own, achieve everything on your own, relying solely on yourself. Taehyung could see this all as plain as day, quite enjoying of how he’s never really met someone like you, and wanted you to know you didn’t always have to be so independent.  

Especially with him. 

“Y/N.” He called out to you with the same honey-coloured tone from last night, stopping you. Your eyes flickered to his, awaiting his next sentence and Taehyung already found himself having a thing for your doe-eyes. 

Fuck. 

“Of course you can have a room. You can have anything in this house. It’s yours.” Taehyung stated with a degree of assurance, his eyes locking with yours in earnest. 

You both shared a look as your lips curved into a gracious smile, biting your lip to contain it. His stare wasn’t so much intimidating as it was merely.. calm. Gazing at you for the sole purpose of gazing, and you found some heat rushing to your face under his scrutiny. 

Taehyung seemed to realize he was staring and immediately cleared his throat, turning a little nervous as he began another conversation. “So um, I’m sorry to say this,” he began with unease, almost apprehensive and you didn’t know what he was so sorry about. “But I have work today.” 

You blinked. “What?” 

Taehyung internally winced at your reaction, hands finding his pockets. “I took some time off for the wedding, so now I have twice the amount of work left behind. I need to complete it.” He informed straightforwardly. 

“Our wedding was just yesterday, though, aren’t you tired?” You were only taken aback because you were slightly concerned for his wellbeing, wasn’t he tired from yesterday? You recalled him knocking out almost immediately upon hitting the pillow of your hotel bed last night, snoozing away. 

“Maybe, but I can’t afford to rest. I’ll only have more to complete if I do, so I won’t be spending anymore time with you today.” Taehyung relayed the information, readying himself for the even greater disappointing news he’d be passing on. 

“Actually, we won’t be able to go on our honeymoon, either.” Taehyung thought it was best to slip in all the bad news, growing more and more unrelaxed as he was unsure of how you’d react. 

Though what you said next had him nearly floored.

“Honeymoon? Taehyung, that’s the least of my concerns, you should at least rest a day before getting back to work. That’s not really healthy.” You chastised him as lightly as possible, still afraid to be stepping on his toes when you didn’t know his life. 

Taehyung was certain you’d hate having been stripped of a beautiful vacation where you could’ve relaxed in the sun and tropics of Cancun. Your father had mentioned to him you’ve always longed to visit the breath-taking city in Mexico, its clear waters and tropical air as a means to truly get away from your stifling life. 

So when he found you disregarding the trip altogether and instead focusing on him, more precisely his health, he was left damn well speechless. 

There you were again paying attention to the littlest things about him he didn’t care much for; he still had that bandage you offered him a month ago tucked into one of his pockets, not wanting to use the adhesive just yet. 

“I’ll be fine. I’m just sorry we can’t go on the vacation because of me, it would’ve been nice, you know?” Taehyung apologized, feeling genuinely guilty for having ruined the honeymoon. Even if you two weren’t going to travel as some lovey-dovey couple, you both simply could’ve enjoyed the time off.

“It’s okay, just, at least work from home today. Heading to the office would be too much.” You suggested for the sake of the fatigue you could discern on him. 

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m gonna be home for the next few days since everyone thinks we’ll be on our honeymoon.” 

“Oh. That’s.. good.” You nodded faintly, half at the idea you two were even faking your honeymoon and half at the blasphemous energy he had to work after yesterday. 

The sleep from last night was nearly not enough to recharge from the antics of the wedding, having drained your batteries for the next few days. You were certain his were drained too; he was half the damn couple. 

“I should get going. I’ll send Mrs. Choi and Seo up with your things. They’re probably finished with lunch too, you should eat.” Taehyung advised as he stepped out of the walk-in closet, running a hand through his gorgeous hair and you couldn’t help but ogle at the sexy way his strands fell back on him. 

“Okay.” You voiced as you followed him out, watching him near the room’s door and just about to vacate the premise before you spoke up. “Taehyung.” 

He stopped in his tracks, peering back at you. “Yes?” 

“You should eat something, too.”

Taehyung half-smiled at you with a nod “Sure”, before stepping out of the room, leaving you alone. 

And you couldn’t help but kind of like the way he smiles. 

It was well into the evening now, bordering dinner time as you helped the last of your clothes into Taehyung’s closet, refusing to let the older housekeepers do all the work by themselves considering it was your own luggage. 

You also tried to occupy Taehyung’s room as scarcely as you could with your belongings, feeling odd about suddenly moving in with all your might and changing things around. It just didn’t feel appropriate, like you were invading his space and so you opted for scattering only your necessary items.

“That should be the last of it, Mrs. Choi.” You retrieved your last piece of clothing from the rather soft-spoken housekeeper, tucking the blazer away among the rest. You were satisfied to see not only your wardrobe neatly organized now, but fit just about right with Taehyung’s things. 

He was right about space, there was enough.

“Mrs. Kim, please rest. You didn't have to move a muscle at all for us.” Mrs. Choi remarked, genuinely concerned for you. 

“Yes, please, Mrs. Kim. We can finish up with the little things. I’ve just finished preparing dinner downstairs, you should eat.” Mrs. Seo chimed in as she entered the walk-in closet, gesturing towards the door. 

“Are you sure? I can-”

“Mrs. Kim, you’re very kind for offering your help, we’re very grateful you’ve done so. Though we are Mr. Kim’s housekeepers, we are meant to care for his home and his lovely wife. You need not worry about helping us.” Mrs. Choi stated with an earnest tone, speaking respectfully as she addressed you. 

You were going to protest again before you considered her words, registering that if you indeed helped them, it would technically negate the entire purpose of their work. 

You bit back your reply as a result, crafting a new one. 

“I see, I’m sorry, Mrs. Seo, Mrs. Choi. I’m just.. very used to doing things on my own,” you looked towards the ground. “I apologize.” You almost dipped for a bow until Mrs. Choi rapidly cautioned you, scrambling towards your figure. 

“Oh dear, Mrs. Kim! You do not need to bow to us, you’re Mr. Kim’s wife, you are the one who is bowed to.” 

“Yes, you do not need to apologize either, we appreciate your help, it was very sweet of you.” Mrs. Seo added with a warm smile, bowing to you instead. “Please go for dinner downstairs, I’ve also informed Mr. Kim for dinner, though I’m unsure if he has made his way down yet.” She added on, urging you towards the room's exit and you recognized it was probably better to listen to her. 

Even if all this high-class, status stuff had yet to sink in or make sense to you after being away for so long, you understood there was an eventual tolerance you had to build for it. Just as Mrs. Choi said, you’re Kim Taehyung’s wife now, and that came with a hell lot of status you hadn’t even scratched the surface of yet.

You could already tell it was going to be a pain in the ass. 

“I suppose I should. I’ll get going, then.” You smiled graciously at both women, appreciative of their kindness and began vacating the closet. You just about pulled the room door open before Mrs. Seo suddenly came to you.

“Oh! Mrs. Kim,” she halted you. “I was informed by Mr. Kim to provide this to you. He would have done so himself though he’s quite busy at the moment.” Mrs. Seo extended her hand and presented a pristine looking card, black and incredibly sleek in design. Your eyebrows furrowed until you noticed the telltale symbols, almost ominously minimal branding indicating a rare card only those with some of the highest networths in Korea could own. 

Your eyes widened in horror. 

The Black Card. 

“P-pardon?” You needed her to reiterate, there was no way Kim Taehyung was giving you a black card, the same card that was limitless on credit and only exclusively owned by the affluent one-percenters of society. 

“He’s informed me this belongs to you now, and that you’re to keep it in your possession.” Mrs. Seo elaborated, smiling through the mental whiplash you were currently experiencing.  

“Belongs to.. me? This is mine?” You were still having trouble processing, why would Taehyung be gifting you this? Who’s account was it even attached to? Was it yours and he’s decided to graciously pay all the expensive fees, or worse, was it joined with his own account? 

Don’t tell me it’s joined with his account.  

“Yes, Mrs. Kim. It’s yours.” Mrs. Seo held it out more outwardly, nudging it in your direction. 

Your mouth fell agape for another second before you mentally collected yourself, quickly grabbing the card and thanking her as you made your exit, marching through the house for Taehyung’s unbelievable ass. 

Taehyung could not be providing you with this card. It was irrational, simply had to have been a decision he made with at least two bottles of soju in him, right? You didn’t care what his reasoning would be, you were denying and returning this. There was no way in hell you’d accept this card, especially if he linked his own personal account to it. 

You tried loosely recalling where Taehyung mentioned his study, logically assuming he was working there. You inspected majority of the second floor, working your way through the halls until you finally caught sight of the familiar wooden doors with glass panels, slightly ajar, light bleeding through.

You made for the room quickly and stormed in without a care, attempting to steady your breathing from all the rushing around. You caught Taehyung completely off guard, having shredded his suit jacket to instead sport the rolled up sleeves of his dress shirt, adorning black-rimmed, designer glasses. 

He looked 100x hotter than he should’ve. 

Taehyung suddenly propped up from the leaned-back position he’d assumed on his chair, expression caught by surprise. “Y/N?” He questioned, eyebrows furrowing. 

You held up the card and addressed him immediately. “Taehyung, what’s this? Why are you giving this to me?” You huffed, looking at him incredulously. 

“The card? For you to use..?” Taehyung responded cooperatively, confused as to why you seemed so frazzled. 

“But why, Taehyung? This is a black card, the annual fees on this are insane and I can’t pay-” 

“You’re not paying for them, I am.” Taehyung cut in, shutting the binder he was holding and placing it on his desk. 

“What? No, no way. If it’s my account then I should be the one-”

“It’s not your account, either, it’s mine.” Taehyung brought his elbows to his desk, hands clasped together in front of his lips. It was now he gave you that same intimidating stare he did back when you first met him, calculative and devoid of expression. 

It seemed he did this when he got serious. 

“Your account? But-Taehyung, this is your money, I can’t just have it. Please, take this back.” You stepped towards his desk to return the card eagerly, but Taehyung’s firm tone stopped you. 

“No, it’s yours. I gave it to you to keep.” His words held this underlying sense of authority, scratch that, dominance when he spoke seriously, resolute. You could instantly tell he possessed a natural sense of alpha male characteristics, enough that even though he wasn’t being harsh or looming, his words and the tone he coated them with held more power than you could manifest. 

You almost cowered, but remained adamant on returning the card. It was worse with the card attached to his account, you couldn’t just keep Taehyung’s money like it was your own, it simply wasn’t. Your money sat ordinarily in a separate account on a separate card, which you were happy enough to use. You weren’t going to mooch off of him, it went against every principle that made up your very being. 

“This is your money, Taehyung. I have no right to use it.” 

“You’re my wife. You have every right in the world to use it.” Taehyung countered with no emotion, or at least any you could discern, uncertain what was running through his mind with only his eyes as a guide towards the answer. 

And you knew his eyes didn’t tell. 

“Taehyung, this doesn’t feel right to me. This isn’t my money and I can’t use it.” You emphasized more strongly, drawing closer to his desk though halting your actions once he spoke again. 

“My money is your money, you can always use it.” You knew he was relaxed, appearing practically unbothered as he leaned onto his desk and eyed you. Though with the intense look in his eyes, his aura screaming for anyone within the vicinity to submit to him, he could easily seem frustrated with the situation, namely you. 

And it made you want to crawl into a hole.

“No, it isn’t. I’ve already intruded your home, taken your closet, your room and even an extra one just for myself. I will not take your money either. Please, take this back.” You held out the card more prominently, desperate to have him understand you.

Taehyung wasn’t necessarily frustrated by you, no, he was slightly pissed you kept referring to everything as just his and not yours, that he was the only one considering you two as a married couple now while you still viewed each other separately.

Did you not see him as your husband yet?

He also disliked the fact that you seemed scared of him, or unable to trust him like last night. He could see you fighting back the urge to cower away, genuinely upsetting him you still held a degree of fear and unsureness in your eyes. 

Why are you so afraid of me? 

“Y/N, everything isn’t just mine anymore, it’s yours, too. We’re a married couple, husband and wife. What’s mine is yours.” Taehyung tried to reason, loosening himself up more to seem less intimidating, more approachable.

“But money, Taehyung-it’s different. I didn’t even want to take my own father’s money, there’s no way I’ll take yours, please.” Pleading leaked into your tone as you lips started doing that thing where they just about pout, emphasizing their plushiness and Taehyung couldn’t help but notice it again. 

He started growing frustrated as he removed his glasses, placing them on his desk and pinching the bridge of his nose. It seemed like he was digesting the situation, searching for the best approach.

“Y/N, look. I know the kind of situation you had with your father, but I’m not him. Didn’t you hear what Mrs. Choi and Seo addressed you as?” 

You thought it over, unknowing of where he was taking this. “They.. called me Mrs. Kim.”

“Exactly. Even my last name is yours, everything I have is yours. I’m your husband, I’m always going to provide you with things from now on. That card is just one of many.” Taehyung offered his best explanation, making sure his tone wasn’t as serious to sidetrack any fear you still had.

“I understand. But this is a black card, Taehyung, and it’s your hard-earned money, not mine. It feels wrong even just having it.” You couldn’t fight your inner turmoil, you genuinely believed this to be wrong. After spending almost a decade trying to work for yourself, pay for yourself, seldom seeking the help of another, this just left a disagreeing feeling to churn in your stomach.

Taehyung sighed heavily before pushing his chair back, rising from his seat. He made his way over to you where you grew unintentionally defensive, retracting from him slightly as he neared you. He noticed it and pursed his lips, reaching out for your upper arms and taking them warmly, tenderly, waiting for your eyes to meet his before he spoke to you.

“Y/N, do you remember what I said before I kissed you yesterday?”

Your eyes widened having been reminded of the intimate moment, nodding at him innocently. Taehyung witnessed you trying to avoid eye contact and found himself softening. 

“I didn’t say that without reason. I meant it when I said I would take care of you. Your father is a different story, if you don’t want to use his money, I respect that. But I’m your husband, and I want to be a good one. I want to give you things.. do things for you simply because I want to.” Taehyung reasoned, gripping you lightly. “I want you to use my money, you’re allowed to use it.” He tried voicing with sincerity, earnestly, hoping he could change your mind.

He saw you still hesitating to accept the offer, however, deciding on a compromise.

“Look, you don’t have to use it all the time. You can still use your own card, but you can use mine here and there. Seriously, Y/N, using it won’t even make a dent on me. I’m the CEO of a multi-billion dollar company, use it at your discretion.” Taehyung could practically see your gears shifting, searching for your eyes as he wished you’d understand him. 

He saw this as a second step towards work-life balance, only feeling the responsibility and genuine desire to be the good husband in spite of the unfortunate nature of your marriage. He didn’t want any doubt concerning his ability to be a good husband, either.

After all, when Taehyung did something, he always did the best he possibly could.

“Okay, I guess you’re right. But I do have my own money, and I’ll be using that 100x more often than yours.” You relaxed and oddly let him hold you, looking down at the black card that rested in your hand and clutching it to your palm.

Taehyung realized he was still holding you and let go, retiring to fluff his hair instead. You caught a glimpse of his bicep underneath his rolled up sleeve as he did so, and you truly hated you chose a time like this to find him stunningly attractive.

“You should come downstairs, Mrs. Seo prepared dinner.” You ignored your thoughts.

“You go first, I’ll be down in a second.”

You nodded agreeably and turned away, leaving his study. You took a second look at the card in your hand, then glanced around the house as you strolled through it, trying to embed what Taehyung said into the crevices of your resistant thinking.

Everything I have is yours, you reiterated, registering that Taehyung had in fact grown accustomed to the idea of you two as a couple already. He’s accepted it, embraced it, even enforced it now with his earlier declarations and this black card. You automatically felt behind, like you were the tortoise in the race and needed to pick up your pace.

If Taehyung had already come to terms with your marriage, it was only a matter of time before you did as well. Marriage is a two-way street, and if you wanted to make this easier on both yourself and Taehyung, you would compromise with him, accept the true sense of partnership that entailed your status as husband and wife.

Thus was the exact mantra that played in your head as you fiddled with the card, remembering the way his big hands held you.

Warm.

It was night. 

You could say it was like any other ordinary night, though that would be a gargantuan lie. 

This night was the first time Taehyung and yourself were going to sleep in the same bed.

In your own home. 

The hotel suite left you both with your own space and privacy since it was a random, public room with no personality or attachment to it whatsoever, making it easier and comfortable to sleep with him.

So when you emerged from your walk-in closet in a thin camisole, loose pajama shorts and without a bra, you were cursing yourself. God damn you for needing to sleep in minimal clothing for comfort. You’d slept in a loose t-shirt and bottoms at the suite last night since it was a public room, and long story short, it left you tossing and turning more than you liked. 

You had no clue prior to arriving here that you’d be sharing a room with Taehyung. You’d expected to sleep in a different one, in the privacy of your own room where you could prance around as you wished and as a result packed your usual sleepwear. 

But now that you were left having to slumber with Taehyung, clothes on the more revealing side, there was no turning back. 

And what there was truly no turning back from, was when you opened the closet door and your eyes landed on Taehyung’s shirtless, wet self drying his hair after a shower. 

You immediately malfunctioned.

Your eyes fell to his bare back, ruffling his wet hair as his plaid pajama pants hung loosely at his hips. You immediately exclaimed and clamped a hand over your mouth, trying to shut yourself up. 

You did not expect at all for Taehyung to have such honey-coloured skin. It was like it naturally glowed, a healthy tone that made him appear all the more delectable. It certainly didn’t help that his shoulders were broader than you first observed, sincerely an other-worldly experience when he wasn’t wearing clothes. 

You also got an all-access view of his trap muscles, adding to the width of his shoulders overall and when Taehyung turned around to the sound of the closet door opening, gaze locking with yours, you could confirm his neck, chest and collarbones were indeed crafted to perfection.

Taehyung’s eyes widened momentarily drinking you in, not expecting your light sleepwear when just last night he witnessed you in a full pajama set. Not to mention, and he hated that he could tell, but you weren't wearing a bra. 

And the camisole did nothing to hide that. 

Taehyung straightened himself up realizing you two were practically gawking at each other, resting the towel around his neck as he cleared his throat. “That’s what you sleep in?” 

“That’s what you sleep in?” You retorted, arms over your chest. 

“Guys usually sleep shirtless, this is normal.” Taehyung gestured towards his own body and you had half a mind to floor yourself. It’s like Taehyung knew but also didn’t know he was hot, knew the effect he had on people though never grew cocky or proud enough to purposefully parade it around. 

And it frustrated you even more; he was fairly humble about being a sexy Greek God. 

“Girls sleep like this too, this is normal.” You copied him, looking off to the side. 

“I was kidding, I only sleep shirtless sometimes. Just get in bed.” Taehyung narrowed his eyes as he gestured towards the sheets, returning to his palace of a bathroom to toss his towel in the hamper and pull a t-shirt over his head. 

You wanted to move, feet just about ready to carry you but you never abandoned your spot. Instead, you pressed your lips into a thin line contemplating that sharing a bed with Taehyung, in clothes like this and in such proximity, all held a degree of intimacy you didn’t know you two shared yet. 

It’s only been a day. 

So when Taehyung returned to your unmoving figure, arms holding your chest and avoiding eye contact with him, he was quick to get the message. 

“Um.. if you really don’t want to sleep here, I can give you another room.” Taehyung offered, figuring himself this may be too soon. 

“No, it’s okay, that’d be kind of a hassle.” You waved him off. “Besides, your bed looks comfy.”

You were honestly trying to live up to your acceptance that Taehyung was the man you’d spend your life with now, so you’d better start getting use to him. You’d sleep next to him for numerous nights, spend endless days together and share a multitude of things; this would simply just be a first of many first times. 

So you paddled over to the bed and removed the covers to snuggle yourself in, the bed’s coolness sending a shiver through you before you hugged the blanket to yourself. Taehyung stood with a smile before crawling in himself, adjusting the covers to his liking. 

He felt at peace in a matter of seconds, the feeling of his own bed lulling him into a state of slumber already. He reached his arm out to shut off the lamp on his bedside table, leaving the room pitch dark and only his digital clock and balcony as a light source. 

You began to cower a bit in the darkness, thankful for the sheer curtains that allowed the moonlight to spill into the room. 

You felt another shiver run through your body when you shifted, realizing you were cold even under the sheets. You tried warming up on your own by shimmying the blanket around more comfortably, but it didn't do much. 

You were left lying on the bed trying to think warm thoughts, unintentionally breathing in the constant scent of Taehyung from his bed; his cologne, his aftershave, his body wash all filling your nostrils.

It was intoxicating, absolutely distracting and sleep began to slip your mind. It didn’t help that you were still cold too, moving around and turning onto your side where you now faced Taehyung. 

He seemed to have already dozed off, face tranquil as he slept soundlessly on his back. You couldn't help but admire his side-profile, the sparse moonlight illuminating his features. It was hard to not stretch your hand out and nearly run a touch along his cheek, like he was a rare work of art that naturally called for admiration.

You realized turning towards him that he radiated a wave of warmth from his body, remembering boys were pretty much furnaces while girls usually froze.

How wonderful it is to be a woman. 

You desired some of that heat and shuffled just a little closer to Taehyung, nearing the center of the bed. You discerned he was indeed warm and maneuvered slightly closer, just about stopping at the center of the bed. You fought back the urge to shimmy any closer, leaving a mindful gap between you two. 

You were seconds from catching a peace of mind until Taehyung unexpectedly spoke in the silence of the night, startling you. 

“You can come closer, I don’t bite.” The smirk in his voice was obvious, making you scrunch your nose and snap back at him. 

“Shut up, I’m not getting closer to you.” 

“You should, I’m really warm, and I can tell you’re cold.” There he was again teasing, his tone coy as he kept his eyes shut, unbothered. 

“Over my dead body.” You mocked him from earlier, turning away from him abruptly and pulling the covers over your head. 

Coffee was probably your favourite thing life had to offer. One of the couple things you’d fight someone over; coffee and your independence, if you wanted to be specific. 

So it made you genuinely happy Taehyung had such a wide selection of coffee to choose from, ranging from all kinds of beans to instant coffee, cappuccinos, lattes, mochas, you name it. It took no time for you to craft a cup to your liking, shuffle into a seat on the island and begin picking at the breakfast the housekeepers had whipped up earlier this morning. 

You’d woken up early today keeping in mind the day you had planned. You decided this to be another move-in day as part of your studio setup project you’ve entertained for the last week. The granted time off due to your odd honeymoon farce with Taehyung proved to actually come in handy, thankfully. 

It had been another peaceful morning for you, having woken up with sunlight gracing the walls, certain you could hear birds chirping as if you were in a Disney film and little mice would come out to start sewing the gown you’d wear as a princess. 

It had been a peaceful morning indeed, but when you stretched out to loosen your stiff muscles, the chaos that met you was anything but peaceful. Even if it’s occurred at least 5 times now, you kept forgetting that you shared a bed with someone else now, and that said someone had somehow always founds a way to gravitate towards you during the night, even daringly cast an arm over you sometimes. 

It left you in a state of panic registering that Taehyung’s, dare you say warm and cozy body would be just behind you, his chest mere centimeters from your back. You would stay still for some time, calculating the optimal way to remove yourself from his hold until he eventually stirred enough to loosen his grip, darting right out of bed. 

Other times, he’d wake earlier than you and you wondered what would cross his mind once he registered your oddly proximal bodies. 

Did it ever bother him?

Nonetheless, it brought a mischievous smile to your face thinking about the fact that Taehyung had such a perfectly human habit like cuddling. He was always so serious, so put together and a near machine at everything he did, seeming as though he wouldn’t give anything romantic the time of day. 

But it was hard to forget the fluffy feeling that blossomed in your chest when you would sense his proximity, maybe inviting a liking to it. You had always slept alone, only yourself and the darkness to keep you company in your lonely bed, in your lonely home. 

So sleeping next to someone, namely Kim Taehyung left an impression on you you couldn’t quite shake. It was difficult to erase the image of his calm, sleeping face after the handful of times witnessing it. Long eyelashes delicately pressed to the skin under his eyes, lips plush as he seemed to naturally pout in his sleep. The sunlight only accentuated his honey-coloured skin, adding a glow to his features that made him appear prettier than he already was. 

It was nice to think you’d wake up to that every morning. 

You found your mind still playing around with the idea until you snapped yourself out of it, questioning why the hell you always ventured off whenever you thought about him. 

Weird. 

You were scolding yourself until your eyes caught Taehyung strolling into the kitchen with his phone in is hand. He’d foregone a jacket today, black shirt sleeves folded to mid-forearm paired with black slacks.  

You were normal until you almost spat your coffee seeing he wasn’t wearing a tie but instead had the first few buttons of his shirt open, revealing a generous view of his neck and the beginnings of his chest. 

Fucking hell.

You were staring stupidly until Taehyung peeked up at you, smiling “Morning.” 

“M-morning.” you stuttered.

He seemed unsuspecting as he returned his attention to his phone, proceeding to the kitchen counter and retrieving a cup to fix himself a drink. He appeared to be reading something conscientiously on his device, never taking his eyes off and you quickly became bored, ready to use the weapon you’d acquired. 

“So.. you’re a cuddler, huh?”

Taehyung nearly dropped his cup.  

“I’m sorry, what?” 

“You’re a cuddler when you sleep. Cute.” You rested your chin in your palm, playful smile on your face. 

“I think you’re mistaken, I am not a cuddler. And I’m not cute.” Taehyung denied as he only focused on the cup, his back to you. You then watched him reach for his selection of tea and purposefully evade the coffee, your eyes lighting up with mischief.  

“Wait, you’re a cuddler and you drink tea instead of coffee? Very cute.” You pulled on his leg, chuckling as you brought your mug to your lips

This was going to be fun.

“Shut up, I don’t like the taste and tea is healthier.” Taehyung practically sneered back, harshly ripping the packet of his tea bag.

“Doesn’t take away from the fact that you’re a cuddler.” You sipped on your coffee, unbothered as you swung your legs back and fourth. 

“Doesn’t take away from the fact that you like it.” 

You nearly spat your drink. 

“What?” 

“I remember a certain someone that shuffles closer to me for warmth, no?” Taehyung snapped back as he returned to his phone and popped his tea into the microwave, his shoulders high to the sky. You could imagine his smug face proud of his remark while searching for your own, realizing that Taehyung was damn good at arguing and you’d really have to upgrade your comeback game to counter him. 

He was unfortunately your match.

“Even if I were one, which I’m not, It’s not like I’m committing a crime.” Taehyung suddenly finalized with a snippy tone, and you realized you may have hurt his ego. 

Men. 

“I never said it was a bad thing.” You commented under your breath and looked away, popping a raspberry into your mouth. 

Taehyung bit back a smirk as he retrieved his cup of tea, taking a sip as he returned to his phone and took a seat across from you. He began compiling his plate of breakfast as he worked his device, typing away with one hand as if he was drafting the Magna Carta. 

You became bored again.

“Why do you have so much coffee if you don’t like it?” You genuinely felt like inquiring, if he didn’t like the taste why would he have so much? 

“For my housekeepers, they drink it.” He took a sip of his tea, all attention on his phone. 

You nodded understandingly. “Why do you have two housekeepers, by the way? Isn’t one enough?” 

“So they can keep each other company.” He answered absentmindedly, eyes still glued to his phone as he bit a piece of his toast. You really hated that he wasn’t actively interacting with you because it only left room to stare at him, and that was never any good.  

He looked illegally attractive with the unbuttoned part of his shirt, your mind profusely bugging out over the exposed bit of his chest. You were reminded of the full view from last night, and began pondering how long you’d survive having to see that for the rest of your life. 

“O-oh, that’s nice.” You stuttered back a reply, squashing your previous thought.

You were actually quite impressed by the kindness Taehyung showed behind that decision, noticing he had these small moments where he was caring, considerate, all hidden behind his unreadable face and seriousness when it came to business. 

It was quite interesting. 

You were mindlessly eating until Taehyung spoke up, eyes flickering towards you. “What are you going to do today?” 

You swallowed your fruit. “I was planning on moving more stuff in again, start finishing my studio setup. Thank you again for the room, by the way.” You expressed your gratitude once more, forking some eggs into your mouth. 

“Don’t mention it.” 

“What are you doing today?” you echoed his question, taking another swig of coffee.

“I’m working again. If you need anything I’ll be in my study.” Taehyung sent you a half-smile before snatching up his plate, bringing his phone to his ear as he stepped out of the kitchen. 

You sighed heavily only being left to think about your day, which would be majorly spent unpacking and arranging things. You had a plethora of art supplies, design tools and canvases to set up in your studio, leaving you constantly thinking of how to even begin. 

It would be a mission alone to sort through everything you had left, knowing you didn’t exactly label out of sheer laziness and would have to individually unbox and organize everything . 

It was this exact task that took up most of your day, time having slipped by in the blink of an eye. It wasn’t easy when you had to be rummaging through your belongings and situating them where you thought appropriate, also trying to envision a new look for your studio. 

You hadn’t realized 3 hours had passed until the ring of the front doorbell caused you to check your phone, curious as to who would be visiting your home in the middle of the day. You assumed it be one of the housekeepers and abandoned your work, cascading down the staircase and striding towards the grand entrance. 

You drew towards the monitor Taehyung had showed you just yesterday, explaining it to be your home security system. Taehyung detailed it had a camera for your front porch that detected movement and the doorbell alike, so you peered at the monitor to see the stranger outside your home. 

Your eyebrows furrowed registering a woman, her back turned towards the door as she fidgeted nervously with her purse in her hand. 

Sheer curiosity took you over and you paddled towards the door, unlocking it. You wore a smile on your face as you swung the door open, though it was immediately wiped off taking in the last person on earth you ever wanted to see. 

“Mother?”

prev. ↞ || ↠ next  || masterlist

tags : @thedarkwinterrose @ayujaded @couldbeyourlast @ladyarmanto @anpanman-sonyeondan @apollukee @blueevelvt @taesluttt @scalubera​ @laurynne5​ @dreamsindreamss​ @thequeen-kat​ @awsome-small-k​ @wrecklesssly​ @kweenhu​ @jalexad​ @staerify​ @bangforever​ @dyriddle​ @aianloveseven​ @waves-and-woods​ @hoefortaeshands​ @veronawrites​ @nightapple4jk​ @wataemelonz​ @aomi-nabi​